Tenacity
Screech—
Thwaack—!
An hour and a half had already passed since the match began.
Most of the courts had long since decided their winners and stood empty, but on one alone the two players were still setting the soles of their shoes on fire.
“Insane.”
Every gaze swung toward the scoreboard.
Hwayeon High — Park Jung-hoon vs Anam High — Kim In-ha
1G: 30 – 29
2G: 28 – 30
3G: 27 – 28
It was fierce. It was brutal. Not a single set had failed to crawl into deuce.
A lot of players had their eyes locked on that court. Most of them wore the look of people who had already had enough.
Thwaaack—!
Ting—
“Service over, twenty-eight all!”
From match point, Park Jung-hoon clawed another point and forced deuce yet again.
“Ugh.”
Everyone was painting the same picture in their heads: what it would feel like if they were the ones on that court, locked in a death grip, biting and thrashing and refusing to let go.
And just as a hundred people will always have a hundred different thoughts, a whole spectrum of feelings began to surface across their faces.
Those with plenty of chances left felt resignation. Those with almost none felt relief. Those who simply loved badminton felt pure interest. All those scattered impressions drifted together into the heat-haze rising off the floor.
Then—
“Nnngh…”
Someone let out a pained groan from the Hwayeon High bench area.
“Kim Gyeong-tae, you finally awake?”
The voice came from above. It sounded oddly sulky, so I blinked my eyes open and shut a few times.
Why did his face look so full of complaints? He looked exactly like that Vessel of Desire card I used to see as a kid.
No—wait. Munch’s The Scream?
“…Hyung.”
“Huh?”
Still flat on my back, I delivered a clean shot straight at Jang-hun hyung.
“You look really ugly. Don’t look down at me from up there anymore.”
I put a full two hundred percent of sincerity into it. It was the kind of joke you can only make with someone close—but I also meant every word. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was that, and my heart nearly split clean in two from the shock.
“Huh. Seriously. Aigoo, I picked the wrong junior. Aigooo.”
Leaving Jang-hun hyung to his sudden chorus of aigoos, I rolled a little to the side so I could sit up.
Roll—
“…?”
Strangely, my body didn’t feel stiff at all. I turned my neck and arms this way and that, still puzzled. Same result.
“Jang-hun hyung.”
I shifted my gaze up and to the left toward the dark-skinned senior who was still putting on a light show.
“Did you stick a pillow under me or something?”
At that, Jang-hun hyung’s tantrum finally started to shine for real.
“A piiiiillowww? Do I look like the kind of guy who’d pack something like that?”
…Not light. Spit.
I casually wiped my face with a finger so he wouldn’t feel too embarrassed, and answered,
“No.”
“Right? Go ask your friend.”
Jang-hun hyung scrunched his brows and the space between them like some kind of goblin and spread his palm, pointing to the spot right beside him.
My friend?
Only then did I catch the peach scent floating nearby—something that absolutely should not have been able to exist in a crowd of sweaty guys.
“Ah.”
Maybe it was because the first thing I saw after waking had been so traumatic. Only now did I realize there was one more person here.
I turned my head up and to the right and opened my mouth.
“Hana-eun, why are you still here? What did you even do?”
I genuinely could not understand it. Fine, the individual matches had been first and finished early—but the team event was still left.
Isn’t she supposed to be practicing for the team matches?
And what exactly had she done to make Jang-hun hyung pull that black-goblin face?
“Hehe.”
When I stared at her full of questions, Hana-eun didn’t answer. She just smiled, looking thoroughly, deeply satisfied.
What…?
What are you doing, you little—
Was she planning to sit through every last point of Park Jung-hoon’s match? Had she watched almost all of it and that was why she looked so pleased?
She was that serious about it?
Even after getting rejected that coldly. Enough to come all the way here?
“Haa.”
That was its own separate shock. Why did I have to face this kind of trial the second I opened my eyes?
Being the third wheel in a childhood-friends love drama is seriously rough.
For Hana-eun’s own good, I decided to kick her out firmly.
“Hey, Hana-eun.”
“Ung?”
“‘Ung,’ she says. Stop being clingy and get going already. Team matches are still left.”
“Ung.”
Hana-eun nodded with her whole head. She still hadn’t dropped the clingy act, but she sprang to her feet and left. Her excited footsteps looked exactly like a fox’s.
After what happened yesterday, she really did seem to have lost her mind.
“….”
Screech—!
Squeak—
Thwaack—!
I blankly watched her back as she drifted toward the exit trailing peach scent, then turned my eyes to the court that had everyone’s attention.
You better make it up here.
I’d said it at the entrance too. We were going to have a match.
Thinking that, I pulled out a mint-choco banana energy bar.
Crunch—
“….”
I ignored Jang-hun hyung staring at me from diagonally behind like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
Thwaaack—!
“…For real. What the hell.”
I didn’t hear him.
Haa—
Haa—
“Service over, twenty-nine, twenty-eight!”
He gave one point back again.
Honestly, he could barely even hear what the score was anymore. He was just moving on pure instinct, waiting for someone—anyone—to stop.
“Haa, haa.”
His body, already exhausted past its limit, had shut sound out to protect his brain from every other noise. Eyes and ears now touched only the shuttlecock and the opponent’s movements.
Sweat dripped and soaked into his clothes until even the heat of the gym felt like his own body temperature.
Whoosh—!
…Here it comes.
Squeak—
Thud—
The guy’s skill was about the same as his. No—actually, he was better.
I’m the one barely hanging on and dragging this out.
Proof: the opponent’s face might look fed up, but it never looked like he was about to die of exhaustion.
Of course, Jung-hoon knew perfectly well that just standing here was a miracle. He knew he’d nearly been eliminated in the fourth round. If that last shuttlecock’s trajectory hadn’t been so similar to Gyeong-tae’s, he would have gone home that day.
Which was exactly why he couldn’t give up. Not if he wanted to face the guy who had dragged him this far up. Not if he wanted to prove he had grown.
Absolutely…!
“Hup!”
Thwaaack—!
He poured every last scrap of strength into each swing.
But—
Squeak—
Thud—
The shuttlecock that crossed the net, short on power, simply handed the opponent an opening.
Hairpin…!
The shuttlecock that barely grazed the tape and dropped looked slow. The bird falling as if it were covering the net. The racket racing toward it.
Too short…!
Grit—!
Screech—!
Judging the distance too short, Jung-hoon kicked the floor again with the left foot he’d already planted forward. The sudden shift of his center of gravity let the falling shuttlecock just barely settle on the face of his racket and clear the net.
Thud—
His body was a breath away from face-planting into the front of the net—
Squeak—
—but right before he tumbled, he ground his knee cartilage into the floor and somehow stopped himself. Then he lifted his head and looked forward.
Tap—
“….”
Did it go in? Did it touch the net?
…I don’t know.
Haa—
Huk—
He could only pant and wait for the umpire’s call. Sweat ran down his chin and wet the floor.
Then a faint cry from the umpire drilled into his ears.
“Match point, service, twenty-nine all!”
It went in.
“Huk, huk…”
Tremble—
His legs were shaking. His brain was already sending the signal that he couldn’t hold on any longer; his vision blurred.
Beeeeep—
Haa—
His ears rang and his breath came short—and then:
“Court maintenance.”
A handful of rest fell on him like a sudden shower of rain. Ten, maybe fifteen seconds—tiny—but more than enough for the ringing in his ears to fade. The trembling in his legs gradually settled.
“Play!”
The umpire’s call to start dropped. Jung-hoon, at the net, prepared a short serve to put the barely recovered serve into play.
“Hoo.”
His hands were slick with sweat in that tense moment.
—Park Jung-hoon!
A familiar voice cut through from behind. A smile formed on his face before he even realized it.
They’re cheering me on.
Strength returned to the grip that had been slipping. About to send a short serve, Jung-hoon changed his mind.
My goal.
Thud—!
The shuttlecock left Jung-hoon’s hand, drawing a high parabola over the opponent’s head and toward the backcourt line. The Anam High player scrambled—
Tap—
—but after three full sets of nothing but short serves from Jung-hoon, he could only stare blankly at the bird that never even touched his racket.
“Game!”
Clap, clap—
Waaaah—!
“Match won by Hwayeon High School, Park Jung-hoon. Score, two to one.”
Thud—
“Oof.”
Jung-hoon’s strength left him and he plopped straight onto the floor. A moment later he lay flat on his back and let out a snickering laugh.
That last serve—
It looked a little like his, didn’t it.
It had drawn a trajectory almost identical to Gyeong-tae’s.
While people sent up applause full of encouragement and admiration, I swallowed a low sound in my throat. I set the energy bar I’d been chewing on my knee. I had no appetite left at all.
“Mm…”
Feinting like he was about to hit a short serve, then launching a flick. Wasn’t that… kind of similar to my serve?
“Gyeong-tae, he stole it, huh?”
And then, as if driving a nail straight through that thought, Jang-hun hyung grinned and planted a hand on my shoulder.
“So what now?”
“…Please remove that.”
“Huh? This is how you talk to your heavenly senior?!”
Any urge to joke around vanished completely. For the first time I understood what real tension toward an opponent felt like—only after seeing his tenacity.
You want to climb that badly, huh.
I stood up, loosened my body, and headed for the waiting area.
“Interesting.”
The next match was me and him.