336-340

Chapter 336: The Return of the Overseas Group  

"Who is that?!"  

The Black Jacket middle schoolers stiffened as their eyes locked onto the golden-haired figure at the court entrance.  

More unnerving than his presence were Oni and Irie’s reactions—especially Irie, whose usual playful smirk had vanished, replaced by uncharacteristic wariness.  

Meanwhile, the "winners" (middle schoolers from the main camp) also noticed the newcomers. Oni, with his fiery red hair and intimidating glare, looked more like a yakuza boss than a high schooler. In fact, he appeared even older than Byōdōin. Some briefly wondered if he was a coach they hadn’t met.  

"Long time no see, Oni."  

Byōdōin’s voice cut through the tension.  

The middle schoolers tensed. In all their time at U-17, they’d never seen Byōdōin greet anyone—not even the coaches—first.  

"Byōdōin."  

Oni gave a curt nod.  

No further words were needed. The history between these two spoke volumes.  

"These your handiwork?"  

Byōdōin’s gaze swept over Sanada, Yanagi, and Shishido before lingering on Echizen and Kintarō. "Not bad."  

The Black Jackets radiated sharpened potential. With Oni’s brutal training, a month was enough to forge them into entirely new players.  

"Planning to throw them into the shuffle matches?" he added, smirking.  

Whoosh.  

The air grew heavier.  

Echizen and Kintarō—who’d witnessed Byōdōin’s power firsthand—held their breaths. To them, he was Oni’s equal, if not stronger. Echizen suspected he ranked high in the elusive Elite 10.  

"Aren’t you doing the same?"  

Oni’s eyes flicked to Tezuka, Atobe, Yukimura, and Akaya. His instincts screamed that these were anything but ordinary.  

"Suppressing their growth just to weaponize them for the shuffle matches… I never took you for the second ‘Gatekeeper’ type." A rare smirk tugged at Oni’s lips.  

"Boredom breeds strange choices." Byōdōin shrugged. "Besides, I wanted to see what my rival’s been up to all this time."  

His gaze sharpened, oppressive spiritual pressure rolling off him in waves.  

Rivals?!  

The middle schoolers exchanged glances.  

"You want a rematch with me?" Oni shook his head. "Shouldn’t your focus be on him? Even you can’t stay calm after that loss."  

"B-Byōdōin lost?!"  

Kaidō’s jaw dropped.  

Tezuka, Atobe, and the others froze.  

They knew Byōdōin’s strength firsthand—even wildcards like Akaya obeyed him without protest. For someone to defeat him…  

"So it’s true," Shiraishi and Chitose murmured.  

This camp hid monsters beyond their imagination.  

"Duke wasn’t joking," Atobe realized, recalling the Frenchman’s offhand remark about Byōdōin’s "recovery."  

"Just how strong is the one who injured him?!"  

"You’re right." Byōdōin’s voice was eerily calm. "A loss like that… no one walks away unscathed. You’ve been training for revenge too, haven’t you?"  

"W-Wait, Oni lost too?!"  

Hyōge, Momoshiro, and the others paled.  

Shishido’s hands trembled. He’d challenged Oni at Heart’s Peak—only to be crushed by a single Cross Shot. If even Oni had been defeated…  

And by the sound of it, both had fallen to the same person.  

"Who is this guy?!"  

Tezuka and Yukimura’s curiosity burned.  

Every time they thought they’d grasped U-17’s hierarchy, another layer revealed itself. First Byōdōin and Oni—now someone above them?  

"Enough talk."  

Byōdōin turned away. "Court 5—prepare. We’re having guests soon."  

Guests?  

"The Elite 10…" Inui and Yanagi’s eyes widened. "They’re returning?"  

"Correct." Irie nodded. "Within two days. The shuffle matches will begin. Be ready."  

With that, he and Oni left.  

Officially, they were Court 2 players. Unofficially? Their strength rendered court numbers meaningless. They’d join the shuffle matches when they pleased.  

Silence fell as the middle schoolers processed this. Some wavered; others buzzed with excitement.  

But one thought united them—  

They’d finally meet the strongest players in the camp.  

Meanwhile: Macau Hotel 

A last-minute friendly match delayed the Elite 10’s return by a day.  

That evening, as dusk painted the sky, Ishikawa led the overseas group to the airport.  

"That guy…"  

Mōri and the others eyed their newest "member"—a lanky figure in a black hoodie, idly tossing an orange. "The captain called it."  

"To think he convinced Coach Inui…" Mitsuya adjusted his glasses. "As expected of someone Ishikawa warned us about."  

The night before their departure, Coach Mikudō had called—Macau’s team requested an extra match. And their "representative"?  

Ryōma Echizen.  

Well, Ryōga Echizen—his older brother, Ryōma Echizen.  

Assigned to Singles 2, Ryōga had won effortlessly. Yet something felt… off. Whether holding back or simply disinterested, he’d given nothing away.  

Now, as the team boarded the plane, Ryōga sat alone. Even the usually chaotic Hirakoba and Tetsuya kept their distance.  

Unfazed, he slept through the flight.  

2:00 AM – Narita Airport 

After a brief stay at a Tokyo hotel, the group boarded a bus back to U-17 at dawn.  

"Finally…" Jirō yawned. "Do we get a welcome party?"  

"Oh, there’ll be a ‘welcome,’" Mōri chuckled darkly.  

8:00 AM – U-17 Central Courts 

Middle schoolers crowded around the notice board.  

"What’s everyone—?!" Kikumaru pushed forward, then gasped. "Byōdōin and Oni are listed for the shuffle matches?!"  

The names Tezuka, Yukimura, Atobe, Akaya, Echizen, and Kintarō were also there—replacing original participants like Udon and Kishimoto.  

"Only six middle schoolers?" Kikumaru wilted. He’d trained relentlessly to fix his stamina… for nothing?  

"Look around," Inui said quietly. "Many are missing."  

Kikumaru spun. "Oishi! Inui! Where’s everyone—?"  

"Opportunities aren’t handed out," Sanada said behind Echizen. "Some chose to take theirs early."  

"The Elite 10 aren’t equals," Atobe declared, stepping forward with Tezuka, Yukimura, and Akaya. "We’re only interested in the real challenges."  

"Bold words."  

Byōdōin’s voice silenced them.  

Dressed formally for once—even wearing his shoes properly—he radiated a new intensity.  

Oni, Irie, Kirihara (Court 3’s leader), and Tōjō (Court 1’s "No.2") arrived next.  

Then—  

"So… they’re back."  

A chilling voice slithered through the crowd.  

Middle schoolers turned to see a pale, purple-haired figure with a No.8 badge glinting at his collar.  

Another Elite 10 member?!  

"Just how many monsters are hiding here?!"  

Chapter 337: Fierce Battle – The Terrifying Power of [Four Gods Martial Arts: Azure Dragon]  

At the same time, across the various courts of the U-17 training camp, intense clashes had already begun.  

Boom!  

A thunderous impact echoed through one of the courts as Suzuki stumbled backward, barely catching himself before collapsing to his knees.  

"Your Synchronization..."  

Mikage Kazuya, the forward player, frowned at the twin brothers across the net. Just seven minutes into the match, and they were already being completely overwhelmed.  

Had the overseas expedition group really grown this strong?  

"Even with Synchronization, the stronger individual will always have the advantage," said Ryouma Vōtsu, tilting his chin up with cold arrogance.  

"Oh? Is that so?"  

A lazy voice cut in.  

Two figures stood up from the nearby steps—one a handsome silver-blue-haired boy who smirked as he spoke, the other an egg-headed youth stepping forward with quiet determination.  

"Hmm?"  

The Vōtsu brothers raised their eyebrows in surprise. But when they noticed the black jackets their opponents wore, they exchanged glances.  

"Black jackets... So they’ve returned from that place?"  

A slow grin spread across their faces.  

They’d heard the legends—how U-17’s former No. 1, Byoudouin, had gained power beyond imagination after training there.  

Now, they’d see if the rumors were true.  

Meanwhile, on another court...  

Toshio and Nakagauchi had just fallen to Date and Ban’s overwhelming strength. Now, Kabaji and Kawamura stepped onto the court, facing off against the two high schoolers.  

The burly duo ignored their injured teammates, immediately launching into a fierce exchange.  

Boom!  

Kawamura opened with his signature Hadoukyuu (Wave Strike), but Ban effortlessly returned it.  

"That... was returned so easily?" Kawamura froze in shock.  

But Kabaji was already moving, intercepting the next shot with brute force. Seeing this, Kawamura steadied himself, and the two worked together to withstand the high schoolers’ relentless power attacks.  

Not far away...  

Shiraishi Kuranosuke of Shitenhouji, paired with Hyoutei’s Hiyoshi, faced off against the legendary former Shitenhouji captain, Hirakoba Ryou, and the current No. 19, Taniguchi Munehiro.  

"Captain Hirakoba?" Kuranosuke blinked in surprise.  

"Oh?" Taniguchi raised an eyebrow. "Ryou, is this kid from your old school?"  

"Not exactly," Hirakoba replied. "Kuranosuke here is still a third-year in middle school."  

"What?!" Taniguchi’s expression darkened. "You’re joking. A middle schooler in this place? That’s absurd!"  

"Absurd or not, we’ll see soon enough."  

A mocking voice chimed in.  

Hirakoba and Taniguchi turned to see Hiyoshi, his fingers wrapped in bandages, standing with the confidence of a seasoned fighter.  

"Well, well," Taniguchi smirked. "Not only are middle schoolers here, but they’re even wearing those black jackets."  

"Black jackets?" Hirakoba’s eyes sharpened as he finally noticed the emblem on Kuranosuke’s uniform.  

"Kuranosuke," he said, voice low. "Let’s see how much you’ve improved these past two years."  

The match erupted instantly.  

Both sides were agile, skilled fighters, trading rapid-fire attacks. But as members of the top-ranked U-17 team, Hirakoba and Taniguchi held the upper hand. Within minutes, the pressure on Kuranosuke and Hiyoshi was mounting.  

"Fine, then."  

Kuranosuke suddenly accelerated, easing the strain on their defense.  

"Nice move, Kuranosuke-senpai!" Hiyoshi praised before shifting into a martial arts stance. "I won’t fall behind either."  

Boom!  

His next strike carried the force of ancient combat techniques.  

"Oh?" Hirakoba barely had time to react before lunging forward.  

With a sharp exhale, he swung—  

"Bullet Shot!"  

The ball rocketed back like a cannon blast.  

"That shot—?!" Kuranosuke’s eyes widened.  

But Hiyoshi, fearless, dashed forward to intercept.  

"Wait—!" Kuranosuke’s warning came too late.  

The moment Hiyoshi’s racket met the ball, the strings melted as if struck by molten steel.  

"Hah... So this is the strength of the top-ranked players?" Hiyoshi muttered.  

"See the difference now? This is the gap between— Huh?"  

Taniguchi paused mid-sentence, sensing something shift. His gaze locked onto Hiyoshi, now enveloped in a faint crimson aura.  

"This kid... was holding back?" Hirakoba’s eyes narrowed.  

Hummm...  

Then, Kuranosuke’s own aura flared—a shimmering blue energy.  

"Captain Hirakoba," he said firmly, "watch closely. This is how much I’ve grown."  

No—not just over two years.  

The real transformation had happened in the last two months.  

After losing to Hyoutei’s Mukahi and Oshitari pair, Kuranosuke had trained relentlessly. And after climbing the mountain, under Oni’s brutal guidance, his skills had skyrocketed.  

Boom!  

Hiyoshi served—a near-supersonic strike, mimicking Ishikawa’s technique. Though the high schoolers returned it easily...  

"Too slow!"  

Kuranosuke blurred across the court, appearing in the ball’s path before Taniguchi could react.  

Boom!  

A clean winner.  

"Yes!" Kuranosuke clenched his fist, his aura flaring brighter.  

"Kuranosuke..." Hirakoba’s chest tightened.  

This boy—once a rookie chasing after him, fooled by his pranks—had grown this much?  

"Taniguchi," Hirakoba said grimly. "We need to lift our restrictions. Otherwise... we might actually lose."  

"...Understood."  

Taniguchi nodded. Though older, his rank was below Hirakoba’s. Even one-on-one, he couldn’t counter the Bullet Shot.  

And he agreed—these two were dangerous.  

Hummm!  

Their auras surged, their full power unleashed.  

Yet Kuranosuke’s speed was insane.  

Their teamwork wasn’t seamless, and Kuranosuke exploited every gap, slipping between them to score.  

"Is this kid really a middle schooler?!" Taniguchi gasped.  

Even among high schoolers, only Kajimoto could match this speed.  

"We have to take out the other one first," Hirakoba decided.  

"Right."  

They adjusted tactics, targeting Hiyoshi.  

Though their shots weakened, they stabilized the match—until Taniguchi feinted a drop shot.  

Kuranosuke rushed in, returning it—only to fall for the bait.  

"Bullet Shot!"  

Hirakoba’s full-powered strike tore through the air.  

Kuranosuke froze. He’d been controlling Hirakoba’s positioning to prevent this very shot—but now, their strategy had backfired.  

He hesitated, not wanting his racket destroyed.  

But then—  

Thud! Thud! Thud!  

Hiyoshi charged forward.  

"Hiyoshi?! Don’t—!"  

Ignoring him, Hiyoshi gritted his teeth.  

"I will return this ball!"  

Boom!  

His racket connected—and held.  

"What?!"  

Taniguchi and Hirakoba stared in disbelief.  

The ball strained against the strings, but Hiyoshi’s grip never faltered. His eyes burned with resolve as Ishikawa’s techniques flashed through his mind.  

"Vice Captain... this is my tennis!"  

Whoosh!  

With a furious swing, he unleashed the ball—a streak of azure light, accompanied by a phantom dragon’s roar.  

"Damn!"  

Hirakoba lunged, racket raised—  

Snap!  

The ball pierced straight through.  

"Wha—?!" Taniguchi’s jaw dropped.  

Kuranosuke’s breath hitched.  

"...Four Gods Martial Arts: Azure Dragon?!"  

He recognized it—the signature move of Hyoutei’s vice captain, the strongest middle schooler, Ishikawa.  

He turned, staring at his exhausted partner.  

"Hiyoshi... you even mastered this?"  

"Match over."  

Hirakoba lowered his broken racket.  

"We concede."  

"Con... cede?" Kuranosuke blinked. "Captain, why—?"  

"What else can we do?" Hirakoba shrugged. "I only brought one racket. Can’t play without it."  

"Ryou..." Taniguchi sighed, then chuckled.  

They had lost.  

Taniguchi’s strategies couldn’t contain Kuranosuke’s speed, and Hirakoba’s ultimate technique had been shattered by a middle schooler.  

Even if they could still win, being pushed this far by players years younger meant defeat in spirit.  

"Here."  

They tossed their badges—No. 18 and No. 19—to the victors.  

"It’s... over?" Hiyoshi stared at the golden emblem in his hand.  

"Captain..." Kuranosuke watched their retreating figures, heart pounding.  

Two months of training... and I’ve caught up to him.  

He took a deep breath, resolve hardening.  

"I won’t let you down, Captain."  

Meanwhile...  

"Hey, Ryou," Taniguchi muttered as they walked away. "Was that really okay?"  

"What’s the problem?" Hirakoba snorted. "They’d have taken those badges next year anyway."  

"That’s not what I meant." Taniguchi grimaced. "I mean... did we just dodge tomorrow’s shuffle matches?"  

"..."  

Hirakoba stiffened.  

Then, adjusting his cap, he muttered, "The badges are theirs now. The rest... isn’t our problem."  

But beneath the nonchalance, his fingers trembled.  

That ball... broke my wrist.  

He’d underestimated it—a middle schooler’s strike, carrying that much force.  

And as Taniguchi had sensed...  

Something big was coming.  

The storm of shuffle matches would be brutal.  

Chapter 338: The Second String’s Counterattack – The Middle Schoolers’ Strength  

"I never expected that middle schooler, Hiyoshi, to be this strong."  

Inside the monitoring room on the second floor, Saitou couldn’t help but marvel as he watched the confrontation between the Second String and the First String through the training camp’s surveillance cameras.  

"Hmm."  

Kurobe tapped the desk lightly and nodded. "It makes sense—he’s from Hyotei, after all."  

Hyotei.  

The name alone made Saitou and Takuzou straighten up.  

In the U-17, there were no such things as factions. The players here were all elites handpicked from across the country. It was rare to find even three players from the same prefecture, let alone the same school.  

But now, things were different.  

The arrival of the middle schoolers had shattered that long-standing norm—and Hyotei stood out the most.  

There was no helping it. After all, the middle schoolers from that school now occupied the highest positions in the U-17.  

"Look."  

Kurobe, resting his chin on his hand, suddenly grinned as if he’d noticed something interesting. "Those two… they used to be from the same school, didn’t they?"  

"Huh?"  

Saitou and Takuzou turned their attention to the screen.  

On the court, a young man with flaxen hair and glasses walked in with an air of calm confidence.  

A gentle breeze swept across the court.  

The cool wind made the bespectacled boy smile. "How nostalgic. The first time we met, it was just like this, wasn’t it… Yanagi?"  

As he spoke, he lifted his gaze toward the mushroom-haired boy who had appeared at the edge of the court without warning.  

It was Yanagi Renji—one of the "Big Three" of Rikkai Dai.  

The previous evening, Yanagi had visited Oni and Inui’s room to gather intel on the First String. When he learned that the First String’s strategist—the No. 17 player—was none other than his former senior, he made up his mind.  

He would challenge him.  

"Akkuto-senpai."  

Yanagi opened his eyes, his gaze burning with fighting spirit. "As the First String’s strategist, your Data Tennis must have reached an even higher level by now, right?"  

"Oh?"  

Mitsuya raised an eyebrow in surprise. He hadn’t expected Yanagi to know his rank and position within the U-17.  

"As expected of you, Renji."  

Mitsuya chuckled. "Then let me see just how much your Data Tennis has improved."  

Meanwhile, on another court…  

A figure darted across the court at blinding speed—rivaling even Shitenhouji’s Marui Bunta.  

"Not bad, kid."  

A high schooler with ash-brown hair and a scar across his forehead smirked. "But for a high schooler, this is nothing."  

"Tch."  

On the other side of the net, a boy with wine-red hair and a fringe covering one eye scoffed. Accelerating further, he closed in on the ball and swung his racket with a sharp snap.  

BANG!  

The ball shot forward like an arrow.  

"Try this—Sonic Bullet!"  

The boy—Kamio Akira from Fudomine—gritted his teeth.  

This was his ultimate technique. By harnessing the momentum from his high-speed dash, he could unleash a strike with 1.5 times his usual power.  

After his training at the mountain camp, this shot had reached national-level speed.  

THUD!  

Yet, before Kamio could even finish speaking, his signature move was effortlessly returned.  

"Sonic Bullet? More like a slowpoke’s serve."  

Hakamada Izou, the pierced-ear delinquent-looking high schooler, smirked. "Is this all you’ve got, kid?"  

"Damn it!"  

Kamio’s expression darkened.  

That morning, he and Hiyoshi had set out to intercept the First String players. He’d assumed his opponents wouldn’t be that strong.  

But this delinquent in front of him?  

He was on a completely different level.  

"Fine."  

Taking a deep breath, Kamio’s aura shifted.  

A dark red energy began to swirl around him.  

A dangerous, beast-like pressure radiated from his body, making Hakamada raise an eyebrow in surprise.  

"Oh?"  

He hadn’t expected the kid to have another card up his sleeve.  

Kamio’s current state was undoubtedly powerful.  

Ever since his humiliating defeat against Ishikawa at the street courts before the middle school tournament, he and Ibu Shinji had trained relentlessly.  

Six months had passed.  

And now, Kamio was a completely different player.  

His "Wild Beast" aura had become tangible.  

WHOOSH!  

With a burst of speed, Kamio’s afterimages multiplied. His movements were so fast that even Hakamada felt a flicker of pressure.  

"Super… Sonic Bullet!!!"  

Kamio swung with all his might.  

The ball tore through the air like a storm, kicking up a whirlwind of dust in its wake.  

"This one… has to work!"  

Kamio narrowed his eyes, watching the ball’s trajectory with sharp focus.  

BOOM!  

But in the next instant—  

Hakamada’s figure blurred.  

A shadowy afterimage flickered through the dust before vanishing entirely.  

BAM!  

The ball reappeared out of nowhere—  

And sent Kamio flying.  

"Kid."  

Hakamada turned his back as Kamio crashed to the ground. "Be proud. You actually forced me to get serious."  

THUD.  

But instead of hitting the ground, Kamio was caught midair by a pair of strong arms.  

"T-Tachibana… senpai?"  

Bleary-eyed, Kamio looked up at the familiar face and winced in shame. "I’m… sorry. I let you down…"  

"No."  

Tachibana shook his head. "You did well. Leave the rest to me."  

Kamio gave a weak nod before passing out.  

"Oh?"  

Hakamada glanced up. "You’re his friend, huh? Take him and get out of here. This level of competition isn’t for—"  

His words died in his throat.  

Because the moment Tachibana set Kamio down, a dark red aura erupted around him—far denser and more violent than Kamio’s.  

Even Hakamada, known for his ruthless playstyle, felt a chill run down his spine.  

BAM! BAM! BAM!  

The match between Tachibana and Hakamada reached a fever pitch.  

Both were giving it their all—speed, power, explosiveness—pushed to the absolute limit.  

With every strike, Hakamada’s wariness grew.  

"This guy…"  

His eyes widened. "Since when were middle schoolers this strong?!"  

Despite going all out, he couldn’t suppress Tachibana. In fact, it felt like his opponent was evolving mid-match.  

BAM!  

Hakamada’s return shot spun wildly upon landing, kicking up a dust cloud before vanishing.  

"Got you!"  

Tachibana’s senses sharpened. He focused on the subtlest disturbance in the air—  

And found the ball.  

In that instant, every ounce of his strength concentrated into a single, devastating swing.  

Memories flashed through his mind—  

His crushing defeat against Ishikawa.  

The endless training.  

The frustration of being left behind.  

All of it fueled this one strike.  

"This is my answer!"  

BOOM!  

The ball shattered the dust cloud—  

And then, it split into countless afterimages.  

WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!  

A storm of phantom shots rained down on Hakamada’s side.  

"Afterimage shots?!"  

Hakamada’s pupils contracted.  

The sheer number reminded him of Byoudouin’s "Indian Snake Charmer."  

"But tennis balls don’t multiply—!"  

He focused, trying to pinpoint the real ball—  

Only for every single afterimage to vanish at once.  

"What?!"  

Hakamada froze.  

"They… disappeared?!"  

Before he could react, the ball reappeared—  

And landed just outside the baseline.  

"You…"  

Hakamada stared at Tachibana, his expression grim. He hadn’t expected to be outplayed by a middle schooler.  

After a tense silence, he finally spoke.  

"Your name?"  

"Tachibana Kippei."  

Though exhausted, Tachibana’s spirit burned brighter than ever.  

His battle with Ishikawa had taught him one thing—  

A truly strong player controls their emotions.  

And he wasn’t arrogant enough to assume he’d already won.  

"Tachibana, huh?"  

Hakamada nodded. Then, to Tachibana’s surprise, he tossed his badge over.  

"I don’t need this anymore. It’s yours."  

With that, he turned and walked away.  

"Wha—?"  

Tachibana was stunned.  

He hadn’t expected a proud high schooler to concede like this.  

But this wasn’t surrender.  

Hakamada wasn’t a coward—his aggressive playstyle proved that much.  

"This… is fine."  

From a distance, Hakamada smirked.  

He hadn’t lost. If they’d kept going, the outcome was still uncertain.  

But he’d acknowledged Tachibana’s strength.  

As a First String member, he knew the new World Cup rules required at least three middle schoolers per match.  

That meant one-third of the team would have to be replaced.  

For lower-ranked players like him—who rarely got to play anyway—it was better to pass the torch to those who deserved it.  

And Tachibana had earned his respect.  

"But."  

Hakamada glanced back at Tachibana, who was now carrying Kamio. "That badge is only yours for now. Whether you can keep it… depends on you."  

Like Hirakoba, Hakamada sensed the coming storm—the reshuffling matches that would shake the U-17 to its core.  

And these middle schoolers?  

They were at the eye of the hurricane.  

One misstep, and they’d be crushed.  

BAM! BAM! BAM!  

On another court, Oishi and "Kikumaru" (actually Yuushi in disguise) battled the Ohtori brothers.  

But even with Synchro, they were outmatched.  

Finally, Yuushi dropped the illusion and frowned.  

"I told you."  

Ohtori Yuuho’s voice was cold. "When both sides use Synchro, the stronger pair wins."  

"You stand no chance."  

Ohtori Yuuma’s gaze was unwavering.  

"Tch."  

Oishi clenched his teeth.  

But Yuushi suddenly smirked. "Oh? I wouldn’t be so sure…"  

"Hmph."  

Yuuho’s eyes narrowed. "Still stubborn?"  

"Then we’ll make you understand."  

Yuuma’s tone was firm.  

They unleashed their full Synchro power—Stage 2—enough to dominate even high schoolers, let alone middle schoolers.  

But just as they moved in for the final strike—  

Their Synchro flickered.  

The rhythm of the match shifted.  

"What?!"  

Yuuho’s eyes widened. He stared at Yuushi, who had now transformed into their triplet brother.  

"He… Synchro’d with us?!"  

By synchronizing with the Ohtori brothers, Yuushi had relayed their deepest weaknesses to Oishi.  

BAM!  

A perfect lob shot landed squarely on the baseline.  

The Ohtori brothers were speechless.  

Even the coaches watching from the monitors were stunned.  

"The Trickster of the Court…"  

Kurobe’s voice was low. "Truly, a player with limitless potential."  

Chapter 339: The Battle Continues – The True Worth of Hyoutei's Regulars  

Across the U-17 training camp, fierce clashes erupted between the middle schoolers of the second string and the elite first-string high schoolers.  

While some of the second-string players were overwhelmed, others staged stunning upsets. The gap between middle and high schoolers still existed—but it was now visible, tangible.  

"Tch."  

On one of the courts, golden maple leaves drifted lazily to the ground.  

A high schooler in a baseball cap scowled at the figure standing across the net.  

"Where the hell are Udon and Toshio? Sending a middle schooler to greet us?"  

His sharp eyes raked over his opponent—a boy in a black jacket, a blue-gray cap pulled low over his face.  

"So this is the famed first string?"  

Shishido Ryou smirked.  

"Honestly… unimpressive."  

"Arrogant brat!"  

Akutsu Jin, the hot-tempered high schooler, glared back.  

"I don’t know how you ended up here, but if you’re stepping onto this court, you’d better be ready for the consequences."  

He locked eyes with Shishido, voice dripping with challenge.  

"You got the guts for that?"  

"Guts?"  

Shishido’s smirk widened.  

"Funny. The one thing I do have is plenty of nerve."  

He’d been waiting for this moment—the chance to face the first string head-on.  

Skill-wise, Shishido had long since crossed into the national level. His "loss" in the elimination tournament a month ago? A deliberate move to let Ootori advance instead.  

But on the mental training cliffs, against Oni’s overwhelming power, he’d tasted the brutal gap between middle and high schoolers.  

So for the past month, he’d pushed himself to the limit—training relentlessly, all for this moment.  

The match began.  

Akutsu, as the first-string player, gestured for Shishido to serve first.  

Boom!  

A bullet-like serve streaked over the net.  

"Not bad speed." Akutsu nodded. "But still just middle-school level."  

With a casual flick, he returned it.  

But Shishido was already moving—a lightning-fast half-volley before the ball even touched the ground.  

Boom!  

The shot rocketed to Akutsu’s backhand.  

"What—?!"  

Akutsu barely reacted in time. But the moment he returned it, Shishido struck again—another half-volley, this time to the opposite corner.  

Boom! Boom! Boom!  

Shishido’s rhythm was relentless, seamless.  

Caught off guard, Akutsu scrambled, barely keeping up.  

"15–0."  

Shishido’s voice was laced with quiet mockery.  

"Tell me, senpai… is this all the first string has?"  

"You little—!"  

Akutsu’s temper flared, even as he forced himself to stay calm.  

A middle schooler… looking down on me?!  

He exhaled sharply. Fine. If this kid wanted a lesson, he’d give him one.  

The next serve came.  

Akutsu lunged forward, mimicking Shishido’s own style—a sharp half-volley return.  

But Shishido was faster.  

A super jump—hitting the ball mid-air before it even bounced.  

"What?!" Akutsu’s eyes widened.  

The rallies intensified. Despite Akutsu’s experience, Shishido’s speed and precision kept him on the back foot.  

Ten minutes in, the score stood at 3–1—Shishido leading.  

"Enough."  

Akutsu’s aura shifted, his gaze turning razor-sharp.  

"Time to show you what the first string really is."  

His restraint lifted—60% power limit released.  

Speed, strength, technique—all surged.  

Monitoring Room.  

"Akutsu’s getting serious?" Takuzou raised an eyebrow.  

"Aside from Tachibana, another middle schooler’s pushing him this far?"  

"Wrong."  

Saitou shook his head.  

**"It’s not the middle schooler forcing Akutsu’s hand. It’s the other way around—Akutsu’s the one unleashing Shishido’s true strength."**  

Kurobe nodded.  

"Shishido Ryou. Third-year regular at Hyoutei Academy."  

Hyoutei.  

That name made Takuzou pause.  

Before, "regular" status meant little to him. But now?  

Hiyoshi—who’d shattered Hirakoba’s racket—wasn’t even a starter at Hyoutei.  

That alone spoke volumes about the "Hyoutei regular" title’s worth.  

On the court, Akutsu’s onslaught intensified.  

Using his experience and unleashed power, he clawed back points, tying the score.  

"Hmph."  

Catching his breath, Akutsu shot Shishido a cold smile.  

"Told you. Challenge me, and you’ll fall straight into the abyss."  

"Senpai… you’ve got it backwards."  

Shishido tilted his head, eyes gleaming.  

"I’m just disappointed. If this is all the first string has… well, that’s just sad."  

"You—!"  

Akutsu’s temper spiked—until a deep blue aura erupted around Shishido.  

Compared to the national tournament, his "Limit Break" had evolved—denser, fiercer.  

"Let’s see if you can handle this month’s training results."  

Akutsu’s smirk vanished.  

No more underestimating. He dropped into a defensive stance—ready for war.  

Boom!  

Shishido’s next serve was a blur.  

Akutsu barely blocked it—but the follow-up shot blew past him.  

Ten minutes later, Shishido’s final smash sealed the match.  

"Game. 6–3."  

Calm. Matter-of-fact.  

Shishido turned away without even claiming Akutsu’s badge—leaving the high schooler frozen in shock.  

"This… this is a middle schooler’s strength?!"  

A 6–3 loss—to a kid.  

Unthinkable.  

Monitoring Room.  

"They’ve gotten this strong under the Head Coach’s training?" Takuzou muttered.  

If the earlier wins had hints of luck, this was pure domination.  

"That’s only part of it."  

Saitou crossed his arms.  

"Even before the camp, Shishido was a top-tier middle schooler. But under his influence, Hyoutei’s players grew at a monstrous rate."  

Hyoutei.  

Takuzou exhaled.  

If he’d trained under that monster’s shadow, he’d have pushed himself to the brink too.  

"Look at Court 23."  

Kurobe’s voice cut in.  

"Another Hyoutei regular’s match… just started."  

Their screens switched to a bespectacled boy with navy-blue hair—Oshitari Yuushi.  

And opposite him?  

A dark-skinned high schooler, his hair tied back in thick dreadlocks.  

"No. 11… Fuwa Kanata?!"  

Court 23.  

"Heh."  

Fuwa Kanata—1st String’s No. 11—smirked.  

"To think I’d be ‘welcomed’ by a middle schooler. How far I’ve fallen."  

"No. 11, huh?"  

Oshitari adjusted his glasses, smiling.  

"Guess I lucked out."  

Inui had said these pre-shuffle matches were just appetizers—featuring players ranked 11th to 20th.  

And No. 11?  

The strongest of the bunch.  

"Let me introduce—"  

"Skip it."  

Fuwa waved him off.  

"No interest in small fry. Let’s just get this over with."  

"Sure."  

Unfazed, Oshitari stepped onto the court.  

Fuwa’s eyes narrowed.  

Most people would bristle at that dismissal—anger, nerves, something.  

But this kid?  

Totally unbothered.  

Either he was confident… or hiding fear too well.  

"Well, well."  

Fuwa grinned as Oshitari took his position.  

"Let’s see what you’ve got."  

Boom!  

Oshitari’s serve was deceptively light—fast, almost soundless.  

"Hoh?"  

Fuwa returned it—then felt the fierce spin hidden beneath.  

"Clever. That spin would wreck most players."  

But Fuwa was no amateur. With a sharp twist, he redirected the ball to Oshitari’s backhand—a near-certain winner.  

Yet Oshitari was already there, effortlessly neutralizing the spin.  

And aiming straight for Fuwa’s own backhand.  

"You little—!"  

A blatant challenge.  

Fuwa retaliated, upping the power—but Oshitari matched him, stroke for stroke.  

Boom! Boom! Boom!  

Minutes in, Fuwa’s smirk faded.  

This kid wasn’t just holding his own—he looked comfortable.  

"Hmph!"  

Fuwa intensified his shots—heavier spin, sharper angles.  

Finally, Oshitari faltered, forced into a weak lob.  

"This is your limit?"  

Fuwa leapt, smashing downward—  

Only for Oshitari to spin around, arms spread like wings.  

Boom!  

The ball arced high—landing dead on the service line.  

"…You baited me?!"  

Fuwa’s expression darkened.  

For the first time, No. 11 looked genuinely serious.  

Chapter 340: The Higher Realm of Data Tennis – The Top 10’s Power and the Enigmatic Leader  

BAM! BAM! BAM!  

On one of the courts, two pairs of doubles players engaged in a fierce rally.  

The explosive sound of their shots reverberated through the air, each strike carrying terrifying weight. This was a pure battle of raw power—a slugfest that thrilled every spectator.  

"These two…"  

Outside the court, Tonuma and Nakagauchi watched in shock.  

They had stayed behind to witness this intense match. Initially, they assumed the two middle schoolers would be easily crushed by Date Danji and Ban Rikiya.  

But reality proved otherwise.  

Not only had the duo withstood the initial onslaught—they were holding their own.  

"Rikiya."  

After gauging their opponents’ strength, Date Danji—the scarred, gray-haired high schooler—spoke in a low voice. "Let’s give them a proper send-off."  

"Yeah."  

Ban Rikiya grunted in agreement.  

The next moment, an overwhelming pressure erupted from the two high schoolers.  

Clearly, they hadn’t been serious until now.  

"Tch."  

Kawamura and Kabaji’s expressions darkened.  

Aside from Ishida Gin, these two were the strongest power players among the middle schoolers. Yet even they had struggled earlier.  

Now, the sheer force bearing down on them was suffocating.  

"Their raw strength isn’t weak."  

Nakagauchi, despite his intimidating appearance, was actually a technical player. "In a direct clash, they wouldn’t lose so badly. The real issue is their technique."  

"Right."  

Tonuma nodded. "Date and Ban both have Technique ratings of 5. These middle schoolers’ skills aren’t even at the passing level."  

According to Kurobe’s five-dimensional scoring system:  

• 3 points = Passing  

• 4 points = Good  

• 5 points = Elite 

An average of 5 across all stats would total 25 points—easily placing them in the Top 10 of the U-17.  

But most players, like these four, were specialists. That’s why overall stats mattered.  

For Kawamura and Kabaji, lacking technique while already outmatched in power?  

This match was as good as lost.  

BAM! BAM! BAM!  

Sure enough, every return from the middle schoolers came with gritted teeth and strained muscles.  

"Is this all you’ve got?"  

Date smirked, taunting them. "Pathetic."  

"Grr—!"  

Hot-blooded Kawamura took the bait. Summoning every ounce of strength, he unleashed his ultimate move—  

"Explosive Hadoukyuu!!"  

"Nice!"  

Date’s eyes lit up. He stepped forward and swung with devastating force.  

"Otoko no Haru (A Man’s Spring)!"  

BOOM!  

Kawamura was sent flying, crashing into the chain-link fence with a metallic clang.  

"T-This power…!"  

Blood trickled down his forehead as he struggled to peel himself off the fence. Yet despite his injuries, he staggered back onto the court.  

"Hoh?"  

Ban raised an eyebrow. "He can still move after taking Otoko no Haru head-on?"  

"Hmm."  

Date studied the brown-haired boy with newfound respect.  

Technically, Kawamura was lacking. But his mental resilience was undeniable.  

And Date’s way of showing respect?  

Hitting them harder.  

"..."  

Kabaji, ever the silent giant, clenched his racket. Words failed him, but his gaze sharpened like a blade.  

BAM!  

The high schoolers served again.  

Kawamura barely managed a return before stumbling back. Kabaji swiftly moved to cover him.  

"Bonds of friendship, huh?"  

Date chuckled. "Let’s see how far that loyalty takes you!"  

With a fierce swing, he unleashed—  

"Otoko no Haru!"  

BOOM!  

A beam of light, crackling with purple electricity, shot toward Kabaji—a strike rivaling Ishida’s 80th Style Hadoukyuu.  

Date wasn’t the type to exploit weaknesses.  

"HAAAH!"  

Kabaji didn’t flinch. He swung with all his might—  

CRACK!  

—and returned the shot.  

"Wha—?!"  

Tonuma and Nakagauchi’s jaws dropped.  

Even Ban’s eyes widened. "He just… returned Otoko no Haru?!"  

"That’s…"  

Date stared in disbelief. "My own technique?!"  

The ball landed with a thunderous impact, cracking the court’s surface.  

"This kid…"  

Ban muttered, "Is he really a middle schooler?"  

At their age, neither he nor Date had been anywhere near this level.  

"Rikiya."  

After a pause, Date suddenly grinned. "Let’s give them our badges."  

"Huh?!"  

Ban stiffened.  

"I want to see if they can reach that realm."  

That realm.  

The words sent a chill down Ban’s spine.  

It was a domain they’d pursued for three years—one only Oni and Duke had achieved in Japan. Even globally, few high schoolers ever touched it.  

Yet in these two boys…  

Date saw potential.  

FLICK!  

Without hesitation, they tossed their badges to Kabaji and Kawamura before walking off.  

"Those two…"  

Tonuma sighed, shooting a resentful glance at their retreating figures before eyeing the middle schoolers enviously.  

"They earned it."  

Nakagauchi shrugged. "Even among the Top 5 court high schoolers, barely anyone can handle Date’s Otoko no Haru."  

"Yeah."  

Tonuma nodded heavily.  

He understood why Date and Ban had conceded.  

Compared to fading stars like them, these two were the rising sun.  

And if Tonuma ever met a junior he deemed worthy?  

He’d step aside too.  

But more importantly…  

The atmosphere of this year’s Shuffle Matches was different.  

Even from afar, he could feel it—a suffocating, oppressive tension brewing.  

BAM! BAM! BAM!  

On another court, Yanagi and Mitsuya engaged in a battle of Data Tennis.  

Their match seemed ordinary at first glance—just baseline rallies.  

But beneath the surface?  

A war of wits raged. Traps were set, countered, and dismantled in a relentless mental duel.  

"Impressive, Renji."  

After a grueling exchange, Mitsuya smiled. "You’ve reached this level already."  

Data Tennis had two core aspects:  

• Input – Collecting and analyzing data.  

• Output – Feeding opponents false data. 

Mitsuya had tried slipping Yanagi fabricated intel, only for the younger boy to see through it effortlessly.  

Meanwhile, Yanagi had bombarded him with five separate decoys.  

"You flatter me."  

Yanagi remained calm.  

Mitsuya was his mentor—now the U-17’s expedition team strategist. His experience dwarfed Yanagi’s.  

But Yanagi wasn’t struggling.  

Why?  

Because he’d spent months simulating matches against Ishikawa’s Data Tennis.  

Those mental battles were grueling. Each session drained Yanagi’s stamina, and he always lost—even when limiting Ishikawa to only data-based play.  

Yet through those defeats, his mental endurance and predictive abilities had skyrocketed.  

Now, even against masters like Mitsuya, he could hold his ground.  

"You’re too composed."  

Mitsuya shook his head. "No taunts rattle you. But in Data Tennis, when skill is equal… strength decides the winner."  

"Running away?"  

Yanagi’s eyes snapped open.  

"Hah."  

Mitsuya smirked. "Nice try. But I’m ending this with data."  

WHOOSH!  

He accelerated, his vision transforming.  

Yanagi’s form became a 3D wireframe, every limb tagged with stats. The court itself turned into a grid—temperature, wind, humidity—all quantified.  

Mitsuya’s mind was now a supercomputer, calculating every variable.  

"Renji."  

His lips curled. **"Data isn’t just numbers. It’s alive—it shapes reality."**  

BAM!  

He fired a shot toward Yanagi’s "weak spot"—or so his data claimed.  

"Got you."  

Yanagi smoothly adjusted, his racket poised to strike.  

He’d faked that weakness.  

But then—  

The ball veered toward his strongest return angle.  

"Checkmate."  

Mitsuya smiled, though a flicker of disappointment crossed his eyes.  

SWISH!  

Yet Yanagi switched hands mid-swing, blasting the ball past Mitsuya’s guard.  

"Wha—?!"  

Mitsuya’s pupils contracted.  

"Akkuto-senpai."  

Yanagi met his gaze. "You’re right. Data is alive. But in the end… tennis is played by people."  

"!"  

Mitsuya froze.  

"Human nature…?"  

Then he laughed. "I underestimated you."  

Yanagi had touched the third realm of Data Tennis—something even most pros couldn’t grasp.  

Understanding the human heart.  

True mastery wasn’t about cold calculations—it was manipulating psychology.  

"You win."  

Despite only losing one point, Mitsuya unclipped his badge and tossed it over.  

"This rank isn’t high, but if you join the expedition team… it’ll take your Data Tennis further."  

As he turned to leave—  

"Senpai."  

Yanagi called out. "One last question."  

"Hm?"  

"How strong are the Top 10? And just how powerful is the expedition leader?"  

Yesterday, Oni and Inui had dodged this question. Their hesitation had stuck with Yanagi.  

As the middle schoolers’ strategist, he needed this intel.  

"The Top 10… are monsters."  

Mitsuya’s voice turned grave. "Especially the Top 5. They defy data. As for the leader…"  

An image of Ishikawa flashed in his mind.  

"He’s an enigma."  

Mitsuya exhaled. **"And his strength? Professional level."**  

(End of Chapter.)