Mash-Up: I'm Not A Substitute

The last class of the day was PE.

If this were back home, our frail and sickly PE teacher would've undoubtedly "fallen ill" again, and we'd be having math or English instead.

But this was Japan. PE teachers here weren't so weak, so class proceeded as usual.

At Aoba High, PE was held with three classes combined.

After leading the students through warm-ups, the PE teacher dismissed them to do whatever they wanted.

"Takashi, let's go play!"

Just as Takashi was about to sit under the shade of a tree, Shota Otani came running over excitedly, dragging him off to play table tennis.

"Takashi, do you know how to play ping pong?" Otani asked, standing by an unused table tennis setup.

Takashi casually picked up a paddle from the table and weighed it in his hand. Surprisingly, it felt just right. He glanced down at it.

Hmm, not a Double Happiness brand, but something called Yasaka.

Examining the paddle, Takashi answered offhandedly, "Not really. I've just played a bit with the old men in the neighborhood."

Of course, he was referring to the old men from his past life's apartment complex.

Japan didn't have residential communities like that.

Hearing that, Otani's eyes lit up.

"Then let's have a deathmatch, betting on the honor of Aoba's best!" He pointed his paddle at Takashi, his voice loud enough for the entire sports field to hear.

"Huh?"

Takashi narrowed his eyes. Something about this felt suspicious.

"Oh? Kitahara, are you really going to duel Shota?"

"Kitahara-kun, do your best!"

Simply standing there, Takashi was already the center of attention.

Many girls had been sneaking glances at him before, but with Otani's dramatic challenge, they flocked over to watch.

"Even if you lose, I'll comfort you, Takashi." A girl from Class B, with short ear-length hair and an adorable doll-like face, cheered him on with a clenched fist.

"Yuzu, is that really how you comfort someone?"

"Aww, don't be mean!"

The girl named Yuzu blushed at her friends' teasing and playfully swatted at them.

"Ugh, she's embarrassing us girls," Narii muttered in disdain as she glanced at the lovestruck fool.

A young girl like that, with no self-respect, openly saying such shameless things in public—absolutely disgraceful.

"Damn it, how dare Kitahara act so arrogant? Watch how I deal with you!" Otani glared at him fiercely.

Takashi adjusted his grip on the paddle, his body slightly crouched, upper body leaning forward, legs spread apart, and eyes locked onto Otani. "Come at me."

You dare look down on someone who went toe-to-toe with the community grandpas?

Otani tossed the ball and brushed his paddle against its lower edge with a swift motion.

The ball spun rapidly under the force of friction, floating unpredictably as it skimmed over the net.

For an average player, this was an excellent serve—low and spinning, hard to return.

Most amateurs feared spin and would only manage a weak, soft return.

But Takashi wasn't most amateurs.

His eyes sharpened as if spotting black stockings on a beautiful woman. 

With a swift step to the side, a hip turn, a waist twist, and a flick of the wrist, his motion was seamless.

A sharp "pop!" rang out as the small silver ball shot forward like a bolt of lightning, hitting the table by Otani's side before flying far out of reach.

The ball was too fast. Otani didn't even have time to react.

"Y-You said you weren't good at this!" Otani gulped, feeling completely deceived.

"I'm not."

Takashi genuinely wasn't. He used to get wrecked by the old grandpas every day.

He never even placed in the top three at the park tournaments.

"That shot was just a fluke. I was just trying it out. Didn't expect it to work."

He started bluffing.

"Let's go again."

Otani had a feeling he was being conned, but he had no proof.

And with all these people watching, he couldn't afford to back down.

"This time, you serve."

He tossed the ball to Takashi, wanting to see his serve and gauge his real skill level.

"Alright."

Takashi crouched, cradling the ball in his left hand as he raised his gaze slightly. "Ready?"

"Bring it on!" Otani shouted at the top of his lungs, psyching himself up.

Takashi tossed the ball into the air, twisting his wrist clockwise as his paddle struck the ball from its lower left side with a sharp slicing motion.

The rubber gripped the ball, creating a strong spin. The ball shot forward, bouncing once on his side before speeding toward the farthest edge of Otani's table.

A mere half-inch more, and it would've gone out, resulting in a serve fault.

Yet, miraculously, the ball stayed in play, heading straight for Otani's chest.

Otani instinctively tried to sidestep and counter with a backhand, but he failed to react in time. The ball struck him square in the chest before bouncing gently onto the floor.

"Again."

Takashi's tone was indifferent, but to Otani, it carried immense pressure.

He suddenly felt like a lowly grunt who got drunk and mistakenly challenged the Demon King to a duel.

...

"Your backhand is weak, forehand lacks precision, footwork is sluggish, reaction time is slow—not a single move of yours is decent."

Takashi stepped aside, right leg retreating, and executed a powerful forehand loop drive.

The ball smashed against the table with force, soaring past Otani before he could even react.

"And you dare think you can play against me? Keep dreaming."

He looked down at Otani, who was panting from all the running and constantly picking up balls, his eyes filled with disdain.

"I'm done. I quit."

Otani tossed his paddle aside and collapsed onto the ground.

If he was going to embarrass himself, so be it. He was never playing ping pong with Takashi again.

To hell with his table tennis dreams.

If he ever touched another paddle, he'd be a damn dog!

"That was amazing!"

"Unstoppable Kitahara!"

"As expected of the man standing at the pinnacle of Aoba!"

...

By now, a massive crowd had gathered around Takashi's table, forming several layers of onlookers.

Even the PE teacher had come over to watch.

Everyone knew Takashi was a top student, but no one had expected him to be this good at ping pong too.

"Who's next?"

Takashi had thoroughly enjoyed crushing his opponent and was even a little eager for more.

He cast a mischievous gaze at the boys from his class and the others.

The students who met his gaze quickly looked away, avoiding eye contact like students dreading being called on by the teacher.

Yeah, no thanks.

Otani was just humiliated before their very eyes. Who would willingly volunteer for the same fate?

"Sensei, how about you play a round?"

Takashi smirked at the PE teacher.

"Oh no, I suddenly have a stomach ache. I need to go to the restroom."

Well then.

So Japanese PE teachers could be weak too.

"Being undefeated is so lonely." Takashi set his paddle down, shaking his head in exaggerated sorrow.

'Damn it, he's showing off again.'

At that moment, every boy had the exact same thought.

They wanted to show off too!

Just as Takashi was about to stretch and loosen up, Narii charged at him like a bull, slamming into his back.

Crack!

For a brief moment, he swore he heard the faint sound of something in his bones shifting.

Maybe… probably… he was just imagining it.

"Takashi, you're amazing!"

Narii wrapped her arms around his waist, looking up at him with an excited, radiant smile.

"I get that you're excited, but could you keep your hands to yourself?" Takashi muttered, glancing down at her hands, which had slipped between the gaps of his shirt buttons.

"You're embarrassing us girls," Narii grumbled, speaking for all the girls present.

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Check out the other translations too: [Mash-Up: Anything For Money]

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