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🕑 Added 2025-06-08 15:48:11 +0000 UTCChapter 366: Layered Shadows, The Strikingly Similar Pair!
"What's wrong?"
Fuji looked at Oshitari with surprise once again.
"Nothing."
Oshitari shook his head, keeping his thoughts to himself. Instead, he focused his gaze and said, "Our opponents aren’t ordinary. Don’t let your guard down."
"Right."
Fuji nodded.
If Oshitari wasn’t going to elaborate, he wouldn’t press further. Besides, he could tell just by looking—these two were formidable.
He needed to be at his absolute best.
Soon, the pre-match formalities concluded. After deciding serve and sides, both pairs retreated to their positions.
"Game start!"
The referee glanced at Fuji at the baseline and announced: "Second-string Fuji to serve, first game!"
Flick.
With a twist of his fingers, Fuji let the ball drop casually.
"What kind of serve is this?"
The high schoolers exchanged puzzled looks.
The motion resembled a simple slice serve—but this was the ranking matches. Was this kid seriously trying something so basic?
Tap.
Yet, Fuji did indeed slice the ball forward.
"Wait, really?"
Matsudaira and the others were stunned.
Had it not been for the earlier matches proving the middle schoolers’ strength, they might’ve thought this brown-haired boy was joking.
"There’s something off—huh?"
Nakagauchi, frowning deeply, suddenly noticed something. He turned to Yamato beside him. "What’s with that look?"
Yamato was smiling, his stubbled face radiating quiet pride as he watched the ball fly.
"It’s been a while since I’ve seen Fuji’s serve."
Thud.
The ball landed—perfectly kissing the service line.
Ssshh—
But instead of bouncing normally, it skidded low, spinning violently against the court.
"Oh?"
Oomagari’s eyebrow lifted slightly.
His sharp instincts caught the subtle shift in the ball’s rotation.
Whoosh!
Sure enough, the ball—which should’ve rebounded straight—suddenly flickered erratically, zigzagging midair.
Swish!
Swish-swish-swish!
The ball’s ghostly afterimages left the high schoolers wide-eyed.
"This serve…"
Nakagauchi’s voice wavered. "Isn’t this Tokugawa’s Phantom Serve?!"
Fwip!
Then, right before their eyes, the ball vanished completely.
"Give me a break."
Oomagari sighed dramatically. "A serve with this much variation is such a pain."
Swoosh!
Despite his complaints, his reflexes were razor-sharp. He tracked the disappearing ball and swung—
"He read it?"
"Well, he is No. 6… Fuji-senpai’s Vanishing Serve probably doesn’t faze high schoolers much."
"Yeah, it’s just a probing move anyw—wait, what?!"
Over at Seigaku’s side, the murmurs cut off abruptly.
Swish!
On the court, Oomagari’s racket passed cleanly through the "ball" he’d aimed for.
"Huh?!"
His pupils shrank. "That was… an illusion?!"
Tap-tap-tap.
Meanwhile, the real ball bounced gently behind him.
"15–0!"
Silence blanketed the court.
Both high schoolers and middle schoolers were stunned by Fuji’s serve.
"Fuji (senpai)…"
Seigaku’s team, along with players from other schools, stared in awe.
"An evolved Vanishing Serve?"
"Layered shadows, indistinguishable from reality… Interesting."
From the sidelines, Inui smirked, adjusting his glasses. "His ball control has reached an impressive level."
"It vanishes while creating decoy images?"
While the high schoolers struggled to grasp the technique, the middle schoolers—especially Seigaku’s members—buzzed with excitement.
If this was Fuji’s opening move, what else did he have in store?
Flick.
Under their watchful eyes, Fuji spun the ball again and sliced it forward.
"Here it comes!"
The high schoolers squinted, trying to dissect the serve’s mechanics.
Ssshh—
The ball landed, skidding fiercely before rebounding—
At the baseline, Ochi observed coolly.
"He’s applying a unique spin," he noted. "Using the court’s friction and air currents to manipulate its trajectory."
"This guy…"
Seigaku’s players tensed. While Inui and Oishi viewed Ochi warily, Momoshiro and Kaidou remained confident.
Sure, Ochi was strong—he’d eventually counter Fuji’s serve.
But deciphering it on the first try? Impossible.
Swoosh!
Yet Ochi moved.
He stepped back slightly, raising his racket for an overhead smash.
"The spin and flickering are just distractions. The real ball rides the air current… here."
His eyes locked onto a faint yellow blur above him—the "vanished" ball.
"It’s above him?!"
"So that’s how it works!"
"Incredible! Ochi saw through it instantly!"
At the same time, Ochi leaped, smashing downward.
At 2.26 meters tall, even a half-jump from him produced a spike faster and stronger than most players’ full-power smashes.
The high schoolers already mentally tallied the point for Ochi and Oomagari.
Swoosh!
But then—
A crouched figure appeared at the net, back to the fence, arms crossed like spreading wings.
Crack!
With a crisp sound, the ball was returned, landing deep in Ochi’s court.
"30–0!"
"There it is!"
Yamato grinned. "Fuji’s triple counter—Bear Hunt!"
"That kid…"
Nakagauchi studied the brown-haired boy intently before turning to Yamato. "Wait, weren’t you Seigaku’s captain before?"
"Captain? Ugh, don’t remind me."
Yamato’s smile faltered. "I was a terrible one."
"Seriously?"
Nakagauchi eyed him skeptically. "You’re telling me you didn’t train Fuji?"
"Me? You give me too much credit."
Yamato sighed. "Truth is, if not for me holding them back, Fuji and the others would’ve made Nationals years ago."
Regret weighed heavily on him.
He’d failed to recognize Tezuka and Fuji’s potential back then. One misstep had cost them dearly.
If only he’d led them to Nationals sooner—their skills would’ve been even sharper now.
"Fuji."
Yamato’s gaze lingered on the boy retreating to the baseline. "Don’t hold back."
Thud!
Fuji served again—another Vanishing Serve.
This time, Oomagari was ready. He easily intercepted it with a smash—though Fuji’s earlier counter made him hesitate, opting for a drop shot instead.
Thud!
Thud!
Thud!
A rally ensued.
Oomagari’s goal was clear: lure Fuji to the net, then exploit the opening.
Tap!
Soon, he executed a perfect drop shot. Fuji had no choice but to rush forward, lobbing it back.
Whoosh!
Ochi was already poised overhead—his towering frame making the impending smash even deadlier.
"Tch."
A high schooler smirked. "Never thought I’d see Ochi volunteer for a smash. These middle schoolers are screwed."
Others chuckled.
Ochi’s spikes were arguably U-17’s strongest. These kids had skill, but not enough.
With Fuji trapped at the net, their formation was half-broken already.
As for Oshitari? They barely registered him. The moment Ochi swung, the point was decided.
Swoosh!
But then—
A gray-blue figure pivoted low, arms crossing in an eerily familiar stance.
"What?!"
"No way! Does he know that move too?!"
"Impossible! He’s bluffing. And Ochi’s smashes aren’t so easily returned!"
Crack!
Yet the ball sailed over Ochi’s head, landing squarely on the baseline.
"40–0!"
"The same counter?!"
Nakagauchi gaped. Even Yamato was stunned. **"Is it Muga no Kyōchi… or does that Hyoutei kid also know Bear Hunt?"**
"These two…"
Ochi and Oomagari exchanged glances, equally surprised.
They could tell—both middle schoolers had mastered the technique, not just mimicked it.
"So this is why they paired up."
Ochi’s lips quirked. Oomagari’s usual lazy gaze sharpened slightly.
Thud!
Fuji served again.
Ochi returned it easily, targeting Oshitari’s backhand. The bespectacled boy countered with a heavy underspin.
"Hm?"
Oomagari caught it, intrigued. "Such intense backspin… What’s he planning?"
Thud!
Fuji’s next return carried the same spin.
"What are they up to?"
Oomagari’s frown deepened. Something felt off.
Yet after a dozen exchanges, neither middle schooler made a move, leaving him even more puzzled.
Tap!
Distracted, his next shot clipped the net.
"Well then."
"Talk about luck."
"Didn’t expect Oomagari-senpai to pull that off."
The middle schoolers blinked, while high schoolers ribbed him playfully.
"Give me a break."
Oomagari sighed. This was just a lapse in focus—though with his control, net balls were technically within his skillset.
Swoosh!
But then—
Fuji lunged, slicing downward.
The ball cleared the net, then skidded along the court’s surface, never bouncing.
"Game!"
"Second-string leads, 1–0! Change sides!"
"There it is!"
Momoshiro and Kaidou cheered. "Fuji-senpai’s Phoenix Return!!"
"Phoenix…?"
Yamato’s eyes widened.
This wasn’t Fuji’s old technique. The speed and spin were on another level entirely.
"Fuji…"
His expression grew complex, guilt resurfacing.
"Not bad, kid."
Oomagari eyed the skid marks left by the ball. "No wonder they kept using backspin."
A troublesome shot indeed.
For him, it was manageable—but for Ochi’s 2.26-meter frame, returning it would wreck his back.
Their new strategy was clear: shut down Fuji’s tricks first.
Thud!
Thud!
Thud!
The second game began.
The high schoolers seized control early, playing conservatively—using flat shots to neutralize Fuji’s spin.
It worked.
Oomagari alone stifled Fuji’s attacks, effortlessly defusing every underspin attempt.
Seeing this, Fuji advanced, pressuring Oomagari with quick net exchanges.
"Tch."
Oomagari ignored him, redirecting the ball to Oshitari’s backhand instead.
Compared to Fuji, the glasses-wielder seemed far less threatening.
Swoosh!
But Oshitari moved.
He chased it down, slicing forward with a sharp fwip!
Whooosh!
A scorching streak cut through the air—
The ball, wreathed in heat-haze, landed and skidded sideways, leaving a burnt-looking trail.
"That move is—?!"
Even the middle schoolers gasped. Hyoutei’s team stared in shock.
"An evolution of Swallow Return."
Senri of Rikkai explained calmly. "Oshitari’s new technique—Vermilion Bird’s Dance."
Chapter 367: All-Out Offense – The High Schoolers Pushed to the Brink
Thwack!
On one side of the court, Fuji sliced his racket through the air, sending the ball streaking toward Ochi.
"This shot…"
Ochi’s eyes narrowed as he tracked its trajectory. Just as he swung to intercept, the ball suddenly arced upward, soaring high over his head and into the sky.
"A misfire?"
The high schoolers exchanged puzzled glances.
Given the angle and height, the ball should’ve sailed out of bounds—but then—
Whoosh!
It dropped like a stone, smashing into the court with a heavy thud before spinning violently and shooting sideways.
Crack!
The crowd gasped as the ball skidded along the wall, grinding against it with furious rotation.
"Game!"
"Second Unit leads, 2-0!"
"W-What kind of shot was that?!"
The high schoolers stared, dumbfounded. A move that defied physics and intuition—this was beyond impressive.
"The third counter… White Dragon."
Fuji stated it calmly.
Since the Nationals, his skills had sharpened to near-perfection. His techniques flowed effortlessly now, each executed with precision.
"These middle schoolers… are ridiculous."
Ochi sighed, wiping sweat from his brow.
Both opponents had displayed freakish abilities, but this brown-haired one was especially troubling—not a single repeated move yet.
Strategy Session
As they switched sides, Fuji murmured to Yushi: "Let’s widen the gap while we can."
"Right."
Yushi nodded. After his match against Tetsujin, he knew better than to underestimate the U-17 elites—especially these two, ranked 4th and 6th.
A single misstep could cost them everything.
The Onslaught
What followed was a blur of signature moves:
Yushi’s "Vermilion Phoenix Dance" clashed with Fuji’s "Hundred-Armed Giant’s Guard."
Yushi’s "Black Orca" met Fuji’s fifth counter, "Vector Vortex."
Whoosh—!
A storm of wind erupted, engulfing Ochi and Mareshiba. By the time they reacted, the ball was already rolling behind them.
"Game!"
"Second Unit, 4-0!"
"Hah?!"
The high school audience froze.
This was Ochi and Mareshiba—two of Japan’s top players—yet they hadn’t won a single game?
Unbelievable.
The High Schoolers Fight Back
"Hey, Moonlight." Ochi shot his partner a dry look. "Maybe actually try? Getting bageled would be beyond embarrassing."
Mareshiba adjusted his cap. "Then you lead."
"…Seriously?" Ochi groaned.
He’d hoped Mareshiba would take charge, but now the burden was on him.
"Classic Ochi."
From the sidelines, Tanegashima chuckled. Though Ochi joked about his No. 6 rank being "a fluke," his skills were anything but—when he focused.
Game 5 – The Tide Turns
Fuji served.
Ochi returned it—eyes sharp now, his lazy demeanor gone.
"They’re serious."
Fuji and Yushi exchanged glances. Retreating wasn’t an option; they had to press the advantage.
Fuji’s Phoenix Return
A delicate slice sent the ball skimming the net, then skidding flat after the bounce.
"Phoenix Return!" Seigaku’s team cheered.
"Oh, come on."
Ochi sighed—but dropped low, his racket flashing up to blunt the spin and send it back.
"He returned it?!"
The middle schoolers gaped.
Yushi’s Counter
Yushi lunged, firing a laser-guided shot to the far baseline—a move mimicking Fuji’s White Dragon, but deadlier in precision.
"New technique?" Mukahi and the others leaned forward.
Thud!
Yet Ochi already stood at the baseline, casually swatting it away.
"Black Orca—countered?!"
Even Tezuka’s brow furrowed. "Once they’re serious… the gap’s obvious."
Fuji’s Gambit
"Then…"
At the baseline, Fuji inhaled.
His racket tilted sharply, grazing the ball to induce a freak spin. With a flick, he reversed the face mid-swing, sending it spiraling out—
"Your return…" Fuji smiled as Ochi chased it. "Won’t clear the net."
Crack!
But Ochi’s shot soared cleanly over.
"His technique’s too polished." Yushi gritted his teeth. "Alone, neither of us can break through."
The 2-vs-1 Grind
Their new plan? Relentless assault.
For 40+ rallies, Fuji and Yushi hammered Ochi with everything—drop shots, drives, spins—yet the high schooler barely broke a sweat.
"Are they… trying to exhaust him?" Nakagauchi muttered.
"Bad move." Ochi smirked.
"Ochi’s stamina is monstrous," Yamato explained grimly. "He’s U-17’s endurance king."
Sure enough—
While Fuji and Yushi dripped with sweat, Ochi looked fresh as morning dew.
"He’s a machine," Hiyoshi muttered.
Ochi’s Counterattack
"0-15!"
A sudden down-the-line winner shattered their defenses.
Now they were the ones gasping for breath.
"No good." Fuji wiped his brow. "We need another plan."
But Ochi gave them no time to think.
For the entire game, he pinned them to the baseline with heavy topspin, grinding them down without mercy.
"Game!"
"First Unit, 1-4!"
After 15 brutal minutes, Ochi took the game—effortlessly.
"That’s it?" He smirked. "You two need way more conditioning."
Yushi’s Day/Night Mode
"Hmph."
As Ochi served, Yushi’s body flared crimson—Daylight Mode.
"He’s switching?!"
His speed doubled, his returns now packing explosive power.
"Tch." Ochi adjusted. "Power boost?"
But when Yushi shifted to Moonlight Mode, his eyes locked onto Ochi’s weak points—
Crack!
A red-hot strike blasted into Ochi’s死角 (dead angle).
"Wha—?!"
Ochi froze mid-step.
"He sees it… and hits it," Tanegashima noted, impressed.
"Daylight’s power + Moonlight’s insight," Irie mused. "No wonder he beat Tetsujin."
Fuji’s Storm Vortex
"Now, Fuji!"
Yushi’s shout was the cue.
As Ochi scrambled to cover his死角, Fuji unleashed hell—
"Fifth Counter: Vector Vortex—**Storm Variant!**"
BOOM!
A tornado of wind erupted, swallowing Ochi whole before spitting the ball into the far corner.
"Game!"
"Second Unit, 5-1!"
The middle schoolers erupted.
Against all odds, they’d pushed the U-17 elites to the edge.
Chapter 368: Gale and Tide – Tonight is a Full Moon!
"I can't believe Oomagari is being pushed this hard!"
The high schoolers were stunned.
Oomagari was known as the player with the strongest endurance in the entire U-17 camp—even someone like Byoudouin had to admit defeat against him. Yet now, two middle schoolers had teamed up and cornered him like this.
But the middle schoolers were just as shocked.
Fuji, with his Gale's Breath, and Yushi, in his Sun-Moon Fusion state—both of them had to go all out just to score against this guy. Just how monstrous was his defense?
"And..."
At the Seigaku bench, Inui frowned deeply. "At this rate, they might not actually win."
"True." Yanagi nodded.
Given Fuji and Yushi’s current scoring efficiency, it would take them over an hour just to reach match point.
It was already noon, and the scorching sun was beating down mercilessly. Their stamina would drain even faster now.
And that wasn’t even considering the fact that one of the high schoolers hadn’t even made a move yet.
"The legendary Hyoutei captain..."
Yanagi’s gaze turned solemn as he looked at Echizen Nanjiroh. When this man was active, Hyoutei had dominated the Kanto region, leaving Rikkai no choice but to settle for second place.
It wasn’t until he graduated—and Seiichi, Sanada, and the others joined Rikkai—that the tides finally turned.
With a player like him watching from the sidelines, who could possibly focus on the match without worry?
Oomagari studied the two boys across the net, his expression tense.
Their attacks were giving him a serious headache. One could see through his blind spots, while the other unleashed whirlwinds he couldn’t defend against.
But that was to be expected.
After all, he wasn’t facing just any opponents—these were two of the most talented middle schoolers, both bearing the title of genius.
"Moonlight..."
Oomagari glanced at Echizen. At this point, he had no choice but to rely on his partner.
THUD!
Yushi’s shot came flying back.
Echizen returned it calmly, showing no intention of attacking.
Seizing the opportunity, Fuji and Yushi launched another assault—their target still Oomagari. If they could take him down first, victory was practically theirs.
THUD! THUD! THUD!
The three clashed in a fierce rally.
Oomagari held his ground against the two of them, enduring over twenty exchanges without faltering. But everyone knew it was only a matter of time before he cracked under their relentless pressure.
THUD!
Sure enough, on the 37th exchange, Yushi spotted an opening.
Exploiting Oomagari’s weakness, he fired a sharp return—
Meanwhile, Fuji, shrouded in swirling winds, was already poised to strike the moment the real blind spot appeared.
SWISH!
But then—
Oomagari let the ball pass him by.
"What?!" Fuji and Yushi were stunned.
Echizen, waiting at the baseline, saw the incoming shot—his eyes flashed as he drilled it deep into the backcourt.
"Damn it!"
Yushi’s expression darkened. He ignited a crimson aura and lunged, barely managing a desperate lob before the ball bounced twice.
SWOOSH!
Echizen leaped into the air—smash stance.
"No way!"
Hiyoshi and Momoshiro smirked. Against Fuji and Yushi—both masters of the Double Counter—any smash was useless.
BOOM!
But then—
A streak of pale gold light exploded between Fuji and Yushi.
Neither of them could even react.
They could only watch as the ball shot past them.
"0-15!"
"Gulp."
The middle schoolers swallowed hard.
Momoshiro’s voice trembled. "W-what kind of smash was that?!"
It was the most powerful smash he had ever seen.
Even Tezuka, Yukimura, and Atobe wore expressions of disbelief.
"That smash... is terrifying."
Inui and Yanagi exchanged glances, their eyes filled with shock.
"With his 2.26-meter height and insane reach, his smash is unstoppable!"
"Echizen Nanjiroh... His presence alone has shackled Fuji and Yushi. They can’t afford to hit high balls anymore."
The tide had turned.
With Echizen now in play, this match had truly become a doubles battle. His devastating smash hung over the two middle schoolers like a guillotine.
From then on, Fuji and Yushi were forced to play cautiously, avoiding high balls at all costs. Meanwhile, Oomagari—finally freed from pressure—began using his refined techniques to dominate.
THUD! THUD! THUD!
In less than fifteen minutes, the high schoolers had completely reversed the score.
"Wild Beast’s Fury!"
Oomagari seized his chance and unleashed a match-ending shot.
"Game!"
"U-17, 6-5!"
The high schoolers had taken the lead.
"Hah... hah..."
Fuji and Yushi gasped for breath.
Those last ten minutes had felt even more grueling than the entire half-hour battle before.
"It’s getting hotter..."
Wiping sweat from his brow, Yushi muttered, "If we lose this set, we’re done."
Fuji nodded grimly.
But when they saw Echizen step up to serve, their expressions turned even heavier.
They’d already experienced his serve—something even more terrifying than his smash.
"Twelfth game—U-17’s Echizen to serve."
The moment the umpire spoke, all eyes locked onto Echizen.
SWOOSH!
He tossed the ball high—then swung down with a motion like a guillotine.
"Here it comes!"
Inui and Oshitari tensed, watching closely.
BOOM!
A pale gold streak exploded past Fuji before he could even twitch.
"15-0!"
"That serve... is insane!"
The middle schoolers paled.
"Speed... 234 km/h?!"
"234?!" Mukahi gaped at Oshitari, who held the speed gun.
"That’s impossible!"
Even the other high schoolers looked shaken.
For context, Oshitari’s Neo Scud Serve and Inui’s Waterfall Serve barely reached 220 km/h.
But Echizen had shattered that barrier.
"Even high schoolers... can’t return that, can they?" Hiyoshi muttered.
BOOM!
Another ace.
"30-0!"
Yushi couldn’t even interfere.
Now, it was Fuji’s turn to receive.
He steadied himself at the baseline, eyes sharp.
"We can’t lose this game."
"His serve is fast, but if I focus, I can return it."
"If I give up now... we’ll have no chance at all."
Past defeats had taught Fuji to fight with everything he had. Now, walking his own path, he could pour his entire being into the match.
And Echizen’s pressure?
It only ignited his potential further.
SWOOSH!
Echizen tossed the ball—
With his towering height, his serve was a blur even to the mind’s eye.
But then—
Something changed in Fuji’s vision.
Time itself seemed to freeze.
The world around him came to a standstill—only his mind raced at full speed.
"I see it... the serve’s trajectory!"
Then—
He moved.
His racket lashed out, intercepting the ball at its landing point.
THUD!
The frozen world shattered back into motion.
And Fuji’s racket had caught Echizen’s serve.
"WHAT?!"
The high schoolers erupted.
Even Byoudouin and Oni stared in shock.
THUD!
The ball shot past Echizen.
"30-15!"
"He... returned it?!"
The middle schoolers blinked in disbelief.
Most of them hadn’t even processed what just happened.
"This kid..."
Echizen’s eyes flickered with surprise.
Aside from Ryoma, this was the first middle schooler to return his 60% Mach Serve.
"Fuji Shuusuke... I’ll remember you."
Echizen switched sides and served again—another Mach Serve at 60%.
Yushi couldn’t react. 30-30.
But when Fuji stepped up again, he re-entered that frozen world.
His mind fully activated, his subconscious overriding instinct—allowing him to perceive movement in slow motion, even near-stillness.
"Gale’s Secret Technique—Light Wind!"
THUD!
His racket flashed—
The ball streaked past Oomagari and Echizen.
"40-30!"
"He really returned it!"
The high schoolers stared at Fuji in disbelief.
Despite Yushi’s inability to counter Echizen’s serve, the middle schoolers lost the first set 5-7.
Yet now, everyone looked at Fuji with awe.
"As expected... Every one of them is dangerous."
Byoudouin narrowed his eyes.
If these middle schoolers had been in his generation, each of them would’ve been a threat he couldn’t ignore.
But now?
They were appearing in droves.
Each one displayed monstrous talent. If he’d been born in this era, even he wouldn’t have been confident in suppressing them all.
"That guy... tch."
His gaze flicked to Ryoma, and a complicated emotion flashed in his eyes.
Fuji’s evolution gave the middle schoolers hope.
But the high schoolers were certain Oomagari and Echizen would win.
Why?
Because Fuji was the only one who’d improved—this was doubles, and Yushi had become their weak link.
THUD!
Sure enough, Oomagari exploited Yushi’s flaws with his experience and technique, scoring easily.
But then—
The ball changed direction mid-air, curving to Yushi’s backhand.
"This is... the Zone?!"
Everyone froze.
Even Hyoutei’s members were stunned—no one knew Yushi had mastered this technique.
THUD!
Yushi swung—
The ball’s path twisted unpredictably, vanishing before Oomagari could react.
"What kind of spin is this?!"
Atobe’s eyes gleamed as he analyzed it. "He’s using the opponent’s own spin... amplifying it?"
"Finally... complete."
Yushi exhaled deeply.
"Moon’s Tide."
"Moon’s... Tide?!"
The name clicked for some.
Just as the moon’s gravity influenced Earth’s tides, Yushi’s technique harnessed the opponent’s spin, making his returns even more erratic.
Now, the one who’d been the weak link had broken through.
Tide + Gale.
The two geniuses unleashed their full power.
The score seesawed—1-1, 2-2... 5-5.
Once again, it came down to the final games.
This time, Oomagari was serving.
If the middle schoolers broke him here, they could take the set with their own serves.
And at first, it seemed possible—Fuji and Yushi won three straight points.
But just as victory seemed within reach—
Echizen moved.
SWOOSH!
He brushed aside the hair covering his right eye.
"What’s he doing?"
The middle schoolers were confused.
Then—
A chilling blue aura erupted from Echizen.
"This feeling...?!"
Fuji and Yushi’s faces twisted in horror.
An overwhelming mental pressure crushed down on them.
Echizen’s voice was eerily calm as he spoke:
"Tonight... is a full moon."
Chapter 369: Mental Assassination—The Terror of the Hyperspeed Dimension!
"Full Moon?!"
Outside the court, the middle schoolers stared at Yūji in confusion. They didn’t understand what he meant.
But—
The overwhelming pressure radiating from him put them all on edge.
"So… this is his true form?"
Atobe narrowed his eyes.
The legendary captain of Hyōtei had always been a figure spoken of in whispers. Even Coach Sakaki had mentioned him with clear admiration.
Yet, the cold-faced supervisor had never compared the two generations of captains—at least, not in front of Atobe.
For someone as proud as Atobe, this silence could only mean one thing: in Sakaki’s eyes, he still fell short of the legendary captain.
"Then let me see just how strong you really are!"
With that thought, Atobe focused intently on the towering figure on the court.
Whoosh!
Yūji tossed the ball into the air.
His right shoulder lifted slightly as he raised his racket, then swung with precision at the pale yellow sphere.
At first glance, his motion seemed identical to before—no change at all.
Thud!
But the moment ball met racket—
Atobe, who had locked onto the ball with his sharp vision, suddenly saw something streak across his sight at an incomprehensible speed. Even when he held his breath and pushed his focus to the limit, he couldn’t track it.
Too fast!
It was nothing more than a blur—gone before he could even react.
By the time he tried to follow its trajectory, all that remained was an afterimage, a phantom trace left by his own eyes struggling to keep up.
In a way, Yūji’s serve was so fast that Atobe’s vision couldn’t even process it properly.
Hummm…
Meanwhile, Fuji, standing at the baseline, had already entered the "Light Wind" state.
His concentration peaked, his mind fully activated. The world around him slowed to a crawl—until everything seemed frozen.
Light Wind.
Fuji’s ultimate technique—the trump card that allowed him to surpass his limits and return even the most unstoppable smashes and serves.
Swish!
But just as Fuji prepared to return the serve, something bizarre happened.
He felt an absurd, widening gap between himself and the ball—not in space, but in time. His racket and the incoming ball existed in entirely different moments.
The next instant, the impossible unfolded.
Despite the frozen world around him, Fuji found himself being pushed back at an alarming speed.
Crack!
Then—
The "frozen domain" he had created with his own talent shattered like glass.
Tap… tap… tap…
By the time Fuji snapped back to reality, the ball had already rolled to a stop at his feet.
"15–0!"
The umpire’s call silenced the stadium.
The high schoolers remained composed, but the middle schoolers stared at Yūji as if they’d seen a ghost.
"N-No way…" Momoshiro stammered. "Fuji-senpai couldn’t even react?!"
"Fuji…" Ōishi and Kikumaru wore matching expressions of shock. Even though they hadn’t entered the Light Wind state themselves, Fuji’s stunned reaction said everything. That serve had defied all expectations.
"Hngh!"
On the court, Fuji’s handsome face finally registered the shock—belatedly. When he looked up at Yūji again, there was unmistakable awe in his eyes.
"What kind of serve was that?"
"Welcome to the Hyperspeed Dimension."
Ōmaru grinned from across the net. "Honestly, you two are way stronger than I expected. To force Yūji to use this move… that’s impressive."
"H-Hyperspeed Dimension?!"
Hiyoshi and Momoshiro exchanged bewildered glances.
Data players like Inui and Yanagi instinctively narrowed their eyes. From Ōmaru’s phrasing, they could tell—this was a realm beyond the ordinary, a higher plane of tennis.
"The 'Other Dimension' of tennis."
Inoue, standing nearby, smiled and explained, "Exactly what it sounds like—tennis from another world. As Ōmaru said, it’s surprising they pushed Yūji this far."
The words sent a ripple of shock through the crowd.
"Another dimension…?"
Yukimura, who had already been defeated earlier, fell into deep thought. "Like Duke-san’s victory over Sanada… or Tokugawa-senpai’s 'Asura' shadow… Is this the same level?"
"Hmm."
Tezuka and Atobe’s expressions darkened.
Only Akutsu, his pale face twisted in curiosity, remained unfazed. His sharp, predatory eyes flicked past Byōdōin and the others—landing squarely on Ishikawa.
"So… this guy’s already reached that level too?"
His fingers clenched into a fist.
That fierce, aggressive gaze locked onto Ishikawa with unsettling intensity.
"Interesting."
Byōdōin noticed Akutsu’s shift in demeanor. Duke, sensing his captain’s amusement, followed his gaze.
"Oh?"
When he saw Akutsu’s defiant smirk, he chuckled. "If I remember right, this kid got a taste of your power last time, didn’t he? And now his target is that guy?"
"Yeah." Byōdōin nodded. "My guess? He’s lost to him more than a few times."
Swish!
Just then—
Akutsu, sensing their stares, whipped his head around. His wild, challenging glare locked onto Byōdōin and Duke.
"This guy’s insane!"
The nearby high schoolers flinched.
No one had ever dared to openly provoke Byōdōin like this—not even Ishikawa.
"What?"
Byōdōin smirked under Akutsu’s glare. "You wanna go another round?"
"Tch."
Akutsu scoffed, rolling his neck until it cracked like popping knuckles. "Don’t think you can run this time, Byōdōin."
"Oh-ho?"
Duke’s eyes crinkled with amusement. "Well, well. It’s only been a month, and here’s another challenger bold enough to face the boss head-on."
The others exchanged uneasy glances.
"Yeah."
Akutsu’s grin widened, brimming with confidence. "That guy took your spot, didn’t he? Fine. I’ll crush you first—then I’m coming for him!"
The declaration sent a thrill through the crowd. Those who knew the history between them leaned in, eager for what might come next.
Boom!
Meanwhile—
Yūji’s next serve landed, and Chōtarō once again experienced that surreal disconnect between mind and body.
"Game!"
"First Unit leads, 6–5!"
"Hyperspeed Dimension…"
Chōtarō took a deep breath, overwhelmed by helplessness. Fuji, too, felt the weight of the situation—but unlike before, he refused to surrender.
Tap!
Yet when Fuji served again—
The ball smacked straight into the net.
"Net touch."
"First serve fault."
The umpire’s voice drew stunned looks from the Seigaku team.
"No way…" Momoshiro gaped. "Fuji-senpai messed up?!"
Inui and Kikumaru were just as shocked. Even with his stamina drained, Fuji shouldn’t have made such a rookie mistake—especially not on a standard serve.
"He must be exhausted," Inui reasoned. "His brain’s been overloaded for too long. His judgment is slipping. He just needs to adjust—"
Tap!
Before he could finish—
Fuji’s second serve also hit the net.
"Double fault."
"0–15!"
"Huh?!"
The crowd erupted at Fuji’s back-to-back errors.
"No." Atobe’s voice cut through the noise. "This isn’t just fatigue. His mental state’s been compromised. And the cause—"
His gaze snapped toward the towering figure on the court.
Yūji.
The overwhelming pressure of his Hyperspeed Dimension had infiltrated Fuji’s mind, disrupting even his most basic movements.
"So… this is the true power of Hyōtei’s legendary captain?"
Atobe inhaled sharply.
For the first time, he truly felt the weight of his predecessor’s legacy. Sandwiched between the overwhelming prowess of his successor, Ishikawa, and the sheer dominance of the former captain, Atobe finally understood the pressure of standing in their shadow.
Tap!
"Out."
"Second set, game!"
"First Unit wins, 7–5!"
From his high chair, the umpire announced, "Match concluded. First Unit representatives Yūji Tsukiyomi and Ōmaru Ōtsuji win, 7–5, 7–5!"
"We lost…"
Fuji exhaled, shoulders slumping.
In the end, he hadn’t been able to break free from Yūji’s mental assault. That suffocating pressure had clung to him like a shadow, impossible to shake.
"It’s fine."
Chōtarō walked over, offering a small smile. "Experience tells me losing isn’t always bad. At least we found our weaknesses, right?"
"Yeah… You’re right."
Fuji blinked, then chuckled softly.
This wasn’t his first defeat—he’d lost to Ishikawa in the prefecturals, then to Akutsu at Nationals. But as Chōtarō said, this match had revealed a path forward.
And more than that—
He could tell Chōtarō had also suffered under Yūji’s mental pressure. Yet the Hyōtei prodigy carried himself with a maturity that could only come from surviving Hyōtei’s brutal competition.
For a moment, Fuji envied him.
In that pressure-cooker environment, growth was inevitable.
"Too bad I wasn’t selected…"
With a quiet sigh, Fuji followed Chōtarō off the court.
If only he’d made the cut for the World Cup—he knew he could’ve grown even stronger.
What he didn’t realize was that Yūji’s Mental Assassination had awakened something new in him: a hunger for strength he’d never felt before.
"Those two…"
Ōmaru watched them leave, brow raised. "If they break through that mental block, they’ll jump to a whole new level."
"Maybe."
Yūji’s reply was characteristically terse.
"Scary kids…" Ōmaru shook his head. Even as the winner, he couldn’t help but feel a chill. "Thank god I wasn’t born in their era."
Their era, huh?
Yūji’s expression darkened slightly beneath his bangs.
Three years might not seem like much, but in tennis, it was a lifetime. For the first time, the legendary captain of Hyōtei felt a pang of regret.
If only I could’ve faced them properly…
With a quiet sigh, the usually stoic Yūji allowed himself a rare moment of melancholy.
Chapter 370: The Emperor vs. The Performer
"Atobe?!"
The middle schoolers were stunned when the silver-haired boy stepped onto the court—he had beaten Akutsu to the punch.
"Is he planning to challenge Byoudouin?"
Shiraishi, Senri, and Chitose exchanged curious glances.
Even the high schoolers were surprised. Aside from Ryoma, who would’ve thought another middle schooler would dare steal Akutsu’s spotlight?
SWISH!
All eyes turned to Akutsu.
But contrary to expectations, Akutsu only frowned briefly before his expression smoothed over.
"Wait… their jackets—they’re from the same school? Hyoutei?"
"Hyoutei?!"
The high schoolers stiffened.
If they remembered correctly, not only was Echizen from Hyoutei, but Ryoma himself—the one currently standing above all high schoolers—was also a Hyoutei player.
"I heard… this middle schooler is the captain of Hyoutei’s tennis club."
"What? The captain?!"
"Then that means—"
Whispers spread like wildfire. The high schoolers’ gazes sharpened as they studied Atobe. Anything connected to Ryoma, no matter how small, couldn’t be taken lightly.
"So…"
Kaji, Oomagari, and Kiyosue exchanged glances. "Who’s going to face him?"
Most of the U-17’s main players had already fought.
The only ones left were the top three—Byoudouin, Oni, and Washio. The rest, including the lower-ranked U-17 members like Tsuji and Nakagauchi, weren’t even worth considering.
After all, the 11th-ranked Fuwa Tetsuhito had just been defeated by Yushi, a middle schooler.
And this Atobe?
He was clearly even stronger than Yushi.
"I’ll take him."
A light, amused voice cut through the murmurs.
Everyone turned as a round-faced boy with curly hair and oval glasses stepped forward, smiling faintly.
"That guy is… Irie from Court 3?"
"Yeah, the one who lost to Ryoma and disappeared for a while."
"Rumor has it he went to the back mountains for training and only returned recently."
Irie had left a deep impression on the high schoolers—especially after his match against Ryoma, where he’d displayed strength rivaling the top ten.
But to the former U-17 members, especially those ranked 11th to 20th, Irie’s skills still seemed lacking.
Even Akiyo couldn’t help but shake his head inwardly.
"Does he not realize what level this match is at?"
If not for the middle schoolers’ terrifying track record, Akiyo was confident he could beat Irie seven times out of ten.
Right now, the high schoolers believed Irie’s chances of winning were slim.
"The seventh match will now begin."
"U-17 Representative: Irie Kanata (12th Grade) vs. U-17 Representative: Atobe Keigo (9th Grade)."
"Players, take your positions."
Atobe and Irie met at the net.
"It’s a pleasure to play against you, Atobe-kun," Irie said with a smile.
"Hn."
Atobe nodded.
He vaguely remembered Irie—a high schooler who’d returned with the losers’ group two days ago.
From Mukahi and Hiyoshi’s reactions, this Irie seemed decent. But that was it.
Atobe’s real target had been the dark-skinned, white-haired high schooler—Washio Shuuji.
According to his intel, Washio was U-17’s No. 2, just below Ryoma and above Tokugawa.
(Of course, that didn’t account for Byoudouin and Oni.)
Still, Washio’s strength had to be on par with Tokugawa and Duke.
Unfortunately—
Irie had cut in line.
Atobe hadn’t even gotten the chance to challenge the real No. 2.
But he wasn’t too disappointed.
This was just a qualifier. Once he defeated Irie, he’d earn the right to challenge anyone—including Ryoma.
"Let’s begin, senpai."
With that thought, Atobe gave Irie a curt nod.
"Of course."
Irie’s smile remained warm, almost big-brotherly. Even someone as kind-hearted as Oshitari found himself worrying for Irie.
"I hope this Irie-senpai doesn’t lose too badly…"
"Hah?!"
Hiyoshi whipped his head around, staring at Oshitari like he’d grown a second head. "Oshitari, what did you just say?"
"Uh…"
Before Oshitari could explain, Mukahi and Shishido were already giving him disbelieving looks.
"Did I… say something wrong?"
"Oshitari."
Shishido sighed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Let’s just hope Atobe isn’t thinking the same way. Otherwise…"
His voice trailed off ominously.
"Best of three sets."
The umpire checked both players before announcing, "First set—Atobe to serve!"
TAP. TAP. TAP.
The rhythmic bouncing of the ball silenced the crowd.
Then—
TAP!
Atobe caught the ball.
Under the blazing noon sun, he tossed it high—his body arching like a drawn bow, racket perpendicular to the ground.
FLASH!
His eyes shimmered with shifting colors—blue, green, red, purple—before locking onto the ball’s apex.
SWOOSH!
Atobe exploded into motion.
His body snapped forward like a released spring, racket cutting through the air with terrifying speed.
BANG!
The serve blasted past the net.
Some players barely even saw the ball’s trajectory.
"That speed?!"
"A high-speed serve right off the bat?!"
"As expected of Hyoutei’s captain!"
The high schoolers were taken aback. They’d expected Atobe to test the waters first—not unleash this immediately.
At the baseline, Irie remained calm.
He’d tracked the serve’s path easily. Returning it should’ve been child’s play.
But then—
SHHHK!
Instead of bouncing up, the ball skidded across the court.
"No way?!"
"A middle schooler pulled off that serve?!"
"So this is Hyoutei’s captain!"
Atobe’s Tannhäuser Serve earned him stunned silence.
If he was starting with this, how terrifying would the match get?
BANG! "30-0!"
BANG! "40-0!"
In the blink of an eye, Atobe was at game point.
Irie hadn’t moved an inch—frozen like a deer in headlights.
BANG!
Atobe’s fourth serve rocketed toward Irie’s backhand—a vicious angle that seemed impossible to return.
"That’s an impressive serve."
Irie suddenly chuckled. "But Atobe-kun, using the same move more than three times? That’s just asking to be read."
SWISH!
He dropped low, racket skimming the ground—
BANG!
The ball shot back over the net.
"He returned it?!"
Oshitari’s jaw dropped.
If Irie could break Atobe’s Tannhäuser this quickly, his own Neo Scud Serve wouldn’t stand a chance.
A bitter realization hit him—
No matter how strong his serve was, without the basics to back it up, he’d never survive at this level.
Unless… he reached Echizen’s realm of speed.
"I still have a long way to go…"
BANG!
Atobe had already predicted Irie’s return.
With a sharp flick, he sent the ball straight at Irie’s racket—
THUD!
The impact ripped the racket from Irie’s grip.
"What?!"
Irie’s eyes widened in feigned shock as Atobe leapt into the air—
"Behold… the artistry of the king!"
"Destruction Drop Shot!"
BANG!
The smash slammed into the court.
Irie stood frozen, mouth agape.
"Game!"
"Atobe leads, 1-0!"
"Atobe!" "Atobe!" "Atobe!"
Kabaji and Oshitari started the chant.
Soon, others joined—Chitose from Rikkai, Zaizen from Shitenhouji…
In moments, the entire middle school faction was roaring Atobe’s name.
The high schoolers could only stare, baffled.
How could thirty-odd people sound like a crowd of hundreds?
For a moment, the U-17 court became Atobe’s stage.
"As expected of Hyoutei’s captain."
Kiyosue smirked. "To lead under Ryoma’s shadow? This guy’s charisma is no joke."
"Agreed."
Mouri and Harahiko nodded.
Atobe’s theatrics might seem over-the-top, but the sheer loyalty he inspired spoke volumes.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The match resumed with Irie serving—
But Atobe’s momentum never slowed.
He attacked relentlessly, dictating the pace with an iron grip.
"Game! Atobe, 2-0!"
"Game! Atobe, 3-0!"
Three games.
Three brutal victories.
The high schoolers’ scalps prickled. Tsuji and Akiyo thanked their lucky stars they hadn’t stepped up—this humiliation could’ve been theirs.
"He’s insane…"
Yushi and Jackal stared in awe.
"This is Hyoutei’s captain?"
Among middle schoolers, the top five were generally considered to be Tezuka, Yukimura, Akutsu, Ryoma, and Atobe. (Sanada and Kintarou were close behind.)
But Atobe’s record hadn’t been as glittering as the others’.
Especially during the Nationals finals, where Tezuka had crushed him early.
That loss had cemented Atobe’s place as the "weakest" of the elite.
But now?
On this battlefield where middle schoolers struggled to win—
Atobe was dominating.
BANG! "0-15!"
BANG! "0-30!"
BANG! "0-40!"
In the fourth game, Atobe ripped through Irie’s serve, earning break point with terrifying efficiency.
BANG!
Irie served again.
Atobe raised two fingers to his brow, eyes narrowing—
CRACKLE!
Translucent ice pillars materialized around Irie, marking his dead angles.
This was Atobe’s Insight—the reason he’d been unstoppable so far.
"Freeze."
His racket flashed toward the weakest pillar—
SHATTER!
But the ice exploded into glittering dust before the ball could connect.
BANG!
A yellow streak blitzed past Atobe’s feet before he could react.
"15-40."
Irie lifted his head, the nervous facade melting into a smile.
"Sorry, Atobe-kun."
"I have no dead angles."
(End of Chapter)
