76-80
Added 2025-07-27 17:28:02 +0000 UTCChapter 76: I Want to Hear the Applause of a National Champion
(Note: In the other semifinal match, I originally had Shishido Gakuen vs. Yamabuki, but I changed it to St. Rudolph vs. Yamabuki. Earlier chapters have been corrected—I forgot Shishido is from Kansai, not Kanto. But it doesn’t affect much.)
"Game start! Seigaku serves first!"
The referee blew the whistle, signaling the beginning of the Doubles 1 match.
Kaedechi and Imishi stepped onto the court, their confidence boosted by the +0.8 buff.
BANG—!
The moment the call ended, Imishi fired off a textbook Bullet Serve.
Thanks to the First Strike Rune, the serve’s power increased while its error rate decreased. The ball shot over the net and slammed into the ground with force.
"Hm?"
Takei Toshio frowned slightly.
Without a word, he dashed into position and swung his racket to intercept.
The moment the ball connected, a shockwave of power rippled through his grip.
This serve… looks ordinary, but the weight behind it is unexpected.
His return lacked precision.
At the net, Kaedechi swiftly moved for the volley—but instead of a standard intercept, he crouched low, his racket arcing upward in a wide swing, imparting heavy spin on the ball.
Gyro Snake Shot!
Boosted by the Counter Rune, the shot’s quality increased by 10%, indirectly raising its success rate.
This was a technique Yoru had suggested based on the Kaede family’s natural talent.
In the original series, what was Kaoru Kaedechi’s defining trait?
Freakishly long arms—like Kevin Durant’s—giving him a natural advantage for curve shots.
Kaedechi Juu was the same.
Yoru half-suspected the Kaede bloodline had some mixed heritage. So, he modeled his advice after Kaedechi’s little brother’s playstyle.
At first, the Gyro Snake Shot had a high failure rate.
But with the Training Rune and the Counter Rune’s success rate boost, Kaedechi could now execute it flawlessly.
And in doubles?
Doubles sidelines are wider than singles, giving the Gyro Snake Shot even more room to dominate.
SWOOSH—!
The ball curved around the net, bypassing front-court player Kishimoto Mashou, before sharply dropping at the sideline and flying out of bounds.
"Imishi Senzui, Kaedechi Juu score! 15-0!"
Ever since mastering the Gyro Snake Shot, the duo’s entire strategy revolved around it.
Imishi would apply pressure with his opening shots, then maneuver to create gaps, allowing Kaedechi to finish with the Gyro Snake.
While their overall strength didn’t match Yamato and Kawasaki’s pair, their tactical synergy and chemistry more than made up for it—and their in-game execution was sharper.
BANG—!
"Imishi Senzui, Kaedechi Juu score! Game 1-0!"
Using their "Decoy Snake" tactic, they easily secured their service game.
"This strategy… is a pain to deal with!"
Takei Toshio and Kishimoto’s expressions darkened.
From Matsudaira’s scouting reports, they knew about this deceptive playstyle and had discussed countermeasures.
But in practice?
No real solution.
If they didn’t chase Imishi’s setups, they left the other side wide open.
But if they did follow, they gave Kaedechi the perfect opening for his Gyro Snake Shot.
Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.
The match quickly turned into a scoring spree for Seigaku.
BANG—!
"Imishi Senzui, Kaedechi Juu score! 2-1!"
...
BANG—!
"Takei Toshio, Kishimoto Mashou score! 3-4!"
...
BANG—!
"Imishi Senzui, Kaedechi Juu score! 5-3!"
After half an hour, Seigaku held a commanding lead—match point.
"Dammit! Their entire game revolves around that Gyro Snake Shot. You can’t defend against both at once!"
Takei and Kishimoto were gasping for air.
Even with preparation, facing a "one-trick pony" this effective was exhausting.
Midway, they had countered the Decoy Snake by adjusting their positioning—
Only for Kaedechi and Imishi to pull out a reverse variation of the same tactic.
If not for Takei’s solid serves, the score would’ve been even worse.
BANG—!
Finally, Kaedechi delivered a perfectly disguised drop volley, fooling both opponents.
The ball landed cleanly on the centerline, bouncing out of bounds.
After an entire match of Gyro Snake domination, they ended it with the simplest shot possible.
"Game set! Seigaku wins, 6-3!"
"Haaah…"
Kaedechi and Imishi exhaled, bumping fists.
With their captain back, the pressure had eased—their performance was far sharper than in the quarterfinals.
Flawless execution. Minimal errors.
CLAP CLAP CLAP—!
The duo blinked, looking up.
The crowd was applauding—louder than before. The semifinals had drawn a bigger audience.
"Kaedechi…"
"Hm?"
Kaedechi turned to see his partner’s eyes reddening.
"Do you think… just maybe… we could become the doubles pair that wins Nationals?"
"I want to hear what that applause sounds like."
A tear trailed down Imishi’s cheek.
Kaedechi gazed back at the stands… and smiled.
"Me too."
Match over.
As both teams walked off, Munehiro Kabaji’s expression darkened.
1-1.
For Hyotei, this was bad.
Aside from him, their remaining singles players were weaker.
The only confirmed threat was Kirihara Akaya—he was confident against him, but what about the other two unknowns?
That mysterious captain, Yoru, and the towering foreigner?
Hyotei was on the brink.
"Good work."
Yamato handed towels to Kaedechi and Imishi as they returned.
"Well played."
Yoru pulled his racket from his bag, stepping onto the court. A breeze ruffled his jacket as it fluttered behind him.
"My turn."
The moment Seigaku’s captain stood, Hyotei’s team tensed.
"That’s the guy they call ‘Captain,’ right?"
The mood grew heavier.
If Seigaku’s members respected him as leader, his skill had to be formidable—especially with their rise this year.
Scout Matsudaira Chikara adjusted his glasses.
"I have almost no data on Seigaku’s captain. Just basics."
"Name: Yoru. First-year. Took over Seigaku’s tennis club by sweeping its members upon enrollment. The team’s improvement this year is largely due to him."
"Captain… don’t underestimate him."
The lack of intel only deepened the unease.
But as morale wavered, Coach Sakaki spoke up sharply:
"Trust your captain."
Chapter 77: Yoru vs. Munehiro Kabaji
The atmosphere in Hyotei’s camp was tense.
But no one could blame Kishimoto Mashou and his partner—anyone could see they had given their all.
Coach Sakaki turned to Kabaji. "No matter who the opponent is, we believe you can lead us to victory. Don’t let the pressure get to you. We’ve already secured our spot in the Kanto Tournament."
"I’ll bring back the win."
Kabaji stood up, his expression steeled.
As Hyotei’s captain, he could not lose—no matter who stood on the other side of the net.
If he won this match, they still had a chance in the remaining two.
With that in mind, Kabaji began warming up.
Meanwhile, Yoru stood at the center of the court, waiting.
No warm-ups.
Just pure, unapologetic swagger.
"Is he seriously not warming up? That’s just showing off."
"Obviously. Look at that jacket draped over his shoulders—though I gotta admit, it’s kinda cool."
"Captain, you should try wearing your jacket like that."
"…Somehow, I feel like our captain doesn’t look as good doing it."
"Kid, some truths are better left unsaid."
"BEEP BEEP—!"
"Kanto Semifinals—Seigaku vs. Hyotei! Singles 3 match begins! Players, take your positions!"
The whistle blew.
Kabaji, now fully warmed up, stepped onto the court—muscles primed, reflexes sharp.
He had no data on Yoru, but anyone who could drag Seigaku out of obscurity and into the spotlight was not to be underestimated.
The two stood at the net, facing each other.
Yoru extended his hand first. "Yoru. Pleasure."
"Munehiro Kabaji. Likewise."
A firm handshake. Then, they retreated to their respective baselines.
The referee’s voice rang out: "Game start! Hyotei to serve!"
BANG—!
The moment the whistle sounded, Kabaji bounced the ball once—and the entire atmosphere shifted.
A heavy, almost suffocating pressure settled over the court. Even the spectators felt it.
Yet some of Hyotei’s players smirked.
"Mental play…" QP observed.
If Yoru had done this, it would’ve been silent—QP had experienced it enough times to know.
SWISH—!
Kabaji tossed the ball high—very high.
Before it even peaked, he leapt into the air.
Kabaji was tall—exceptionally tall.
Around 190 cm, though still far from his original 226 cm stature.
("Guess he hasn’t hit his growth spurt yet. No wonder he can’t pull off the ‘Mach Serve.’") Yoru mused.
BANG—!
The ball vanished the instant Kabaji’s racket connected.
In the blink of an eye, it was already rebounding off the ground in front of Yoru—no time to react.
Ultra-High Speed Vertical Serve!
"Fast!" Kirihara’s eyes narrowed.
As someone who had developed his own high-speed serve, he recognized the skill instantly. "Using height and reach to maximize serve velocity…"
"But that won’t work on the Captain."
BANG—!
True to his words, Yoru’s racket intercepted the ball before it even finished rebounding, sending it rocketing back to Kabaji’s side.
"Impossible!"
"He returned the Ultra-High Speed Serve—on the first try?!"
"What kind of monster is this guy?!"
Hyotei’s team paled.
That serve had clocked 210 km/h in past matches—no one had ever returned it so effortlessly.
THUD THUD THUD—!
Kabaji’s footsteps were heavy but precise as he dashed into position.
"Just as I thought."
His expression didn’t waver. He’d noticed Yoru’s eyes locking onto the contact point during the serve, so he’d already positioned himself mid-court.
His instincts were right—but not entirely.
Because…
[You have perfectly replicated ‘Ultra-High Speed Vertical Serve (Lv. 6)’! Power increased by 120%! You now possess Ultra-High Speed Vertical Serve (Lv. 8)!]
Yoru had been studying Kabaji’s form—not out of necessity, but curiosity.
The replication effect was stronger than expected. ("So the power boost applies like this…")
BANG—!
Kabaji returned the shot.
Yoru moved like lightning, intercepting before the ball even touched the ground and directing it to the far corner.
Kabaji anticipated it—barely.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
A rapid-fire rally erupted.
"@@##&%..."
A string of German spilled from QP’s lips.
Yamato, nudged by Kirihara, awkwardly asked in English: "Uh… QP, what did you just say?"
QP switched languages. "He’s holding back."
With Yoru’s stats, he could’ve ended the point on the first return—a sharp cross-court shot to Kabaji’s weakest position.
Even if it didn’t score outright, it wouldn’t have let Kabaji counter so easily.
BANG—!
Back on the court, as Kabaji’s return crossed the net—
ZZZT—!
A swirling vortex of blue-white electricity engulfed the court, dragging the ball straight to Yoru’s racket.
"That’s—!"
Coach Sakaki shot to his feet.
Zone.
A masterful Zone.
He hadn’t seen a technique this refined in middle school tennis in years.
The only comparable one was Ryouhai’s Ushiwaka Maruo, but even that was a crude imitation.
BANG—!
With one final strike, Kabaji—overwhelmed by the Zone’s pull—couldn’t keep up.
"15-0!"
The referee’s call echoed.
Kabaji exhaled, his face unreadable.
He returned to the service line and served again.
Same Ultra-High Speed Vertical Serve—even faster this time.
But the result didn’t change.
"30-0!"
"40-0!"
"Game! 1-0!"
Once the Zone took hold, Yoru dominated every subsequent point, controlling the match with his superior stats.
The crowd—and Hyotei’s team—was stunned.
Break time.
Yoru sat down, taking a sip of water.
QP’s voice cut through his thoughts. "You could’ve ended those points faster. Why waste time?"
"Found something more interesting." Yoru shrugged. "Wanted to see if he’d surprise me. Tennis is supposed to be fun."
"…"
QP couldn’t comprehend that mindset.
In Germany, efficiency was everything—every point was to be won in the fewest strokes possible.
If he were on the court, no rally would last beyond three hits.
Yoru glanced at Kabaji, a smirk playing on his lips.
("Wonder how you’ll feel… facing your own techniques."")
Chapter 78: Yoru – "Charging Up His Ultimate Move?"
Game 2 – Yoru’s Serve
As the two returned to the court, that obscure, oppressive aura grew even thicker.
"He’s stockpiling it more and more… Is he trying to mentally assassinate me into becoming an idiot?"
Yoru frowned.
He had been playing along precisely to gauge the potency of this mental suppression. But now, with his opponent hoarding his "ultimate move," Yoru was starting to worry.
Even firecrackers could kill if you stacked a thousand of them.
"Players, resume the match!"
Before he could overthink it, the umpire’s whistle blew.
Back on the court, Yoru bounced the ball with his racket and suddenly asked, "Ever had your own technique used against you?"
What?
Mochizuki Tsukimitsu froze at the question.
Whoosh—!
The tennis ball soared higher than ever before.
Yoru didn’t have Tsukimitsu’s height.
To execute the Supersonic Vertical Serve, he had to toss the ball extra high and rely on his superior physical stats to leap into the perfect striking position.
As the ball climbed, Yoru bent his knees and jumped.
A familiar sensation crawled up Tsukimitsu’s spine.
"Don’t tell me—"
His own thought horrified him.
Boom—!
The explosive sound of impact echoed across the court.
The ball vanished midair—only to reappear with another sharp thud as it zipped past Tsukimitsu’s side!
A cold gust brushed his elbow.
"How… How is this possible?!"
Cold sweat dripped down Tsukimitsu’s forehead.
It was his Supersonic Vertical Serve—but faster.
"15-0, Yoru leads!"
Ooooh—!
The crowd erupted, with Hyotei’s members reacting the most violently.
"H-He knows the Supersonic Vertical Serve?! And it looks even more polished?!"
"I swear that was faster than the captain’s version!"
"This is bad… Our captain’s signature move just got stolen and weaponized against him!"
"What kind of monster is this guy?!"
Hyotei’s players paled.
No one liked seeing their ace’s trump card copied—and used to score on them.
"When did the captain learn that serve?" Kirihara muttered, baffled.
Yamato hesitated. "Muga no Kyōchi lets you mimic techniques instantly, but… he’s not even using it."
"Did he already know it and just waited for the right moment?"
Even Seigaku’s team was lost.
Yoru never trained in front of them, so his arsenal was a mystery.
While the spectators buzzed, the scoreboard ticked relentlessly.
Serve after serve, Yoru’s Supersonic Vertical Serve grew even faster, each shot more viciously angled than the last.
The trajectories tightened into near body shots.
Against Tsukimitsu’s towering frame, close-range returns were far deadlier than wide ones.
Forced to adjust his stance just to swing, Tsukimitsu stood no chance against serves breaching 220 km/h.
In under a minute, Yoru effortlessly secured his service game.
2-0!
"Learned it beforehand?"
QP’s brow furrowed.
During their match, Yoru had said: "I’ve shown you everything I can do."
But the Supersonic Vertical Serve wasn’t part of that.
Given how Yoru had studied Tsukimitsu’s serves in the first game… Did he copy it on the spot?
This kind of instant mimicry reminded him of elite club specialists.
So why had Yoru never demonstrated it before?
"Unwilling… or unnecessary?"
QP couldn’t tell.
But he leaned toward the latter.
For someone like Yoru, the Supersonic Vertical Serve wasn’t a standout technique.
After indulging his mischief, Yoru stopped holding back.
The scoreboard raced forward.
Boom—!
4-0!
...
Boom—!
5-0!
Under Hyotei’s despairing gazes, Yoru scored as easily as sipping water.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"This is Seigaku’s captain?!"
"Terrifying… Even from the sidelines, you can feel Hyotei’s captain breaking."
"The first game was somewhat even, but now? He can’t even return normally!"
"I thought the ‘Mysterious Captain’ thing was just hype. But he’s way stronger than that Fuji and Yamato!"
"Remember Game 1? Tsukimitsu’s returns all flew straight to Yoru. Even pros struggle with that precision!"
"How is he this good?!"
"Seigaku’s rising!"
Amid the praise, Seigaku’s members beamed with pride.
Kirihara smirked smugly, as if he were the one being complimented.
"Why… Why hasn’t the captain’s Mental Assassin taken effect?!"
Matsudaira glared at Yoru.
The oppressive aura had peaked—normally, opponents would be mentally crushed by now.
Yet Yoru remained unfazed.
Coach Sakaki sighed. "This is the end."
As an experienced mentor, he saw the gap clearly.
Yoru’s breathing was steady, not a drop of sweat on him.
Meanwhile, Tsukimitsu was drenched, panting, his face pale.
He’d barely touched the ball—this fatigue wasn’t physical.
It was mental exhaustion.
Never in this Nationals season had Tsukimitsu been pushed to this state.
Yoru shared the curiosity.
Cutting to the chase, he asked: "Rumor says Hyotei’s captain has mastered mental techniques. Mind letting me experience it?"
The question hung in the air.
Hyotei froze.
Tsukimitsu’s eyes flashed with fury. "Are you mocking me?!"
Yoru: "???"
What’s his problem?
[System: …]
A notification popped up.
Yoru raised an eyebrow. "You ovulating or something?"
[System: Master, your Mental stat is 9. Tsukimitsu’s is 7. Even with his innate talent, the gap is too wide. What "mental technique" were you expecting to feel?]
"Wait, so…"
"The difference is so big I didn’t even notice?"
[System: At least you’re not hopeless.]
Yoru suddenly felt a phantom stomachache.
That entire match-long oppressive aura?
Tsukimitsu wasn’t charging some ultimate move—he was just struggling to even make a dent.
No wonder he looked ready to murder someone.
In hindsight, Yoru’s question did sound like trolling.
"Let’s wrap this up."
Rubbing his nose awkwardly, Yoru prepared to end the match.
Chapter 79: Borg's Attention; A New Rune!
(Note: The protagonist's talents and backstory involving his mother will be explored, but it won’t dominate the main plot. Also, he won’t return to China for international tournaments—too many original characters would just make things messy.)
"6-0! Game set! Seigaku wins, total score 2-1!"
"Well, that was... unexpectedly rude of me."
Realizing things had gone too far, Yoru ended the match with four consecutive Ultra-High Speed Vertical Serves.
As he stepped off the court, he hesitated to approach Kabaji for the customary handshake.
Kabaji, meanwhile, stood frozen on the court, too stunned to react.
6-0.
A brutal, humiliating scoreline.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been shut out like this.
"...I lost."
Kabaji turned slowly, taking in his teammates’ devastated expressions.
After a long pause, he finally walked off.
Though the overall score was only 2-1, the reality was clear—Hyotei had no chance.
Kirihara Akaya? Only Kabaji could handle him.
And that foreigner, QP? No one in Hyotei stood a chance.
Thankfully, making the Kanto Tournament was already guaranteed by reaching the quarterfinals.
Losing to Seigaku was disappointing, but not the end.
After last year’s Nationals, Kabaji knew Hyotei wasn’t championship material—but under his leadership, they’d at least go further.
Singles 2 began shortly after.
Yoru had originally planned to send QP in for some match practice.
But QP refused.
"Pointless. It’ll dull my competitive edge."
The final score?
6-0.
Total: 3-1.
Seigaku advanced to the finals.
Germany | Tennis Training Center
Knock knock.
The director’s office door swung open.
Emos stepped inside, followed by a hulking, bald man wearing the reserve uniform of Germany’s professional team.
Director Leitner paused mid-signature, his pen freezing as he recognized the visitor.
"I didn’t expect to see you here."
The bald man tilted his head slightly. "You know me?"
"I doubt anyone in German tennis doesn’t." Leitner set down his pen. "Jürgen Borg. Elite Club’s so-called ‘strongest in history.’"
Even Leitner’s own prodigy, QP, was merely labeled a "masterpiece."
But Borg?
Borg redefined victory itself.
"Flattering, but unnecessary." Borg’s voice was calm, belying his intimidating frame. "I’m here for footage of Yoru and QP’s match."
Ever since QP took a three-month leave to Japan, the Elite Club’s head coach had informed Borg—QP had lost.
And not just lost.
He’d been crushed.
Borg knew QP’s capabilities better than anyone.
In the entire Elite Club, only he could suppress QP consistently.
Yet according to the footage, Yoru had dismantled QP effortlessly—using techniques like Zone and Reverse Zone, no less.
Their match at the training center had been playful, almost casual.
Which meant…
They’d already played a serious match before.
Borg had a hunch—Yoru might be the key to perfecting his own tennis.
"Ah. That."
Leitner stood, moving to his computer. "The footage is here, but… it might not be useful."
Borg frowned. "Why?"
"Just watch."
As the video played, Borg sat rigidly, eyes locked on the screen.
Ten minutes later, he understood Leitner’s warning.
The first half was just fundamental tennis—QP, the epitome of balanced perfection, outclassed in every stat.
Something even Borg couldn’t achieve.
The second half?
QP collapsed.
His returns fell apart, his movements sluggish.
Borg had faced mental specialists before, but none could destabilize QP so thoroughly.
"Leitner—"
Borg turned, but the director was buried in paperwork.
Sighing, Borg replayed the footage, frame by frame.
QP’s breakdown felt… familiar.
"Still analyzing?"
Leitner finally approached.
"What happened live?" Borg cut straight to the point.
"Sensory Manipulation."
Four words.
Borg’s mind flashed to the current WTA No. 1—a female pro who’d dominated the circuit with the same ability.
Twelve years. Nine Grand Slams. The most consecutive shutouts in history.
And now…
A second user had appeared.
Borg’s pulse quickened.
Yoru had Zone, Reverse Zone, and now this?
Every fiber of his being burned for a match.
"You want to play him," Leitner observed.
"Yes." Borg’s answer was instant. "But not yet."
"He needs to grow. And so do I."
Japan | Seigaku Team
As Yoru shook hands with Hyotei’s team, a chime echoed in his mind.
[Congratulations! You’ve led Seigaku to victory over Hyotei! Reward: Random Rune ×1!]
[Claim?]
"A drop?"
Yoru blinked.
The rune system had been stingy—outside of initial unlocks and tournament wins, victories rarely rewarded anything.
Yet today?
Jackpot.
"Claim."
[Reward acquired!]
[You’ve obtained: _____ ]
Chapter 80: Swift Strike Rune – Seigaku’s Grand Deception
(Note: Adjusted the earlier setting for Ryoga’s talent—changed from "cannot affect 2-star or above" to "cannot permanently affect 2-star or above." Upon reviewing the plot, even Nanjiroh was briefly impacted by the ability to strip techniques...)
[Congratulations! You have obtained ‘Swift Strike Rune’!]
[Swift Strike Rune]: All club members gain increased swing speed during matches.
Regular members: +5%
Regular players: +10%
Owner (Yoru): +15%
Well, well.
Kirihara was about to get a major buff.
Paired with his Superspeed Series, this rune was practically tailor-made for him.
But before activating it, Yoru needed to lay the groundwork.
The boost wasn’t insignificant—so a little misdirection was in order.
And when it came to deception? Yoru was a master.
Turning to the team, he announced: "After we get back to school, no one leaves. I’m teaching you a little trick—consider it a reward for your hard work in the matches. A method to increase your swing speed."
"Seriously?!"
The club members erupted in excitement. QP, not fully understanding, remained indifferent—but Kirihara’s eyes lit up.
He’d been struggling to enhance his Superspeed Series.
The moment he heard "increase swing speed," he was practically vibrating with anticipation.
As they prepared to leave, a large group approached from the opposite direction.
Leading them was an elderly man, followed by a squad in yellow-green tracksuits.
"Yamabuki, huh."
Yoru’s gaze locked onto a young man near the back.
Dude was wearing pitch-black sunglasses. Can he even see the road?
"So it’s him. Didn’t expect to see him at Yamabuki in middle school."
A quick scan of Yamabuki’s lineup confirmed they were stronger than Hyotei.
Toshinari Doh
Kisshou Tanigakubo
Yoshimasa Banda
Chikahiko Matsudaira (older brother of Hyotei’s Matsudaira Chikao)
And the sunglasses-wearing guy beside the old man?
"Nakagauchi Gedou."
A former U-17 First String member, infamous for landing 300+ consecutive sideline shots in a single match.
Yamabuki’s roster outclassed Hyotei’s.
Tanigakubo and Banda were mediocre (5-star), but still stronger than Kawasaki & Co.
Doh and Matsudaira Chikahiko? Solid 5-star players, upper-tier for their rank.
Nakagauchi? 6-star, though stats-wise, he fell short of Tsukimitsu.
As the two teams crossed paths, the old man—Yamabuki’s coach, Kaneyama Kiyotake—smiled.
"Seigaku, is it?"
Yamabuki halted.
Yoru ignored him, leading Seigaku past without breaking stride. Pointless small talk bored him—especially with a fossil like Kaneyama.
The rest of Seigaku followed, minds already fixated on the promised "swing speed trick."
Only Yamato offered an apologetic nod.
Kaneyama’s smile froze.
"You’ve got some nerve, ignoring Coach like that."
Nakagauchi scowled, grabbing Yoru’s arm—
Snap.
The temperature plummeted.
Nakagauchi’s vision warped.
He was suddenly inside an ice cavern, massive glacial blocks crashing down around him.
"AAGH—!"
His sunglasses fell as he screamed, knees buckling.
Logically, he knew it was an illusion—but his senses screamed otherwise. The cold, the impact, the suffocating pressure—all real.
Trembling violently, Nakagauchi collapsed to the ground.
"Gedou?!" Yamabuki’s team rushed forward.
Kaneyama’s smile vanished. "That was uncalled for. We merely wished to greet you."
Flick.
Yoru brushed his sleeve where Nakagauchi had touched him.
"Know your place. Since when do I owe you a response?"
"Is this how you treat an elder?" Kaneyama’s frown deepened.
He’d known Ryuzaki Sumire and had heard of Seigaku’s new captain.
This level of arrogance, however, was nothing like Seigaku’s usual demeanor.
"If you’re that desperate to die, go ahead—but don’t waste my time playing the age card."
Moral blackmail?
Yoru rolled his eyes and walked off, Seigaku in tow.
Thanks to Nanjiroh’s history, he’d never liked Kaneyama anyway. The old man’s "friendly schemer" act reminded him too much of his former boss.
(Not that Kaneyama was a bad person. Yoru just couldn’t stand the type.)
Once Seigaku was out of earshot, Nakagauchi staggered up, glaring at their retreating figures.
"That bastard… He ambushed me!"
Had he known Yoru had mental techniques, he’d have been prepared.
"We’ll settle this tomorrow. But don’t underestimate them."
Kaneyama patted his shoulder.
Yoru’s precision with psychological warfare was alarming.
Nakagauchi had innate mental resilience—yet he’d still been overwhelmed.
Back at Seigaku.
Yoru gathered the entire club at Court 1.
"Listen up. This ‘trick’ will temporarily boost your swing speed."
He raised his arm.
"Lift your dominant arm like this. See this line under the armpit? Massage it for 10 minutes to relax the muscles."
"Then rise on your toes and drop naturally—this improves blood flow."
"Try swinging after. The effect is immediate."
"Do this daily for 1-2 weeks, and it becomes permanent."
"Follow the steps exactly. One mistake, and it won’t work!"
Deadpan, Yoru spun this complete nonsense with absolute conviction.
(For QP’s benefit, he even repeated it in German.)
In reality?
The "massage technique" was just basic muscle relaxation. The toe-raising? A move from Baduanjin (a traditional exercise).
In short—he’d repackaged common health tips as a "secret method."
Yet everyone practiced earnestly.
Even QP, though skeptical, assumed it was some ancient Daxia pressure-point knowledge.
Murmurs spread:
"Is the captain messing with us…?"
"No way. Everything he’s taught us so far worked!"
"My grandpa studied Daxia medicine. These points don’t connect…"
"You think you know more than the captain? He’s from Daxia!"
"Good point."
Ten minutes later, members began test-swings.
Gasps erupted.
"It—It actually works! My swing is faster!"
"Mine too! I can feel the difference!"
"The captain’s a genius!"
"Hell yeah! With this, maybe I can—"
"Dumbass! What are you thinking?!"
