The training court smelled different without Daigo's cigarette smoke.
Too clean. Too quiet.
Ren bounced a ball against the glass wall again and again, each echo sharper than the last. Usually Daigo would bark corrections—"Feet first, brat!"—or throw a ball at his head to test reflexes. Now, just silence.
Shizuka stood near the baseline, arms folded, watching him mis-time another lob. "Pathetic. Without him, you're already worse."
Ren grimaced. "Thanks for the encouragement."
She didn't answer—just stepped onto the court, racket in hand. In one motion she slammed a volley at his chest. He barely blocked it.
"Stop whining. If you can't keep up without a coach, you'll die in the League anyway," she snapped. But her eyes softened a fraction, the faintest crack in the icy mask. "So don't make me carry you."
Before Ren could reply, the door creaked open. Maria Luz strolled in, skirt fluttering, racket balanced lazily on her shoulder.
"My, my. What a gloomy funeral vibe." She winked at Ren. "Don't tell me you're lost without your old man coach?"
Ren sighed. "Not lost. Just... adjusting."
Maria's grin widened. She twirled her racket like a dancer's fan. "Then let me cheer you up. A three-way rally. First one to drop loses."
Without waiting, she smacked the ball across. Shizuka intercepted cleanly, firing it at Ren. He stumbled but returned, pulse racing as the rhythm escalated: smash, volley, lob, dive.
Crowdless, coachless—yet the rally burned brighter than any drill.
His HUD blinked mid-swing:
[Trial Condition Active: Survive 30 Days Without Coach.]
[Sub-Condition: Maintain Win Rate ≥ 50%.]
[Reward: Copy Technique Lv.2 (Stable Mode).]
Ren's heart jolted. This wasn't training anymore—it was survival written in code.
The ball zipped past his ear, Maria laughing, Shizuka glaring, both driving him harder. He lunged, muscles screaming, and somehow kept the rally alive.
For the first time since Daigo's suspension, Ren felt something stir. Not despair. Not fear.
Resolve.
Even alone... he wasn't really alone.
The Lonely Court
The ball clattered off the glass and ricocheted back, Ren twisting his body to scoop it up just before it died. Shizuka's volley was merciless, Maria's drop shot mischievous—yet Ren refused to fold.
His lungs burned. His shirt clung with sweat. But his racket moved sharper, more certain.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
Thirty strokes. Forty. Fifty.
HUD blinked:
[Sub-Condition: Consecutive Rally — 50 achieved.]
[Temporary Buff: Focus +1.]
Maria whistled. "Not bad, chico. Maybe you do have rhythm without your grumpy sensei."
Shizuka snorted, but her shoulders eased, just slightly. "Don't get cocky. This doesn't mean you're ready."
Ren smiled, gulping for air. "Yeah... but it means I'm not quitting."
Then he heard it—murmurs outside the fence.
He turned. Beyond the glass walls, a small crowd had gathered. Fans in academy jackets, local kids with holo-cams, even a couple of reporters. They'd been watching the entire rally.
One voice shouted, "Messiah doesn't need a coach!"
Another: "He's still standing!"
Phones lit up, live feeds streaming. Hashtags flared in neon over the city's public holo-boards:
#CoachlessMessiah
#99NoFear
Ren froze, sweat dripping down his cheek. He'd been fighting just to keep from drowning—and somehow, it had become a show.
Maria leaned close, whispering in his ear, "Looks like Aurelia loves an underdog... even more when he's bleeding."
Shizuka turned away, ears pink, muttering, "Idiots. All of them."
But Ren's HUD pulsed one last time before fading:
[Passive Triggered: Crowd Buff Lv.2 → Public Endurance +5%.]
For the first time since Daigo's suspension, Ren's chest felt lighter. He wasn't just surviving. He was seen.
And the world had already chosen a name for him.
The Coachless Messiah.