After both teams finished their shooting practice, there was only one person left who hadn't taken a shot at my goal—Lisa Shiraishi herself, who had been observing the entire session from the sidelines.
"Ginjo-san, let me try too," she said, swimming toward the shooting position with the fluid grace of someone who'd been in the water for years.
Oh, this should be interesting. The coach wants to show her students how it's done.
I nodded, accepting her challenge with genuine curiosity about what she could bring to the table that her teammates couldn't.
Let's see what kind of technique the team captain has been hiding.
Lisa swam to the designated position and adjusted her swimming cap with methodical precision, clearly thinking through her strategy. Her expression had shifted from friendly coach mode to serious competitor mode.
She's taking this seriously. Good. I hate it when people go easy on me.
Then she gripped the ball with both hands—and I couldn't help but notice how the water made her skin gleam under the afternoon sun—jumped high out of the water, and launched her attack.
Here we go—
As she jumped, I read her body language and wrist direction, moving to one side in anticipation of where the ball would go.
Got your number, Shiraishi-senpai. Predictable shot to the—
But Lisa had been paying attention to her teammates' failures. She'd realized that the girls couldn't compete with me on pure speed and strength, so she'd shifted to tactics instead.
The moment she noticed my movement, she twisted her wrist at the last second and fired the ball in the completely opposite direction.
What the—she faked me out completely!
The deceptive wrist movement after her jump was absolutely brilliant, and by the time I realized I'd been fooled, it was far too late to change direction normally.
Can't stop my momentum, but maybe…
With my body's center of gravity already committed to the wrong side, I did the only thing I could—instinctively stretched out my leg and kicked desperately in the opposite direction.
Please work, please work, please work—
I managed to deflect the ball just as it was crossing the goal line, sending it harmlessly away from the net.
"Wow!!"
The entire pool erupted in amazed shouts—partly for Lisa's incredible fake-out move, but mostly for what must have looked like an impossible save.
Holy crap, I can't believe that actually worked. That was pure instinct and luck.
The high-level attack and defense sequence left all the girls staring in stunned silence.
"That was incredible, Shiraishi-senpai," I said, swimming over to retrieve the ball and hand it back to her. "You almost had me completely fooled there."
Almost? She did completely fool me. I just got lucky with that desperate kick.
"Unfortunately, it was still just a little short," Lisa said with obvious disappointment. "You managed to save it anyway."
A little short? That was millimeters away from being a perfect goal. She's being way too modest.
"But I really want to thank you, Ginjo-san, for helping us realize how much we still need to improve," she continued with renewed coach-like enthusiasm.
Always thinking about the team. That's why she's captain material.
"Should we do another round? The players seem to be getting the hang of it now," I suggested.
Plus, watching athletic girls in competitive swimwear attempt increasingly creative shots is hardly a hardship.
"Well, then I'll leave it to you, Ginjo-san."
The second round showed marked improvement from the first. While still no one managed to score against me, at least their shots were finding the goal frame now instead of sailing wide or falling short.
They're learning. Good for them.
The reality was that I represented an opponent who could crush them through sheer physical advantage. The difference between men and women in sports requiring intense physical confrontation was just too significant—like how the women's World Cup champions couldn't beat a men's amateur team.
It's not about skill at this point. It's pure biology.
I'd briefly considered letting a few shots through to boost their confidence, but watching how hard they were working, how seriously they were taking each attempt, I quickly abandoned that idea.
They deserve honest competition, not patronizing charity goals.
However, as I watched the girls pour their hearts into each shot, something ignited inside me—a competitive fire that had been simmering just below the surface.
My turn.
Just before training was scheduled to end, I swam over to Lisa.
"Shiraishi-senpai, can you let me shoot?" I asked, unable to keep the eagerness out of my voice.
I've been playing defense this whole time. Now I want to see what I can do on offense.
"We've been doing shooting practice where you defend and I attack. How about we switch it up?"
My suggestion clearly intrigued her, and I watched her coach instincts kick in.
"Alright, since you asked, Ginjo-san, I'll practice with you," she agreed with obvious enthusiasm. "Let's see if you can shoot through my goal."
Oh, it's on now.
"Please don't go easy on me, Ginjo-san," she added with surprising intensity. "I want you to treat me as an equal."
An equal? Shiraishi-senpai, you have no idea what you just asked for.
"I understand," I replied with matching seriousness.
No holding back then. You asked for it.
To make the game more challenging—and theoretically fairer—I decided to increase the difficulty by having several of the girls play tight defense against me.
Let's see how I handle some real pressure.
The whistle blew, and I started from the far end of the pool with the ball, immediately finding myself swarmed by enthusiastic defenders.
Here they come. Time to see what this body can really do.
I skillfully maneuvered around each girl who rushed at me, breaking through their defensive layers one by one with a combination of speed, strength, and water polo instincts I didn't even know I possessed.
This feels… natural. Like I was meant to be doing this.
Soon only a human wall of three team members stood between me and Lisa's goal.
Final obstacle. Let's make this count.
I took advantage of my momentum and launched myself high out of the water, firing the ball with everything I had over the girls' heads.
Power. Speed. Precision. All or nothing.
The ball left a white trail across the water's surface and slammed into the net with devastating force.
Even though Lisa had given her absolute best effort to make the save, she could only watch helplessly as the ball found its mark.
Direct hit. Game over.
"Ginjo-senpai is amazing!" the girls in the pool started cheering.
That felt incredible. Pure, unadulterated dominance.
"How's that, Shiraishi-senpai?" I asked, swimming over to where she was still processing what had just happened. "Serious enough for you?"
"Yeah, you really are something else, Ginjo-san," she said with obvious admiration. "To perform at that level without any specialized training… if you actually joined a sports club, you'd definitely be a top-tier player."
Top-tier, huh? That's a nice thought, but…
"Thanks for the compliment, Shiraishi-senpai," I replied with a laugh.
The truth is, many sports clubs have tried to recruit me over the years, but I've always seen them as entertainment at best. Real training and competition? Not really my style. I prefer a more free and unrestrained approach to life.
"By the way, Shiraishi-senpai," I said, suddenly struck by an idea. "Since I don't have to work part-time anymore, I might be able to come help you more often after school if I have free time."
Why not? It's good exercise, and the company is certainly pleasant.
"Really, Ginjo-san? That's fantastic!" Lisa's face immediately lit up with pure joy. "There's not much time left until the prefectural tournament. With your help, we'll definitely improve much faster."
She recovered from that goal awfully quickly. I like her resilience.
After finishing the water polo training, it was exactly five o'clock—perfect timing for my meeting with Mochizuki.
Time to find out what this mysterious invitation is all about.
After saying goodbye to Lisa and the team members, I made my way to the café where Mochizuki and I had agreed to meet.
Let's see… stylish little place with ceiling fans turning lazily overhead. Handwritten menu, eclectic wall decorations, quiet atmosphere broken only by the occasional doorbell. Perfect for private conversations.
I looked around and didn't see Mochizuki anywhere, so I claimed a window seat and ordered coffee while I waited.
Five-thirty and no sign of her. Am I about to get stood up?
Just as I was starting to wonder if she'd changed her mind, the familiar curvaceous figure of Mochizuki Yao appeared at the café entrance. She looked slightly out of breath and flushed, clearly having rushed to get here.
She came running. That's… actually kind of sweet.
"Mochizuki-san," I called out, waving her over.
She hurried across the café with quick, small steps and settled into the seat across from me.
"Sorry, Ginjo-san," she said breathlessly. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."
She immediately grabbed the water glass and took several large gulps, trying to catch her breath.
She definitely came straight from work. That OL suit is doing absolutely sinful things to her figure.
"Don't worry about it, Mochizuki-san," I assured her. "I just arrived myself—you're right on time. I was just a bit early."
Though now that you're here, I'm definitely glad I waited.
Today's Mochizuki was dressed in a crisp office lady suit that seemed designed to test the limits of my self-control. The black jacket was straining against her generous curves, with the top two buttons of her white shirt undone to reveal an enticing glimpse of smooth, flawless skin.
That shirt is fighting a losing battle. One deep breath and those buttons are going to surrender completely.
The tight-fitting dress showcased her impossibly slender waist while perfectly accommodating her round, full hips. Black stockings encased her shapely thighs, and every time she shifted in her seat, I could swear I heard the whisper of fabric against skin.
Focus, Sousuke. She clearly has something important to discuss, and you're sitting here cataloging her outfit like some kind of perverted fashion critic.
After she finally caught her breath, I decided to cut to the chase.
"So, Mochizuki-san, what did you want to talk about today?"
Though honestly, I'm not sure I'm prepared for whatever this conversation is going to involve.
"Ah, um, Ginjo-san…" she began hesitantly, clearly still organizing her thoughts.
She's nervous. Really nervous. What could possibly be so difficult to say?
"It's just… it's about what happened last time when I was drunk. I still want to apologize to you again."
Her face showed obvious anxiety, and her delicate eyebrows were slightly furrowed with worry.
She's still thinking about that? It's been weeks.
"It's been so long, Mochizuki-san," I said gently. "You really don't need to worry about it anymore. It's all in the past."
Though I have to admit, drunk Mochizuki was quite the experience. Not that she needs to know I found it memorable for all the wrong reasons.
"Thank you, Ginjo-san," she said with obvious relief. "Actually, there's one more thing…"
One more thing? Oh boy. Here we go.
"What is it?"
"It's just… it's just… I want to invite you to watch a movie with me."
Her tone was hesitant, almost shy, which seemed odd for such a simple request.
A movie? That's what she's been nervous about? That's actually pretty normal.
"A movie? Are there any good new releases recently?" I asked, genuinely curious. "There's a movie theater not far from here."
Though I'm not sure why asking me to a movie would make her this uncomfortable. It's a pretty standard date activity.
"Ah, no, no," she said quickly, her face turning an even deeper shade of red. "Actually… actually, I want to invite you to my room to watch a movie…"