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🕑 Added 2025-08-03 12:55:55 +0000 UTCChapter 106: Once, There Was a Man Who Created a Tornado with a Wooden Stick
The tennis ball left Yoru’s fingertips, spinning lazily into the air.
A slight crouch, a twist of his torso—then his racket whipped forward.
BANG!
A golden streak of light exploded toward the outer corner.
Mitsudaira Akuto lunged, desperate to intercept—
But the moment the ball touched the ground, it shot straight upward, nearly smashing into his face.
Only a frantic dodge saved him.
The ball arced high, then crashed against the back wall.
Yoru leads, 15-0!
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"That technique—!"
"Wait, isn’t that just a Twist Serve? But the speed… and that angle!"
"It bounced vertically! It almost hit him!"
"Since when could a Twist Serve do that?!"
"Depends who’s using it. Even pros struggle with returns like that."
"Tch. I tried learning it once. Humiliating. Unless you’re a genius, don’t bother."
Most were awed by the sheer dominance of Yoru’s serve—proof he earned his arrogance.
So far, Mitsudaira was completely outmatched.
But Tezuka Kunimitsu, watching intently, saw deeper.
"His control… is terrifying."
Sanada frowned. "What do you mean? It’s just a Twist Serve."
To him, the technique was basic—effective against amateurs but exploitable at higher levels.
Tezuka’s voice was ice. "Yoru’s version doesn’t stay on the ground."
What?
Sanada’s breath hitched. Now that he thought about it—
The ball had immediately rocketed upward after the bounce. No skid. No delay.
A Twist Serve refined into something monstrous.
Yoru’s Smirk
"Ready for another?"
BANG!
Same motion. Same lethal spin.
Mitsudaira’s jaw tightened. "An impressive serve. But to think you’ll ace me repeatedly—"
"The one overthinking here… isn’t me."
Yoru didn’t even wait to see the return. He just turned and walked away, as if the point was already his.
And it was.
The ball landed—then jerked sideways at a 90-degree angle, kicking away before Mitsudaira could react.
30-0!
"Impossible!"
Mitsudaira’s mind reeled. That deflection defied physics!
Yoru’s voice cut through his shock. "What’s wrong? Never seen a real Twist Serve before?"
The Demolition
40-0!
The next serve backspun after the bounce, curling into the net.
2-0!
The fourth serve returned to Yoru’s hand like a boomerang.
The crowd erupted. Even Seigaku’s team stared in disbelief.
Yamato swallowed hard. "Have you… ever seen that?"
Kirihara shook his head. "Never."
A standard Twist Serve bounced at 60 degrees at most.
Yoru’s? 120 degrees. Directional control. Variable speed.
It wasn’t a technique—it was art.
Yoru’s Memory
"So this shocks them?"
A childhood memory flashed—Echizen Nanjiro, grinning as he whipped a wooden stick through the air.
The ball had spun like a tornado, drilling into a river and exploding water (and fish) skyward.
That day, Yoru learned:
There are no weak techniques. Only weak users.
The Execution
Mitsudaira scrambled to analyze Yoru’s patterns.
Futile.
"Zone" activated, rendering data tennis useless.
Then came *"Perfect Harmony"*—and its reverse.
By then, Mitsudaira had given up. Hope hinged on Yoru slipping.
Spoiler: He didn’t.
3-0!
4-0!
6-0!
Total match time: Under 10 minutes.
Yoru’s only sweat came from the heat.
A breeze finally stirred, making his fluttering jacket look scripted.
(Internally: "Took you long enough, wind. Almost ruined my aesthetic.")
Aftermath
"Unreal… The captain of Rikkai didn’t score once?!"
"Is this the end of an era?!"
"Don’t celebrate yet. It’s still 2-1. Akaya Kurenai is next—he’s no pushover."
"Regardless… that Yoru kid is terrifying."
The Hand That Crushed a Dynasty
Yoru stood at the net, arm extended.
"Handshake?"
The words hung in the air.
Mitsudaira stared blankly, his faith in data tennis shattering.
Chapter 107: A 9-Star vs. a 6-Star—Is There No Justice Left?!
Lost?
The members of Rikkai Dai still didn’t know the final outcome.
Akutagawa Hiroha, their Singles 2 player, was one of the strongest in Kanto. Since his rise to prominence last year, he had barely faced any real challengers—only their captain, Mitsuya Akuto, could truly surpass him.
But as they watched QP from Seigaku walk down from the court, a sense of unease settled over them.
If even Mitsuya—the one who knew Hiroha’s strength best—claimed that Yoru and QP were "impossible to handle," did Hiroha even stand a chance?
Judging from the Singles 3 match, the odds of Hiroha winning were practically zero.
After all, Mitsuya’s so-called "impossible to handle" opponent had just handed them a humiliating shutout.
So what about QP, who was also labeled "impossible to handle"?
The thought cast a dark shadow over Rikkai Dai’s bench.
"My apologies, everyone."
Mitsuya Akuto, his face pale, walked to the bench and bowed deeply at a 90-degree angle.
"You did your best. We have no right to blame you."
Akutagawa Hiroha shook his head. His words echoed the sentiments of most of Rikkai Dai’s team.
If not for Mitsuya’s strategies, they might have still believed Seigaku was just a stepping stone to their 13th consecutive championship—perhaps not even grasping a single opportunity.
The previous match, along with the Doubles 1 match, had shown them the stark gap in top-tier strength between the two teams.
"Leave the rest to me."
"Whether that foreigner is as strong as you say or not—I’ll find out by playing him!"
Hiroha gripped his racket and headed to the court to warm up.
"Another funeral march, huh."
Yoru glanced over, watching Hiroha warm up before remarking, "Your next opponent isn’t completely hopeless. At least he’ll give you a decent warm-up."
Akutagawa Hiroha.
In the original U-17, he was ranked last among Japan’s elite camp members—but that didn’t mean he was weak.
He was definitely stronger than players like Harahiko Gen or the Ohtori brothers. Rumor had it his low ranking was because he acted as the "gatekeeper" of the top 20.
But that was all in the future.
In the original story, he managed to suppress Inui—someone who, despite his theatrics, wouldn’t have been overpowered without genuine skill.
With a 6-star rating, he could at least give QP a decent workout.
"I hope he isn’t too weak."
QP pulled out his racket, removed his jacket, and strode onto the court.
Ten minutes later.
The referee blew his whistle.
"BEEP BEEP! Kanto Finals—Rikkai Dai vs. Seigaku, Singles 2 match begins! Players, take your positions!"
"Are you strong?"
At the net, Hiroha didn’t offer a handshake. His English was rough, but QP could just barely understand.
"I look forward to our match."
QP’s response was robotic—completely devoid of emotion, as if he were merely stating a fact.
Hiroha didn’t mind. Instead, he declared firmly:
"No matter who you are, the one walking off this court as the winner will be me!"
"......"
QP didn’t reply. He simply turned away expressionlessly.
It wasn’t that he was ignoring Hiroha—it was just that Hiroha’s mix of broken English and Japanese was so painful that even a dog would cringe.
"Game start! QP to serve!"
The referee’s whistle signaled the beginning of the match.
SWISH—!
QP didn’t waste time bouncing the ball. He tossed it high into the air.
His textbook-perfect serving form drew murmurs of admiration from the crowd.
"Flat serve!"
Hiroha instantly judged the trajectory and lunged forward, ready to intercept.
BANG—! BANG—! BANG—!
A terrifying, overlapping series of impacts echoed across the court.
Before Hiroha could even take a full step, the ball was already rolling outside the lines.
"15-0, QP!"
"This guy...!"
Hiroha’s pupils trembled.
"Once QP decides it’s a real match, he doesn’t hold back."
Yoru shook his head, already seeing how this would end.
Before the Kanto Finals, something significant had happened to QP.
[Name]: Seigaku’s QP (Aoi)
[Age]: 13
[Techniques]: Perfect Physical Stats (Lv. 8), Tennis Fundamentals (Lv. 8)
[Talent]: Flawless Quality
[Power Level]: ★★★★★★★★★ (9 Stars)
After his body matured, naturally boosting his physical stats to Lv. 8, QP had thrown himself into relentless training.
Just one day before the finals, he finally broke through to Lv. 8 Fundamentals—not yet perfectly balanced, but a major step forward that noticeably increased his strength.
Most importantly…
QP was now a 9-star player.
A 9-star vs. a 6-star?
This was a meteor crashing into Earth.
"30-0!"
"40-0!"
"Game, 1-0!"
Four consecutive serves.
Even though they were all basic, the sheer speed, power, placement, angle, and psychological pressure made them impossible to return.
"I feel like QP got even stronger..."
Kirihara scratched his chin.
QP wasn’t holding back—his serves were visibly faster than before.
Kirihara mentally compared it to his own abilities.
"I’d probably need to activate my 'Speed Boost' just to return these normally..."
It was clear proof of QP’s growth.
"This is so unfair," Kirihara grumbled. "How can someone already this strong still improve?!"
"What kind of logic is that?"
Yoru rolled his eyes.
Back to the match.
Hiroha served—a spin serve!
QP didn’t hesitate. The moment the ball bounced, he swung with flawless precision.
His textbook-perfect form left zero openings.
The spin affected the ball’s speed slightly, but…
It didn’t matter.
Hiroha’s eyes couldn’t track it. His brain couldn’t react.
All he could do was hear the impact and turn his head to see where the ball had landed.
CRACK—!
A deafening collision echoed through the stadium.
The crowd’s eyes snapped toward the back—QP’s return had slammed into the advertising board.
"Wait, that’s—!"
Rikkai Dai’s Ueda noticed something strange.
The ball had hit the hardest part of the board—the steel frame’s central joint.
And yet…
It was dented inward.
"Impossible..."
Hiroha’s mind reeled.
How could someone with QP’s build generate such monstrous power?
Even if he could react to the shot, returning it would be nearly impossible.
"15-0, QP!"
"Boring."
QP muttered the word under his breath before resetting into his stance.
In the stands, two young spectators stared at QP with undisguised fear.
They had been visiting Seigaku daily for training under Yoru’s guidance, so they were familiar with most of the regulars.
But QP was an exception.
He trained nonstop—only stopping when Yoru ordered him to.
From what Yamato had told them, QP’s strength was second only to Yoru’s.
And when they learned that even Kirihara couldn’t score a single point off him, they were speechless.
But hearing about it was one thing.
Seeing it in person?
The sheer efficiency of his play radiated overwhelming pressure.
Chapter 108: The Kanto Champion, Making History
"Game over, 6–0!"
Total match time: 8 minutes and 53 seconds.
"Gulp..."
The entire stadium fell into stunned silence.
Under the crowd’s gaze, QP stepped off the court.
"Final score... 3–1. Seigaku wins!"
As the referee’s whistle blew, the audience snapped out of their shock.
"They won! Seigaku won!"
"Yoru is amazing! QP is amazing!"
"My husbands are so handsome~"
"Shameless! Who’s your husband? ‘Husbands’? Have some dignity!"
Of course, it was the girls who erupted into cheers first.
QP walked off the court and noticed Yoru squinting ahead, his smirk harder to suppress than an AK-47’s recoil.
QP tilted his head. "Why are you so happy after winning a match at this level?"
"What match?"
"Hm?"
A familiar feeling crept into QP’s heart. Following Yoru’s gaze, he wasn’t surprised—
A group of beautiful high school girls in cute uniforms were playfully shoving each other, some even accidentally flashing a little.
Yoru muttered under his breath: "Being handsome really has its perks..."
He thought back to his past life’s appearance.
Back then, not only would girls never fight over him, but even glancing at an old lady on the street would earn him a "Disgusting. I’m calling the cops."
He wasn’t ugly, but he was far from handsome.
Average-looking guys never realize just how bold and crazy girls can be.
Now, he finally understood.
Luckily, aside from QP, none of the club members noticed what Yoru was staring at—otherwise, his image would’ve taken a nosedive.
They were too busy celebrating.
"We won! We beat Rikkai Dai and ended their 13-year reign!"
"This feels like a dream!"
"We’re really going to Nationals!"
"When the captain said he’d take us to win Nationals, I thought it was impossible... but now it might actually happen!"
"Long live the captain!"
Kawasaki and the others screamed at the top of their lungs, eyes bloodshot with emotion.
"Rikkai Dai’s 13-year dynasty has been broken."
Hyōtei’s coach, Sukōjiro, wore an expression of envy.
This was the glory he had once dreamed of bringing to Hyōtei.
No one expected that the team to finally dethrone Rikkai Dai would be Seigaku—a school that couldn’t even clear the prefecturals last year.
Players and coaches from other schools watched with admiration.
"A new king has risen. The era is changing."
Yamabuki’s coach, Mikitaka, slowly smiled.
Though Yoru wasn’t the most likable kid, there was no denying that Seigaku flourished under his leadership.
In all his years of coaching, he’d seen countless geniuses and witnessed the fall of many legends.
But Seigaku winning the Kanto Championship?
That was a first in history—something not even Echizen Nanjirō had accomplished.
Yoru was already making history.
While the atmosphere around them was electric, Rikkai Dai’s side was eerily quiet.
Mitsudō and the others stared blankly at the scoreboard, lost in thought.
After a long silence, Akiba Kōyō patted Mitsudō’s shoulder.
"You did well, Akutsu."
Nothing cuts deeper than unexpected comfort.
The guilt bottled up inside Mitsudō burst out—his glasses fogged up as tears streamed down his face.
"I’m sorry... I’m sorry, everyone... WAAAAH—!!"
He cried loudly, and the Rikkai Dai team quickly huddled around him.
At the end of the day, Mitsudō was just a second-year. They were all his seniors.
Placing the entire burden on the captain was a mistake from the start.
Looking back, the match was lost the moment Seigaku swapped their doubles lineup.
Mitsudō’s strategy wasn’t flawed—it was just seen through. In tactical battles, one misstep means total defeat.
Post-match formalities.
The referee signaled for both teams to gather at the net.
"The Kanto Tournament has concluded. Players, please exchange handshakes!"
The whistle blew, and the noise died down.
Led by their captains, both teams met at the center.
"Congratulations."
Even behind his glasses, it was clear Mitsudō’s eyes were swollen.
Ending the 13-year dynasty under his leadership—that kind of pressure would crush even an adult.
Yoru shook his hand and said:
"Mitsudō-senpai, you’re a second-year, right?"
"...Yes."
"Then stop crying. What’s there to cry about? You’ll get used to it next year."
Yoru’s face was dead serious.
"......"
Mitsudō’s eye twitched—he almost coughed up blood.
Yoru continued, "Actually, you might not even have to wait until next year. There’s still Nationals. Plenty of time to cry then."
"Do you always talk like this? It’s lacking in sportsmanship."
"Annoyed?"
Yoru chuckled as he let go of his hand.
"Yeah, it’s not very sportsmanlike. But you’re breathing easier now, aren’t you?"
Mitsudō froze.
He couldn’t deny it—those two provocations had actually lightened the guilt in his chest.
The boulder crushing his heart had shifted—not gone, but moved elsewhere.
This kind of comfort was unconventional, but it worked for him.
Like how the fastest way to get over a breakup is to find someone new.
The weight of the 13-year legacy was being eased in its own way.
"...Thank you."
As the handshake ended, Yoru led his team away, waving without looking back.
"Looking forward to our next match."
Award Ceremony
The organizers worked quickly—within 30 minutes, the Kanto Championship awards were ready.
First up: Hyōtei (3rd Place).
Their 3rd-place match had been a 3–0 sweep the day before.
Led by Mōri Kōshirō, Hyōtei stepped onto the podium.
Holding the familiar bronze medal, a sense of powerlessness washed over him.
Last year, they’d lost to Yamabuki in the semifinals.
This year, they beat Yamabuki—but still fell in the semis. Another bronze.
Next year, as a high schooler, he’d never get another shot at the Kanto gold.
Regret gives life its texture.
Next: Rikkai Dai (2nd Place).
When the committee handed them the silver medals, Mitsudō and the others stared blankly.
Twelve years.
Twelve straight championships—ended by their hands.
As captain, Mitsudō’s heart ached. But thanks to Yoru’s words earlier, he didn’t break down again.
The crowd watched with mixed emotions.
Many were Rikkai Dai fans—they never expected an unknown team like Seigaku to dethrone them.
Finally—the new Kanto Champions.
The announcer’s voice boomed:
*"Now, presenting your new Kanto kings—SEI~~~~GAKU!"*
The stadium exploded in applause.
Most of the crowd cheered, welcoming the new dynasty.
Under their gaze, Yoru led Seigaku onto the podium.
As the committee handed him the gold medal, Yoru didn’t give a speech.
Instead, he raised the medal toward the crowd—and the cheers reached a deafening peak.
Chapter 109: Swift Rune; The Supreme Domain
(Author's Note: I originally planned to write off Ryuzaki Sumire completely, but then I realized a practical issue—if there’s no liaison between the tennis club and the school, tasks like arranging transportation, organizing training camps, or team-building events can’t realistically be handled by students. So, I’ve decided to give Ryuzaki a new role.)
Seigaku – Coach’s Office
Watching the triumphant young faces on TV, Ryuzaki Sumire couldn’t help but smile from the heart.
She stood up, turned off the television, and picked up the resignation letter she had prepared long ago.
Her destination? The school board meeting room.
Technically, she was already a member of the board—she had just been doubling as the tennis club’s coach.
For years, she had prided herself on being the one who trained Echizen Nanjirō, wearing that achievement like a badge of honor.
But the truth was, she had passion without skill, ambition without the courage to break rules.
Looking back now, paving the way for Yoru was the boldest move she had made in decades of coaching.
The irony?
At first, she had seen Yoru as nothing more than a scapegoat—someone to push through reforms she lacked the guts to attempt herself.
If things failed, she could pin the blame on him and step back in to "save" Seigaku.
But she underestimated him—his unshakable will, his unmatched skill, and his ability to command absolute respect from the team.
Under his leadership, Seigaku adopted a ruthless, competitive culture, and before she knew it, his authority surpassed hers entirely.
Did it sting?
Of course.
Ryuzaki wasn’t a particularly magnanimous person.
But as she watched Yoru lead Seigaku into the Kanto Tournament, she realized—this was the younger generation’s era now.
She couldn’t bring herself to leave the tennis club entirely, though.
Maybe transitioning into a managerial role, handling logistics and support, would be the best path forward.
And after seeing Seigaku claim the championship, her decision was final.
Post-Celebration
After the awards ceremony, the team headed to a yakiniku restaurant for a feast.
Thanks to Nanjirō’s "sponsorship", money wasn’t an issue.
(Backstory: Nanjirō’s wife, Rinko, controlled the family finances. When he asked for funds to support Yoru’s training abroad, she not only agreed but gave extra—which Nanjirō skimmed off of. Yoru caught him and blackmailed him into sharing the spoils.)
Now, Yoru had enough cash to support a family for a year.
As the team devoured meat like starving wolves, Yoru checked his system rewards.
[System Notifications]
"Congratulations on leading Seigaku to victory in the Kanto Tournament! Reward: Random Rune ×1!"
"Special Achievement Unlocked: ‘First Kanto Championship’! Reward: Skill Evolution Card ×1!"
"Acquired: [Swift Rune]!"
[Swift Rune Effects]
All club members: +10% body balance
Regular members: +3% movement speed
Regulars: +5% movement speed
Yoru: +8% movement speed
A decent rune, though not as flashy as others.
Kirihara’s about to get another buff.
Without hesitation, Yoru equipped it.
Current Rune Slots (6/8):
[Training Rune]
[First Strike Rune]
[Counter Rune]
[Swift Strike Rune]
[Insight Rune]
[Swift Rune]
Even with all these bonuses, players like Kaido still struggled against "canon" characters.
("Guess if you’re not drawn by the author, you’re just cannon fodder.")
Q&A with the System
Yoru suddenly asked: "Hey System, why do you sometimes call me ‘Host’ and other times ‘Master’?"
[System: Same difference as ‘Dad’ and ‘Father.’ Whatever feels natural. Why do you care about something so trivial?]
"Just curious."
He then commanded: "Use both Skill Evolution Cards on [Zone] and [Reverse Zone]."
[Your ‘Zone’ and ‘Reverse Zone’ have merged into—[Supreme Domain]!]
[Supreme Domain has reached Lv. 10!]
[Supreme Domain]
A fusion of Zone and Reverse Zone, creating compound spin.
Unless the opponent can shatter the spin entirely, they’re left with two choices:
Return the ball directly to the user’s strike zone.
Watch as the ball is forced out of bounds.
The true power of Supreme Domain?
It can simultaneously activate Zone AND Reverse Zone, with spin strength exceeding double that of Reverse Zone alone.
Yoru glanced at Tezuka and Sanada, who were shamelessly mooching food.
"Tezuka… you’re honestly broken. How did you even develop this in the original series?"
(Author’s Note: Sanada only beat Tezuka in Nationals because Tezuka’s arm wasn’t fully healed. A healthy Tezuka would’ve crushed ‘Rai.’ Even Yukimura returned it effortlessly.)
By the U-17 World Cup, a fully recovered Tezuka wielded his techniques without restraint, his arm no longer a liability.
Status Check
[Name]: Yoru
[Age]: 12
[Techniques]:
Perfect Stats (Lv. 10)
Tennis Fundamentals (Lv. 10)
Twist Serve (Lv. 9)
Supreme Domain (Lv. 10)
Muga no Kyōchi (Lv. 8)
Hyakuren no Kiwami (Lv. 7)
Sharp Angle Drive (Lv. 8)
Super Fast Straight Serve (Lv. 9)
(+2 lesser skills folded)
[Combat Power]: ★★★★☆ 11 Stars
[Talents]:
Tenth Sense Control
Perfect Copy
Super Perfect Quality (2/3 Glow Unlocked)
Supreme Domain pushed him into 11-star territory, but progress was slowing.
With perfect stats, fundamentals, and a stacked skillset, he’d only gained half a star.
"If this were earlier, I’d have jumped two stars by now."
He couldn’t even imagine how Nanjirō’s 20-star rating looked.
That said, if they fought right now?
Yoru smirked.
"I could make him kneel in three minutes."
(...Kneel and beg me not to die, that is.)
The Calm Before the Storm
After a night of celebration, life returned to normal.
The National Tournament was still a month away (mid-August), so Yoru gave the team two days off to rest before preparations began.
But he knew—Kanto was just the warm-up.
The real monsters were in Kansai.
Shiratori, Irie, Byōdōin, Ryōji… practically all the U-17 elites hailed from there.
If Seigaku got unlucky with matchups, they’d be fighting uphill from the first round.
Still, Yoru was in high spirits today.
Because Ryōga and Ryōma were coming home.
"It’s been so long since all three of us were together… especially Ryōga."
A grin spread across his face.
"I wonder how strong he’s gotten now."
Chapter 110: Ryoma & Ryoga
(Regarding whether Ryoga is a high schooler or middle schooler)
(My speculation: To comply with World Tournament rules without altering their finals lineup, the Spanish team likely listed Ryoga—a high schooler—as a middle schooler on paper.)
(One piece of evidence supporting this: During the exhibition match, Ryoga partnered with Ryoma. According to exhibition doubles rules, pairs must consist of one high schooler and one middle schooler. Ryoga teaming with Ryoma confirms his high school status. Of course, this could also just be an oversight by the author. This fic will follow the storyline’s logic but adjust for the World Tournament, reverting Ryoga to his actual high school status for consistency.)
Seishun Gakuen.
The Echizen Temple.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
On the uneven dirt court, one figure stood firm while the other darted back and forth.
The two players locked in this intense rally were Yoru and QP.
Under the temple eaves, Nanjiroh watched with rare seriousness.
His eyes lingered on Yoru’s sharp, focused expression.
"He’s already reached this level…"
On the court, Yoru was demonstrating his *"Supreme Dominion"*—a perfected version of the Tezuka Zone.
Despite QP activating two stages of Glorious Insight, he couldn’t break free. Worse, the control only tightened as the match progressed.
BAM—!
A final shot twisted out of bounds.
6-0. QP had been shut out.
"Hah…"
QP exhaled heavily, sweat dripping from his chin. His gaze at Yoru was equal parts exhaustion and disbelief.
After a moment, he finally spoke:
"A fusion… of the Zone and its reverse… Composite Spin?"
Composite Spin—a technique even pro players rarely mastered. Yet here was Yoru, not just wielding it, but integrating it into an advanced dominion technique.
This wasn’t something you could learn through mere practice. Precise ball control was just the baseline requirement—it demanded instinctual feel beyond raw skill.
Earlier that morning, Nanjiroh had woken to find QP already training relentlessly in the yard, while Yoru lazed around like usual.
Bored, Nanjiroh ordered them to play, curious about their progress.
He hadn’t expected Yoru to make another leap forward.
That Composite Spin was proof his eldest son was inching closer to the pro threshold—just waiting for his body to catch up.
Initially, Nanjiroh assumed Yoru’s Sensory Manipulation talent would make him a nightmare for peers but a late bloomer in the pros.
Yet now…
Perhaps he’d worried too much.
At this rate, Yoru might shatter that door sooner than anyone anticipated.
Nanjiroh stepped onto the court, grabbing Yoru’s racket arm to inspect it.
No swelling. No strain.
"What kind of freakish body do you have?" Nanjiroh muttered. "You’re not even in your full growth spurt yet, but you can handle the strain of Composite Spin?"
Yoru smirked. "Blame my genes~"
According to the system’s metrics, an average adult’s physical stats capped around Level 13-14.
Yoru was already within three levels of that—without peaking.
Levels beyond 15 required intensive training and innate talent (think LeBron James-tier physique).
Most ATP top-30 players hovered around 17-18. Only a rare few breached 19.
As for Level 20?
Yoru had only seen two people there:
Nanjiroh.
And the soon-to-retire "King of Tennis."
Normally, stats declined with age or reduced training—yet those two defied logic.
Nanjiroh lazed around reading magazines all day. The King was semi-retired.
So how?
Were they just built different?
"Old man! Big bro!"
"Yoru-nii!"
Familiar voices snapped Yoru from his thoughts.
At the temple gate stood Ryoga and Ryoma, lugging suitcases.
"You’re back already?" Yoru’s face lit up.
Aside from Nanjiroh, Rinko, and Nanako, these two mattered most to him.
Ryoma—raised like a little brother since childhood.
Ryoga—though they’d spent less time together, their bond never faded.
As someone who’d been alone in two lifetimes, Yoru cherished this family deeply.
The free-spirited Ryoga immediately leapt onto Yoru’s back. "Ugh! Why’d you grow so much taller?!"
Ryoma, ever the tsundere, tried (and failed) to hide his excitement behind a cool facade.
("Hug me already!") his eyes screamed.
Yoru obliged—by ruffling his hair. "So soft~"
"Nii-san, I’m not a kid anymore," Ryoma grumbled—but didn’t pull away.
Nanjiroh approached, pride glowing in his eyes. His greatest joy was watching his three sons grow.
Ryoga hopped down, scowling. "You didn’t even pick us up from the airport? Rude!"
"Your flight was at 10, wasn’t it?"
"We arrived at 10!"
The brothers sighed. Typical unreliable dad behavior.
Nearby, QP glanced away—a flicker of envy in his eyes.
Yoru noticed.
"QP, these are the brothers I always talk about. Not bad, right?"
He nudged them forward. "Say hello. He’s my closest friend—staying with us now."
"QP-senpai, hello," they chorused.
"Closest friend…"
The words struck something in QP, though his expression stayed neutral. "Hello."
Yoru grinned. "Don’t mind his poker face. He’s actually really kind."
Their time together had shown him QP’s true nature—loyal to a fault, just reserved.
(After all, in the original story, QP was the one who protected Tezuka from Siegfried’s bullying.)
"Go see Mom and Nanako first. They’re inside."
"Right!" The two dashed off.
The moment they turned the corner, Yoru’s smile vanished.
Nanjiroh’s warmth faded too.
"You noticed, huh? I was going to tell you later."
