LRAB Chapter 107 Atobe, His First Disciple
Chapter 107 Atobe, His First Disciple
Unlike the somber atmosphere at Rikkai, Hyotei was completely stunned by their captain's shot.
To be precise, it was... a surprise.
Xiang Ri jumped up from the sidelines, her short red hair swaying in the wind, grabbed Shinobu's arm next to her, and shook her hard.
"Yuushi, Yuushi, did you see that?! The captain caught it! That ball! He caught Sanada's amazing ball!"
Shinobu's glasses were knocked askew by the swaying, but he didn't bother to fix them; his eyes remained fixed on the court.
"I saw it."
His voice was much faster than usual, filled with barely concealed excitement. "Sanada's movements are like lightning, and his ball speed has reached the limit of the junior high school court. If it were an ordinary player, they wouldn't even have time to react."
"But Atobe not only caught it, he also returned it with a rather tricky landing point."
"Our King of Hyotei certainly doesn't disappoint."
"Wow...that was an amazing shot." Jiro had somehow run back from Marui's side, clinging to the netting, his eyes glued to the court, his reddish-brown curly hair sticking up in a mess. "Atobe was the best! The best!"
Shishido stood to the side with his arms crossed, his long hair fluttering in the wind. His lips were pursed, but the light in his eyes was dazzling.
"That was a beautiful return shot."
Feng stood beside him, nodded vigorously, her eyes sparkling.
Hiyoshi leaned against the fence, arms crossed, a slight smile playing on his lips, and muttered, "Overthrowing superiors... that's a long way off."
Kabaji stood beside them, his tall figure motionless, his eyes fixed on Atobe's back.
He didn't say anything, but he gripped the net tightly.
The two teams spoke in hushed tones, but each word was sincere. Everyone was stunned by Sanada's "Thunder Strike" and Atobe's miraculous return.
Wang Yueling leaned against the netting between them, her azure eyes constantly watching the field, noticing every movement and every rise and fall of their breaths.
Seeing Atobe, at the critical moment, grip his racket with both hands and forcefully block Sanada's thunderous shot.
He couldn't help but whistle inwardly.
"That was a pretty good return."
He truly deserves to be called his "founding disciple" by his own hand; he's really made a name for himself.
I kept repeating this sentence to myself, and the more I thought about it, the more I felt that it made a lot of sense.
His idea has a theoretical basis.
"First of all, Mochizuki Ryo is the best tennis player in the world. There is no room for argument on this point. Anyone who disagrees should come and challenge him to a game until he admits their mistake."
"Then he became a coach for the first time, which was like establishing a new school of thought. As for what to call this school, he hasn't decided yet."
"The first disciple should naturally be the most talented, the most capable fighter, and the one who can best represent the sect."
"Atobe Keigo perfectly meets all of the above criteria."
See how good his eye for talent is?
His disciple was dominating the field, and he, as the master, was watching from the sidelines. The feeling was... tsk tsk tsk.
Wang Yueling gave herself a thumbs up in her heart. Her face still had that calm and composed coach look, with a slight upturn at the corners of her mouth and her bright blue eyes shining in the sunlight, but her expression management was still on point.
of course……
Atobe himself was unaware that he had been given the chuunibyou title of "founding disciple".
Wang Yueling didn't intend to tell him either.
Because given Atobe's personality, he would have chased after him and beaten him up the whole time before he even finished listening.
……
Ryo Mochizuki refocused her attention on Atobe's hand as he caught the ball, the smile in her eyes slowly fading, replaced by a more serious and focused light.
Others might only see Atobe steadily returning the ball and barely blocking Sanada's game-winning shot, but he saw it much more clearly.
The moment Atobe received the ball, his aura changed.
It's not a sudden, outward burst of power, but something more internal and subtle. Like a knife drawn from its sheath—no glint, no sound, but the blade is already revealed.
That moment was very brief. The ball flew off Sanada's racket so fast that it was just a blur. Then Atobe appeared at the point where the ball would land, gripped his racket with both hands, and forcefully slammed it back.
On the surface, it's due to quick reaction time, good dynamic vision, and proper training.
But Mochizuki Ryou could see it very clearly.
The moment Sanada hits the ball, Atobe's body begins to move. It's not that he chases after seeing the direction of the ball; his center of gravity shifts in that direction even when the ball is still on Sanada's racket face.
It's not about reacting after capturing the ball's trajectory with dynamic vision, but about anticipating it.
The moment Sanada swung his racket, he anticipated the direction of the force, the angle of the racket face, and his body's center of gravity, and then mentally deduced the ball's landing point.
This was the prototype of "the ultimate expression of talent".
Absolute prediction.
In fact, Atobe has always had excellent insight and dynamic vision, which is his natural talent.
But in the past, it was just "visible," now it's "calculated." The difference is that seeing requires waiting for the ball to come out, while calculating allows you to move before the ball even comes out.
During the past month of intensive training, Atobe has progressed more smoothly on this path than Mochizuki Ryo had anticipated.
After each day's extra training, Mochizuki Ryo would have him do a set of reaction training exercises.
It wasn't about catching the ball, it was about watching the video.
Call out the landing point before the ball hits the ground.
At first, Atobe often made mistakes, but his accuracy improved. Later, he didn't even need to watch the video anymore; he could predict the outcome just by standing on the court.
Although I've only just begun to grasp the basics, I'm far from reaching the "absolute prediction" level of a master strategist. I can't predict "which point I'll score in this game" before the match even starts.
But Atobe can now predict the ball's landing point the instant his opponent shoots.
But once you've got the basics, you've got the basics.
Taking this step is the fundamental difference between not taking it and not taking it at all.
Just as Wang Yueling thought of this, she paused for a moment.
……wrong.
When Atobe received Sanada's "Thunder" in its full state, it wasn't just a prediction.
The ball was too fast and too powerful. Even with brilliant prediction and knowing the landing point in advance, one's body might not be able to withstand the impact.
A normal return shot is completely unstoppable.
Anticipating something is one thing; catching it is another.
Having exceptional talent allows you to know where the ball will land, but knowing it doesn't guarantee you can hit it. Especially with Sanada's super-fast shots, the ball's speed is so fast that even if you know where it will land, your body might not be able to keep up.
But Atobe not only caught up, he also used both hands to grip the racket head-on and receive the hit.
This shows that his body withstood the full impact of the lightning in that instant.
This is—a skill honed through countless trials.
"The ultimate test of perfection."
Another door to the realm of selflessness.
When you hone your body to its absolute limit.
There's no need to think or hesitate; the body will react on its own.
Concentrate all your strength on the optimal part of your body to greatly enhance that part’s strength, speed, and defense, while suppressing fatigue, pain, and impact to the minimum.
When Atobe caught the ball, he must have concentrated the power in his arm and wrist.
That's why he was able to withstand Ray's "terrifying" impact without injuring his arm and still manage to steadily return the ball.
That's right.
Atobe touched both doors at the same time.
His talent and brilliance have already made him a formal beginner, but after countless trials and tribulations, he has only just touched the threshold.
Looking back now, his return of that ball wasn't perfect. If his skills had been refined further, his powerful spin would have completely shut down Sanada's movement.
Even if he manages to receive the ball, the spin is too strong and the ball will go out of bounds.
Ryo Mochizuki previously thought that Atobe would achieve results first in terms of talent. After all, his insight and dynamic vision were already established; as long as he honed his predictive abilities, they would become a readily available weapon.
Unexpectedly, he silently kicked open Bai Lianzi's door as well.
"He doesn't say what he shouldn't; he truly deserves to be his eldest disciple."
Looking at the boy standing on the baseline with his back straight and an imposing aura, Wang Yueling's smile deepened.
I mentally went over that sentence again and then corrected myself.
"No, I should say, as expected of Atobe Keigo."
Atobe's strength was never due to innate talent, nor was it achieved overnight by simply giving him a few pointers.
A month ago, in Atobe's study, he said, "I can guide you in your skills, but I can't play any match for you. All growth ultimately depends on yourselves."
He spoke very seriously, and Atobe took it to heart.
Others only see Atobe's arrogance and haughtiness as the emperor of Hyotei, but they cannot see the effort he put in behind the scenes.
While others focus solely on techniques and routines during training, he meticulously refines every step, every inch of physical fitness, and every muscle memory.
Repeatedly refine tactics, game strategy, and mental resilience under pressure.
While others relax and rest after training, he always stays alone in the empty club court, polishing his serve, return, and positioning details again and again by the light.
While others are content with their current level of skill, he always sets his sights on a higher level of perfection.
They refused to slack off even a little.
The result of countless trials and tribulations was not something Atobe grasped by chance while standing on the court today. It was the inevitable outcome of his daily, relentless efforts to reach the pinnacle.
So even though Sanada broke his Tannhäuser serve in the first game, he didn't panic. He quickly composed himself, adjusted his tactics, and steered the match into his preferred rhythm.
We gradually turned the tide and reversed the disadvantage step by step.
This is what he sees as Atobe now.
It's no longer just about being flamboyant and proud, but about absolute control after undergoing rigorous and demanding training.
Still narcissistic, still domineering, still commanding respect from the moment he opens his mouth. But there's something deeper in his eyes now: composure, sharpness... and an unwavering certainty of victory.
This courage and insight are truly surprising.
……
Ryo Mochizuki shifted his gaze from Atobe to the other end of the court.
Sanada stood at the baseline, his hat pulled low, obscuring his expression. But the heaving of his chest grew increasingly pronounced.
The full version of "Moving Like Thunder" has been broken.
Sanada's mindset began to waver.
Wang Yueling could clearly sense that he had readjusted his stance, but the rhythm of his swing had subtly become a bit off.
In the next few balls, he returned them much more hastily than before, and made frequent mistakes. Some of the shots were not angled well enough, and some of the power was not controlled, causing them to go out of bounds.
What was initially a one-sided advantage has now been seized by Atobe, who has gradually turned the tide and even taken the lead.
Wang Yueling sighed inwardly.
He had said before in Yukimura's hospital room that Sanada's stubborn, strong-willed mentality would eventually cause him to stumble.
Sanada had been basking in the glory of his past victory over Atobe for too long. That victory became his inherent confidence, but also a blind spot that prevented him from seeing his opponent's growth.
He only believed in Atobe, whom he had personally witnessed and defeated, and completely refused to acknowledge the possibility that Atobe might have surpassed his ultimate technique.
So when he stands on this court today, he still has the "old" Atobe in his mind. His tactics, his rhythm, and his anticipation are all based on his understanding of the "old" Atobe.
But he was facing a "new" Atobe.
He is Atobe, who practices late into the night every day, honing every movement to perfection, and simultaneously pursuing both brilliant talent and refined skill.
When reality and perception diverge significantly, Sanada's first reaction is not "I need to adjust," but rather "This shouldn't be the case."
This kind of psychological rift is more fatal than a technical flaw.
In fact, Sanada was by no means inferior in terms of the so-called level of tennis skill. He also touched the threshold of "mastery through practice," probably even earlier than Atobe.
In the first game, he broke through Atobe's Tannhäuser serve, relying not only on experience and judgment, but also on the physical intuition honed through countless trials.
Before the ball even arrives, the body already knows how to catch it.
That shot was no less impressive than Atobe catching the "thunderbolt".
Both of them touched the same threshold, and that was all they did. Neither of them truly stepped inside, and neither of them was significantly better than the other.
But Sanada's mentality has too low a tolerance for error.
His racket on the court now betrays his true feelings.
The swing became wider, the footwork faster, and each shot carried an impatience of "I must score immediately".
Wang Yueling withdrew her gaze and looked down at her fingers.
Hopefully, he can regain his composure and turn the tide in the next game.
Otherwise... hmph...
I really will tell Yukimura.
-
The entire tennis court was quiet yet tense, with only the crisp sound of rackets hitting the ball echoing gently in the breeze.
The battle between the two kings continues in an endless stalemate, escalating further.
Sanada forced himself to stay calm and continued to apply pressure with "Wind, Forest, Fire, Mountain" in the following balls, trying to disrupt Atobe's rhythm.
Atobe did not back down.
This game went to a tie several times.
Every point was played for a long time, and every shot was filled with pressure.
The people on the sidelines were so nervous they couldn't speak.
Mukahi's forehead was covered in sweat, but he didn't bother to wipe it away. Shinobu's eyes were unblinking, his lips pressed into a thin line. Ootori gripped his racket tightly, veins bulging. Shishido crossed his arms, the muscles in his arms taut.
The situation isn't much better at Rikkai University.
Marui had crumpled the tissue in his hand into a ball. Kuwabara's brows were furrowed so deeply they could trap a fly. Niou, no longer fiddling with his braid or leaning against Yagyu, stood ramrod straight, his fox-like eyes fixed on the small yellow ball that was flying back and forth.
Yagyu's glasses reflected the light, obscuring his expression, but his hand remained on his racket, his fingertips tapping the handle.
Kirihara was no longer lying on the net. He stood up straight, his hands clenched into fists and hanging at his sides, his chin slightly raised, his eyes fixed on the field.
Liu's pen flew across the paper as she wrote.
He was recording every change in Atobe's style... his positioning, his choice of return ball, his energy distribution, and his mental state.
Every piece of data tells him one fact:
"Atobe is no longer the Atobe he used to be."
This is no longer a technological advancement, but a fundamental evolution.
He flipped to the first few pages of his notebook, where Atobe's data from a month ago was recorded. Compared to today's performance, almost all indicators were on the rise, some even doubling.
He wrote his conclusion on a new page, his handwriting heavy.
Keigo Atobe has now fully acquired the strength to confront Genichiro Sanada head-on.
Sanada made a mistake on the court, hitting a high lob that landed in Atobe's forecourt. Atobe seized the opportunity, jumped, and his racket traced an arc in the air.
"A waltz toward destruction."
The first smash, with its sharp wind and powerful impact, slammed directly onto Sanada's racket frame.
The force was so great that Sanada's wrist sank down, and the racket flew out of his hand, spun a few times in the air, and fell to the ground with a "thud".
The ball bounced back into Atobe's half of the field.
Before Sanada could even pick up his racket and adjust, Atobe seized the opportunity, leaping up for another clean smash.
The ball landed in the field behind Sanada, bounced twice, and rolled to the edge of the net.
The referee's clear whistle rang out.
"Game, Atobe, score 2-1."
Sanada stood there, looking down at his empty right hand. Then he turned around, walked to the sidelines, bent down, and picked up the racket that had fallen onto the grass.
The movements are very slow.
When he straightened up, Wang Yueling noticed that his wrist was trembling slightly.
I'm not injured; it's just that the impact of that shot was too great, and my wrist hasn't recovered yet.
Sanada gripped his racket tightly and walked back to the baseline. His chest heaved violently, and sweat trickled down his strong jawline.
His eyes, hidden beneath the brim of his hat, were fixed on Atobe across from him. The surprise he had shown earlier had faded, replaced by a heavy sense of gravity.
Moves like thunder.
This was the first time he had used it publicly in a formal match, hoping to use it to create a breakthrough.
Unexpectedly, not only did they fail to win a single point, but they were also easily countered by Atobe, losing their advantageous position.
Atobe used a conventional return shot, catching his lightning bolt. He didn't use "annihilation of the five senses" to dismantle it at its root like Yukimura did.
It was a head-on collision; I received the ball with the front of my racket and returned it.
He had to admit in his heart that Atobe in front of him had been completely transformed and was no longer the opponent he could easily suppress.
He also deeply felt that if he didn't give it his all... he would lose.
This thought was like a needle, piercing the deepest part of his heart.
……
Intermission.
Sanada walked back to the bench by the court, sat down, and placed his racket on his knees. He took off his hat, covered his face with a towel, and his shoulders heaved heavily.
Liu handed him a bottle of water, which he took, unscrewed the cap, drank a couple of sips, then screwed the cap back on and placed it at his feet.
Liu glanced at him but didn't say anything.
He knew that Sanada needed to process this on his own.
Niou leaned against the fence a little distance away, his braid twirling around his fingertip. He watched Sanada's retreating figure, the usual upturned smile fading from his lips, and unusually, he refrained from making a teasing remark.
"Puri~ Sanada has been pushed to the limit."
Yagyu didn't speak, but his fingers kept stroking the string.
Marui's purple eyes were fixed on the scoreboard on the field. 2-1, Atobe was in the lead.
He said softly, "Atobe's progress is much greater than we thought."
Kuwabara nodded silently beside him.
Kirihara had never seen the vice-minister like this before. It wasn't anger or frustration, but a feeling he couldn't quite put his finger on, as if something was pressing down on him.
He was about to go over and say something when Yagyu gently tugged at his sleeve.
Liu Sheng quietly shook his head at him.
Kirihara stood there, clutching his racket helplessly. His lips moved, but in the end, he didn't go over.
-
The afternoon wind swept across the grass again, carrying a few remaining rose petals that drifted slowly.
After the halftime break, the two players faced off again, their gazes locked in a tense standoff.
A new round of skill-based competition is about to begin.