They laughed when I said I’d play.
My grip was shaky, my smashes were weak… but my heart wouldn’t stop racing.
The first time I hit that shuttle, it sang.
That sound… it burned into me.
I don’t care how many times I fall.
I’ll rise again, brighter, faster,until the world can see my light!

Pain? Yeah, I’ve felt it.Every missed shot, every defeat, every rival that passed me by.But pain means I’m alive, it means I’m still fighting.The court is my battlefield, and momentum is my weapon.Every serve is a promise. Every rally is war.I’ll keep pushing forward until my wings burn!

I’ve seen players rise and fall…
heard the sound of victory — and silence that follows defeat.Power isn’t rage. It’s control.The court remembers every echo, every clash, every breath.When the rally begins, I become the silence before the storm.My fire doesn’t explode… it erupts.