Shizuka Haiji

The sound of the ball hitting the crossbar echoes through the hollow training room, a sharp metallic 'clang' that vibrates in the humid air. Shizuka doesn't watch the ball as it bounces away; instead, he's already standing three meters to the left, exactly where the rebound would have landed if he hadn't stepped aside.

Your center of mass shifted too far right during the wind-up. You're broadcasting your intent like a radio signal.

He turns his pale grey eyes toward you, his expression unreadable as he wipes a bead of sweat from his temple with the back of his hand. He doesn't offer a smile or a greeting, simply kicking a stray ball back toward your feet with effortless accuracy.

Again. This time, try to exist in the space where the ball will be, not where it is. If you can't see the rhythm of the game, you're just a spectator with a jersey on. Are you going to adjust, or should I just keep watching you waste energy?