186-190

*Chapter 186: The Cross of Atonement, A Figure Like a Demon King*

“This atmosphere…”

As the sharp aura radiating from Ishikawa spread, the surrounding spectators clearly felt a heavy sense of oppression.

“Ishikawa, he’s…?”

The Hyotei team members’ eyelids twitched.

At this moment, they couldn’t shake the feeling that the Ishikawa standing before them had become somewhat unfamiliar.

“Is that guy actually pissed off?”

The Higa Chuu players whispered among themselves.

Kai, looking rather surprised, remarked, “Looks like… Eishirou pulled it off?”

“Interesting.”

Saotome, sitting on the bench, flashed a playful smirk. “At the end of the day, he’s just a first-year rookie. A little provocation, and he’s already rattled?”

As he spoke, he tapped his fingers on the bench, glancing at Kite.

“Hm?”

But when Saotome’s gaze landed on his team’s captain, his expression froze. “What’s wrong with Kite?”

He’d been about to toss out a compliment or two, but then he noticed Kite’s trembling.

“What’s there to be scared of?”

Saotome frowned, clearly displeased. “If you don’t even have this much guts, Kite, you’re falling way short!”

*BAM!*

Moments later.

The fifth game.

Kite’s fourth serve went out.

*BANG!*

But no one expected what came next.

Ishikawa’s return was lightning-fast. Before Kite could even react, the tennis ball had already hit the ground, bounced, and slammed into the wall with a thud, spinning relentlessly.

“This…”

The referee was stunned, staring at the second ball that Hyotei’s player had smashed into the wall, practically impossible to retrieve.

“Game!”

But he quickly nodded and announced, “Hyotei’s Ishikawa, 5-0. Change courts!”

Afterward, the players switched sides.

The serve now belonged to Ishikawa.

“Phew…”

Kite, who’d been holding it in for so long, let out a heavy breath.

The atmosphere was suffocating.

No one could imagine the pressure he’d been under. That last return? He only realized what had happened after the ball hit the wall.

“No, I can’t psych myself out.”

Kite looked at the boy across the net, took a deep breath, and his gaze gradually hardened. “At the end of the day, this guy’s just a first-year. No matter how strong he is, he doesn’t play dirty like I do.”

At that moment, Kite actually felt a twisted sense of relief, grateful that his opponent’s moral compass seemed higher than his own.

*BAM!*

Just then, Ishikawa sent the ball over.

“Oh?”

Sensing the ball’s slower speed, Kite blinked, then chuckled to himself. “As expected, he’s just a kid. Doesn’t even dare use the ball as a weapon… Too naive!”

Snapping out of it, Kite rallied, returning the ball with focus.

*SWISH!*

On the other side, Ishikawa chased down the ball. To everyone’s shock, he flipped his racket upside down, gripping it in reverse. Then, aiming at the ball, he swung with a fierce snap.

*BAM!*

A crisp sound rang out.

The ball carved a vicious arc, landing on Kite’s backhand side.

“Pirate’s Horn?!”

Kite was stunned. He hadn’t expected Ishikawa to replicate this shot just by watching Kai’s match and figuring it out on his own.

“Too bad…”

A cold glint flashed in Kite’s eyes. With a quick step, he darted to the ball’s landing spot in an instant.

“Pirate’s Horn doesn’t work on me—huh?!”

Suddenly, the ball sped up.

After hitting the ground, it abruptly shot in the opposite direction. Under Kite’s horrified gaze, it pfft—messed up his hairstyle.

*BAM!*

The ball slammed into the wall, spinning with a whirr.

“15-0!”

“ARGH!!!”

With his hairstyle ruined, Kite went berserk. “You little punk, you’re DONE!!!”

The Higa Chuu players held their breath.

They all knew Kite spent nearly two hours perfecting his hair before every match. His hair was practically his second life.

Now, with it ruined, how could Kite not lose it?

“Is this his revenge?”

Kai took a deep breath, eyeing the calm Ishikawa with narrowed eyes. “If so, he’s definitely succeeded. But… something feels off.”

His gut told him things weren’t that simple.

*BAM!*

At that moment, Ishikawa served again.

The frenzied Kite exploded into action, chasing the ball down. With a violent swing, he unleashed a ferocious Big Viper shot.

*WHOOSH WHOOSH WHOOSH!*

The ball zigzagged through the air, its next turn impossible to predict.

*SWISH!*

Yet Ishikawa didn’t even glance at it. He raised his racket and, with a BAM, sent the ball flying back.

*WHOOSH WHOOSH WHOOSH!*

Shockingly, Ishikawa’s return was also a Big Viper—and its spin was even sharper than Kite’s.

“This guy…”

Sweat beaded on Kite’s forehead as the ball closed in. His eyes darted, trying to track its landing spot.

*PFFT!*

Suddenly, the ball accelerated.

It hit the ground, bounced, and with a CRACK, shattered one side of Kite’s glasses before ricocheting into the wall, spinning wildly.

“30-0!”

The referee called out, and the crowd was stunned.

Many realized Ishikawa was humiliating Kite. Looking at Kite—half his glasses broken, roaring like a madman—only confirmed it.

*BAM!*

Ishikawa shifted his serving position and fired off another ball. When Kite returned it, Ishikawa, with a backhand swing, unleashed yet another viciously spinning Big Viper.

*CRACK!*

This time, the other side of Kite’s glasses shattered.

*WHIRR*

The ball hit the wall, spinning endlessly.

“40-0!”

“ISHIKAWA SHIN!!!”

Kite was beyond enraged, bellowing like he wanted to tear Ishikawa apart.

*WHOOSH!*

But Ishikawa ignored him, tossing the ball high once more.

*SWISH!*

He leaped into the air.

Raising his racket, he smashed the ball down.

*BANG!*

A thunderous sound echoed.

The ball plummeted like a cannonball.

“Big Bang!!!”

The name of this ferocious serve flashed through the minds of both Hyotei and Higa Chuu players.

*THUD!*

The ball hit the ground.

Then, it rocketed straight toward Kite.

“He added topspin?!”

Kai’s eyes widened. “His serving skills are that terrifying?!”

On the court, Kite’s face paled as he felt the ball hurtling toward him. He knew if that Big Bang hit him, the consequences would be brutal.

There was no time to dodge.

With no other choice, Kite swung his racket up, shielding himself.

*CRACK!*

The next second, a sickening snap of breaking bone rang out. Kite’s face twisted in agony.

“My… my bone… it’s broken?!”

With both sides of his glasses shattered, Kite couldn’t even see his opponent clearly. Yet, deep down, a strange sense of relief washed over him.

It was finally over.

Never before had this Higa Chuu captain felt such relief from losing a match—and being utterly shut out.

“It’s not over yet!”

But then, Hirakoba’s voice sent a chill down Kite’s spine.

*WHOOSH!*

The ball, which had struck Kite’s racket, bounced into the air.

Chinen gasped in disbelief. “E-Eishirou hit it back?”

“No, that’s not it!”

Kai stared in awe at the figure leaping into the air, his voice trembling. “He… did it on purpose!”

Not only had Ishikawa applied intense topspin to the ball, but he’d also calculated Kite’s reaction, ensuring the ball would rebound off Kite’s racket to the perfect height for a smash.

“Ishikawa Shin…”

Kai and Hirakoba now looked at the boy raising his racket for a smash with a mix of awe and fear.

Before, they’d thought he was some harmless, goody-two-shoes kid. Now, they realized how wrong they’d been.

*BANG!*

Suddenly, Ishikawa’s racket came down.

The ball rocketed to the ground like a missile, then shot upward with a THUD.

“This is…”

Blinded by his broken glasses, Kite vaguely sensed something hurtling toward him after hearing the ferocious smash. A primal sense of danger surged within him.

“Referee—”

Kite’s face twisted as he opened his mouth to forfeit. But before he could finish, the ball BAM—slammed into his abdomen. The terrifying force sent him flying.

*BOOM!*

Like a kite with its strings cut, Kite crashed into the wall.

Above his head, on both sides, and below his legs, tennis balls were lodged like nails, pinning him in place.

“Could it be…?”

The crowd snapped out of their shock, hearts pounding.

“I see.”

Nio, observing Kite’s predicament and the five balls pinning him like a wooden cross, took a deep breath. “Those earlier shots… they were Ishikawa setting up his cross!”

*THUD*

The ball that had struck Kite’s abdomen fell, rolling to a stop at the feet of Higa Chuu’s coach, Saotome.

“H-How could this…?”

The once-menacing, ruthless middle-aged man now shrank back like a terrified quail, trembling uncontrollably.

Gulp.

Every Higa Chuu player instinctively swallowed hard.

Too brutal!

Too terrifying!

Even Kai, Hirakoba, and Chinen now looked at Ishikawa with eyes full of fear, as if he were a maou—a demon king.

“The match is over.”

The referee, also swallowing hard, took a deep breath and shouted, “Hyotei Academy’s Ishikawa Shin wins, 6-0!”

Silence fell over the court.

Neither Higa Chuu’s players nor the random spectators dared utter a word, their hearts heavy with dread.

Even Hyotei’s team held back their usual cheers, afraid of provoking the fearsome figure on the court.

“Remember this.”

In the suffocating silence, Ishikawa turned his head, staring coldly at Kite, who hung limply on the wall, unconscious. “This is just your first lesson. Cross me again, and it won’t be this easy.”

“And…”

He glanced at Kai and the others, who looked anxious but too scared to speak. “I held back. He’s not dead.”

With that, he turned and walked off the court, leaving the crowd in awe.

“This… concludes the match.”

The referee, still shaken, glanced at the coaches and players from both teams and announced, “Hyotei Academy wins all five matches and advances to the next round!”

Even so, Hyotei’s cheering squad didn’t erupt into their usual fervor. Everyone’s emotions were still trapped in that moment when Ishikawa had pinned Kite to the wall.

Even when Ishikawa returned to the Hyotei bench, the looks from Sakaki Tarou and Atobe had changed.

In that moment, he had undeniably become Hyotei’s true core.

*(Chapter End)*

*Chapter 187: The National Quarterfinals, A Boy Lost on His Way to Hyotei (Part 1)*

Bang!

Right as Hyotei clinched their victory...

In another corner of the National Tournament, on a court where Singles 1 was being played, a red-haired teenager with a leopard-print headband smashed a shot so hard it sent his opponent’s racket flying.

“Game over!”

The referee checked the situation and nodded. “Shitenhoji Middle School’s Kintaro Toyama wins, 6-0!”

“That concludes the match.”

“Shitenhoji Middle School sweeps all five matches and advances to the next round!”

“This Shitenhoji… they’re on a whole different level!”

Watching the ecstatic, bouncing teenager on the court, the representatives from Hokkaido’s top school, Tsubakikawa Middle School, were floored with shock.

Five matches.

They didn’t stand a chance in any of them.

Even though they were regional champions, the Kansai tournament’s prestige was leagues above Hokkaido’s.

“Maybe…”

Gazing at the spirited Shitenhoji team, a Tsubakikawa representative couldn’t help but sigh. “This year, they might actually claim that spot!”

“Nice work, Kin-chan!”

After the win, Shitenhoji’s captain, a handsome silver-haired boy named Kuranosuke Shiraishi, grinned. “That was their captain, and he didn’t even score a single point!”

“Huh?”

The redhead, Kintaro Toyama, blinked in surprise. “Wait, you mean that guy was their strongest player?”

“Yup.”

A young man lounging on a bench, wearing a bucket hat and chewing on a blade of grass, chuckled. “Their captain’s got near-national-level skills, you know!”

“Didn’t feel like it,” Kintaro said, scratching his head with a blank look. “I barely even tried, and he was done. That match was no fun at all.”

He shrugged, looking downright disappointed.

“Well, yeah, that tracks,” a tall brunette, Kenya Oshitari, chimed in with a laugh. “Hokkaido’s best is only about Kansai’s average. For Kin-chan, it’s gotta be a national-level opponent to get him serious.”

“Exactly, exactly!” Kintaro nodded eagerly, like a chick pecking at rice.

To him, this match was just a warm-up. His racket hadn’t even gotten hot before it was over.

For Kintaro, who saw tennis matches as nothing more than a game, this was far from satisfying.

“Don’t worry,” Shiraishi said with a reassuring smile, noticing Kintaro’s frustration. “In the next match against Hyotei, you’ll face that guy—the nation’s strongest first-year.”

“That guy?” Kintaro’s eyes lit up. “You mean Ishikawa, right, Shiraishi? I heard he’s got three eyes, five legs, and six arms, like some kinda ferocious Asura!”

As he spoke, the boy flailed his arms, wildly mimicking his mental image of Ishikawa.

“Alright, enough,” Coach Watanabe said with a helpless sigh, watching Kintaro’s animated performance. “Time to head back to the hotel. Also, start thinking about what you want for dinner.”

As a team from Kansai’s Osaka, with a match scheduled for tomorrow morning, Shitenhoji couldn’t just commute back and forth.

In fact, after the national tournament brackets were drawn and their schedule confirmed, Shitenhoji had booked a hotel for three days.

“Dinner?” Kintaro’s face lit up at the mention of food. “I want beef hotpot, grilled squid, and—”

“Takoyaki, we know,” Kenya teased with a grin.

“Heh heh!” Kintaro chuckled, practically drooling. “Let’s go, Coach, Shiraishi! I’m starving—I could eat a whole cow right now!”

“Alright, alright,” Watanabe and Shiraishi said, nodding as they led the team off the court.

---

Meanwhile, matches for other teams wrapped up one by one.

The second round of the National Tournament concluded, and the quarterfinalists were set: Hyotei, Shitenhoji, Rikkai Dai, Makinofuji, Seigaku, Fudomine, Nagoya Seitoku, and Yamabuki.

The list sparked a wave of heated discussion.

Out of the eight teams, four were from Tokyo. If you counted the Kanto region, including Rikkai Dai, that made over half.

It was clear to everyone: the balance of power in the National Tournament was shifting eastward, and the west was falling behind.

---

At the platform outside the tennis venue...

The Shitenhoji team, ready to dig into some beef hotpot, waited for the bus to their hotel.

But with the first day of the tournament over, the crowds were at their peak.

The Shitenhoji players, about to board, got swept apart in the chaos. Coach Watanabe, Captain Shiraishi, and Chitose made it onto the first bus.

In the end, only second-year player Koichi Zaizen and the ever-optimistic Kintaro Toyama were left behind.

“Kintaro!” Zaizen called, spotting another wave of people rushing toward them. “Stick close to me, don’t get lost!”

“No worries, no worries!” Kintaro said with a cheerful nod.

Click. Screech!

The bus pulled up.

The moment the doors opened, the crowd surged forward. Caught off guard, Zaizen reached for Kintaro’s arm, yanking him through the mob and onto the bus.

“Hey…”

Before Zaizen could catch his breath, an elderly voice piped up. “Young man, thank you so much!”

“Huh?”

Zaizen turned and froze. Instead of Kintaro, he’d grabbed a white-haired grandma with a mouth full of dentures.

“Oh no…” His heart sank.

Of all the Shitenhoji players, Kintaro was hands-down the least worldly. If he got left behind at the station, he might actually get lost.

“But… he’ll probably be fine, right?” Zaizen muttered, frowning. “If I remember correctly, Kintaro ran all the way here from Shizuoka.”

For this National Tournament, the Shitenhoji team had taken a train from Osaka to Tokyo. But Kintaro, thinking he’d see Mount Fuji in Tokyo, got off early in Shizuoka—about 36 kilometers away—and ran the rest of the way.

Someone like that wouldn’t get into too much trouble… probably.

Still, after a moment’s hesitation, Zaizen shouted for the driver to stop. But the bus was so noisy, the driver didn’t hear him.

“Whatever,” Zaizen sighed, resigned. He’d just have to look for Kintaro after getting off.

---

Meanwhile, back at the bus stop…

Kintaro, with his bright red hair, stared blankly at the spot where Zaizen had vanished. In the blink of an eye, his teammate was gone.

He was stunned.

Now what?

“I missed dinner… They’ll save some meat for me, right? And takoyaki… slurp!” Kintaro mumbled, swallowing hard as he imagined the food.

Gurgle…

His stomach growled. Kintaro patted his flat belly, looking glum.

“Hey, kid,” a voice called from behind. “Yo, redhead!”

“Hm?” Kintaro turned to see a middle-aged man with sunglasses and a fake mustache. “Did you get separated from your team?”

“Yeah…” Kintaro nodded slowly.

“No problem! You know where they’re at? I can take you there.” The man pointed to a nearby van. “I’ll drive you straight to ‘em.”

“Really?” Kintaro’s eyes narrowed slightly.

He might be naive, but something felt off.

“Of course!” the man said, sensing Kintaro’s wariness. “Don’t worry, this is my job—I shuttle people around here all the time. If you don’t have cash, your teammates can pay when we get there.”

“Alright then,” Kintaro said with a nod.

He was hungry, and Tokyo was way bigger than Shizuoka. He couldn’t tell north from south here.

“Let’s go!” The man grinned, leading him to the van.

Click!

The door locked as soon as Kintaro got in.

The van peeled out, making a U-turn at the intersection and heading in the opposite direction of Shitenhoji’s team.

About ten minutes later, the van pulled into a quiet alley and stopped in front of a rundown apartment building.

“We’re here,” the man said, opening the door.

“Here? This is it?” Kintaro looked around, skeptical. This didn’t look anything like the place where his team had stashed their luggage.

As evening fell, neon signs flickered in the distance.

On the street, women in flashy outfits—making Kintaro blush—lingered about.

“Of course it’s here. What, you thought I was taking you to a hotel?” The man’s friendly facade dropped, replaced by a cold sneer. “Listen up, kid. Behave, and you’ll get hurt less.”

“You’re a bad guy!” Kintaro’s eyes flashed with realization.

“Pfft,” the man scoffed, moving to grab him.

Nearby, the women and a few tattooed punks passing by acted like they saw nothing.

Boom!

But in the next instant, a figure went flying, crashing hard into a wall with a thud.

“You… damn brat…”

The man’s sunglasses were half-shattered, his fake mustache dangling. Clutching his stomach, he glared at Kintaro with a mix of rage and fear.

“Hmph!” Kintaro’s eyes glinted with a fierce edge.

He might be simple, but he wasn’t clueless. Back at Shitenhoji, his fighting skills had earned him a crew of followers.

Once he realized this guy was trouble, Kintaro unleashed his most ferocious side.

His life motto was simple: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth!

Boom!

Another vicious swing, like a tennis serve, sent the man—who’d just lunged again—flying back. The impact knocked him out cold.

“Time to go,” Kintaro said, slinging his racket over his shoulder. He picked up the tennis ball, tucked it into his bag, and bolted out of the alley.

As he ran, the tattooed delinquents on the street shot him looks of fear and awe.

Huff, huff, huff…

After about twenty minutes of running in circles through the alleys, Kintaro finally emerged onto a proper street.

He let out a relieved sigh.

But then, he froze.

He had no idea where he was. And with the sun setting, once it got dark, finding his Shitenhoji teammates would be even harder.

“Hm?”

Suddenly, something caught his eye.

Kintaro’s sharp vision locked onto a massive walled-off complex nearby. He could clearly make out the four large characters on the sign.

“That’s… Hyotei Gakuen?”

Realizing it was the home turf of their opponents for tomorrow’s match, Kintaro broke into a grin.

Without hesitation, he sprinted toward Hyotei’s school gates.

Thwack! Thwack!

Moments later, the familiar sound of tennis balls echoed in his ears.

“Found it!”

Rounding a corner and passing through the iron gates, Kintaro spotted figures practicing inside. He shouted, “Excuse me… is Ishikawa here?”

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 188: The Monster of Shitenhoji, Ishikawa’s Poison Hand*

*BAM!*

*BAM!*

At the Hyotei Tennis Club.

After returning from the nationals, some of the regular team members, still hyped from watching the matches, decided to play a few practice games.

Since it was the middle of the Zenkoku Taikai (National Tournament), neither Coach Sakaki Tarou nor Ishikawa were as strict about practice matches as usual.

“Found it!”

But just as the matches were heating up, a voice with a slightly odd accent cut through the air. “Excuse me… is Ishikawa here?”

*SWISH!*

Everyone turned to look.

Standing there was a red-haired boy with a leopard-print shirt, a tennis bag slung over his shoulder, grinning at them.

From another school?

Here to challenge Ishikawa?

The Hyotei players were a bit shocked.

Ever since Ishikawa defeated Sanada and led Hyotei to victory in the Kanto Taikai (Kanto Tournament), his reputation had surpassed even that of Rikkai Dai’s tennis emperor. In their minds, no one would dare come knocking at Hyotei’s door anymore.

And yet, here was this guy.

He looked young but was specifically asking for Ishikawa. Clearly, he came prepared.

“Uh…”

Third-year Suzuki Ryota frowned. “Sorry, Ishikawa’s not here. If you want to challenge him, you can head to the nationals venue tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

Tooyama sounded disappointed. “I was hoping to play him early. If it’s tomorrow, it’s not as fun.”

According to the schedule, tomorrow was the quarterfinals matchup between Hyotei and Shitenhoji. The winner would face either Rikkai Dai or Makinofuji in the semifinals the day after. But in an official match, Kintarou wasn’t guaranteed to face Ishikawa.

“If you’re up for a game, we can play you.”

Another player chimed in with a grin. “Just a heads-up, if you lose, don’t cry about us bullying a kid.”

“Ryusuke!”

Seeing his friend propose a match, Suzuki’s expression shifted. “Playing someone from another school? If we get caught, we’re toast.”

“It’s fine.”

Uesugi Ryusuke laughed. “He’s just a newbie. Maybe his team already lost today, and he’s only here because he’s heard of Ishikawa’s fame.”

As a third-year, Uesugi had been training hard lately. His skills had improved significantly, and his physical conditioning was leaps and bounds better than before. Naturally, his confidence had swelled.

Of course, the real reason he was willing to play this kid was a bet with his buddy.

He and Suzuki had been arguing over ownership of a tennis video game disc. They’d agreed to settle it with a match—winner takes the disc. Problem was, their last five matches all ended in draws.

“Ryota,” Uesugi said, eyeing the red-haired boy with a smirk. “Let’s each play him. Whoever beats him in a game the fastest gets the disc. Sound good?”

“Alright, fine!”

Suzuki nodded.

They’d been fighting over that disc forever with no resolution. This was as good a way as any to settle it.

“I’ll go first so you don’t think I’m taking advantage,” Uesugi said, strolling onto the court with a grin. He looked at the slightly confused boy across from him. “Kid, don’t say Hyotei’s picking on you. You can serve first!”

“Serve? Sure thing.”

Kintarou nodded.

“Weird,” one of the Hyotei players muttered. “His accent sounds a lot like Nio-senpai’s.”

“From Kansai, maybe?”

Thinking of Nio’s background, the others started to piece it together. “The strongest school over there is probably Shitenhoji, the Kansai Tournament champs. I heard they’re crazy strong—maybe even contenders for the national title!”

“Kansai? Osaka? Shitenhoji?”

On the court, Uesugi’s brow furrowed as he sized up the red-haired boy in the leopard-print shirt. “No way I’m that unlucky, right?”

*BANG!*

The thought barely crossed his mind when a sound like a cannonball hitting the ground exploded in front of him.

“What?!”

Uesugi’s eyes widened at the shot.

“So strong!!!”

Suzuki and the others around the court paled.

That serve was insanely fast!

And what was with that overwhelming power? This scrawny-looking kid—where was he getting that kind of monstrous strength?

*BANG!*

Another ferocious serve landed.

“Hiss!”

Seeing Uesugi unable to even react as the opponent racked up points, the Hyotei players’ pupils shrank.

“Uh, oops!” Tooyama scratched his head, looking sheepish. “Was my serve too fast? Alright, I’ll slow it down a bit.”

“Damn it.”

Uesugi’s face twisted, humiliated by the kid’s pity. “This brat’s looking down on me way too much.”

*BANG!*

But then another brutal serve landed, zipping past him. The indignation in Uesugi’s eyes turned to shock. “No… seriously?”

He froze.

Then he looked up at the boy, a mix of anger and disbelief. Didn’t he say he’d go easy? Was this a joke?

“What a terrifying serve.”

The other Hyotei players outside the court were floored by the red-haired boy’s display of skill.

Suzuki, in particular, knew this guy was no ordinary player. He was likely from Shitenhoji, Hyotei’s opponent tomorrow. A player like this was way out of their league as regular team members.

Uesugi had just kicked a steel plate.

“Hey! What are you guys doing?”

A stern voice cut through the air.

“It’s Hiyoshi?”

The Hyotei players turned to see the mushroom-haired Hiyoshi approaching, frowning.

*BANG!*

At that moment, Tooyama unleashed his final serve. The arrow-like speed made Hiyoshi’s expression shift slightly.

*THUD!*

The ball hit the ground.

It rocketed past Uesugi, who didn’t even have a chance to react.

“Uh…” Tooyama frowned, seeing his opponent couldn’t even touch the ball. “Is Hyotei’s tennis really this weak?”

He wasn’t mocking—just genuinely puzzled.

But to the Hyotei players, especially Hiyoshi, his words stung, and their faces darkened.

“Jerk!”

Hiyoshi stepped onto the court as Uesugi wisely backed off.

“Kid,” Hiyoshi said, glaring at the boy. “Take back what you just said, or else…”

“Why should I?” Kintarou frowned. “I’m just telling the truth. Hyotei’s tennis isn’t that great.”

“Hmph!” Hiyoshi’s voice turned cold. “Fine, then I’ll show you just how terrifying Hyotei can be!”

The two didn’t see eye to eye, and a clash was inevitable.

*BAM!*

*BAM!*

*BAM!*

Moments later, the sound of intense rallies echoed through the Hyotei Tennis Club.

“Hm?”

Ishikawa, who’d just arrived from the dorms for some light training, raised an eyebrow.

“Vice-Captain!”

The Hyotei players lit up like they’d seen a savior, nodding to him excitedly.

“What’s going on?” Ishikawa asked, eyeing the two figures battling it out on the court. “Why are they fighting?”

“Well…” Suzuki hesitated before explaining the situation.

“I see.” Ishikawa nodded, glancing at the red-haired figure dominating Hiyoshi on the court. He turned to Uesugi. “Go find about two meters of white bandages.”

“Bandages? Got it.”

Uesugi didn’t question Ishikawa’s request and dashed off.

“Tooyama Kintarou from Shitenhoji, huh?” Ishikawa muttered, turning back to the court, watching the two players clash.

*BANG!*

Tooyama smashed a lightning-fast shot. Hiyoshi, using his Shukuchi (Ground Shrink) technique, quickly reached the ball’s landing spot.

But when he made contact, his face twisted. The ball’s weight was overwhelming.

Too heavy!

He couldn’t fathom how this kid’s body held such terrifying power.

From the start, every return had left his grip tingling. Now, his entire arm was sore.

“No choice. I have to use that.”

Realizing he was up against a formidable foe, Hiyoshi didn’t hesitate. He assumed his Enbu (Martial Performance) stance.

As Tooyama sent the ball over, Hiyoshi raised his racket like an archer drawing a bow, locked onto the incoming ball, and swung hard.

*BANG!*

A sharp sound rang out.

A piercing shot, crackling with faint arcs of electricity, rocketed forward.

“There it is!” Suzuki and the others shouted excitedly. “Hiyoshi’s [Shijin Enbu: Byakko] (Four Gods Martial Performance: White Tiger)!!!”

Hiyoshi had learned this move from Ishikawa.

Over time, he’d trained and refined it daily. After the match against Higa Chuu, he’d made it battle-ready. Though its power was only about a third of Ishikawa’s, it was still a terrifying technique for most opponents.

In their eyes, the red-haired boy’s racket would surely fly out of his hands the moment it touched the ball.

*BANG!*

But when Tooyama returned the shot, not only did his racket stay firm, his arm didn’t even tremble.

“Oh?” Feeling the intense vibration through his racket, Tooyama’s eyes gleamed. “Now that’s interesting! Is this Hyotei’s real strength? Alright, time to get serious!”

*SWISH!*

With that, he swung with full force, sending the ball flying.

*THUD!*

The ball hit the ground.

It landed just in front of Hiyoshi’s baseline. Staring at the bouncing ball, Hyotei’s second-year singles ace felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness.

His opponent was too strong!

That monstrous power was something he couldn’t handle.

“Uh!” Tooyama blinked, surprised that Hiyoshi didn’t return it. “Why didn’t you hit it back?”

“There’s no point.” Hiyoshi shook his head, fully aware of the gap between them. Continuing would only humiliate him further.

“Ugh, this isn’t fun. Not fun at all,” Tooyama grumbled, stomping his foot like a kid throwing a tantrum.

“That’s enough.”

A cold voice cut through the air.

“Hm?” Hiyoshi looked up instinctively. Seeing Ishikawa approaching, his eyes widened.

Then, the second-year Hyotei reserve hung his head in shame. “Sorry, Vice-Captain… I lost.”

“It’s fine. He’s not someone you can handle,” Ishikawa said, shaking his head. He turned to the red-haired boy. “Tooyama Kintarou, Shitenhoji Middle School’s strongest rookie, the Kansai powerhouse with national-level skill.”

“What?!”

The Hyotei players gasped.

They knew the kid was strong, but they hadn’t realized how strong.

“You’re Ishikawa, right?” Tooyama’s eyes lit up. “Come on, let’s play a match!”

“I said, that’s enough.”

To the Hyotei players’ surprise, Ishikawa didn’t accept the challenge. Instead, he raised his right hand, wrapped in thick white bandages, and said sternly, “Tooyama-kun, if you don’t behave, I’ll have to get serious.”

“That’s…” Tooyama’s face paled when he saw the bandages. “Shiraishi’s Dokushu (Poison Hand)? You’ve got it too?! Wait, hold on, I messed up! Spare me, I don’t wanna die!!!”

To everyone’s shock, the cocky, confident Shitenhoji rookie, who’d been unstoppable moments ago, started trembling in fear as Ishikawa slowly began unwrapping the bandages on his right hand.

*(Chapter End)*

*Chapter 189: Quarterfinal Showdown, Hyotei vs. Shitenhoji (Part 3)*

Night had fallen.

Downstairs at the hotel where Shitenhoji was staying, just as the team was about to file a missing person report, Coach Watanabe got a call from Hyotei.

“Coach, what’s the deal?”

As soon as he hung up, Shiraishi and the others crowded around, anxious for news.

“Kintaro’s at Hyotei,” Watanabe said, rubbing his temples. “He’s fine. The only issue, according to Hyotei’s coach, is that he’s… hungry.”

“Uh…”

The team froze for a moment before bursting into wry smiles.

Kenya Oshitari shook his head. “Yup, that’s classic Kintaro.”

His quip broke the tension, and everyone let out a collective sigh of relief.

“As long as he’s found, that’s what matters,” Shiraishi said with a nod. “Coach, why don’t we go pick Kin-chan up? None of us have eaten yet, and he’s probably starving.”

“No need,” Watanabe replied, shaking his head. “That kid already ate at Hyotei’s cafeteria.”

“Hyotei’s cafeteria?” A bespectacled, bald teammate, Hikaru Zaizen, stroked his chin thoughtfully. “From what I’ve heard, thanks to Atobe’s no-expense-spared investments, the food there rivals a five-star restaurant.”

“Lucky Kintaro,” someone muttered.

The others shot envious looks.

Gurgle…

Someone’s stomach growled, setting off a chain reaction as everyone’s bellies chimed in.

“Alright, let’s go,” Watanabe said, adjusting his hat with a grin. “Time to fill our stomachs too.”

With that, he led the team to a ramen shop next to the beef hotpot place near the hotel.

---

*Hyotei Academy, Tennis Club Cafeteria*

The dining hall was packed, but no one was eating. Instead, they stared, dumbfounded, at the red-haired boy wolfing down food while a mountain of empty bowls piled up beside him.

Gulp.

Hiyoshi swallowed hard. Now he understood why, despite Kintaro’s scrawny frame, the kid had monstrous stamina and strength.

“This guy…”

Even Ishikawa was floored by Kintaro’s appetite.

If he hadn’t been certain he’d crossed into the Prince of Tennis world, Ishikawa might’ve wondered if he’d stumbled into the wrong show. Was this redheaded kid secretly packing Saiyan DNA?

“Coach,” Yueji asked curiously from nearby, “what do we do with him?”

Kintaro was a Shitenhoji player, and as their opponent for tomorrow’s match, Hyotei was in a tricky spot.

On this point, Coach Sakaki Tarou, Atobe, and the others agreed with Ishikawa’s approach: avoid letting Kintaro play anyone before the official match.

Not because Hyotei was scared.

They were worried that if Ishikawa faced him now, Kintaro might not be able to compete tomorrow.

There was precedent for this.

Hiyoshi, for instance, was eating with his left hand because his right—after a match with Kintaro earlier—had a swollen palm from the sheer force.

Initial diagnosis? At least three days to recover fully.

In a way, Hyotei was the one at a disadvantage. But their bench was deep, and Hiyoshi wasn’t slated to play against Shitenhoji tomorrow anyway.

“I’ve arranged a temporary dorm room with the school,” Sakaki said. “Tomorrow, we’ll send him back to Shitenhoji’s camp and make sure nothing goes wrong.”

Hyotei wanted to win fair and square, with no excuses.

They didn’t want anyone saying they beat Kansai’s team because Shitenhoji’s star rookie got sidelined at Hyotei.

“I’m full!!!”

Kintaro set down his chopsticks, stretching with a satisfied yawn. “Man, you guys at Hyotei have amazing food!”

“What’s that?” Hiyoshi teased with a smirk. “You thinking about joining us, Kintaro? See that guy with glasses over there? He’s from Osaka too.”

“Oh?” Kintaro’s curiosity piqued, and he glanced at Oshitari.

Meanwhile, the other Hyotei players were sizing him up.

Kintaro Toyama was strong—no question about it. Even players like Oshitari or Shishido, solid singles competitors, wouldn’t claim they could overpower Hiyoshi in such a short time.

Especially since Hiyoshi had recently mastered his Gekokujou tennis style, perfecting techniques like Shukuchihou and Shishin Enbu: Byakko.

Yet Kintaro had crushed him in under five minutes. Among first-years, his talent was second only to Ishikawa—maybe even surpassing Seigaku’s Echizen.

If a player like that joined Hyotei, the team would dominate the National Tournament for the next three years, no weaknesses.

Even Atobe cast an intrigued glance his way.

If Kintaro agreed, Atobe could have him enrolled at Hyotei by the end of summer.

“Nah, I’m good,” Kintaro said with a laugh, brushing off Hiyoshi’s playful jab. “The food here’s too good. I’d eat so much I’d mess up my training.”

His words were light, but everyone caught the hint: he had no interest in transferring.

“Ishikawa!”

Kintaro suddenly hopped to his feet, his earlier goofy demeanor gone. His eyes sharpened as he locked onto Ishikawa. “How about it? Ready to take me on now?”

He was full, energized, and ready to unleash his full strength. If they rematched, Hiyoshi would go down even faster.

“I’m up for a match,” Ishikawa said with a calm smile. “But it’ll have to wait for tomorrow’s official game. Don’t worry—I’ll be waiting for you in Singles 1.”

“No way!” Kintaro shook his head, pouting like a kid. “I wanna play you now!!”

“Well, that’s too bad,” Ishikawa sighed. Under the stunned gazes of everyone around, he slowly raised his right hand and began unwrapping his bandage. “Guess I’ll have to apologize to Coach Watanabe and Captain Shiraishi tomorrow.”

“P-Poison Hand?!”

Kintaro’s eyes widened in panic, and he dove behind Hiyoshi for cover.

“S-Sorry, my bad!” he stammered, trembling. “Tomorrow! Tomorrow’s fine! I’ll be in Singles 1 too!”

“Deal,” Ishikawa said with a nod, calmly rewrapping the bandage.

Kintaro, still shaken, kept his distance, wandering around Hyotei’s cafeteria like a spooked cat.

“I’m curious,” Sakaki said with a chuckle. “How’d you scare him like that?”

“It’s a trick from Shitenhoji’s captain, Shiraishi,” Ishikawa explained, smiling as he secured the bandage. “He knows Kintaro’s terrified of ghost stories and monster tales, so he wraps his wrist in white bandages and calls it a ‘Poison Hand.’ Says if the bandage comes off completely, it’ll kill anyone who’s seen it.”

“Clever,” Oshitari said with a nod. “No wonder I always see Shitenhoji’s captain with those white bandages on his hand.”

He held a healthy respect for Shiraishi.

From what he knew, Shiraishi had never lost a match in Shitenhoji’s internal records. And since last spring, he’d been their captain.

That was no small feat.

Unlike Hyotei, Shitenhoji’s tennis club back then had a formidable third-year senior. For Shiraishi to claim the captaincy from someone like that spoke volumes about his strength.

“Let’s leave it at that for now,” Sakaki said, standing up. “Everyone, rest up for tomorrow’s match. Kintaro, come with me—I’ll show you where you’re staying tonight.”

With that, the team began to disperse.

Ishikawa, as usual, did some post-dinner warm-ups, practiced ancient martial arts, and finished with yoga meditation before turning in.

The night passed quietly.

---

The next day, the Hyotei team, Kintaro included, boarded a bus to the ARENA tennis courts.

After getting off, Ishikawa escorted Kintaro back to Shitenhoji’s camp.

“Thanks for the help, Ishikawa-kun,” Shiraishi said, nodding gratefully.

“No trouble at all,” Ishikawa replied with a smile. “Here’s to a great match today between our schools.”

“Absolutely,” Shiraishi agreed.

Ishikawa turned and left.

“What a guy,” Kenya Oshitari remarked, watching Ishikawa’s retreating figure. “Hard to believe he’s just a first-year, already the core of Hyotei.”

“Yeah,” Shiraishi said with a sigh. “With him on their roster, Hyotei’s scarier than ever this year.”

Originally, Shiraishi had planned for Shitenhoji to face powerhouses like Hyotei or Rikkai Dai in the semifinals.

But the draw hadn’t been kind.

They were up against one of the top championship contenders in the quarterfinals.

No doubt about it—this match was going to be a brutal fight for Shitenhoji.

“Everyone ready?”

Coach Watanabe, chewing on a blade of grass, glanced at his team with a grin. “Treat every match from here on out like it’s the finals. Our opponents are tough, but we’re stronger than we’ve ever been!”

At his words, Shiraishi, Chitose, and the others steeled their gazes with determination.

When the path narrows, the brave prevail.

And Shitenhoji would be the ones standing tall in the end!

---

Moments later, at the quarterfinal court for Hyotei vs. Shitenhoji…

“The third-round match is about to begin.”

“Tokyo’s Hyotei Gakuen vs. Osaka’s Shitenhoji Middle School.”

“Will both teams’ players please take the court.”

As the announcement echoed, the seven representatives from each team, led by their captains, stepped onto the court.

“Hyotei and Shitenhoji, huh?”

Outside the chain-link fence, Inoue from Tennis Monthly mused. “Kanto vs. Kansai, a clash of titans. Every matchup in this game is gonna be a dragon-and-tiger brawl!”

“Totally,” Shiba nodded. “Both captains have this incredible presence. Atobe’s a given, but Shiraishi’s got this calm, steady vibe too. No surprise he’s the captain of Kansai’s strongest team!”

By comparison, Higa’s captain, Kite—despite leading his team to dominate the Kyushu tournament—lacked the same charisma and poise as these two.

“I’m dying to know if those two will face off,” Inoue said.

“Probably not,” Shiba replied, shaking his head. “Atobe’s likely playing Singles 2, while Shitenhoji’s captain, if I had to guess, is their ace in Singles 1.”

Originally, without Ishikawa in the picture, Atobe and Shiraishi might’ve clashed in Singles 1 for an epic captain vs. captain showdown.

But now, Ishikawa had taken over as Hyotei’s core, making that matchup impossible.

It was a shame, no doubt, adding a touch of regret to this high-stakes game.

Just then, the loudspeaker crackled to life:

“The Singles 3 match is about to begin.”

“Hyotei Gakuen’s Keigo Atobe vs. Shitenhoji Middle School’s Kuranosuke Shiraishi.”

“Players, please prepare!”

Whoa!!!

The crowd erupted in shock.

“What?!”

Even Inoue was stunned.

He stared, incredulous, at the two boys on opposite sides of the court—shaking hands at the net moments ago, now gripping their rackets. “They’re facing off right from the start?!”

---

*Author’s Note: I messed up earlier— My bad! Also, some readers pointed out issues in several chapters. I’m planning to compile them and fix everything at once when I can

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 190: Atobe vs. Shiraishi, The Bible of Tennis!*

Atobe Keigo!

Shiraishi Kuranosuke!

At the net.

These two charismatic young captains, representing the top schools of Kanto and Kansai, shook hands once again.

“Atobe-kun,” Shiraishi said with a smile, nodding at his opponent. “I never thought we’d face off in Singles 3.”

“Same here,” Atobe replied, returning the nod. “I figured you’d be in Singles 1 or 2. Looks like your school’s strategy is focused on sweeping the first three matches, huh?”

“Maybe,” Shiraishi said with a noncommittal chuckle. “Compared to Hyotei, our tactical options are a bit limited.”

The Shitenhoji captain exuded a gentle aura, his gaze clear and steady. His tone was perfectly balanced—neither too light nor too heavy, neither too fast nor too slow— radiating absolute confidence in his skills.

“Hm,” Atobe acknowledged with a slight nod. “I’m eager to see just how strong the Kansai region’s top player really is!”

“Kansai’s top player?” Shiraishi couldn’t help but laugh at the title.

He didn’t bother explaining, though. Instead, he stood his racket upright, gave it a gentle spin, and let it fall naturally.

“Heads,” Atobe called.

The racket landed, revealing heads.

“Please, let’s have a good match,” Shiraishi said with a smile, picking up his racket and heading to the baseline.

“Definitely not an ordinary guy,” Atobe muttered, nodding slightly.

Their brief exchange hadn’t revealed any of Shiraishi’s weaknesses. As Nio had warned, Shitenhoji’s captain was like a figure shrouded in mist—utterly mysterious.

With that, Atobe turned and walked to his baseline.

“The match begins! One set to decide the winner!” the referee announced after confirming both players were ready. “Hyotei’s Atobe serves! First game!”

*TAP!*

*TAP!*

*TAP!*

At the baseline, Atobe bent low, lightly bouncing the ball.

“Alright… let’s see what you’ve got!”

*BAM!*

With a flick of his wrist, he unleashed a serve with intense spin and blazing speed.

The ball landed precisely at the intersection of the service line and the singles sideline.

“That serve?!”

The Shitenhoji players, including Nio Kenya, tensed as they watched.

“Is this Atobe’s strength?” second-year Zaizen felt a jolt. If he were facing that serve, he’d have almost no chance of keeping up with its speed. That point was 90% lost!

“Atobe’s not holding back!” Shishido, Yue, and the other Hyotei players smirked.

*SWISH!*

But at that moment, a flash of silver streaked across the ball’s path. With a BAM, Shiraishi’s racket intercepted Atobe’s serve, sending it back.

Precise.

Decisive.

Flawless.

Shiraishi’s return was a thing of beauty, impossible to fault.

“Not a bad return,” even Atobe had to admit, nodding.

Known for his sharp insight, he couldn’t spot even the tiniest crack in Shiraishi’s performance.

*BAM!*

Atobe struck back.

The ball sliced through the air like a surgical scalpel, targeting the sideline on Shiraishi’s left-hand side.

“As expected of Hyotei’s captain,” Shitenhoji’s coach, Watanabe Osamu, chewing on a blade of grass, nodded approvingly from the bench. “Not only did he neutralize the force of Shiraishi’s return with ease, but he also made such a pinpoint counter in such a short time.”

The Shitenhoji players grew solemn.

Their coach rarely praised players from other teams, yet he had nothing but admiration for Hyotei’s captain. Atobe’s skill was clearly exceptional.

*BAM!*

But Shiraishi calmly handled Atobe’s precise and rapid counter. Returning to the center of the court, he kept his eyes locked on his opponent.

Even when Atobe unleashed a backhand, Shiraishi responded with cool-headed precision.

*BAM!*

*BAM!*

*BAM!*

On the court, the two traded blows.

Atobe’s style was flashy and elegant, his relentless offensive like a series of dazzling strikes that made Shitenhoji’s regular players’ scalps tingle.

But Shiraishi’s responses were remarkably composed.

If Atobe was a razor-sharp spear, each thrust gleaming with breathtaking intensity, Shiraishi was a polished shield—calm, steady, and unshakable as a rock.

“Incredible!” Yue exclaimed, watching their increasingly fast-paced duel. “This Shiraishi guy’s holding his own against Atobe’s onslaught without even flinching?”

This was Atobe they were talking about!

Before Ishikawa arrived, he was undeniably Hyotei’s strongest player. Even now, he was among the elite of junior high tennis.

And yet, he was struggling, his edge blunted?

“His playstyle is crystal clear,” Nio said, observing Shiraishi’s flawless composure. “He’s using the most fundamental tennis techniques, but he’s mastered them to perfection. His style is so polished, there’s not a single flaw to exploit!”

If it were Nio out there, he’d have no confidence in overpowering Shiraishi through skill alone. The only hope would be outlasting him in a war of attrition.

And Nio could sense something else.

Shiraishi was likely a counterattacking player. The moment Atobe’s offensive rhythm faltered, Shiraishi would seize the chance to strike back.

*BAM!*

Sure enough, after Atobe’s repeated attacks failed to break through, Shiraishi made his move. He sent a shot toward Atobe’s backhand, landing about fifteen centimeters away.

Normally, that would’ve been a comfortable distance for a return.

But Shiraishi’s shot carried a subtle topspin.

*WHOOSH!*

The ball suddenly accelerated, veering out of Atobe’s ideal striking zone. His expression shifted as he stretched to the right, but the move weakened his return’s power and spin.

*STEP STEP!*

Seizing the moment, Shiraishi charged the net.

He met the ball with a fierce smash, hammering it into the corner. Atobe scrambled to save it, but Shiraishi, as if he’d predicted it, unleashed another crushing smash.

*BAM!*

The short-range volley landed precisely near the sideline, far from Atobe’s reach.

“0-15!” the referee called.

Hyotei’s players felt a jolt.

“Unbelievable!” Yue gasped. “Atobe actually lost a point?”

The others were equally stunned.

No one expected their captain to lose a point in the opening game, especially on his own serve.

“That style of tennis… it’s surprising,” Coach Sakaki Tarou said, eyeing Shiraishi with astonishment. “I never imagined someone could elevate basic tennis to this level!”

“Basic tennis?” several Hyotei players echoed, shocked. “That shot just now was just basic tennis?”

“Exactly,” Ishikawa said, nodding. “Shiraishi-buchou sticks to the fundamentals of tennis. But he’s taken that approach to its absolute peak. That’s why, within Shitenhoji, he’s known as [Tennis no Seisho]—the Bible of Tennis!”

“And,” Ishikawa added with a smile, “judging from that last point, it seems Shiraishi-buchou has been studying Atobe-buchou for quite a while.”

“Oh?” The others shot him curious looks.

If anyone else had said it, they wouldn’t have bought it. The nationals had only started a few days ago, and including the draw, it was less than ten days total. The idea that Shitenhoji’s captain could analyze Atobe’s habits in such a short time sounded absurd.

But this was Ishikawa talking.

His status in Hyotei arguably surpassed even Atobe’s. No one doubted him—they were just curious. Was Shitenhoji’s captain really that good?

*BAM!*

*BAM!*

*BAM!*

The two resumed their offensive and defensive duel.

Just like before, Shiraishi keenly spotted a flaw in Atobe’s movements. He sent a shot, then pressured the opposite side. When Atobe returned, Shiraishi smashed another point home.

“0-30!”

“Hiss!”

Hyotei’s players’ faces fell.

Ishikawa’s words were proving true—Shiraishi had clearly studied Atobe extensively.

“It’s not just Atobe,” Shitenhoji’s coach Watanabe thought, watching Hyotei’s shocked reactions. “From Shishido to Nio, even Akutsu—Shiraishi’s analyzed them all.”

Since the matchups were confirmed, Shiraishi had been the first to arrive and the last to leave Shitenhoji’s training courts.

Every time, he pushed himself to exhaustion before resting.

Frankly, the person who understood Hyotei’s players best might not be themselves—it was Shiraishi.

Know your enemy, know yourself, and you’ll never lose.

Mastering fundamental tennis and wielding simple techniques with ease, Shiraishi wasn’t a data-driven player, but he meticulously studied his opponents before every match.

And now, the sweat he’d poured in day and night was paying off.

*BAM!*

Another smash.

Shiraishi scored again off Atobe.

“0-40!”

“Ugh,” Atobe grunted, forced to take his opponent seriously. In a way, Shiraishi’s fundamental-focused style was the worst matchup for him.

There were no extraneous flaws to exploit.

Every move maximized efficiency with minimal effort. It was impossible to find fault.

“The Bible of Tennis, huh?” Atobe’s eyes gleamed with a sharp edge as he looked at his opponent.

*BAM!*

He fired off another powerful serve.

Then, taking the initiative, he maintained a high-intensity offensive, relentlessly pinning Shiraishi to the baseline.

*TAP!*

Suddenly, Atobe played a drop shot.

The unexpected move made the crowd gasp. But Shiraishi sprinted to the net along the shortest path, reaching the ball just before its second bounce.

*TAP!*

He flicked it back into the air.

“Beautiful!” Shitenhoji’s players cheered, marveling at Shiraishi’s steady, flawless response.

“Idiots,” a Hyotei player sneered. “Look closely—that’s Atobe-buchou’s real trump card.”

*SWISH!*

Sure enough, Atobe leaped into the air, raising his racket for a fierce smash.

*BAM!*

The close-range chase shot caught Shiraishi off guard, knocking his racket out of his hand.

“Shiraishi!”

But then, Atobe leaped again.

Raising his racket high, his eyes sparkled as he grinned. “Bask in the glory of my magnificent technique!”

*BANG!*

Atobe smashed the ball down.

“Hametsu e no Rondo (Waltz Toward Ruin)?”

To everyone’s shock, Shiraishi showed no trace of panic. Under their stunned gazes, he turned, grabbed his flying racket, spun 180 degrees, and returned the smash with his back to the net.

*BAM!*

Atobe’s smash was countered.

“Game!”

“Shitenhoji’s Shiraishi, 1-0! Change courts!”

The referee’s voice rang out, and the court fell silent.

“Atobe-kun,” Shiraishi said, gripping his racket and feeling the tension of the strings, a smile on his face. “I’m guessing your strength goes beyond this, right?”

His words hushed the entire court.

*(Chapter End)*