belamy20

131-135

Added 2025-08-08 16:55:42 +0000 UTC

Chapter 131: Sleeping Bear, Mori; Yoru Takes the Court

(Reminder: The match order in the national tournament is—Singles 3, Doubles 2, Singles 2, Doubles 1, Singles 1.)

9:00 AM.

National Tournament Quarterfinals.

Seigaku vs. Shitenhouji.

Both teams arrived early, waiting for the match to begin.

"They're here~"

Hirakoba Ryouji observed Seigaku’s well-prepared lineup, then glanced at his own team’s… eclectic assembly. His expression remained calm.

At this stage of the nationals, every team had already researched their opponents. Though Seigaku was a newcomer, their roster was no longer a mystery.

Hirakoba knew—today’s match was likely a lost cause.

But as Shitenhouji’s captain, he had to fight for even the slimmest chance.

Seigaku’s doubles were their weak point, while Shitenhouji’s pairs were solid—especially his own combo with Hara Tetsuya. Though they’d only partnered for one season, their chemistry was top-tier.

Hirakoba turned to the drowsy figure beside him. "Mori, you’re up for Singles 3."

"Mmm~" Mori Juushirou mumbled, half-asleep, before rolling over.

Hara chuckled. "Coach, looks like we’re going all out today."

"We’re graduating soon. Gotta seize every opportunity. Life’s full of missed chances—might as well try grabbing one."

After final adjustments, Shitenhouji submitted their lineup.

"No changes to our roster. Whoever faces Hirakoba’s pair—learn from a top-tier doubles team."

"YES!" Seigaku’s team roared in response.

Both lineups were locked in.

The referee blew his whistle. "National Quarterfinals—Seigaku vs. Shitenhouji! Singles 3 players, prepare!"

Hirakoba shook Mori awake. "Stop sleeping. It’s your match!"

"Hn?" Rubbing his messy hair, Mori yawned, grabbed his racket, and trudged onto the court to warm up.

"WHY?!" Kirihara gaped.

He’d been waiting at Singles 1 for his opponent… who was now playing Singles 3?!

Yamato patted his shoulder. "Kirihara-senpai, I heard from the captain—there’s a brain tonic in China called Nao Bai Jin. Wanna try it?"

"What’s that?"

"Sugar water."

"I don’t like sweets!"

"Eat more. Sugar fuels the brain. You need it."

"Really? I’m smart—don’t trick me!"

Meanwhile, Shitenhouji’s team watched Mori warm up, then turned their attention to Seigaku’s bench—

Their blood ran cold.

One person’s movement made Hirakoba and Hara’s hair stand on end. The entire team paled.

"We’re done."

His appearance shattered all of Shitenhouji’s strategies.

Yoru strode onto the court, his blue-and-white jacket draped over his shoulders—no warm-up necessary.

"WOOO! My husband’s playing already?!"

"Yoru! Look over here!"

The moment he stepped forward, screams erupted from the female spectators.

"So it’s him."

Unlike his despairing teammates, Mori—still stretching—grinned wildly.

FLOKITOTO.

Facing Kirihara would’ve been for the team’s sake. But this? A match against the prodigy praised by Tennis Weekly? Perfect.

"Didn’t expect to play you. Heard you’re strong," Mori said, offering a hand at the net.

"Yep. Ridiculously strong."

"…Eh?"

No humility at all?!

Mori blinked as Yoru turned toward the baseline, the breeze fluttering his jacket.

"Use everything you’ve got to entertain me~"

Yoru reached the baseline.

Mori’s 7-star power level surprised him. Yesterday, he’d seen Moonlit Tsukimitsu (Ice Emperor’s ace) barely hit 7 stars.

Mori’s definitely a genius.

But in raw skill? Moonlit might still edge him out. Mental天赋 (tensai) was a nightmare to counter, and Moonlit was entering a growth spurt.

"Singles 3 match begins! Yoru to serve!"

The referee’s whistle blew.

SWISH—

The moment the sound faded, Yoru tossed the ball high.

A slight backward-left arc. Back arched. At the peak of his jump, his racket whipped up-right—

PING!

A crisp, melodic strike echoed across the court.

The ball tore through the air with violent spin, landing dead-center. But unlike a standard twist serve, its trajectory was straight, its speed brutal.

"You can serve like THAT?!"

Mori grinned, darting forward—

THWACK!

The ball shot upward on the bounce, smashing into his forehead.

"OWWW—!"

A red welt swelled instantly. The ball rolled out of bounds.

"Hurtsss~" Rubbing his forehead, Mori whined, "That was a twist serve? Didn’t look like one! And it rebounded instantly!"

QP’s eyebrows rose. "Interesting."

To instantly recognize the Gyro Spin Serve’s variation? This kid wasn’t weak.

But it didn’t matter.

The moment Yoru stepped on the court, this match was Seigaku’s.

BANG!

Four more twist serves followed—each faster, each sharper.

"Game, Yoru! 1-0!"

Kirihara, chewing his shirt collar, glared at Mori. "Serves you right for stealing Singles 3! Hope you never touch the ball!"

(The genius Kirihara still hadn’t realized Yoru’s trickery.)

"So strong…"

Second game—Mori’s serve.

He bounced the ball, excitement burning brighter. No one made twist serves look that effortless.

SWOOSH!

Toss. Knee bend. Racket cracked down—

A golden streak bulleted across the court.

Yet before it could bounce twice—

WHOOSH.

A shadow intercepted.

The ball screamed back, landing in an unreachable corner.

Mori’s body froze mid-step. Point lost.

"Tch… can’t even react?" He exhaled sharply, then smirked. "Fine. I’ll just sleep then."

Ignoring the crowd’s shock, his expression went slack.

When his eyes reopened—they were unfocused. Yet his aura twisted unnaturally.

"It’s here… Mori’s Serious Mode!"

While spectators gasped, Shitenhouji’s bench erupted.

Even QP’s eyes widened. "This feeling…"

Chapter 132: The Puppet of the Subconscious; The Overpowering Yoru

Noticing QP’s gaze, Yoru understood exactly what the other was thinking.

He cast aside all distractions, entering a state of hyper-focused concentration—one that optimized his body for the match.

This state was similar to the effects of Rakurai Kōki (Fading Brilliance).

The difference? Rakurai Kōki didn’t just sharpen focus—it amplified the quality of every return by leveraging every possible factor: momentum from movement, torque from body rotation, precision in shot angles, and more.

Mōri’s "Serious Mode," on the other hand, was purely about heightened concentration.

This wasn’t some special technique—it was Mōri’s innate talent. The ability to slip into deep sleep almost instantly, letting his subconscious take control of his body.

BANG—!

From the opposite court, Mōri served with an unorthodox stance.

The ball shot forward at blistering speed, crashing into the ground and rebounding even faster.

"Much quicker, but still not enough."

Yoru’s feet shifted, and in the next instant, he was at the landing point, his racket slicing through the air.

BANG—! BANG—! BANG—!

The two launched into a rapid-fire exchange.

Aside from QP, the Seigaku team watched in stunned silence, their expressions a mix of disbelief and awe.

Despite Mōri’s bizarre, almost comical return stances, every shot was executed with flawless precision—keeping pace with Yoru’s rhythm.

That wasn’t something just anyone could do.

As the rally continued, the spectators grew more engrossed.

Muguruma, watching from the sidelines, bit down on Yamato’s shoulder in sheer envy. "This should’ve been my match!"

"Ow! Muguruma-senpai, that hurts!"

Shaking Yamato off, Muguruma resorted to gnawing on his own sleeve, his molars grinding in frustration.

"Seigaku’s team still looks so relaxed…"

The members of Shitenhōji chuckled among themselves.

They knew better than anyone—once Mōri entered this state, his abilities underwent a metamorphosis.

There wasn’t a ball he couldn’t return!

Even Yoru was surprised.

At first, he assumed Mōri’s "sleep mode" was some kind of technique.

But after checking his system panel, he realized—it wasn’t a skill at all. It was pure, raw talent.

Logically, with such a unique gift, Mōri’s combat power should have been higher.

Yet he barely scraped the threshold of seven-star level.

The reason? Sheer laziness.

Whether in the original story or now, Mōri’s defining trait was his sloth—right down to napping at the court’s edge before the match.

"The talents in this world really are something else," Yoru mused with a smirk.

He swung his racket, sending the ball back across the net.

The moment it bounced up, Mōri—still in sleep mode—returned it effortlessly.

"Go, Mōri!"

Shitenhōji’s team erupted in cheers.

Before the match, everyone had assumed Mōri would lose—best-case scenario, he’d just lose less embarrassingly.

After all, Weekly Tennis had painted Yoru as practically unbeatable.

But now, seeing Mōri hold his own against him, their extinguished hopes reignited.

"Keep it up, Mōri!"

"I can’t believe he’s matching him blow for blow—he might actually win!"

"Maybe we overestimated Yoru and underestimated Mōri!"

"Sleeping Mōri is unstoppable—go take this match!"

The Shitenhōji players grew more fervent.

"Annoying."

Yoru shot them a cold glance. "Guess I’ll shut you up first."

SWISH—!

As the ball hurtled toward him, Yoru didn’t budge—letting it drop near the frontcourt.

At that distance, once it landed, retrieval would be impossible.

"Is he giving up?!"

"This is our chance—score and turn the tide!"

The cheers swelled—until Shitenhōji’s captain, Hirakoba Ryou, felt a sudden pang of dread.

BANG—!

Sure enough, just before the ball touched down, it veered sideways, flying out of bounds.

"Yoru scores, 30-0!"

The umpire’s call was like a plug—silencing the crowd mid-cheer.

"I was just playing around, and you all got way too excited."

Yoru turned back to Mōri, unimpressed. "This focus mode is impressive—it boosts your reaction time. But pity..."

Pity?

The audience held their breath.

"...pity he can’t control it. He’s just reacting, not acting. So tell me—how will you return this?"

The words were cryptic.

Most of Shitenhōji didn’t grasp their meaning—even Seigaku’s players were puzzled.

QP clarified, "This state only lets him return shots—not score. He has to wait for his opponent to mess up to win."

Yoru scoffed. "If he’d just trained to master this state, he wouldn’t be a puppet to his subconscious."

BANG—!

Still asleep, Mōri ignored Yoru’s jab and served again.

Yoru returned it—and once more, Mōri’s next shot sailed out of bounds.

40-0!

2-0!

If the first time was a fluke, three in a row was no accident.

And terrifyingly—it was just the beginning.

BANG—!

Yoru’s next serve was faster than anything he’d unleashed so far.

Against anyone else, it would’ve been an instant point.

But in sleep mode, Mōri’s heightened senses allowed him to barely intercept it.

Barely.

The moment the ball cleared the net, it curved violently—landing well outside the lines.

"Yoru scores, 15-0!"

"...Incredible."

Tezuka’s eyes widened, his entire body tensing with awe.

Of everyone watching, he was studying the match most intently.

This wasn’t his first time seeing Gyaku Ryouiki (Reverse Domain), nor was it his first time receiving Yoru’s guidance on it.

But despite his efforts, he still hadn’t mastered reverse spin.

The entire team knew how seriously Yoru took teaching this technique.

In truth, it was a personal regret for Yoru.

In the original timeline, Tezuka had only just learned Gyaku Ryouiki before Nationals—and with his arm not fully healed, he’d lost to Sanada.

But true reverse spin didn’t require "predicting" Rai (Thunder).

Its ferocious rotation could force any return out of bounds.

It was something Yoru had realized only after mastering it himself.

Unless the opponent had a technique like In (Extinguishment)—which nullified spin entirely—the only counter was to overpower the rotation with an even stronger reverse spin.

If Tezuka hadn’t been sealed for so long in the original story, Sanada wouldn’t have stood a chance.

BANG—!

Yoru scored. 3-0!

BANG—!

Yoru scored. 5-0!

Once Gyaku Ryouiki entered play, Mōri was powerless.

Trapped in "sleep mode," he could only react—never adapt.

The final score: 6-0.

"Game over! Winner—Yoru!"

The umpire’s voice jolted Mōri awake.

"...I lost?"

Blinking groggily, he stared at the scoreboard—more specifically, at the match duration.

Just over ten minutes.

And that was with Yoru holding back in the first two games.

The stadium was dead silent.

As Shitenhōji’s team watched Yoru walk off the court, a collective chill ran down their spines.

"How can a middle schooler be this monstrous...?"

Chapter 133: 30-70 Odds—Let’s Show Them the Gap

The court fell into a half-minute silence.

Then—

"SO HANDSOME! MY HUSBAND IS AMAZING! ☆(￣▽￣)/$:*"

A high-pitched scream shattered the stillness.

The crowd snapped back to reality, their gazes locked onto Yoru with awe.

The first two games had been a blistering exchange, making everyone think this would be a close match.

But the moment Yoru got serious—it was over.

Shitenhouji’s team looked like they’d swallowed flies. Even Mori himself never expected to lose so easily. His proud "Sleep Mode" had been a joke in the face of true dominance.

"Terrifying," mused Washio Issa from the sidelines. "Even if Shiraishi faced Yoru, he’d be in trouble."

During the Kansai Regionals, they’d watched Shitenhouji vs. Maizono Academy. Mori’s match against Shiraishi had been intense—a high-difficulty loss, but still competitive.

This?

Mori had been playdough in Yoru’s hands—kneaded, twisted, and crushed when boredom struck.

Suzuki Jun shook his head. "With Mori gone, Shitenhouji’s done."

Everyone knew the stakes.

If both Mori and the Hirakoba/Hara duo lost, the team collapsed.

Tennis wasn’t like basketball.

In the NBA, even a bottom-tier team like the Hornets could luck out with bench players during garbage time.

But tennis?

The skill gap was brutal. Sometimes, you couldn’t even touch the ball.

On the court, Mori stared at Yoru’s retreating back, heart pounding.

His "Sleep Mode" erased his conscious mind. He’d always assumed that even if he lost, it’d be after a grueling battle.

This?

A humiliation.

"So this is the genius Tennis Weekly won’t shut up about…"

The scoreboard burned into his vision. The time.

For the first time, he’d truly faced a monster—one even Shiraishi couldn’t compare to.

"Sorry, guys," Mori muttered, returning to the bench. "I blew it."

"Damn right you did."

"Deserved."

Hirakoba’s eye twitched.

If not for Yoru’s post-match explanation, he might’ve believed Mori gave it his all.

But no—his idiot teammate had half-assed it. If he’d mastered true sleep-state focus while retaining awareness… Could things have been different?

"Watch the footage. We’re up next." Hara tossed Mori his phone—recorded, as always, for sleep-mode review.

"Buchou, I’m seething."

Back at Seigaku’s bench, Kirihara’s teeth had torn holes in his shirt.

Yoru shrugged. "I didn’t expect their lineup change either."

"I know! It’s not your fault! They’re just morons!"

The team stifled laughter. Even QP’s lips quirked.

FLOKITOTO.

Over these months, he’d actually started fitting in. This relaxed vibe? Nothing like Germany’s rigid elitism.

"…Should I stay longer?"

The thought flickered.

His skills had skyrocketed here—Yoru’s sparring, that man’s guidance, Japan’s hidden aces…

But then—Leitner’s face flashed in his mind. The idea vanished.

"Doubles 2, prepare to start!"

The whistle blew.

Seigaku’s Yamato and Kawasaki warmed up, while Hirakoba and Hara stood.

"They adjusted," QP noted calmly.

Shitenhouji’s only hope was sweeping both doubles. Most schools stacked their stronger pair in Doubles 1, but Seigaku had kept Yamato’s duo in Doubles 2—intentionally.

Their synergy had surpassed Kaidou’s pair, making them the real threat.

But QP hadn’t changed the lineup.

Yamato’s growth mattered more. Kaidou’s pair had hit their ceiling with Synchro. Yamato? His potential was still unfolding.

"Buchou… Can they win?" Kaidou asked nervously.

QP’s data, Yoru’s tone—everything hinted at how strong Hirakoba’s duo was.

"A chance. But slim."

Yoru shook his head.

Yamato’s stats neared high-tier 7-star, but doubles was doubles. He wasn’t strong enough to solo-carry against two 6-star veterans with flawless teamwork.

Still…

Not impossible.

30-70 odds.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

Hara bounced the ball, exhaling.

Even if Shitenhouji had already lost, they wouldn’t go down scoreless.

SWISH—

A spin serve ripped across the court.

Their intel said Seigaku’s players had freakish speed. Against that? Spin was key.

Kawasaki Haruna swung—

The ball skewed off-center, veering wildly.

Hirakoba pounced, smashing it to the far corner with monstrous force—

"Too heavy!"

Yamato’s return soared high, helpless—

A shadow loomed over him, blotting out the sun.

Hara, already at the net, smiled.

"Game set."

Chapter 134: A Narrow Defeat—QP Takes the Court!

Even with the Counter Rune enhancing his strength, the sheer force behind the shot felt overwhelming.

It was a testament to Hirakoba Ryou’s raw power—something Yamato couldn’t afford to underestimate.

BANG—!

Faced with a high-arcing return, Hirakoba leaped effortlessly and unleashed a perfect smash.

Kawasaki from the backcourt lunged to intercept, but the moment the ball struck his racket, the impact forced his fingers open, sending his racket clattering to the ground.

"Shitenhōji scores, 15-0!"

"That power…"

Tezuka, watching from the stands, narrowed his eyes in surprise.

Hirakoba’s wiry frame didn’t suggest overwhelming strength—yet his smash had deformed the ball into an irregular oval on impact.

"Another stats anomaly."

Yoru sighed.

In the original timeline, Hirakoba had pierced clean through two rackets with a single shot.

While he wasn’t that monstrous yet, he was still far from weak.

Shitenhōji’s strategy was simple: Hirajima’s setups created openings for Hirakoba to attack.

If Hirakoba got a clean hit, his sheer power would dominate the rally, giving them control over the point.

"Scoring this easily? Hah! My handsomeness truly is a weapon."

Hirakoba adjusted his infamous green cap, striking a ridiculous "S-pose" with exaggerated flair.

Hirajima, scratching his thigh lazily, deadpanned: "If you’re gonna pose, at least ditch the ugly hat."

Their antics sent waves of laughter through the crowd—even Seigaku’s supporters, including Kaidō, were struggling to keep straight faces.

"…This is funny?"

Yoru’s expression twisted in disbelief.

If this were his past life’s meme culture, this bit wouldn’t even qualify as entry-level humor.

But the damage was done.

Yamato managed to stay composed, but Kawasaki’s focus shattered.

Normally, after losing a point, players would channel frustration into determination.

But that momentum had just been laughed away.

BANG—!

Hirajima served again—a sharp wide-angle spin.

Thanks to the Agility Rune, Kawasaki tracked it easily, moving into position without issue.

But as he lined up his return—

"Mwah~ ♡"

Hirakoba blew him a mock kiss.

"BAKA!"

Kawasaki’s vision whited out from sheer cringe.

The momentary lapse turned his return into a weak, floating shot—

—which Hirakoba punished with a ruthless net intercept.

Too close. Too fast. No chance to react.

BANG—!

"Shitenhōji scores, 30-0!"

"Damn it!"

Kawasaki’s face burned with rage.

No physical attacks—just psychological warfare.

Every move designed to get under their skin.

The Shitenhōji duo struck another ridiculous pose, drawing more laughter—and further draining Kawasaki’s anger.

But Yamato wasn’t laughing.

If he fell for this after losing two straight points, he wouldn’t have earned the captaincy in the original timeline.

"Kawasaki-senpai—it’s a trap. Ignore their antics, or it’ll ruin our game."

Kawasaki froze.

He’d been played.

BANG—!

Hirajima served again.

Now aware of the mind games, Yamato and Kawasaki locked in.

Using Kawasaki’s baseline endurance, Yamato began analyzing Hirakoba and Hirajima’s habits, adapting their strategy in real time.

The scoreboard lit up as the match intensified.

BANG—!

"Shitenhōji leads, 1-0!"

...

BANG—!

"Seigaku ties, 1-1!"

...

BANG—!

"Shitenhōji pulls ahead, 2-2!"

...

The match became a battle of attrition, each point fiercely contested.

The crowd roared with every exchange.

A high-level doubles match was far harder to execute than singles—requiring tactical synergy, positioning, and split-second adjustments.

Shitenhōji’s "comedy tennis" lost its edge as Hirakoba and Hirajima shifted to pure strategy.

And that’s when their true strength emerged.

Their tactical fluidity left Yamato and Kawasaki constantly scrambling.

Every time Seigaku adjusted, Shitenhōji counter-adjusted faster.

Yamato’s "Misdirection Ball" tactic, once disruptive, now faltered under the pressure.

The gap in doubles expertise was undeniable.

BANG—!

"Shitenhōji extends their lead, 3-2!"

...

BANG—!

"4-2!"

...

BANG—!

"5-3!"

Superior tactics gave Shitenhōji total control.

"Incredible doubles play. No flashy techniques—just flawless strategy."

"Yamato’s struggling to keep up."

"They’ve improved a lot, but Shitenhōji’s just on another level."

Seigaku’s players murmured among themselves.

Kaidō and Imanishi, seasoned doubles players themselves, saw the issue clearly.

Shitenhōji had targeted Yamato’s tactics from the start.

Once his Misdirection Ball was neutralized, Seigaku had no answer for their adaptability.

"4-5!"

"5-5!"

"7-5!"

After nearly an hour, Yamato and Kawasaki fell just short.

Hirakoba and Hirajima met them at the net, extending their hands.

"Honestly? You two surprised us."

No empty praise—they meant it.

They’d studied Seigaku’s duo beforehand, preparing specific counter-tactics for Yamato’s playstyle.

Yet the match had still been far harder than expected.

Yamato and Kawasaki’s rapid mid-game adaptations had pushed Shitenhōji to their limits.

If not for their preparation, the result could’ve flipped.

"You’re the real deal. Now I see what true doubles dominance looks like."

Yamato shook his head.

Defeat was defeat. As his captain said: "If you’re weak, train harder. Excuses insult effort itself."

"Losing? Good."

Yoru nodded slightly.

This match had exposed flaws under pressure—and that was exactly what they needed.

Even QP, the so-called "Masterpiece," had grown through repeated failures.

Sure, his debut in the original story had been full of cool moments—but most of his screen time was just him getting wrecked.

He’d taken beatings for Rakurai Kōki, for Aichi Kōki, and even from Borg in U-17.

His ultimate evolution, Gōki Kōki ("Fortitude Radiance"), had started with him getting crushed.

Talent was one thing—but the will to learn from defeat?

That separated the great from the legendary.

"Your turn."

Yoru’s gaze shifted to QP, who stood calmly, ready to step onto the court.

Chapter 135: Writing Their Own Story—No Longer Side Characters

(Note: —it just skims over QP’s match since there’s nothing worth detailing about a one-sided match. The focus on Kaedahara and Konishi’s match is to give their characters more depth. The finals segment is briefly summarized.)

"Game over! Score: 6–0, QP wins!"

"Overall match score: 2–1!"

Dead silence.

The audience swallowed hard, watching as the Shitenhouji player knelt on the court, trembling uncontrollably. A chill ran down their spines.

Just ten minutes earlier, the singles No. 2 match had begun.

QP faced off against some no-name from Shitenhouji.

Though he didn’t activate Kikō (Aura of Experience), his merciless playstyle broke the opponent mentally.

The guy couldn’t even see QP’s serves, let alone return them.

His only purpose was to keep the match going—hardly better than a ball machine.

The sheer, suffocating dominance shifted the audience’s mood from casual amusement to outright fear. The pressure was that overwhelming.

"...H-He’s… insane."

In Shitenhouji’s player area, even Mōri looked pale, unable to muster the courage to lift his head and meet QP’s gaze.

"Is this guy even stronger than before?" Mōri muttered, eyes locked onto QP.

But Hara Tetsuya shook his head. "No. You fell asleep during the briefing earlier. Morita’s cousin goes to Seigaku—according to their intel, QP couldn’t even score against Yoru."

"WHAT?!"

Mōri froze.

If Yoru could shut out QP… then their earlier match wasn’t even a warm-up for him. It was a joke.

"Handshake?" QP asked in fluent Japanese.

The response? A mental breakdown.

"A-AHHHHH—!"

The Shitenhouji player screamed, scrambling backward like he’d seen a monster.

"Shinsuke!"

His teammates rushed onto the court to carry him off.

QP turned and walked away without another word.

The umpire didn’t call for a pause—this was clearly a psychological collapse, not an injury. A short break would suffice.

"Singles No. 2 match concluded! Doubles No. 1 will begin next! Players, prepare yourselves!"

The whistle blew.

Kaedahara and Konishi, already buzzing with excitement, jogged onto the court to warm up.

Shitenhouji’s pair stood as well.

Yoru glanced at them—a duo with solid 5-star stats. Their doubles synergy was high, nearly on par with Kaedahara and Konishi. Probably a long-standing partnership.

He turned to his players.

"Their raw skill is average, but their teamwork is sharp. Treat every match like it’s your last. Enjoy it."

Kaedahara and Konishi had once confided in him:

"This is our final year. After Nationals, we’re leaving the city—no more tennis. We just… want to leave a mark before we go."

"Leave it to us."

Ten minutes later, the match began.

After the handshake, Konishi Izumi smirked at Kaedahara.

"If things go well… this might be one of our last three matches together. After this, we probably won’t team up again."

"Yeah, I—"

FLOKITOTO

Kaedahara stopped mid-sentence as Konishi’s fist suddenly hovered in front of him.

After a beat, he grinned and bumped it.

"Then let’s make it count."

In that instant—two streams of mist intertwined around them.

"Wha—?!"

Hiranishi and Shiraishi nearly choked.

The "weak" doubles pair they’d underestimated… had just activated The Synchro (Dōkei).

Yoru’s eyes flickered.

Their stats now read: (+1)

Not as refined as the Rokkaku twins' Synchro, but already surpassing most Japanese middle-school doubles.

From being background nobodies to this—

Sure, Yoru’s "cheats" helped.

But more than that?

They refused to stay irrelevant.

Effort is the bridge between dreams and reality.

Only those who chase their dreams can turn hard work into something meaningful—and seize the moment when it arrives.

"...This feels pretty damn good."

Yoru smirked.

It was like playing support and watching your ADC land a pentakill.

Yamato exhaled in awe. "To think Kaedahara-senpai and Konishi-senpai could enter Synchro at will…"

He remembered their words:

"All we have left… is effort."

THWACK!

Shitenhouji’s serve—a sharp spin that kicked sideways on the bounce.

Konishi, moving on instinct, lashed it back effortlessly.

With Synchro boosting their stats (and synergy most of all), the duo carved through the match like a hot knife through butter.

Just three exchanges in, they’d already set up a clean passing shot—no communication needed.

WHOOSH!

The ball streaked through the opponents’ gap.

"Seigaku scores! 15–0!"

And that was just the start.

The real shock?

Konishi—now replicating Kaedahara’s *"Boomerang Snake Shot"*—extended their offensive range to absurd levels.

Shitenhouji’s pair could only flail helplessly.

What should’ve been an even match became a rout—all because of Synchro.

"Seigaku leads! 1–0!"

Under two minutes for the first break.

"…We’re in trouble."

Hiranishi sucked in a breath.

Had he and Shiraishi been facing Kaedahara and Konishi, they might have still pulled through—Synchro drains stamina fast, and their raw skill was higher.

But no one expected Seigaku’s "weaker" doubles pair to be this strong.

"We underestimated them," Shiraishi admitted. **"Their win rate this Nationals season is over 90%—we just ignored it because Yamato’s pair stood out more."

"Seigaku extends! 3–0!"

SMACK!

A crisp high-five.

Kaedahara and Konishi exchanged grins—different ones.

A tiny detail, but Yoru and QP noticed it immediately.

They were starting to control Synchro.

Yoru chuckled.

"Never thought they’d reach this level. Maybe not as strong as Ōishi and Kikumaru, but still… impressive."

[System: Master, you’re overlooking something.]

"Hm?"

[The runes boosted them beyond ordinary players. Training runes gave them a genius’s potential.]

[With cheats and effort… Of course they’d rewrite fate.]