belamy20
patreon
96-100
🕑 Added 2025-07-31 15:49:30 +0000 UTCChapter 96: Out-of-Control Talent; Sanada’s Lost Spirit
(Quick question—did the Mōri brothers, Akiba Benihime, and Utan Weitarou ever have confirmed schools? If not, I’m about to start spreading some rumors.)
United States.
Drenched in rain.
A street tennis court.
Dozens of spectators stood frozen, staring at the scene unfolding before them.
A dark-skinned young man knelt on the ground, eyes hollow with despair, muttering over and over: "I can’t… I can’t play anymore. I don’t know how to play tennis."
Across the net, a pale-faced young man hid under his cap, his pupils trembling violently.
"Why… Why did this happen?"
The speaker was Ryōga, his voice shaking.
Lately, his skills had grown rapidly, and his control over his "talent" had become more precise. In recent matches, he’d even managed to avoid stealing his opponents’ abilities entirely.
Just as he was overjoyed—thinking he’d play a few more matches before seeking out Ryōma—something went wrong.
Near the final set of this match, Ryōga suddenly lost control.
It was like instinct took over. In the span of a single point, he absorbed everything—his opponent’s playstyle, techniques, even their fundamental ability to play tennis.
This felt different from before. Stronger. More voracious.
It wasn’t just taking anymore—it was devouring.
And the result proved it.
His opponent didn’t just lose their playstyle or techniques—they forgot how to hold a racket.
"WHY… WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?!"
Ryōga’s roar of horror echoed as his cap flew off.
The crowd quickly recognized him.
"It’s… it’s him! That Asian guy—the one who ruined my brother! He’s a demon!"
"I remember now—something about a ‘dragon’? My friend played him and lost his entire style. Still hasn’t recovered."
"The ‘Tennis Demon’ from the rumors?"
"Everyone who plays him loses their skills… He steals them!"
"No wonder that guy can’t even grip a racket now. A real demon…!"
As whispers spread, panic set in. In a country obsessed with urban legends, the crowd scrambled back, fleeing the scene.
Ryōga pulled his cap back on and bolted, sprinting through the streets in a daze.
His mind was blank. He had no idea what was happening to him.
After running aimlessly, he finally stopped, hands shaking as he dialed a number.
"Old… old man. My ability—it’s out of control."
"Ryōga…?"
On the other end, Nanjirō’s brow furrowed. Like Yoru, Ryōga had always been independent—never someone who needed hand-holding.
Hearing his son’s voice crack with fear told him things were worse than he thought.
If Yoru could see Ryōga’s stats now, he’d notice something terrifying:
The ability once labeled "Theft" had now become—
"Devour."
Thud… Thud… Thud…
The rhythmic bounce of a tennis ball echoed across the court.
Yoru tapped his racket against the ball, eyes scanning Sanada’s stats.
Exactly the same as during the JR Finals. No growth at all.
The aftermath of that loss had clearly broken him.
In the original timeline, Yukimura might’ve pulled him back—but now, with Yukimura hospitalized, Sanada had no anchor.
Whoosh—THUD!
Yoru served before the ball even reached its peak. Fast, but still within Sanada’s reach.
Sanada exhaled sharply, pressure weighing on him.
Yoru hadn’t shown anything overwhelming yet, but from Tezuka’s accounts, he knew—this was someone who could crush semi-pros.
Holding back would just be an insult.
He lunged, racket flashing like a blade.
"Fūrin Kazan—Speed of Wind!"
BANG!
The ball vanished mid-court.
Even Tezuka, watching from the umpire’s chair, frowned.
"Speed of Wind" was identical to the JR Finals version. Sanada’s growth had stalled.
"Decent speed. Poor angle and placement."
Yoru moved effortlessly as a system prompt chimed in his mind:
[You perfectly copied "Speed of Wind (Lv. 5)." 120% power boost applied. Obtained "Speed of Wind (Lv. 7)."]
[Due to high base stats, "Speed of Wind" upgraded to Lv. 8!]
"Watch closely. I’ll show you the difference between your version and mine."
Huh?
Sanada and Tezuka froze.
What did he mean by—
Before they could process it, Yoru was already in position, stance identical to Sanada’s earlier swing.
Sanada’s stomach dropped.
BANG-BANG-BANG!
Three near-simultaneous strikes rang out—too fast for the duo to track.
By the time the last thud came from behind him, Sanada turned robotically.
The ball lay still against the fence.
"Did… did he learn this from watching matches, or… just now?"
Sanada’s mind short-circuited.
Even Tezuka, usually unshakable, swallowed hard.
Then, a voice cut through the silence—in German:
"Just as I thought. Yoru has instantaneous copying—and the ability to perfect techniques mid-use."
Tezuka turned to see Q.P. stepping onto the court, fresh from training.
"A German? Why is he here?"
Q.P. ignored him, deep in thought.
If Yoru could copy and refine techniques on the spot, then his eerily similar playstyle to Q.P.’s own made sense.
The realization sent a chill down his spine.
So far, Yoru had displayed:
Sensory manipulation
Copying and perfecting
Insight beyond human limits
Physical genius
"What are you? Did God forget to close the doors and windows when he made you?"
Back on the court, Yoru locked eyes with Sanada.
"Tell me. What’s different?"
"Y-Your swing was faster… the ball too… and the angle—"
"I asked about the motion, not the result!" Yoru snapped.
"I… I don’t know!"
Sanada’s head hung low, unable to meet his gaze.
Yoru sighed.
"Damn. Is this really the future ‘Emperor’? One loss, and he’s completely broken."
Without Yukimura, Sanada’s spirit had shattered.
Chapter 97: Reforging Sanada; Raising Ryōma’s "EXP Farm"
"6–0. Match over. Winner: Yoru-senpai!"
The entire match took less than ten minutes—hardly a warm-up, even for Tezuka.
Yoru’s expression darkened. "Sanada. Come here."
At his tone, Sanada flinched.
He shuffled forward like a scolded child, shoulders hunched.
Watching this pitiful display, Yoru’s eye twitched. Is Yukimura really that vital to his mental state?
Because of Yoru’s interference, Yukimura had left for treatment early—leaving Sanada to spiral alone after his crushing JR Finals defeat.
Now, the future "Emperor" was a shell of himself.
If this keeps up, he won’t even qualify as a mid-tier boss for Ryōma to grind on.
Still, Yoru understood.
Sanada’s breakdown came from one thing: overwhelming fear of the gap between them.
During the JR Finals, he’d assumed Sanada had already developed all four "Fūrinkazan" techniques. Turns out, only "Wind" and "Forest" existed so far.
"Boosting ‘Speed of Wind’ isn’t complicated," Yoru said coldly. "It’s about balancing kendō and tennis."
"Balancing…?"
Sanada’s head lifted slightly, a flicker of hope in his eyes.
Yoru nodded. "Tennis is tennis. Kendō is kendō. You can borrow stance and power mechanics from kendō to enhance your shots—but you can’t replace tennis fundamentals with sword swings."
"The basics exist because generations of geniuses refined them. You don’t just toss them aside."
"That whole ‘perfect fusion’ idea is nonsense. Techniques—and people—exist to serve the fundamentals, not the other way around. Even Tezuka’s ‘Zero-Shiki’ follows that rule."
"If you insist on forcing tennis into a kendō mold, quit now. Stick to swords."
Initially, Yoru had assumed kendō was the core of Fūrinkazan.
But after copying "Speed of Wind" and upgrading it to Lv. 8, he realized Sanada’s entire foundation was flawed.
The kid was treating tennis like a sword duel.
"So that’s…"
Sanada’s breath hitched.
Suddenly, it made sense—why Yoru’s identical stance produced such drastically stronger results.
Beyond raw stats, the key difference was simple:
Yoru used standard tennis form, merely enhanced by kendō mechanics.
That "perfect fusion" Sanada had chased? A fantasy.
"Thank you, senpai." Sanada bowed deeply, voice thick with emotion.
Yoru sighed, side-eyeing the gesture. Feels like I’m at a funeral.
"Also," he added, "your family’s kendō principles originate from Sun Tzu’s The Art of War, right?"
"‘Move swift as the wind, steady as the forest, fierce as fire, immovable as a mountain.’ You’ve got ‘Wind’ and ‘Forest’ down. Any ideas for the rest?"
Time to buff Sanada’s growth—future Ryōma would need the EXP.
Sanada hesitated, then shook his head.
He’d planned to develop the remaining techniques with Yukimura post-JR Finals. But with Yukimura hospitalized, progress had stalled.
"Then here’s a tip," Yoru said.
"‘Fierce as Fire’—symbolizes relentless offense. Focus on smashes.
"‘Immovable as Mountain’—unshakable defense. Build a total guard stance.
"‘Unfathomable as Shadow’…"
By dusk, Yoru had practically spoon-fed Sanada the entire Fūrinkazan development path from the original timeline.
Every detail. Every nuance.
Can’t have our mid-tier boss underleveled.
The speech left Sanada awestruck. Even Tezuka’s usual stoicism cracked, replaced by naked admiration.
"Talent, huh…" Q.P. muttered in German, sighing.
After weeks in Japan, he’d picked up enough Japanese to follow Yoru’s lecture.
It was equal parts inspiring and depressing.
Living together, Q.P. knew Yoru trained just two hours daily—slacking off the rest of the time. Yet his growth was exponential.
No explanation but sheer天赋 (tiānfù)—"innate talent."
And compared to that, even Q.P.’s gifts felt… inadequate.
"Alright, kids. Time to go."
Yoru glanced at the darkening sky. Not out of concern for their safety—he just didn’t want to miss dinner.
"Yes!"
Sanada bowed again, deeper this time—genuine reverence in the motion.
Yoru turned away, grimacing. Still looks like a damn funeral.
Tezuka, unusually hesitant, spoke up: "Yoru-senpai… May we accompany your team to future Kantō matches?"
"Sure."
That’s it? Yoru almost laughed. As long as they didn’t ask him to fight Nanjirō, anything was fine.
After the duo left, Q.P. approached.
"Yoru. You can copy and perfect techniques, correct?"
"Yep." No point denying it—he’d stopped hiding the ability after realizing how broken it was.
"Then… my playstyle. Did you copy that too?"
"Nah." Yoru shook his head. "Copying has limits—just techniques, not entire styles."
天赋绑定 (tiānfù bǎngdìng)—"talent binding"—was his cheat code.
But he wasn’t lying. When Oni Jūjirō activated "Pinnacle of Perfection", the system hadn’t triggered.
State-based abilities seemed uncopyable.
Honestly, Yanagi Renji’s "Illusion" is scarier. Dude even mimicked "Zone" states by understanding his targets’ mindsets.
No wonder he was an MVP candidate post-time-skip.
Q.P. accepted the answer without pushback. Since absorbing "Pinnacle of Wisdom", he trusted Yoru implicitly.
Besides—what reason was there to lie?
"Alright, wrap it up!"
Yoru grabbed the PA mic. "ASSEMBLE!"
The bellow echoed across the courts. Within minutes, the entire club gathered at Court 1.
"Tomorrow’s the Kantō Tournament draw. I’ll take Q.P., Ōishi, and Kirihara to Rikkai for it."
"While I’m gone, train properly. No slacking."
"YES, SENPAI!"
The roar was unanimous. After the last purge, the club ran smoothly even in Yoru’s absence.
Meanwhile, atop the school building…
An elderly figure gazed wistfully at the courts below.
After a long silence, he picked up a pen and wrote two words on a sheet of paper:
"Letter of Resignation."
Chapter 98: Kanto Tournament Draw – Rikkai’s Lineup
(Author’s Note: Based on the original timeline where Rikkai’s 15-win streak was broken in their third year (denying them a 16th consecutive title), last year should’ve been their 12th straight win. Let me know if there are discrepancies—I’ll verify and correct!)
Saturday | Rikkai Dai Fuzoku Middle School
Located in Kanagawa Prefecture, Rikkai Dai was a prestigious private school with a storied history.
Renowned as a cradle for elite talent across disciplines, its clubs—especially tennis—dominated competitions.
For 12 consecutive years, Rikkai had ruled the Kanto Tournament, earning the honor of hosting the annual draw ceremony.
The Draw Ceremony
By 10 AM, Yoru and three others arrived via train.
The venue buzzed with representatives from various schools—some solo, others in full squads.
Yoru scanned the room.
Many familiar faces from the original series were present: Hyotei, Yamabuki, Seigakukan, Rokkaku…
But one name stood out: "Shohoku."
Wait… isn’t that a basketball school in high school?
Apparently, their middle school tennis team had clawed their way into the Kanto Tournament.
Yet beyond a few exceptions, Yoru saw no noteworthy players.
Most hovered around 3–4 stars, with barely any reaching 5-star—meaning even Kawasaki’s current squad could sweep most teams here.
Yoru (slumping in his seat): "Welp. At this point, the real competition’s all in Kansai."
The Kanto Tournament suddenly felt dull.
The Buzz Around Seigaku
QP (noticing Yoru’s disinterest): "No strong opponents?"
Yoru: "Remove the word ‘strong.’ There’s no one worth fighting."
QP nodded. Given Japan’s reputation as a "tennis wasteland," this was expected.
Around them, whispers about Seigaku spread:
"That’s the team with the foreigner, right? Did they hire a ringer?"
"Not surprising—other schools have done it."
"Rumor is, their new captain’s a genius. They beat Hyotei and Yamabuki without the foreigner playing!"
Moonlight and Nakatsu’s expressions soured. Being the "stepping stones" for Seigaku’s rise stung.
Rikkai’s Grand Entrance
A sudden shout: "Rikkai’s here!"
The crowd turned as the gold-jacketed team marched in.
Kirihara (muttering): "Could they be any later? Talk about flexing."
Yamato (admiring): "Twelve straight Kanto titles… legendary."
Yoru’s eyes narrowed.
Leading the pack was Mitsuya Akuto, flanked by:
Akiyo Koutei (U-17 elite)
Rokkaku twins (top-tier doubles pair)
Utanii Gakuto ("God of the Right Court")
All 6-star players, with two 5-star reserves.
But Mitsuya’s ability intrigued Yoru the most:
50% data collected: +0.3 combat power
80% data collected: +0.8 combat power
With Mitsuya’s analytical skills, he effectively fought at 7-star—potentially outclassing Moonlight stat-wise.
Yet Moonlight’s mental assassination could still crush him in a real match.
No wonder Rikkai dominates. This lineup’s stacked.
Without Yoru, QP, and Kirihara, Seigaku’s original squad (led by 5-star Yamato) would’ve been annihilated.
The Draw
As Rikkai passed Seigaku, Mitsuya’s gaze lingered—confirming Yoru’s suspicion:
They’ve already analyzed us.
Host: "Let the draw begin!"
Seed teams picked first to avoid early clashes.
Yoru drew Group A.
Rikkai landed in Group D—meaning they could only meet in the finals.
Of course. "Murphy’s Law" strikes again.
Post-Draw Encounter
As Seigaku exited, Mitsuya intercepted Yoru, extending a hand:
Mitsuya: "Looking forward to our match."
Yoru shook it silently and walked away.
No words were needed.
Chapter 99: The Kantō Tournament Begins!
(Note: I won’t detail matches before the semifinals—this era’s Kantō region lacks strong opponents. Meanwhile, Kansai, Kyūshū, and Osaka are where the real action is. Most original-series high schoolers are active there.)
July.
Summer sunlight bathed every corner of Tokyo.
In the rare patches of shade, a few kittens napped lazily.
This was the month when life thrived in full vigor.
And today—the Kantō Tournament officially began.
The format was single-elimination: one loss, and you’re out.
Court A.
Yoru led Seigaku’s team onto the grounds.
Their opponents, Shōchō Middle School, were a four-star team—weak by any standard.
With ten minutes until match start, spectators trickled in.
Unlike the Metropolitan Tournament (where only semifinals and finals drew crowds), the Kantō Tournament had hype from Round 1.
Why?
From the second round onward, every match featured top seeds from their respective districts—each with established fanbases.
(Seed teams got a first-round bye.)
As the referees conducted final court checks—
Click. Click.
In the stands, reporter Inoue Mamoru snapped photos of Seigaku.
After covering preliminaries, Inoue had spent weeks in Kansai.
But upon hearing Seigaku had reached Kantō, he’d rushed back.
"Even Hyōtei and Yamabuki fell to them…" Inoue muttered, reviewing shots of Yoru’s sharp profile. "Guess Ryūzaki-sensei was right. This year’s Seigaku might contend for Nationals."
After deleting unwanted shots, he scanned Seigaku’s bench—hoping to interview Ryūzaki. (Interviewing Yoru was hopeless; the kid despised media.)
But Ryūzaki was nowhere in sight.
"No coach supervision? She must trust them completely."
Nearby, chatter erupted among fans.
"So handsome! My friend wasn’t lying—Seigaku’s looks are top-tier!"
"Told you! Tennis has the cutest guys. That captain’s Chinese, right? His bone structure is unreal for an Asian."
"If he were my boyfriend, I’d water two acres of land daily—"
"That European guy’s cool too. Not as dreamy as Yoru, but still…"
"Too bad those four plain guys ruin the vibe."
"Our angle’s bad. The prime seats facing Seigaku got snatched."
"Wait—my brother’s a regular! I’ll make him clear a spot!"
...
Female spectators multiplied by the minute.
Most weren’t here for tennis—they were here for Yoru.
(The male audience seethed with jealousy.)
Seigaku’s bench.
Apart from Yoru, Q.P., and Ōishi, the others sat ramrod straight—eyes closed, exuding faux serenity.
Kirihara cracked first. "Hey, Iseya… the girls still watching us?"
Iseya whispered back: "Yep. When I ‘drank water,’ I saw them pointing."
Kawasaki and Kaidō mirrored the act—even ignoring sweat trickling down their faces to preserve their "cool" facades.
They’d held this pose for ten minutes.
Ōishi finally snapped. "Ever considered they’re not looking at you?"
"Impossible!" Kirihara hissed. "Their eyes are glued here!"
Ōishi rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone. "Text from my little sister."
The message read:
[‘Bro, tell those four ugly ducklings to MOVE. My friends wanna see Yoru-senpai!’]
"......"
"My kidneys just got stabbed."
"Morale: annihilated."
The quartet slumped into gloom as the referee’s whistle blew.
"Teams—approach the net for greetings!"
Yoru led Seigaku onto the court—
And the stands exploded with screams.
"Yoru-SAN! LOOK HERE!"
"I’m a Seiryō University senior! My number’s 070—"
"Granny, you’re how old? Back off!"
"SEIGAKU GIRLS—DROWN THEM OUT!"
Even the referees froze. Since when are fans this wild?
In the stands, Tezuka and Sanada observed quietly.
"Yoru-senpai’s popularity is… intense," Sanada noted.
Tezuka said nothing. (The noise was agonizing.)
The head referee grabbed the mic. "Spectators—silence during matches!"
On court, Shōchō’s team looked ready to vomit.
This wasn’t a neutral venue—it was Seigaku’s home turf.
Post-match, Q.P. nudged Yoru. "Any noteworthy players?"
Yoru draped a towel over his eyes. "Doubt we’ll play before finals."
Q.P. wordlessly donned headphones.
He was right.
Seigaku bulldozed Shōchō 3–0 in under thirty minutes. Their next opponent—Akiyama Third Middle (a team so irrelevant they weren’t even named in the original series)—fared no better.
Yoru had drawn the luckiest bracket possible.
While powerhouses like Hyōtei and Rikkai clashed early, Seigaku’s path was paved with no-name schools—a free ticket to finals.
Barring a meteor strike, Nationals was guaranteed.
But easy wins bred arrogance.
By semifinals, even Ōishi grew uneasy.
"Captain…" he ventured. "Should we scout Rikkai? Kirihara and the others are getting… overconfident."
Yoru stretched. "Who’re they facing?"
"Hyōtei. Semifinals."
Chapter 100: Mitsuya's Gambit
(Author’s Note: I swear some of you are messing with me—the Rokkaku twins have been attributed to Yamabuki, Mokushi Fuji, AND Rikkai across different sources. Unless fanfics count as canon now, where’s the consistency?)
Post-Semifinals – Scouting the Enemy
At Yamato’s suggestion, Yoru led Seigaku to observe Rikkai vs. Hyotei in the adjacent court.
The match had just concluded its first doubles:
Doubles 2: Hyotei won 7-5.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd as Seigaku arrived:
"Seigaku’s here? Did their match already end?"
"Must’ve crushed it—their games never last 30 minutes."
"Maybe they’ll finally break Rikkai’s 12-year streak."
"Doubt it. Every year someone says that."
Coach Sakaki’s eyes narrowed. "So they’ve reached the semifinals."
Hyotei’s players exchanged weary glances. Their bracket had been brutal:
Quarterfinals: A grueling 5-match war against Yamabuki.
Semifinals: Now Rikkai.
If they advanced, they’d face Seigaku in the finals.
Moonlight, avoiding eye contact, silently cursed his own "curse of the god-tier bad draw."
Rikkai’s War Room
Mitsuya Akuto watched Seigaku’s arrival with a smirk. "As expected."
Utanii Gakuto scoffed. "You’re overconfident. We haven’t even beaten Hyotei yet—why stick to the same lineup?"
Since the tournament began, Rikkai had never adjusted their formation:
Doubles 2: Weakest pair (sacrificial loss).
Doubles 1: Rokkaku twins.
Singles 3: Utanii.
Singles 2: Akiyo Koutei.
Singles 1: Mitsuya himself.
Akiyo frowned. "Throwing matches risks exposing our singles’ strength prematurely."
Even the Rokkaku twins shot disapproving looks.
Mitsuya steepled his fingers. "Let me ask: If a team never adapts, even at the cost of losing, what impression does that give?"
Akiyo: "...Arrogance? Complacency?"
"Bingo." Mitsuya’s grin turned razor-sharp. "I want them to think we’re cocky. All of this—every ‘mistake’—is bait for the real trap: Seigaku."
Utanii blinked. "All this… for Seigaku?"
"Not just ‘Seigaku.’" Mitsuya dropped his voice.
Yoru: 6-0’d Hyotei’s captain.
QP: Obliterated Yamabuki’s ace.
Kirihara: Flawless 6-0 record all season.
Yamato: Dominant before shifting to doubles.
"This isn’t just another team," he hissed. *"They’re a hydra. Cut one head, two grow back. My only shot is to lure Kirihara into Singles 3—where my data guarantees victory."*
A stunned silence fell.
Mitsuya had been planning this since before the tournament.
"Today’s ‘exposed strength’?" He shrugged. "Controlled burns. We’ve already booked Yamabuki for secret practice matches to stay sharp."
The team stared at him with newfound reverence.
The Match Unfolds
Doubles 1: The Rokkaku twins steamrolled Hyotei in 15 minutes.
Singles 3: Moonlight’s psychic serves overwhelmed Utanii early—until the latter’s half-baked "Right Court Dominion" nearly clawed back the match.
A last-second Mental Assassination sealed Hyotei’s win.
But Rikkai’s singles dominance proved insurmountable:
Akiyo (Singles 2) and Mitsuya (Singles 1) won effortlessly.
Final score: 3-2, Rikkai advances.
The Calm Before the Storm
As the crowd dispersed, Yoru lingered, eyes locked with Mitsuya across the court.
The message was clear:
Your gambit’s noted. See you in hell.
