Jin stood tall at the baseline, back straight and eyes calm as he took in the court. He relished the moment and the rhythm of the game, the sting of sweat, the satisfying silence just before a serve. This was tennis. And he was finally playing it the way he was meant to.
He glanced across the net at John, who looked like a shadow of the player who'd started this match.
His grip on the racquet was loose, fingers barely wrapped around the handle. His stance was awkward, weight uneven, feet sluggish. The last point had seemed taken the fight out of him. The physical toll and the mental pressure had finally caught up. And now, he was just trying to endure.
Jin didn't focus on it. He just did what he always did: played his best.
He tossed the ball and served.
John didn't even try. His feet barely shuffled, his eyes slow to track the ball as it zipped past him untouched.
Ace.
And then another.
And another.
Before Jin knew it, he had claimed the service game without resistance. The scoreboard ticked up once again.
7–0.
Only one game left.
During the changeover, John hurried to his side of the court, skipping his towel, water, and coach. No advice, no reset. Just a silent retreat.
Jin followed at the same pace, eager to finish what he started.
At this point the final game was more like a formality.
John tried to serve, but his form had crumbled. The first serve landed in the net. The second was a soft lob that Jin pounced on, putting it away with a clean easy winner.
0–15.
The next point was much the same. John's serve was inconsistent, his footwork lagging. Jin returned with precision, forcing an error.
0–30.
At 0–40, match point, Jin read the serve before it even left John's hand. He stepped in, met the ball early, and ripped a forehand down the line.
Winner.
Game, set, match.
The crowd erupted into cheers and scattered clapping, the noise swelling with excitement. Jin stood still for a moment, letting the sounds wash over him. His chest rose and fell with each breath, and a grin slowly stretched across his face. He'd done it. He'd won his first match and not just won. He had shut it out completely.
8-0 a complete domination.
That kind of scoreline wasn't very rare per say but it was unheard of for someone playing their first official match. But this wasn't luck. Jin knew it. Every serve, every point, every decision was earned even if his opponent couldn't keep up.
He made his way to the net, where John stood awkwardly. The other boy's shoulders slumped, his grip on the racquet loose. His eyes were down, flicking up only when Jin extended his hand.
John took it with a weak shake, mumbling under his breath, "Man… you were really good. It must've been a boring match for you."
Jin smiled, not in a mocking way, but with genuine warmth. "Not at all. I learned a lot and I hope you did too. This was actually my first match." He paused, then added with a smirk, "Well, kind of."
That made John look up. Surprise flickered in his eyes. "Wait… seriously?" He blinked, then chuckled, a bit of his competitive fire returning. "You're right. I did learn a lot. I'll practice hard and… next time, I'll win a game off of you."
His grip tightened slightly as he said it, as if anchoring himself to that promise.
Jin nodded. "I'll be looking forward to it."
With that, they parted. Jin walked back to his bench and knelt beside his bag, unzipping it slowly, his body still buzzing with adrenaline. He hadn't even realized how tense his shoulders had been until now. His fingers moved methodically, towel, water bottle, wristbands, all packed away.
Then he felt a solid slap on his back.
"Nice match, Jin!"
He looked up to see Coach Ruplinger looming over him with a wide grin, eyes gleaming with approval.
"Not gonna lie," the coach said, "didn't expect that level out of you. You've been hiding something from us, huh?"
Jin laughed, rubbing the back of his head. "I've been putting in a lot of extra time on my own. I guess it finally paid off."
Coach gave a firm nod. "Keep it up. If you keep training like this, you've got real potential. No joke. And don't be afraid to ask for help anytime you want."
"I won't," Jin said sincerely.
Coach clapped him on the shoulder again. "Alright, I'm off to check on the other matches. Take a breather, then go support your teammates. Hopefully this energy you have can spread to the others."
With a parting nod, Coach Ruplinger turned and headed off toward the adjacent courts, calling out advice to another player mid-rally.
Jin slung his bag over his shoulder and stood, thinking about resting for a bit. But then, a face came to mind. His brother.
Kai showed up to watch… I should thank him.
He veered toward the bleachers, scanning the crowd until he found the familiar figure.
The moment Kai spotted him, he sprang up from his seat like he was launched.
"Jin!" he shouted, jogging over. "Yo! You were so cool out there! I didn't realize you were that good!"
Jin raised an eyebrow, feigning a sulk. "Why does everyone keep saying that? Am I really that unimpressive normally?"
Kai burst out laughing. "Hahaha, I guess I've just never seen you play for real. I thought you'd be, like… decent. But that was something else. You looked like a pro out there!"
Jin scratched his cheek, half-embarrassed, half-proud. "Thanks. I've been putting in work."
Kai nudged his shoulder with a grin. "Keep it up. I'm telling you in a few years you'll go pro. Then you can pay me back for all the clothes I bought you."
Jin's eyes narrowed "I already paid that in full, if anything I deserve more payment."
Kai laughed, "alright that's fair"
Once the brothers finished their chat Jin glanced back at the court, where a few lingering spectators were still chatting about the match. His chest filled with a quiet sense of satisfaction. Not from the praise, but from something deeper.
He was starting to become the player he'd always dreamed of being.