Waves of the Incubus - Chapter 10

The Accident

(I can see it! I can actually see it?!)

What shocked Kenichi was his own dynamic visual acuity.

Being completely hopeless at sports, he had never once excelled in any ball games. Not only did he have poor motor skills, but he had also never been able to see fast-moving balls at all.

Baseball, table tennis, tennis, badminton—all of them required dynamic vision and spatial awareness alongside athleticism. For Kenichi, they were supposed to be advanced, highly difficult sports.

Yet, he could clearly see the trajectory of the tennis ball.

Moving to the opposite side, the vice-principal took his serving stance again. That smirk remained plastered across his face. Even experienced tennis players struggled against him, so there was no way a complete amateur like Kenichi could possibly hit it.

The ball reached the peak of the toss, the racket caught it with a sharp thwack, and with a roaring swoosh, a high-speed yellow arrow came flying at him once more.

It was just an ordinary flat serve, but its speed easily exceeded 160 km/h—a velocity that ordinary people, and even average experienced players, couldn't possibly react to.

However, Kenichi saw its trajectory perfectly. He could track it as if it were in slow motion, clearly perceiving the direction of the spin and even the logo printed on the ball.

Yet, Kenichi didn't move an inch.

"...Fa-Fault."

The high-speed serve was so fast that even Ruriko, acting as the referee, had to rely on the bounce mark to make the call. But Kenichi’s own two eyes had accurately captured it, discerning that it had drifted slightly out of bounds.

To everyone around them, it looked like he was frozen and couldn't move, but in reality, he was watching it pass with plenty of room to spare.

"Tch!"

Clicking his tongue, the vice-principal unleashed his second serve. Even though he adjusted his power, it was still at a speed that an amateur could never handle, stretching sharply toward the center line.

(I can hit this!)

It wasn't a thought. He didn't deliberate. He simply 'knew' it with absolute certainty.

Instantly, his limbs—which usually moved like a broken puppet—shifted smoothly. He moved along the shortest path to the exact spot where the ball would bounce and reach its easiest height to hit. He stopped, maintaining the perfect distance from his body, tucked his elbow in compactly, and swung the racket along the shortest possible arc.

It didn't feel like he was swinging with his arms, but rather that his hips rotated first, and his hands naturally followed.

Without missing the target, the racket face aligned perfectly with the ball's trajectory, striking it precisely on the sweet spot. The strings absorbed the immense kinetic energy of the high-speed ball and converted it entirely into driving force in the opposite direction.

As the racket, swung with a minimal turning radius, completed a beautiful follow-through, the unleashed yellow ball let out a roar, flying straight down the line to pierce the deepest corner of the opponent's court.

"....Fi-Fifteen-all."

The moment it landed, the court fell dead silent. No one could believe what had just happened. Not Ruriko the referee, not Aiko who had lent him the racket, not Usami who was frozen in his post-serve stance, and not even Kenichi himself, who had just executed a brilliant return winner.

"Whoa!! What was that?!"

"Amazing!! That's impossible!!!"

A moment later, a rumbling wave of commotion erupted. It wasn't just cheering; it was a mixture of screams and pure astonishment. The female students loudly voiced their shock in typical teenage fashion, which soon swelled into a massive cheer.

"Quiet!! Please be quiet!"

Ruriko had been dazed herself, but snapping out of it, she shouted in a strained voice—a rarity for the usually calm and collected girl. That was how unbelievable the event before her eyes was.

That timid, gloomy, and ostensibly unathletic science teacher had just pulled off a flawless return winner that would make a professional run away barefoot.

On the other side, Usami was momentarily dumbfounded, but then flared up in an intense rage.

(It's a fluke! It has to be a fluke!!)

There was no way he could lose this tennis match. He was the idol of the female students; he was supposed to win flawlessly against a science teacher to solidify his popularity even further. A gloomy, nerdy, dropout teacher was only meant to serve as a foil to make him look better.

(And yet...!)

Channeling all his strength and fury, he unleashed his first serve.

Arching his body backward, his back muscles snapped shut in an instant, and his racket traced a high-speed arc, blasting the yellow chunk of rubber forward. This was his lethal, ultra-high-speed flat serve, earned through countless grueling hours of repetitive practice during his student days.

When Usami threw his absolute best into it, it exceeded 170 km/h.

Aiming perfectly, the ball pierced the deepest part of the court, right on the center line.

It was flawless in both speed and placement.

Having to deal with it using a backhand meant that even a professional shouldn't have been able to return it. Needless to say, a science teacher with zero tennis experience, even if he was the assistant advisor, shouldn't have been able to hit it even if the heavens and earth turned upside down.

But the nightmare returned.

The lanky, thin temporary teacher spun his body around, kept his elbow fixed, and drew a beautiful ellipse with his racket, intercepting the straight-flying yellow arrow.

In this situation, power wasn't what mattered.

Flawless timing and a perfect point of contact inverted the kinetic energy vector, and the yellow rubber mass roared as it flew right back. Furthermore, it went straight to the opposite side of the court, completely out of his reach.

"....Fifteen-thirty."

The roar of the crowd came instantly this time, without any delay.

"H-He returned the first serve this time!!"

"And it was a perfect backhand return..."

"How... how can he hit like that?!"

Excitement poured out of the girls' mouths. The tennis club members marvelled at the advanced technique, while the general female students were overwhelmed by the sheer power of the speed.

"Damn it!!!"

By now, the vice-principal had completely cast aside his usual gentlemanly demeanor, exposing a vicious and hideous expression. He had just been handed two consecutive, flawless return winners by a mere temporary teacher he looked down on.

This shouldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening.

An elite sportsman like himself losing to a piece of trash from a third-rate university? There was no way he could fall behind a social reject like this man.

This is a fluke. I'll prove it right now!

With a face like a demon or a wrathful spirit, he unleashed his fourth consecutive full-power serve.

In a sense, Usami was superhuman.

Even past the age of 40, his physical age remained in his 20s, allowing him to hit serves no different from his prime. But what was truly remarkable was that even when he lost his cool and let his emotions take over, his technique didn't falter at all; if anything, he displayed his absolute best performance yet.

It was the crystallization of natural talent and ceaseless effort. A highly sophisticated ensemble of power and technique unattainable by ordinary people.

However, the power of the incubus didn't care about any of that.

The ball, piercing the corner at the fastest speed of the day, was effortlessly deflected back with flawless racket control once again. The faster the serve came, the more vicious the return became when caught accurately.

But the demon wasn't just aiming for a point.

This time, the return flew right back to where Usami could reach it after completing his serve. Desperately extending his leg from his post-serve stance, his muscles contracted to strike the ball.

However, the demon's return carried heavy slice, actively veering away from Usami's racket. He stretched his leg out even further, chasing the rapidly escaping yellow ball.

(I reached it!)

At that exact moment, the price for failing to warm up properly caught up to him. His Achilles tendon, which had aged and grown fragile only in that specific spot, screamed under the sudden, immense load.

Feeling a shock as if something had violently struck his heel, Usami tumbled onto the spot. What followed was a moment of stunned silence, then a wave of cheers. Soon after, realizing the gravity of the situation, the club members' screams and cries for an ambulance echoed across the court.

Watching the vice-principal crouching while clutching his leg, Kenichi let out a smirk. In the middle of the chaotic scene, Aiko and Ruriko were the only two who saw the expression the science teacher made, confirming their suspicions.

This was no accident.

The two of them felt a gruesome, terrifying shiver run down their spines.

The club activities after that were no longer normal.

The advisors and coaches of each club tried their best to calm the restless atmosphere, but the excitement born on the tennis court quickly spread to the gymnasium, the fields, and to the students remaining inside the school building, leaving the entire school buzzing with an unusual fervor.

"Mr. Mido is amazing... I've never seen such an incredible return winner..."

"But he couldn't do sports at all before. I saw him at the spring sports day, and he was slow and completely clumsy..."

"More importantly, I wonder if Usamin is going to be okay... He tore his Achilles tendon, right? How awful..."

The female students eagerly discussed the astonishing performance shown by the usually gloomy and dark science teacher, loudly debating how incredible it was. If it had happened only once, it might have been dismissed as a fluke, but he had flawlessly scored three consecutive return winners against Usami's well-known, ultra-high-speed serves, so it was no wonder they reacted this way.

Meanwhile, in a corner on the 5th floor of the school building: the science preparation room.

It was a dark, quiet place where the school's clamor couldn't reach. In that space, the incubus quietly waited for his new prey.

The few words they exchanged when returning the racket—that brief moment was more than enough time.

While the match ended and everyone's attention was drawn to the collapsed Usami, Kenichi's red tentacles slithered out from his body, wrapping around the aura of Kawashima Aiko, who was staring at him in stunned bewilderment. Just like in Natsuki's case, it ensnared Aiko's body and mind, pouring the corrupt poison of the incubus into her.

(I did it! That's the second one!!)

The tangible feedback and certainty filled Kenichi with ecstatic joy.

"Ah, aaah..."

Standing by the side of the court, the beautiful girl in her tennis skirt trembled as if struck by electricity. The pale blue aura emanating from her body reacted to the waves of the incubus, gradually staining into a pink hue. Her aura appeared to resist, but it too was conquered by the entangling red tentacles, slowly shifting into an ominous color.

Just watching this gave Kenichi a light erection. Through his awakened supernatural senses, he could feel Aiko being instantly overcome by intense sexual arousal. A high school girl who previously held no feelings toward him was now burning with hot lust for a plain science teacher like himself.

(More... I'll dye you even deeper in my color...)

The power of the incubus was preying upon the beautiful girl. Furthermore, it was happening outdoors, right in front of everyone. The absolute pleasure of corrupting a beautiful girl without anyone knowing caused goosebumps to break out all over his body.

"Come to the science preparation room later. Keep that outfit on, and make sure no one sees you."

While Ruriko watched him with a puzzled expression from beside them, the prey looked back at him with wet, burning eyes, giving a small nod to the demon's invitation.

Aiko Kawashima, a second-year student and captain of the tennis club, was bewildered by the changes in her own body.

It was true that for a moment, her heart had throbbed for the science teacher who had just shown such incredible play. After all, he had perfectly returned that ultra-high-speed flat serve, and she had blankly stared at his fluid form.

But what was sprouting inside her young body right now was nothing so innocent and maidenly. It was something far more sludge-like—a naked desire possessed by corrupt, adult men and women.

It was lust. Carnal desire. The urge to mate.

The 17-year-old virgin's body was now plagued by an unbearable urge, running rampant while completely ignoring its owner's will. Her breasts and clitoris each claimed their own desires, creating a frantic harmony.

Of course, she had experienced faint sexual desires before. She masturbated like any average person. But Aiko had never had a sexual encounter, nor had she ever even kissed anyone. She was simply at a loss regarding this desire she was feeling—the manifestation of a primitive human instinct.

Many times she thought about stopping herself from going. Many times she walked up and down the school stairs.

An unknown terror and her self-defense instinct tried to dampen the 17-year-old girl's spirit.

Even so, the desire within her body trampled over such reason and warnings. The runaway urge for sex overflowed throughout her being, and every cell in her body clamored for something to satisfy it.

(But... the sensei told me to come...)

Unable to sort out her own desires, she used the command she was given as an excuse to walk through the school building. She lied to the other tennis club members, telling them she was going to the infirmary, and was now walking alone along the deserted corridor on the 5th floor. The scent of the wax applied to the linoleum floor felt particularly strong here, further emphasizing the loneliness of the place.

"Sensei... I'm here..."

Aiko knocked and waited a little, but with no reply, she placed her hand on the door.

Her instinct blared warnings and something inside her mind desperately tried to stop her, but the 17-year-old girl closed her ears to it and quietly turned the knob.

The door of fate opened. There was no turning back for this beautiful girl.

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