And the moment our bodies collided.
"...!"
My vision shook violently.
It felt like throwing myself against a utility pole…
Is this even a person?
Bang!
Jack lunged in right after, but—
"Ugh!"
It was Jack who let out a groan, as expected.
"What are you doing? Just attack all at once!"
Sure, I crashed into him without knowing earlier… but this time, I was fully aware it was a human utility pole.
After a brief hesitation—
"Hyaaah!"
"Ahhh!"
We both leaped at him at the same time.
Damn it!
The result was utterly disastrous.
"What are you doing? Already giving up?"
This guy… It feels like he could drag both Jack and me for a full kilometer even with us clinging to him.
"See? With just some physical strength, it's this easy to push through. So why bother running yourself breathless? Am I right?"
It was then—
"Sir, can I really do whatever it takes?"
At my question, Devon raised an eyebrow.
"What? Are you planning to shoot me?"
"Not that, but it might get a bit dangerous."
"Dangerous, my foot! Do whatever you can…"
Before he could even finish his sentence—
Thud!
Devon's massive body was lifted into the air.
Maybe it happened too quickly.
"Wha… What the hell?"
Even when his feet left the ground, Devon seemed unable to grasp what had just occurred.
But only for a moment.
Clench!
The opponent immediately pressed down on my shoulders with both arms.
Mass matters, after all.
"...!"
I succeeded in lifting him.
But…
Ugh!
I couldn't bring him down in the end.
"So close!"
Jack, standing nearby, let out a disappointed sigh.
Click.
As I set Devon back down, he muttered to himself in a daze.
"That was… a wrestling tackle?"
Well, using a wrestling move in rugby would obviously seem absurd.
"What the hell… are you?"
"You said I could do anything."
"..."
"Still, wrestling might be going too far, don't you think?"
"No, it's not that…"
Devon pulled his rolled-up shirt back down as he spoke.
"I used to do freestyle wrestling back in college."
"..."
"So, this shouldn't have been possible… like, at all."
"Sorry?"
"No matter how much I got caught off guard…"
Even so, I couldn't bring him down.
It was then that Jack slyly chimed in.
"He used to train with Olympic team reserves."
"What? Olympic reserves?"
"When it comes to wrestling, he's an absolute monster."
Devon's face froze in stunned disbelief.
How long did he stand there like that?
"Let's flip the roles."
Out of nowhere, Devon proposed a wrestling match.
"I'll go for the tackle, and you defend."
"The weight difference is way too much."
"Exactly! It shouldn't even be a contest, right?"
Devon still seemed unable to process what had happened earlier.
"I'll go easy on you—just give it a try."
As soon as I nodded, Devon approached slowly and slipped his hands under my armpits.
I smoothly pivoted to the side and pressed down on the back of his neck.
"Huh?"
A look of disbelief crossed Devon's face, as if he was thinking, This is legit?
From that point on, Devon's demeanor changed entirely.
The promise to "go easy" vanished, and his bulging muscles swelled with power.
I can't beat him in strength.
All I did was focus on breaking his grips, constantly moving to his side.
Pretending to control his wrists was a bluff—my real aim was to maintain distance.
Perhaps frustrated by this, Devon suddenly let out a short grunt.
"Hyaaah!"
With a quick burst, he closed the distance, throwing his weight into the motion.
But big movements come with big risks.
Feigning a tackle dodge, I twisted my body—
Tap.
—and tripped his leg instead.
Caught off guard by the unfamiliar technique, Devon dropped to one knee.
Ah… normally, this would have floored someone entirely.
But he managed to stop at just one knee.
"What… what was that move just now?"
"Oh, it's a judo technique."
"Judo?"
"Yeah, sometimes the national team players use it playfully."
When someone's brimming with force, they get tripped to snap them out of it. After that, they usually end up rolling helplessly on the floor.
But even from a kneeling position, Devon moved like a monster, instantly wrapping my leg with his own.
"You're not an ordinary guy, are you?"
Shouldn't I be the one saying that?
Anyway, wrestling is wrestling.
Once rugby practice resumed, we'd probably be rolling around in the dirt again like nothing ever happened.
Feeling unfamiliar with this rare moment of "peace," I just smacked my lips in silence.
A moment later.
As I sprinted forward with the ball, Devon charged at me and launched himself into a tackle.
Why is it?
When I stood still and took a tackle, it was fine, but—
Wham!
As I ran full tilt—
Crash!
The moment our bodies collided—
Thud!
I was sent flying immediately.
Figures.
I wondered if wrestling would help in rugby, but…
Well, so much for that!
Devon extended a hand to help me up and said,
"It feels completely different when you're tackled while running, doesn't it?"
"It's like I just got bounced away."
"Of course. I hit you while your feet were in mid-air."
In other words, he had perfectly timed his tackle.
"Think about it from another angle."
"…?"
"You could mix things up while running. Sprint in big strides, then suddenly shorten your steps mid-run. That makes it harder for defenders to time their tackles, right?"
I nodded along.
"And if the defender miscalculates? They'll try to tackle you at an awkward moment. Like when both your feet are firmly on the ground."
Before I could even fully process his words—
Whoosh!
Devon hurled himself at me.
Huh?
I hadn't expected it, but—
"Hup!"
I immediately lowered my center of gravity, pretending to slip under his armpit while pressing down on the back of his neck.
The fierce momentum vanished in an instant.
"...."
Devon came to a complete stop.
"See? When your feet are planted firmly on the ground, you can block it—even using wrestling techniques."
But something about it seemed strange.
"I mean, using wrestling in rugby… doesn't feel quite right, but… it's still pretty effective, isn't it?"
Not waiting for my response, Devon quickly continued,
"If you sharpen your tactical game, you could hold your own in one-on-ones."
"But that tactical game isn't easy, is it?"
"You just need more experience."
"And to gain experience…"
"You've gotta get tackled over and over again."
"Ah."
"Speaking of which, start running."
"Excuse me?"
"When you run, I'll tackle you. Get moving already."
"...."
"Didn't you want private lessons?"
"This isn't what I had in mind."
"Since when do things in life ever go the way you want?"
Ugh.
And with that, I was forced to sprint around the field as if fleeing for my life.
Thud!
I must've been knocked down at least a hundred times.
Even someone like me, with decent stamina, was reaching my limit.
I glanced at Jack.
He shook his head vigorously, as if to say it was impossible for him too.
It's the first time I've seen Jack like that.
Anyway.
While Jack and I took turns running, Devon had been relentlessly tackling without a break.
"Is the grass your bed?"
How is that guy still perfectly fine?
Regardless of our condition, he added,
"So, think you can do this every day?"
Every day?!
How about just one lesson, sir? Just one time, no more, no less. I might even drop out before we're done!
And just like that, the "one-time coupon" turned into a daily routine.
I should've known.
Sportsmen always go big!
While I cheered internally—
"Thank youuu!" Jack shouted loudly in reply.
"Then by majority vote, we'll have training every day."
"Jack was the only one who answered. How is that a majority…?"
"I'm a person too, aren't I?"
Oh, so the teacher makes it two?
Fine.
Even if they'd asked me, I'd have agreed with sheer determination anyway.
"Let's wrap it up quickly. I've got to clock out, so get moving."
At Devon's words, we scrambled to our feet.
***
Back in the teachers' lounge, Devon rubbed the back of his neck.
He pulled some ice from the freezer and placed it in a sanitary bag.
After letting it thaw slightly, he pressed it against his neck.
It had been years since he felt this kind of stiffness.
It's manageable now, he thought.
But after sleeping on it? It's going to be brutal.
He groaned quietly.
It had been a long time since he'd used so much strength.
Normally, that would mean he'd be completely wiped out.
But Park Ji-hoon, that little guy (185 centimeters!), had somehow held his own.
If this is how it's going to be, why bother using rugby to teach him a lesson?
'I should've just gone straight to wrestling and flattened him!'
…Not exactly the kind of thought a teacher should have, though.
Anyway.
The first- and second-year rugby trials?
To be honest, he'd planned to turn it down at first.
The second-years just wanted to bully the underclassmen under the guise of a match.
But then, that first-year kid had come to him voluntarily.
It seemed like the first-years won with their fists, but rugby was a completely different game.
People could get hurt, so Devon had been about to send them away.
But when Park Ji-hoon didn't flinch and spoke with confidence, Devon couldn't help but wonder what the kid was banking on.
So he decided to teach him once, just out of curiosity.
And the kid picked it up surprisingly well.
Sure, he already knew Ji-hoon was strong and fast.
But who would've guessed he was so good at wrestling?
Somehow, it became intriguing, and after a few tackles, Devon found himself completely roped into it.
'At this rate, I might never get to leave work on time and end up working overtime every day…'
"Ugh, you idiot!"
Even as he grumbled to himself, Devon couldn't help the corners of his mouth from twitching into a grin.
***
The next morning.
"Ughhh."
When I woke up, my whole body ached.
I thought I'd been doing a decent job staying in shape, but—
"..."
It seemed nowhere near enough, as soreness spread to every corner of my body.
"Doing this every day?"
I looked up at the ceiling and let out a hollow laugh.
Fine, let's think positively.
How often does someone get a chance to train with a national-level rugby player?
"Hehehe."
I laughed like a madman.
Ah, screw it!
Forcing myself out of bed, I started with a hot shower.
Hmm.
One workout isn't going to make a difference, but…
Is it just me, or does my reflection in the mirror look a bit more rugged and manly?
Anyway, I got dressed and left my room.
Skipping morning exercise felt wrong, so I decided a light walk and a cup of coffee would do the trick.
As I walked down the long corridor—
"Push forward!"
"Don't back down!"
Loud shouts echoed from the window.
What's that?
I turned to look outside and saw a group running around a large field.
They were playing as if chasing the ball was the most important thing in the world.
Brown uniforms, some wearing protective gear.
"Go after him!"
"Tackle him!"
Rugby again…
Ugh, just hearing it made my whole body ache all over again.
I was about to turn away when—
Whoosh!
A man wearing a captain's armband burst forward at incredible speed.
How is he that fast?
The defenders scrambled after him, but—
"Ah!"
The gap widened with every step, and the opposing team let out groans of frustration.
A clean score.
As the guy who scored swept back his blonde hair, his teammates approached to re-fasten his loosened armband.
So that's why he seemed so fast.
It was him.
The second-year captain, Carl Bernstein.
I had hoped to avoid rugby first thing in the morning, considering everything it reminded me of yesterday.
But here he was, the root of all my troubles putting on a display of skill himself.
Smirk.
Before I even had time to second-guess myself, my feet were already carrying me toward the field.