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🕑 Added 2025-08-10 15:31:30 +0000 UTCChapter 136: The Ever-Reliable "Genius"; Shitenhouji
"Seigaku scores, 4-0!"
...
"Seigaku scores, 5-0!"
...
"Seigaku scores, 6-0!"
...
In less than twenty minutes, Kaidō and Momoshiro had completely shut out their opponents.
This was their first flawless victory since the regional preliminaries!
Kawasaki sucked in a sharp breath. "They're insane… Is Synchro really that strong?"
Yamato shook his head. "Synchro is just the fruit of their labor. Don’t forget the effort they put in—they’ve already become a top-tier doubles pair."
After this match, Kaidō and Momoshiro would be known nationwide, finally stepping into the spotlight among the elite players.
"We lost… just like that?"
Shitenhouji’s doubles pair clenched their fists in frustration.
Before the match, they’d been told the gap between them wasn’t that big—that their teamwork was superior.
Yet, they hadn’t taken a single point. The sheer difference in skill was suffocating.
"Match over! Final score: 3-1!"
With Shitenhouji already eliminated, the last match wouldn’t change the outcome.
After the handshake, both teams left the court.
"We won."
"Kirihara, go finish this!"
Kaidō and Momoshiro walked off the court, drenched in sweat—maintaining Synchro had clearly taken a toll on them.
"Leave it to me!"
Kirihara stood up, pulling his racket from his bag.
After watching four matches, his fighting spirit was at its peak. Even if his opponent wasn’t Mōri Juuzaburō, it didn’t matter—he just needed to play.
So much so that he didn’t even bother with the stairs.
Instead, he vaulted over the railing—"HERE I COME!"
…
…
Unfortunately, he didn’t quite stick the landing.
His foot caught on the rail, sending him face-first into a wall with a loud THUD.
His last words?
"Yamete—"
And then he was out cold.
The entire sequence—which would take half a minute to describe—happened in half a second.
The stadium fell silent.
Because of Kirihara’s… enthusiasm, nearly everyone, including the referee, had been watching him.
"Damn… If he wanted to forfeit, he didn’t have to go that hard."
The referee winced at the massive bump forming on Kirihara’s forehead.
Kids these days are brutal to themselves.
The Shitenhouji team stared in stunned silence.
After a long pause, Hirakoba Ryou finally muttered, "That… didn’t look fake."
"It has to be an act, right?" Furukawa Hiroshi gulped. "Seigaku’s being nice, not humiliating us… but was that really necessary?"
Just watching it had hurt.
Meanwhile, Yoru turned to Tezuka, who was holding a camera.
"Send me the footage later."
To analyze their matches, QP had assigned Tezuka to record everything for review.
Which meant Kirihara’s spectacular exit had been captured in full HD.
"I want a copy too~"
"Us too!"
The Seigaku team grinned like devils.
"Kirihara… We’re gonna hold this over you forever."
Thanks to Kirihara’s performance, the quarterfinals ended early.
As the teams shook hands, Shitenhouji’s players looked at Seigaku with gratitude.
Once the formalities were over, Yoru led his team off the court.
Watching them leave, Hirakoba sighed in admiration.
"This year’s Seigaku is terrifyingly strong… and surprisingly sportsmanlike."
Outside the Stadium
Seigaku headed back to their hotel.
With the semifinals in the afternoon, they needed some rest to stay sharp.
"What… happened to me?"
Kirihara groaned as he woke up on Yamato’s back.
Yoru glanced at him. "You’re awake? Put him down."
"No need—I got it!"
Kirihara hopped off, landing smoothly—only to clutch his throbbing forehead in confusion.
"Why does my head hurt so much? Wasn’t I about to play?"
"Must be temporary amnesia from the impact," QP mused.
Yoru shrugged. "Maybe it’s better if he doesn’t remember."
Then, with a smirk:
"Oh, Kirihara."
"Yeah?"
"Make sure to invite us to your wedding. We’ve got a great gift prepared."
"Aw, thanks, Captain! You’re the best!"
"Don’t mention it. Just repaying your contributions to the team."
"Brothers for life~"
…
"Huh? Is that Shitenhouji?"
As they reached the stadium entrance, another team came into view—laughing and chatting.
QP narrowed his eyes. "Looks like our semifinal opponents are Shitenhouji."
Yoru’s gaze locked onto Inui and Shiraishi, eyebrows rising slightly.
[Name]: Shiraishi Kuranosuke
[Age]: 15
[Techniques]: Personal Stats (Lv. 9), Fundamentals (Lv. 9), Muga no Kyouchi (Lv. 9)
[Talent]: Superhuman Senses
[Power Level]: 9 Stars
[Superhuman Senses]: Processes information at several times the speed of a normal person. The longer the match, the sharper his reflexes become.
…
[Name]: Inui Sadaharu
[Age]: 15
[Techniques]: Personal Stats (Lv. 9), Fundamentals (Lv. 9), Weakness Insight (Lv. 9), Mental Prediction (Lv. 9), Pace Control (Lv. 9), Speed Reduction (Lv. 8)
[Talent]: Battle Master
[Power Level]: 9 Stars
[Battle Master]: Adapts to in-game changes with frightening efficiency. The longer the match, the faster his analysis becomes.
Kaji was a solid 7-star, but not worth focusing on.
"Interesting."
Yoru smirked.
Neither Inui nor Shiraishi had direct power-boosting abilities, but their talents were extremely potent in actual matches.
Especially Inui.
Not that Inui was stronger than Shiraishi, but Yoru was surprised by his level.
In the original timeline, Inui was one of the most enigmatic players in Japan’s U-17—always seeming to struggle, yet somehow winning.
Against Akutsu, he was pushed to the brink before turning things around.
Against Atobe, the same thing happened.
Given those matches, Inui was clearly powerful but loved theatrics. The question was how powerful.
Now, it was clear—Inui was at least on Shiraishi’s level.
His Speed Reduction technique also reminded Yoru of Tokugawa’s Black Hole.
In the original story, Tokugawa had learned Black Hole from either Oni or Inui.
Now, it seemed Speed Reduction was the precursor to that move.
…
"Seigaku, huh?"
Noticing them, Shitenhouji’s team paused.
Inui adjusted his glasses, eyeing Kirihara’s forehead.
"Looks like Seigaku had a rough match too~"
"Was it Mōri?" Shiraishi wondered.
Since they’d be facing each other soon, exchanging greetings was inevitable—if only to gauge each other’s strength.
And so, the two teams moved toward one another.
Chapter 137: The Semifinals Begin; Shitenhouji’s Challenge
"Looks like we’re next~"
As the two teams met, Shiraishi was the first to greet them.
Yoru nodded. "Hello."
Both Shiraishi and Inui had likable personalities—traits Yoru appreciated in the original story.
As for Kaji, though more reserved, he wasn’t unpleasant either.
"Yoru."
Shiraishi smiled. "Looking forward to facing you in Singles 1."
He extended his hand.
Whether the challenge was genuine or not, Yoru had no reason to refuse. "Then we’ll meet in Singles 1."
Their hands clasped firmly.
Meanwhile, Inui turned to QP, adjusting his glasses with a grin. "Seems we’ll be facing off in Singles 2."
"Agreed."
To everyone’s surprise, QP—usually the tactician—answered without hesitation.
Hearing this exchange, Kirihara (the ever-enthusiastic "genius") eagerly looked at Kaji.
QP had mentioned that Shitenhouji’s "Big Three" were in a league of their own. Surely Kaji was strong too?
But Kirihara was disappointed.
Kaji, never one for unnecessary conversation, barely glanced up from his book.
"Hey!" Kirihara snapped. "Aren’t you gonna say anything?"
"Oh. Hello."
"Gah!"
Kirihara nearly tore his hair out in frustration.
Since they were about to compete, neither team lingered. After a brief farewell, they went their separate ways.
Once Shitenhouji was out of earshot, Yoru asked, "How credible was that?"
Everyone except Kirihara turned to QP.
"100%," QP replied. "Their doubles are even weaker than expected. Based on their personalities and data, they were sincere."
Shitenhouji’s doubles lineup was undeniably lacking.
Yoru had already assessed the other four players—all rated around 3 stars.
As QP said, no matter how Shitenhouji arranged their lineup, their chances were slim.
Rather than scheming their way to a loss, it made sense for them to seek a satisfying match—at least they’d lose with dignity.
Shiraishi, Inui, and Kaji were prodigies. They had their pride. Hence, the direct challenges.
"Your suggestion?"
"No need to adjust our lineup."
"Agreed."
Kirihara, utterly lost, blinked. "What are you guys talking about?"
"What to eat later."
"Obviously烤肉 (BBQ)!"
"......"
Restaurant – Shitenhouji’s Gathering
"Do you think they bought it?"
"Probably. I just hope they don’t change their lineup. Sigh..."
Shiraishi and Inui looked pensive as their team ate.
This wasn’t some ploy.
As QP predicted, their challenges were genuine.
With their doubles being a glaring weakness this year, Shitenhouji had relied on strategy throughout nationals.
But now, facing Seigaku in the semifinals, they’d rather abandon tactics and play a straight game.
Even if they somehow won, Mizuki’s reinforced Rokkaku lineup awaited in the finals.
In sports, finishing second was often worse than third. Everyone knew that.
So why not challenge Yoru and QP? At least they’d end their junior high careers with a match worth remembering.
3:00 PM – National Semifinals
After hours of rest, the semifinals began.
Both teams arrived early at the new venue.
From this round onward, matches would be held on professional-grade courts, complete with locker rooms—a significant upgrade.
With ten minutes until entry, both teams submitted their lineups simultaneously, startling the referees.
In all their years officiating, they’d never seen decisions made this fast.
"Seigaku, please enter first!"
The announcement echoed as Seigaku, led by Yoru, marched onto the court.
The crowd erupted—especially the girls, many there just for Yoru.
"SEIGAKU! FIGHT!"
"SEIGAKU! FIGHT!"
"SEIGAKU! FIGHT!"
The synchronized cheers drew Seigaku’s attention to a section packed with their school’s uniforms—and Ryūzaki Sumire at the center.
She smiled. "How could we not bring our own cheer squad at this stage?"
Before nationals, Ryūzaki had stepped down as coach, transitioning to a managerial role.
The team barely reacted.
Since Yoru became captain, her presence had faded—until now.
Her flawless handling of logistics during nationals had softened their opinions.
Still, QP had once mentioned the team needed a proper coach.
Yoru had even approached Ryūzaki about finding a dynamic replacement.
She agreed—on one condition: Seigaku had to win nationals first. Only then would she retire in peace.
"Shitenhouji, please enter!"
Shiraishi led his team onto the court.
Shitenhouji’s fanbase, though smaller than Seigaku’s, was still formidable, thanks to their Kansai championship.
At the net, Shiraishi grinned. "I’ll be in Singles 1. You?"
Yoru nodded. "Keeping my word."
Shiraishi exhaled in relief.
"National Semifinals – Seigaku vs. Shitenhouji! Singles 3, prepare to begin!"
The referee’s whistle blew.
Both teams’ Singles 3 players stood.
Kirihara nearly tripped in his excitement but managed to stay upright this time.
Yoru glanced at Yamato, who instantly understood.
"Go get that first win, Kirihara-senpai!"
"Show us what you’ve got!"
Two sentences—and Kirihara’s power level ticked up by 0.6, barely pushing him to 9 stars.
Though Kaji was only mid-tier 7 stars, it never hurt to stack the odds.
(Yamato’s buff capped at two lines. Any more cheering had no effect. Pity—if it stacked infinitely, they could’ve sent Kirihara to challenge Nanjiroh at 20 stars.)
Yoru’s gaze shifted to Kaji.
In the original timeline, Kaji had suffered brutal losses—especially against Oni.
Skilled, yet cursed with unfortunate matchups. Against most others, he might’ve had a better record.
Now, the battle was about to begin!
Chapter 138: The Happy Speedster vs. The Miserable Kajimoto
"Singles No. 3 match will now begin! Players, take your positions!"
Kirihara and Kajimoto Fūta stood across the net, sizing each other up.
After a brief handshake and the coin toss (which gave Seigaku the first serve), they took their places without a word.
The umpire blew his whistle.
"Game start! Seigaku to serve!"
Under Nationals rules, the first match determined serve order—after that, it rotated. Since Seigaku served first in Singles No. 3, Maidonama would serve first in Doubles No. 2, and so on.
"Luck’s on my side today~!"
Kirihara grinned, spinning the ball in his fingers.
Yoru facepalmed. "And there he goes, getting cocky again…"
Still, for all his idiocy, Kirihara was reliable in matches.
SWOOSH!
The ball soared high—too high.
Kirihara leaped, his racket arm vanishing into a blur as he smashed it down at the peak of its descent.
Yamato blinked. "Starting with Supersonic Serve right off the bat?"
QP didn’t even glance up. "He hasn’t had a real match in weeks. None of his opponents were worth using it on—and after that incident against Shitenhouji, he’s been itching to cut loose."
BANG!—THUD!—THUD!
Three sounds in rapid succession:
The hit, the bounce, and the impact against the back fence.
Kajimoto barely twitched before the ball was already out of bounds.
On paper, Kajimoto was Kirihara’s mirror—a speed-based player just like him.
But Kirihara had runes stacked on him.
His stats were higher. He had Yamato’s buff.
Even in their shared specialty, the gap was obvious.
"Kirihara takes the point! 15–0!"
The crowd erupted in murmurs. Half of them hadn’t even seen the ball.
"D-Damn, that guy’s fast."
"Huh?"
"Kirihara—one of Seigaku’s Big Three. His whole gimmick is speed. That was his Supersonic Serve. He’s got a Supersonic Return too, y’know."
"Wait, is he Seigaku’s secret weapon?"
"Nah, he plays pretty often. Regulars know him."
"But didn’t he forfeit against Shitenhouji? Maybe they were saving him?"
"Probably didn’t wanna risk injury in a pointless match."
"He’s already injured. Look at that bump on his forehead."
"Oh… yikes."
The chatter devolved, but Kirihara wasn’t listening.
He was trembling—not from nerves, but from excitement.
His eyes burned. "He reacted that time. Finally, someone who’s not trash!"
BANG!
"Kirihara leads! 30–0!"
BANG!
"40–0!"
In just three serves, Kajimoto went from barely moving to predicting the trajectory.
That alone had Kirihara thrilled.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d faced a real challenge.
QP and Yoru were monsters. His "blinding speed" meant nothing to them.
Yamato was too weak—he didn’t even need Supersonic techniques to beat him.
And the Nationals season? Boring. Not a single opponent worth his time.
Now, though—
Even though Kajimoto whiffed his swing on the third serve, he’d guessed right.
That alone lit a fire in him.
"Next one—I’ll return it!"
Gripping his racket tight, Kajimoto braced himself, ready to burst forward the moment Kirihara moved.
SWOOSH!
"Then I won’t hold back~!"
Kirihara’s grin turned feral.
His arm vanished—not even a blur this time.
BANG!—THUD!
Two sounds. Almost simultaneous.
Kajimoto froze.
His pupils shrank to pinpricks. "H-How…?"
That serve left Maidonama in dead silence.
Inui sucked in a breath. "He can go faster?"
Atobe’s expression darkened. "That was 230 km/h. Even I wouldn’t guarantee a return."
230 km/h.
The number sent chills down Maidonama’s spines.
Since when could middle-schoolers hit like pros?
"Kirihara takes the game! 1–0!"
Most spectators couldn’t tell the difference—it was over too fast.
But with First Strike Rune and Swiftfoot Rune boosting his base stats, Kirihara’s Supersonic Serve had crossed into untouchable territory.
(If the runes amplified final speed instead of base speed, he could’ve matched Tezuka’s Mach Serve without breaking a sweat.)
And the serve was just the start.
Second game—Kajimoto’s serve.
He fired off his own speed-based specialty…
Only for Kirihara to blur forward and crush it with a Supersonic Return.
BANG!
"Seigaku leads! 2–0!"
To his credit, Kajimoto wasn’t helpless.
Despite being outclassed in speed, he had 13 techniques in his arsenal—including wide-range defensive moves.
The match became a high-speed slugfest, the score climbing rapidly:
BANG!
"3–0!"
BANG!
"1–3!" (Kajimoto’s first hard-earned game.)
BANG!
"4–1!"
"Hahaha! This is what I’ve been missing!"
Kirihara laughed, exhilarated.
The prolonged speed duel had forced Kajimoto to adapt—his returns were getting cleaner.
At this point, Maidonama knew he couldn’t win.
The gap was too wide.
Losing in your own specialty wasn’t something you could overcome with sheer willpower.
But every time Kajimoto landed a return, his team cheered.
The crowd, too, was riveted—one-sided stomps were boring, but this? Progress in real time.
"Nice one!"
Kirihara’s eyes gleamed as Kajimoto barely grazed his latest Supersonic Return.
"Since it’s the sixth game—let’s crank it up!"
CRACKLE!
Purple electricity surged around him.
Before Kajimoto could process it, Kirihara was already at the ball’s landing point.
A chill shot down Kajimoto’s spine.
"…Impossible."
Chapter 139: The Shocking Doubles 2; QP Takes the Stage
A ball that was about to fly out of bounds—
A figure wreathed in lightning instantly cut off its path.
With a swing of the racket, arcs of electricity crackled as the ball was smashed back.
A flash streaked across the court.
Fuji pupils shrank as he felt a chilling breeze rush between his legs, followed by the sound of impact behind him.
It was a kudashi (body shot aimed between the legs)!
Just how confident was Kiriya in his speed to attempt such an angle?!
Kanagawa Hospital.
Sanada’s voice echoed in the room: "Hyper Speed Mode—Kiriya-senpai’s signature technique..."
Ever since Yukimura’s surgery, Sanada had been by his side daily.
The two were now fixated on the live broadcast playing on the TV.
The footage couldn’t fully capture the anomaly surrounding Kiriya, but his movements were so fast they seemed to skip frames, instantly reminding Sanada of Hyper Speed Mode.
Yukimura studied the screen thoughtfully. "So this is the framework developed from 'Raging Thunder', huh?"
Sanada nodded. "Kiriya-senpai’s Hyper Speed Mode pushes his speed to the limit—enhancing his serves, returns, and footwork all at once."
On screen, Kiriya’s activated state caused the broadcast to stutter repeatedly.
Though the Nationals were high-profile, the live cameras weren’t the high-speed capture equipment used in pro matches.
Sanada’s expression turned wistful. "Yoru-senpai advised me to draw inspiration from Kiriya-senpai’s Hyper Speed Mode."
He paused, then admitted awkwardly, "But he also warned me not to copy it outright—because the technique is built on Kiriya-senpai’s innate talent. It’s impossible to replicate."
Yukimura nodded in understanding.
Though the footage was blurry, it was clear Kiriya’s movements weren’t bound by inertia.
His transitions from sprinting to striking were seamless—a fluidity that couldn’t be achieved through training alone. Pure talent.
Scratching his head in frustration, Sanada sighed. "So Yoru-senpai told me to study his footwork and combine it with my kendo techniques to improve my striking power... but I’m still stuck."
"That’s actually a brilliant approach."
Yukimura’s admiration for Yoru grew.
From what Sanada had shared, Yoru had also provided insights for developing "Fire, Shadow, and Thunder."
Coupled with the fact that he’d saved Yukimura’s life, the mysterious powerhouse intrigued him even more.
Taking a deep breath, Yukimura said, "Genichirou, once I’m discharged, let’s visit Yoru-senpai together."
"Yeah!"
Sanada agreed instantly.
He, too, had countless questions for Yoru.
If not for Yukimura needing care, Sanada would’ve already moved into Seigaku’s dormitories.
Ever since Tezuka remembered their childhood friendship—and with their frequent visits to Seigaku—the Tezuka family had even reserved a room for him.
BAM!
With one final kudashi shot flying past his opponent—
The match ended 6-1, Kiriya securing the victory in Singles 3 and giving Seigaku a strong start.
"Damn it..."
Fuji Fengdu slumped to the ground, exhausted.
Once Hyper Speed Mode activated, every one of Kiriya’s returns had been a kudashi shot—widening the skill gap to an insurmountable degree.
The entire match had left Fuji feeling breezy down under.
Even if he could react, he didn’t dare move recklessly—unless he wanted to become the "Cheerleader Captain of Mayumizaka."
"That was a fun match!"
Kiriya’s voice snapped Fuji back to reality.
Seeing his opponent offering a handshake at the net, Fuji pushed himself up with his racket.
"Even if I couldn’t react, your shots were way too dangerous," Fuji grumbled.
"But... thanks for letting me take a game."
"Heh~" Kiriya scratched his head sheepishly. "Once I got faster, I wanted to try something fun. Don’t worry, I had full control!"
"Control?"
Fuji rolled his eyes. Your 'control' almost cost me two inches!
As they walked off the court, the Seigaku team gave Kiriya weird looks.
"Since when did you develop the 'Nutcracker Strategy'?"
"Yeah, that was brutal. Even I felt a chill, and I wasn’t even playing!"
Kiriya just laughed. "Improvised it on the spot! Want me to try it on you guys later? Perfect for cooling off in this heat!"
"HARD PASS!"
Mayumizaka’s bench.
Fuji shrugged at his teammates. "Gave it my all. Almost couldn’t face my ancestors."
"Pfft—HAHAHA!"
The team burst into laughter.
With no pressure to win, the atmosphere was unusually light.
Shiraishi didn’t hold back his teasing. "First time seeing you like this. Keep it up~"
As the school’s three-year library committee head, Fuji was usually stoic and indifferent—making today’s emotional rollercoaster a rare sight.
Next up: Doubles 2.
Yamato and Kawasaki strode onto the court, pumped—
Only to be stunned when, during the handshake, Mayumizaka’s pair begged for mercy.
After much pleading, Yamato’s duo reluctantly agreed to let them win one game at 5-0.
The blatant match-fixing talk made the referee’s eye twitch.
Since it was just about saving face, the ref let it slide and started the match.
As for how bad Mayumizaka’s pair was?
Imagine Yoru’s first day at Seigaku, watching the complete beginners play.
Yamato and Kawasaki never dreamed that in the national semifinals, they’d face opponents this unskilled—like being handed a first-grade test during final exam prep.
And they couldn’t even win flawlessly—having to intentionally lose points.
They reached 5-0 in under eight minutes.
In the sixth game, as agreed, Yamato’s pair prepared to concede—
But Mayumizaka’s duo was so rattled that:
First point: Double fault.
Second point: Tripped over their own feet, locking themselves in a tangle.
Third point: Dropped their racket, hitting their partner’s butt.
Fourth point: The pièce de résistance—headed the return like a soccer ball.
What should’ve been a nap-inducing match instead delivered four legendary blunders, reigniting the crowd’s energy.
Even the referee couldn’t tell who was throwing the match.
In the end, Yamato and Kawasaki walked off with a flawless 6-0 victory—yet feeling weirdly unfulfilled.
"Something feels off. We won, but... not really?" Kawasaki muttered.
Yamato scratched his head. "A win’s a win."
With Seigaku now leading 2-0, one more victory would send them to the National Finals.
"My turn, then."
QP stood up calmly, his gaze fixed on his opponent—Inui Sadaharu.
According to data analysis, Inui’s strength was unpredictable—fluctuating wildly.
He often feigned weakness early, only to strike decisively in critical moments.
"Wait."
Just as QP was about to step out for warm-ups, Yoru stopped him—then turned to a certain suspicious-looking teammate.
Yamato: "......"
Chapter 140: Inui's Astonishing Performance; The Essence of State Techniques
Two buffs were instantly applied to QP, but their effect was minimal—only a (+0.5) boost.
The higher a player's star rating, the smaller the enhancement they receive.
However, after Yamato reached 7 stars, the numerical value of his buffs noticeably increased.
This meant the strength of the buffs was also tied to Yamato’s own combat power.
QP glanced thoughtfully at Yamato. "Tricking the brain into unlocking more potential, huh...?"
As someone who paid extreme attention to detail, he could clearly sense the changes in his body. In just a few words, Yamato had somehow allowed him to increase his muscle utilization rate.
Most people wouldn’t even understand what "muscle utilization rate" meant.
To put it simply—
Most state-based techniques in the Prince of Tennis world enhance muscle utilization, with only a few targeting mental fortitude.
The human body has 639 muscles, all composed of muscle fibers responsible for basic life functions. However, the full potential of these muscles is rarely tapped.
Medical research suggests that if all muscular potential were unlocked, the human body could theoretically generate 25 tons of force.
Normally, the average person only uses about 30% of their muscle capacity. Elite athletes might reach 40%, and those with exceptional talent could push it to 50%.
But the brain actively prevents excessive muscle activation.
The human body is both limitless and fragile.
Dramatically increasing muscle utilization risks severe consequences—muscles tearing from overextension, bones fracturing under strain, or even muscles detaching from bones entirely.
For example, Aichi Kōki’s physical enhancement works by stimulating emotions to "trick" the brain into allowing higher muscle usage—albeit at the cost of greater stamina consumption.
This is also why, in the original series, Oni Juujirou never dared to use Perfect Harmony (Muga no Kyouchi) for an entire match.
It could literally kill someone.
QP didn’t know how Yamato managed it, but he could feel the increase in muscle efficiency—without any side effects.
Pushing the thought aside, QP stepped onto the court to warm up.
The moment he moved, the entire audience’s attention locked onto him.
Thanks to Tennis Monthly’s relentless coverage, everyone knew that among Seigaku’s "Big Three," the true pillars were Yoru Echizen and QP.
QP’s matches were always absolute domination, sparking endless debates over who was stronger between him and Yoru.
Of course, there were also rumors that QP couldn’t score a single point against Yoru—but seeing was believing.
Miyako Base Camp
"Honestly, you two lost in the most embarrassing way possible," Inui sighed, rubbing his temples.
It was obvious Yamato and his partner had held back, yet Miyako’s doubles pair still managed to fumble spectacularly.
A 6-1 loss would’ve been acceptable, but getting shut out? Pathetic.
"W-We’re sorry, Vice Captain! We... we messed up!"
The two players exchanged glances, faces burning with shame.
Their performance in the sixth game was something not even a scripted comedy match could replicate.
Four points, each more absurd than the last.
If Kirihara’s blunders were bad, these two had somehow outdone him.
Shiraishi covered his face. "Whether it was a mistake or not, it matched your skill level."
If Miyako had any better players, Shiraishi wouldn’t have been forced to field these two.
And the worst part?
There were still two more of these "talents" on the bench.
His stomach churned at the thought.
Shiraishi turned to Inui. "You’re up next. Rein in the theatrics—your opponent isn’t weak."
"Hai, hai~" Inui shrugged, strolling onto the court to warm up.
10 Minutes Later
Both players took their positions.
QP’s imposing aura radiated across the court, an invisible pressure weighing down the air.
Inui’s eyes narrowed slightly.
"National Semifinals—Seigaku vs. Miyako! Singles 2 match begins! QP (Seigaku) to serve!"
The referee’s whistle blew.
QP stood at the baseline, his long sleeves and pants contrasting sharply with the standard athletic wear of other players.
Yoru had once asked him why.
QP’s explanation?
"It helps my body warm up faster. Removing them later gives a sudden boost in performance."
(Though in the original series, only the German team wore full sleeves—but nobody ever took them off mid-match?)
Whoosh—!
QP tossed the ball high.
His stance—sideways, knees bent, racket drawn back—was flawless textbook form.
"What a perfect serve motion," Fuji murmured in admiration.
This was the mark of perfect fundamentals.
In Seigaku, only Yoru and QP could execute serves with such precision—and still make basic serves explosively powerful.
BANG!
BANG!
Two sharp cracks echoed as the ball blurred past the net, rebounding at Inui’s feet before he could react.
"Yare yare~ That’s faaast!"
Inui’s playful voice rang out just as the ball was about to fly out of bounds—
Yet somehow, he intercepted it.
But something was off.
Inui’s movement speed wasn’t particularly fast.
Yet the moment the ball bounced, it slowed down drastically, as if hitting an invisible barrier.
QP’s brow furrowed.
He fired another shot.
Same result—the ball lost momentum after the bounce.
Yoru’s lips curved. "A 'speed trap,' huh?"
He was almost certain now—this was the precursor to Tokugawa’s "Black Hole."
"But Black Hole had severe backlash... Is this a weaker version with no side effects?"
If so, Inui’s technique might actually be more practical than Black Hole.
Black Hole could freeze the ball mid-air and negate spin/force—but at the cost of destroying the user’s body. (Tokugawa nearly died after using it a few times.)
THWACK!
QP suddenly switched tactics—a sharp drop shot, heavy with spin, skidding sideways after the bounce to minimize interception chances.
"Tch, just like Phoenix! Thought you’d keep playing straight-up~"
Inui’s teasing voice came from right at the net—his racket already under the ball, lifting it back.
"How is he that fast?!" Kirihara gasped.
Yoru shook his head. "Not speed. He predicted QP’s move and positioned himself early."
Inui’s skill set included:
Mental Prediction
Weakness Insight
In other words, he’d read QP’s habits beforehand, moving preemptively to create the illusion of speed.
Of course, QP shouldn’t be so easily deciphered this early—meaning Inui had studied him extensively prior to the match.
CRACK!
The proof came instantly.
Inui intercepted QP’s smash at the net, firing a cross-court pass straight to the baseline.
"Inui Kōta scores! 15-0!"
Kirihara’s jaw dropped. "QP lost the first point?! Is this... data tennis?"
Yoru smirked. "No. It’s psychological warfare."
