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176-180

Added 2025-04-24 05:14:48 +0000 UTC

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*Chapter 176: The National Tournament Begins, Higa Chuu vs. Rokkaku Chuu*

The next day, August 17th. Clear skies.

Tokyo’s ARENA Tennis Stadium.

Nestled in the heart of the Tokyo Sports Complex, this massive dome-shaped venue could hold nearly 20,000 spectators.

By 8 a.m., the area outside the stadium was packed with lines stretching hundreds of meters.

“This is the scale of the Nationals?”

Inside the press-only passageway, Shiba couldn’t resist snapping a photo of the buzzing crowd with her camera.

“Yup,” Inoue said, his voice tinged with awe. “This year’s lineup is the strongest we’ve ever seen.”

Hyotei, Rikkai Dai, Shitenhouji, Seigaku…

In any other year, each of these teams would’ve been a lock for the championship. Even schools like Fudomine or Mukahi Toudai could’ve made a run for the title in the past.

You could feel how intense this year’s Nationals would be.

“If things go as expected…” Shiba mused, “the champion’s probably gonna come down to Hyotei or Rikkai Dai.”

Inoue nodded. Those two teams were in a league of their own.

Especially Rikkai Dai. With Buchou Yukimura back in action, last year’s defending champs had no weak spots. Inoue was secretly hyped for the inevitable showdown between the teams’ aces—Hyotei’s Ishikawa and Rikkai’s Yukimura.

As they chatted, the two passed through the tunnel into the ARENA’s interior. The front of the crowd, meanwhile, began filing into their seats in an orderly fashion.

About 20 minutes later, once everyone was settled, a bald, middle-aged man with a microphone stepped up. “The Junior High National Tennis Tournament is now officially open! Players, please enter the court!”

The stadium erupted in cheers.

One by one, team representatives, led by volunteers holding signs, marched onto the court.

From Tokyo: Hyotei, Seigaku, Fudomine, Yamabuki.

From Chiba: Rokkaku Chuu.

From Kanagawa: Rikkai Dai.

From Osaka: Shitenhouji.

From Binku: Mukahi Toudai.

From Aichi: Nagoya Seitoku.

From Okinawa: Higa Chuu.

Each team’s players walked with pride, their spirits high. The leaders radiated an aura of authority, exuding intense pressure.

These were clearly the aces of their squads.

As they entered, the core players from the schools slated for the first round locked eyes, silently sizing each other up, their rivalries already sparking.

“And now, the representative from Rikkai Dai Affiliated Junior High, please step forward.”

At the announcer’s cue, Sanada, sporting his signature black cap, strode forward, gripping the “Victory” flag—the symbol of the National Championship—and handed it over.

*Swoosh!*

Every team rep’s eyes zeroed in on the flag, burning with ambition.

“The Nationals…”

Among the crowd, Tezuka narrowed his eyes.

He’d kept his promise to Oishi, leading Seigaku to the Nationals. By all accounts, he should’ve been at peace. But seeing that “Victory” flag stirred something deep inside him. His eyes snapped open, a glint of determination flashing through them.

Now that they’d come this far, Seigaku had a shot at claiming the top spot in the nation!

Elsewhere, Higa’s Kite, Shitenhouji’s Shiraishi, Rikkai’s Sanada, and other core reps were just as fixated on the flag, each dead-set on making it theirs.

“Buchou Atobe,” Ishikawa said, noticing Atobe’s gaze locked on the flag. He flashed a grin. “Don’t worry. This year’s National Championship is ours—Hyotei’s!”

“Huh?”

The Hyotei team turned to him, stunned.

Ishikawa was usually the cool, calculated type. Even if he wanted the title, he wasn’t the kind to just blurt it out like that.

“No need to look so shocked,” Ishikawa said, meeting their gazes with a confident smile. “This is where Hyotei starts its three-peat dynasty!”

Hyotei’s three-peat?!

The team exchanged glances, their initial surprise giving way to a surge of excitement.

“Heh,” Atobe smirked, his earlier tension melting away as Ishikawa’s bold words sank in.

He was right. This year’s Nationals were just the beginning. Hyotei’s goal wasn’t just to win—it was to surpass Rikkai Dai and achieve an unprecedented three-year reign!

After the opening ceremony, the team reps were guided by volunteers out of the dome to the outdoor match courts.

“No matches this morning, so you’re free to move around,” Coach Sakaki instructed. “Just don’t miss the second-round schedule. If anything comes up, clear it with me first.”

“Got it,” the team nodded, then scattered.

The Nationals had five rounds. With 64 teams competing, the structure was straightforward. But top seeds like Rikkai Dai, Shitenhouji, Mukahi Toudai, and Shishigaku—last year’s top four—got byes. As Kanto’s dominant force, Hyotei also earned a first-round bye.

It might seem unfair, but it ensured the top dogs didn’t clash too early.

“Inoue-senpai,” Shiba said near the match courts, looking conflicted. “First round’s got Seigaku vs. Rokurioka and Rokkaku Chuu vs. Higa Chuu. Which one should we watch?”

“Hmm… Seigaku,” Inoue decided after a moment. “Rokurioka’s no pushover. It’ll be a good test for Seigaku—huh?”

He stopped, his eyes catching something nearby.

There, led by a hunched, white-bearded old man with his hands behind his back, the Rokkaku Chuu team approached.

“It’s Rokkaku’s grandpa coach!” Shiba said, surprised. “Wait, isn’t that Hyotei’s Ishikawa over there?”

Inoue followed her gaze. Sure enough, Ishikawa was standing by the edge of a court, just as Rokkaku’s team drew near.

The old coach paused, looked up at Ishikawa, and gave a satisfied nod.

“You’re doing well,” he said, his wrinkled face breaking into a faint smile as he sensed the shift in Ishikawa’s spirit. “Keep pushing forward. And remember—don’t ever doubt what you’re fighting for.”

“Thank you for your guidance,” Ishikawa replied, bowing slightly.

He held deep respect for the old man. Not only had he taught Ishikawa the [Yoga] sub-profession, but on that nameless island, his words had indirectly sparked Ishikawa’s breakthrough.

That’s why he’d made a point to come to this court.

“Ishikawa-kun, yo!” Rokkaku’s cheerful buchou, Aoi Kentarou, waved with his usual sunny grin.

Saeki, Kurobane, Amane, and the others nodded in greeting, their faces brimming with optimism and confidence.

*Step, step, step!*

Suddenly, a rhythmic march echoed nearby.

A group of teens in purple jackets approached, led by a potbellied, middle-aged man.

“Hey, move it!” the bald, big-bellied coach barked impatiently. “Rokkaku Chuu, huh? Your coach is practically one foot in the grave, and you’re still dragging him to matches? Tch.”

“What a jerk,” Shiba muttered, glaring at the man.

“That’s Higa Chuu from Okinawa,” Inoue said, his tone serious. “They took down last year’s national top-four team, Shishigaku, in this year’s Kyushu tournament. They’re no joke.”

“Strong or not, that guy’s got no manners,” Shiba huffed. “Talking to an elder like that? Rude.”

The old coach, unfazed by Higa’s coach Saotome’s jab, calmly led Rokkaku’s team onto the court.

“Hmph,” the bald man sneered, following with his team.

Higa’s players trailed behind, strutting with smug confidence. Dominating the Kyushu tournament had clearly gone to their heads, especially for a team that hadn’t made the Nationals in 26 years.

“Wait… it’s him!”

As Hirakoba, Kai, and the others passed through the gate, their faces froze when they spotted Ishikawa.

“Ishikawa Shin?”

Kite, Higa’s leader, raised an eyebrow, his cold, predatory gaze locking onto Ishikawa. “I know you beat Rikkai’s Sanada. But in the next match, I’ll show you Higa Chuu’s true strength.”

With that, he led his team onto the court.

“Weird,” Shiba said from a distance, curious. “Do those Higa guys know Ishikawa?”

“No clue,” Inoue replied, shaking his head.

But one thing was clear: he was scrapping his plan to watch Seigaku’s match. His gut told him that Hyotei’s strongest player showing up here wasn’t random. Something big was about to go down on this court!

---

*Chapter 177: The Despicable Higa Chuu, Ishikawa’s Intimidation (Part 3)*

“Game on!”

A moment later, the referee glanced at the players chosen by both teams and nodded. “Higa Chuu’s Chinen to serve. One set match!”

“Whoa, that guy’s tall.”

Outside the chain-link fence, Shiba gawked at Higa’s player. “Compared to him, Kintarou from Rokkaku looks like a kid!”

“Yeah,” Inoue nodded, “but if you think height decides a match, you’re underestimating Kintarou way too much.”

Rokkaku’s captain was no slouch. Sure, he lost to Akutsu in the Kanto Tournament’s second round, but c’mon—that’s Akutsu! The dude’s a legit top-tier national-level ace from Hyotei!

WHAM!

Chinen served.

Aoi returned calmly.

The rally went back and forth, but like Shiba said, Chinen’s height gave him an edge. It didn’t take long for him to start overwhelming Aoi.

WHAM!

A shot pinned to Aoi’s backhand landed cleanly. Higa’s player scored first.

WHAM!

Chinen kept racking up points. In the blink of an eye, he had three, already at game point.

“He’s strong!” Shiba couldn’t help but blurt out.

“Yep,” Inoue agreed.

Higa’s player was clearly dominating Rokkaku’s captain.

“But,” Inoue added, shaking his head, “the match just started. Aoi’s got some killer moves he hasn’t shown yet.”

He glanced at Aoi, then at the old man kneeling on the bench in front of Rokkaku’s team. Word was, that old coach had trained some incredible players. For him to personally pick Aoi as captain, the guy had to have more up his sleeve.

“Ishikawa-kun,” Inoue said, turning to the boy beside him. “What do you think?”

He was curious about Ishikawa’s connection to Higa. Even from a distance, Inoue had noticed the Higa players’ eyes widen with fear when they saw Ishikawa. Like they’d been burned by him before.

“Higa’s player is strong,” Ishikawa said, eyeing the court. “Aoi’s tennis is solid, but his opponent might still have some tricks left.”

“Huh?” Inoue and Shiba blinked, caught off guard.

WHAM!

Back on the court, Chinen served, and Aoi, after returning, started moving aggressively.

“Here it comes!” Rokkaku’s team grinned. “Kintarou’s already built up enough pressure!”

Their captain’s tennis style was unique. He needed his opponent to pile on the pressure, then used mental focus to unleash the shots he wanted.

WHAM!

Sure enough, Aoi chased down the ball, swung his racket, and—CRACK!—the ball hit the net cord.

“Huh?” Higa’s team looked stunned.

“There it is! Kintarou’s net cord shot!” Rokkaku’s players cheered.

Outside, Inoue and Shiba nodded in approval. That net cord shot was perfectly timed—a killer move against Chinen, who was stuck at the baseline.

“Wait…” Inoue’s face suddenly paled. “Did that guy just… get to the net in a split second?!”

BOOM!

A deafening crack rang out. Aoi’s delicate net cord shot was obliterated by Chinen, who’d somehow appeared at the net and smashed it with raw power.

“Game! Higa Chuu’s Chinen, 1-0! Change courts!”

The crowd fell silent. Rokkaku’s team, Inoue, and Shiba stared, dumbfounded.

“W-Why?” Shiba’s eyes widened. “He was at the baseline! How’d he get to the net that fast?”

Inoue’s gaze darkened. He remembered Ishikawa’s earlier words and glanced at him. “He knows something.”

WHAM!

The match continued, but Aoi was clearly being outplayed. Chinen’s ghost-like movement shut him down completely.

WHAM!

Chinen’s final smash scored. The referee called, “Match over! Higa Chuu’s Chinen wins, 6-2!”

Rokkaku’s team went quiet. Inoue and Shiba were floored.

“No way…” Shiba stammered. “Is this Higa guy on Akutsu’s level? A national-tier player?”

Inoue shook his head but couldn’t argue. The score was brutal—Rokkaku’s ace had been crushed.

And the shock didn’t stop there. Higa dominated the next three matches, leaving Rokkaku, Chiba’s top seed and a national tournament regular, with a humiliating 0-4 sweep. The score gaps were insane.

“They’re unreal,” Inoue muttered, stunned. “Is this Higa Chuu, the dark horse that conquered Kyushu and stormed the nationals?”

“Next up, Singles 1! Higa Chuu’s Kai Yuujirou versus Rokkaku’s Saeki Kojirou. Players, take the court!”

Kai and Saeki stepped up. Higa’s side was calm, their cheer squad roaring. Rokkaku’s team, though, looked grim.

“What’s that?” Kai taunted as he took the court. “You think you can change getting knocked out in the first round?”

“No need for talk. Let’s play,” Saeki said coolly, heading to the baseline.

“Yo, four matches done already?” a cheerful voice cut in. “Rokkaku hasn’t won a single one? Higa’s kinda tough, huh?”

A red-haired, mushroom-headed Yue appeared beside Inoue, Ishikawa, and Shiba.

“They’re strong, no doubt,” Hiyoshi added, joining them. “Saeki’s their last shot? Rokkaku might’ve underestimated Higa.”

“Vice-captain,” Hiyoshi said, curious, “how good is Higa, really?”

Higa’s players glanced over, their eyes locking on Ishikawa. Kote, Higa’s captain, gave him a cold stare. He’d dug up info on Ishikawa after their run-in at Rikkai. Hyotei’s rookie was their intel guy and strategist.

So, Kote thought, smirking, he’s scared of us. Too bad, Ishikawa. No matter how much you snoop, Hyotei can’t beat us.

Ishikawa was strong, sure, but tennis was a team sport. He might’ve cracked their Shukuchihou technique, but that didn’t mean the rest of Hyotei could. Kote chalked Ishikawa’s skill up to raw talent—impressive, but not enough to bridge the team gap.

“So, their strength?” Ishikawa shrugged. “Eh, average.”

Average? Inoue and Shiba froze. Kote’s eyes flashed with anger.

“Hmph!” Kai scoffed, glaring at Ishikawa before turning to Saeki, ready to take out his frustration.

WHAM!

Saeki served. The match began.

At first, Saeki held his own. But, like Aoi’s match, when he tried a net shot, Kai moved.

SWOOSH!

In a flash, Kai was at the net.

WHAM! He smashed the ball down.

“0-15!”

“What the—?” Yue and Hiyoshi gaped. “How’d he get to the net that fast?”

It was unreal!

Kai smirked at their shock, then kept using Shukuchihou, piling on the pressure.

WHAM!

Saeki kept losing points, just like the others. He couldn’t stop Kai’s onslaught.

SWOOSH!

Kai dashed to the net again, raising his racket for a vicious smash.

WHAM!

“Game! Higa Chuu’s Kai, 4-0!”

In no time, Saeki was down four games. Yue and Hiyoshi felt their hearts race.

“How’s he moving to the net like that?!” Hiyoshi demanded.

“Shukuchihou,” a voice answered.

Everyone turned. It was Rokkaku’s old coach.

Kote, Hirakoba, and Kai’s expressions shifted. Kote squinted at the tiny old man on the bench.

“It’s a footwork technique from Okinawan martial arts,” the coach explained calmly.

He’d seen through Shukuchihou the moment Chinen used it. But he knew the gap between the teams. Instead of spilling the secret early, he let his players learn the hard way. His philosophy was “happy tennis,” not just winning.

What he didn’t notice was Kote’s face darkening.

Kote shot Kai a look, his glasses glinting.

“Got it,” Kai nodded, pretending to focus on Saeki. But his real target was the old coach, still explaining Shukuchihou.

“Old man, you talk too much!” Kai growled.

BOOM!

He unleashed a shot—not at the court, but straight at the old coach on the bench.

“DANGER!” Saeki’s face paled. He sprinted toward the sideline, diving desperately with his racket outstretched.

But he was too far. Even at full stretch, he was meters short.

“Hah!” Kai sneered. “Weaklings like you can’t even touch it. Go back to your hometown!”

Higa’s coach, Saotome, and Kote smirked. This was Higa’s style—win at all costs. Anyone who threatened their victory had to go.

Winner takes all.

They could already picture the old man getting blasted by the ball.

BOOM!

But then—a flash of pale yellow light streaked in. To everyone’s shock, it obliterated Kai’s shot with a deafening BANG!

WHOOSH!

The ball kept going, ripping Kai’s beach hat off his head and sending it skyward.

CLANG!

It slammed into the fence, leaving a dent.

The crowd gasped in unison.

“Who?!” Higa’s team spun toward Rokkaku’s side, but no one stood out.

“Wait… over there!” Hirakoba pointed at the outer fence, voice shaking. “It came from there.”

Everyone looked. A fist-sized hole smoked in the fence, scorched from the friction.

In the direction of the shot, a black-haired boy in a gray-white jacket calmly lowered his racket.

“It’s him?” Hirakoba and Kai paled. Even Chinen, who’d toyed with Aoi, and the stocky Taninishi looked terrified.

“Hey, Hyotei!” Kote barked, stepping up. “Don’t start trouble.”

“Huh?” Hiyoshi snapped, kicking the gate open. “You despicable punks dare threaten us?”

“What, Hyotei? Wanna fight?” Kote shot back.

“Fight?” Yue stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. “Think I’m scared just ‘cause you’ve got numbers?”

Kote adjusted his glasses, the lenses glinting. “Hyotei, I’d cool it. Higa’s players have trained in Okinawan martial arts since they were kids.”

Higa’s team and cheer squad glared menacingly.

“This is bad,” Inoue thought. If things escalated, Hyotei’s small group could be in real danger.

But Hiyoshi and Yue just exchanged a glance, then smirked at Higa.

Martial arts? Hiyoshi was a martial arts pro himself. And the guy next to them? His martial arts skills were even scarier than his tennis.

Kote sensed something off and shifted his gaze to the black-haired boy. Their eyes met.

CRACK!

It was like lightning sparked between them.

Kote frowned. This Hyotei rookie felt… different from their Rikkai encounter. Like a whole new person.

Then, Ishikawa’s aura shifted. A chilling, abyss-like pressure radiated from him.

“W-Wait…” Kote trembled, a primal fear gripping him.

A top-tier martial arts master?!

---

Chapter 178: Higa's First Battle, All Eyes on the Court (Update 1)

“How… how is this even possible?!”

Kite desperately wanted to dismiss the absurd thought, but his body betrayed him. Against his will, his gaze shifted away, avoiding further eye contact with his opponent.

“Everyone from Higa.”

Seeing Kite’s rattled reaction, a faint smile crept across Ishikawa’s calm face. “Tennis isn’t for attacking others. But if you guys are just here to pick a fight, I’m happy to oblige. What do you think, Higa’s senpai Kite?”

Whoosh!

The moment those words landed, the Higa team’s eyes darted toward their captain.

But, to everyone’s surprise, their usually ferocious and ruthless leader acted as if he hadn’t heard a thing. Instead, he turned to Kai on the court and barked, “Kai-kun, what are you dawdling for? End this match already!”

“Y-Yes, I got it!”

Kai nodded quickly. He stole a glance at Kite, then at Ishikawa standing off the court. A strange thought crept into his mind.

“No way… Is Eishiro actually scared of this guy?”

Kai swallowed hard, shaking off the idea.

Get it together!

His eyes sharpened as he glared at Saeki across the net. “I’m taking you down in one go!”

If he couldn’t take on Hyotei, surely he could handle Hexagon, right?

Thwack!

But the match took a turn. Saeki switched to a side-to-side offensive strategy, hitting deep shots that pinned Kai near the baseline. Under pressure, Kai grew frustrated. Saeki, meanwhile, couldn’t quite gain the upper hand either. Slowly but surely, Higa’s stamina advantage began to show.

Thwack!

Finally, with Kai’s powerful shot, the referee’s voice rang out: “Match over! Higa’s Kai wins, 7-5!”

“The first round of the National Tournament concludes here. Okinawa’s Higa Junior High sweeps all five matches, advancing to the second round!”

“So… so strong!”

Outside the court, Shiba’s face was full of shock. “Hexagon didn’t even win a single match. Higa’s just too good, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” Inoue nodded, his expression serious.

Though he’d missed Seigaku’s match against Rokurioka, this game revealed a dark horse from the far south. Even Hyotei’s performance in the second round of the Kanto Tournament wasn’t this dominant. More crucially, Inoue noticed that despite playing all five matches, Higa’s captain—their strongest ace, Kite Eishiro—hadn’t even stepped onto the court.

This only highlighted the team’s terrifying potential.

It also made him eagerly anticipate the second round that afternoon: Hyotei versus Higa.

“Let’s go,” Ishikawa said, leading Akutagawa and Hiyoshi as they prepared to leave.

Part of his reason for watching was to scout Higa’s players. But more importantly, he wanted to prevent the incident from the original manga where Hexagon’s elderly coach got injured. Ishikawa had considered revealing the secret of Shukuchiho (Shrinking Ground Technique), but as an outsider, he hesitated. Plus, given Higa’s ruthless nature, if the old coach pointed out their weaknesses, Kite would likely still order his team to attack the elderly man.

Instead of overthinking, Ishikawa decided to let tennis do the talking and force Higa to face reality.

“Wait, Ishikawa-kun!”

Just as they were about to leave, Saeki, Aoi, and the rest of Hexagon’s team rushed over. They caught up to Ishikawa’s group and bowed deeply in unison.

“Thank you so much!”

Their gratitude was heartfelt. Without Ishikawa’s presence, their coach would’ve surely been hurt. Plus, with Hyotei’s trio there, Higa didn’t dare act too brazenly.

“No big deal. Just lending a hand,” Ishikawa said with a shake of his head.

In truth, he felt he’d received more help from the old coach than he’d given.

With that, they left.

“Eishiro, what do we do now?”

Nearby, Higa’s players watched Ishikawa’s group leave, their faces grim. If they let Hyotei walk away unscathed, they’d be the laughingstock of the tournament.

“What else can we do?” Kite said coldly. “This isn’t Higa. We play by the rules here.”

He walked over to the chain-link fence, eyeing the hole punched through it, and squinted. “That guy’s no joke. He beat Rikkai’s Sanada, after all. A serve like that isn’t something you just shrug off.”

“Yeah,” Hirakoba, Kai, and the others nodded heavily.

Kai, in particular, was shaken. Ishikawa’s earlier shot had been unreal. If luck hadn’t been on his side, that ball would’ve smashed into his head. Despite his tough talk, Kai knew he didn’t have the guts to face that guy.

“Enough,” Kite said, noticing their reactions. “Go eat, rest up, and get ready for the afternoon matches.”

“Got it!” the team replied in unison.

---

Meanwhile, Ishikawa’s group met up with Sakaki Taro, Atobe, and the others. After lunch, Ishikawa, Sakaki, and Atobe finalized the lineup for the second round.

At 2:00 p.m., the second-round venue buzzed with teams from across the country. The setup resembled the Kanto finals’ rectangular court, but with walls separating the sides. The spacious area housed four courts, allowing four matches to run simultaneously, including Seigaku vs. Shishigaku and Hyotei vs. Higa.

“Higa Chuu!”

Before the match even began, Higa’s players chanted their school’s name. Though small in number, their voices were loud and synchronized, radiating intensity.

“The second round of the National Tournament, Hyotei Academy vs. Higa Junior High, is about to begin. Both teams, please enter the court.”

As the referee’s voice echoed, two teams—one in gray, one in black—descended from separate staircases, led by their coaches and captains.

“Haha, look, Hyotei’s here!”

“Aren’t these the buddies of that loser team from this morning?”

“Heh, we crushed Hexagon this morning. Taking down Hyotei this afternoon’s gonna be a breeze!”

Higa’s players didn’t hold back, their taunts ringing out as Hyotei entered.

“These jerks!”

Labeled as “losers,” Akutagawa and Hiyoshi’s faces darkened.

“Stay calm,” Sakaki said firmly. “Don’t let their provocations mess with your head.”

“Understood,” they replied, nodding.

Choutarou, surprised, chimed in, “Is this really necessary? It’s the Nationals. Would they stoop to these cheap tricks?”

“If it were anyone else, it might be a coincidence,” Ishikawa said with a smile, shaking his head. “But with Higa, no assumption is too low.”

In the original manga, Higa was undeniably the most despicable team. From their coach to their captain, down to the regulars and reserves, everyone embodied “win at all costs” to the extreme. Especially Kite. Beating people, pulling dirty tricks—anything he could think of, he’d do.

If Ishikawa had to guess, this chanting was probably Kite’s idea, meant to rile up Hyotei’s players, just as Sakaki had warned.

Too bad for them. Tricks like that were doomed to fail.

Both teams took the court, exchanged greetings, and retreated to their baselines. The referee’s voice rang out again:

“The Singles 3 match is about to begin. Hyotei Academy’s Kabaji Munehiro vs. Higa Junior High’s Taninishi Kei. Players, please prepare.”

“Kabaji? He’s in Singles 3?”

From the stands, Shiba from Tennis Monthly gasped. “Hyotei’s lineup is totally unexpected!”

“Yeah,” Inoue nodded.

This was the Nationals, and Hyotei was a powerhouse. Having beaten Rikkai in the Kanto Tournament, they were under as much scrutiny as teams like Rikkai or Shitenhoji.

“Maybe Hyotei’s holding back,” Inoue mused.

With their deep bench, Sakaki only needed to ensure a win. Kabaji’s strength and talent were no joke—putting him in Singles 3 could be a deliberate move to catch Higa off guard.

Thud!

A sound like an earthquake rumbled from the court.

“That guy’s huge!”

Shiba blurted out, then quickly corrected herself. “I mean, Higa’s Taninishi Kei looks incredibly powerful.”

Inoue nodded, eyeing Taninishi’s round, ball-like frame. “His strength is undeniable. Putting Kabaji against him is a smart choice.”

“Hey, Hyotei guy!”

At the net, Taninishi called out, trying to provoke Kabaji. But Kabaji didn’t even glance his way.

“What a dope,” Taninishi muttered, swallowing the trash talk he’d prepared.

“Boring.”

He shook his head, and after winning the coin toss for serve, smirked. “Alright, big guy. I’ll end this in a flash.”

Taninishi retreated to the baseline. Kabaji, expressionless as ever, stepped back like a machine devoid of emotion. To Higa’s team, he looked like a clueless oaf.

“The match begins, one set to decide the winner,” the referee announced. “Higa’s Taninishi serves. First game!”

“Big guy,” Taninishi said with a sinister grin, gripping the ball, “time to see what Higa’s made of!”

Whoosh!

He tossed the ball high.

Then, to everyone’s disbelief, Taninishi’s massive frame leapt off the ground. Gripping his racket, he smashed the ball with full force.

Bang!

A deafening crack. The court’s light seemed to collapse into a single point as the ball rocketed forward like a cannonball.

Hiss!

Spectators gasped, eyes wide.

Thud!

The ball hit the ground. Kabaji couldn’t react in time.

“15-0!”

“There it is!” Higa’s team cheered. “Taninishi’s Big Bang!”

“What a terrifying serve,” Shiba said, stunned.

Inoue nodded gravely. “Its power and speed are insane. He didn’t use this against Hexagon this morning. Higa’s been hiding their strength.”

Unlike typical dark horses, Higa had talented players, a strong leader, and meticulous strategies. In an era before Rikkai’s rise, they’d have been championship contenders.

Now, facing Hyotei, Higa was finally unleashing their full power.

Thud!

Three more Big Bang serves, and the referee called, “Game! Higa’s Taninishi, 1-0. Change sides!”

“Hmm.” Inoue’s face darkened. “Higa’s clearly aiming to crush Hyotei in one go.”

Their morning match against Hexagon was just a warm-up. Now, against Hyotei, they were going all out, their ambition laid bare.

“Higa Chuu!”

Taninishi’s points fired up Higa’s team. Though their cheer squad was small compared to Hyotei’s, their momentum was like a sharp blade, ready to cut through anything.

“Second game, Hyotei’s Kabaji serves.”

After switching sides, Kabaji took the ball, standing stiffly in place.

“Ha!” Kai scoffed from the sidelines. “Is this guy scared stiff or what?”

“Heh,” Hirakoba grinned. “Thought Hyotei was tough, but they’re nothing special.”

Whoosh!

But then, Kabaji tossed the ball high.

Kai shook his head. “This lug threw it that high? Can he even jump?”

Swish!

To everyone’s shock, Kabaji launched off the ground, soaring upward. Raising his racket, he gathered his strength and smashed the ball with a thunderous swing.

Bang!

The ball roared like a cannon shot.

“What the—?!”

Taninishi, who’d been smirking, froze as the ball screamed toward him. His pupils shrank. “Big Bang?!”

Thud!

The ball slammed into the court, rocketing past him as he stood rooted in place.

*Chapter 179: This Guy Knows Shukuchihou Too? Kabaji’s Taboo*

“15-0!”

The referee’s call echoed.

Higa’s team froze, stunned.

“No… no way!” Hirakoba rubbed his eyes, disbelief written all over his face. “That big oaf just pulled off Tanishi’s Big Bang?!”

It was absurd. Even they, who’d been there when Kote taught Tanishi the Big Bang, hadn’t mastered it. And this Hyotei guy learned it after watching one game?

“Yoshirou!” Higa’s players turned to Kote.

“Calm down, you idiots,” Kote said, arms crossed, his face cool as ice. “So what if he learned Big Bang? Tanishi’s still got that move.”

Right! The Higa team snapped out of it, their eyes locking onto the court.

“There it is,” Inoue muttered outside the fence, nodding to himself. “Kabaji’s Akagokoro—Heart of a Child!”

Back at the Tokyo Prefectural Tournament, Kabaji had used this ability to mimic Oishi and Kikumaru’s tennis. According to Nanjirou, it would only get stronger as Kabaji’s skills grew.

“It’s obvious,” Inoue thought. “Hyotei’s been training hard, and Kabaji’s definitely leveled up.”

Then it hit him. Since the Kanto Tournament, Hyotei had stuck to their usual lineup—Ishikawa, Atobe, and a few others. Kabaji, Hiyoshi, and Jirou barely played. Inoue’s mental image of them was still stuck in the Tokyo days.

“And Kabaji and Hiyoshi are second-years,” Inoue mused, narrowing his eyes. “Putting Kabaji in Singles 3 isn’t just strategy—it’s about training Hyotei’s next generation!”

Kabaji, Hiyoshi, Choutarou—just those three could carry Hyotei to wins in multiple matches. Add in Ishikawa, a first-year who’s already the team’s core, and Hyotei’s lineup next year would be terrifying.

BOOM!

Kabaji unleashed another Big Bang serve.

“30-0!”

“It’s… exactly the same,” Tanishi muttered, his face darkening.

He’d thought Kabaji was just mimicking, but this Hyotei giant had nailed the Big Bang serve’s essence.

BOOM!

Two more serves. Tanishi didn’t even touch the ball, and Kabaji scored.

“Game! Hyotei’s Kabaji, 1-1!”

The score tied. Tanishi wasn’t backing down, though. In the third game, he fired off his own powerful serves, securing his service game.

The fourth game was Kabaji’s turn to explode.

BOOM!

A serving showdown erupted. The score swung back and forth, a rare duel that drew the crowd’s attention.

“Inoue-senpai,” Shiba said, swallowing hard as the two powerhouses traded cannon-like shots. “They’re not gonna keep this up forever, are they?”

If neither could break the other’s serve, wouldn’t the match go on indefinitely?

“Nah,” Inoue shook his head. “As time drags on, their stamina, control, and focus will slip. That’s when those invincible serves start to crack.”

WHAM!

Sure enough, in the ninth game at 4-4, Kabaji, receiving, took a big step, chased down the ball, and blasted it back.

“He returned it?!” Higa’s team paled.

They never expected their player to lose a service game first.

THUD! THUD!

Tanishi sprinted, caught the ball, and swung with a massive forehand.

WHAM!

The shot landed on Kabaji’s backhand side. It wasn’t pinpoint, but Tanishi’s aggressive style forced opponents to move, and that was enough.

THUD! THUD!

Kabaji charged. He’d been training relentlessly, second only to Ishikawa, Shinohara, and Akutsu in dedication.

WHAM!

He caught the ball and fired a sharp shot to Tanishi’s forecourt.

“Nice one!” Hyotei’s team cheered.

Kabaji’s shot was on point. His training was clearly paying off.

“If he scores this point, he’s got a real shot at breaking Tanishi’s serve,” Oshitari nodded. “Then, if Kabaji holds his next service game, he—huh?!”

His eyes widened.

SWOOSH!

Tanishi, who’d been at the baseline, somehow stepped to the net in a flash. The speed was jaw-dropping.

WHAM!

He smashed the ball, scoring instantly.

“0-15!”

“What the heck was that?!” Jirou, suddenly wide awake, gaped. “How’d he get to the net that fast?”

“Shukuchihou,” Ishikawa said calmly. “It’s a footwork technique from Okinawan martial arts. Using gravity and martial arts skills, it lets you reach the net in one step, creating the illusion of instant movement.”

“So,” Oshitari mused, “to counter it, just hit to the sides, right?”

“Damn it!” Tanishi growled, his face twisting as his trump card was exposed.

Kote’s eyes glinted coldly. “This Hyotei first-year is a real pain.”

Shukuchihou was Higa’s ace in the hole. They’d used it to crush the cocky Shishigaku in the Kyushu Tournament. Kote had planned to wield it at nationals to humble the so-called elite schools.

But now? First Rokkaku, now Hyotei—Shukuchihou was getting dismantled.

Even if Higa beat Hyotei, the secret and its counter would spread. Kote was furious.

And it only strengthened his resolve to take Ishikawa out later.

WHAM!

Without Shukuchihou, the match grew intense. Tanishi was strong and agile, handling close-range shots with ease. Early on, he dominated, but as Kabaji’s movements sharpened, Tanishi felt like he was playing against a mirror.

“This guy’s a nightmare,” Tanishi panted, sweat dripping from his hefty frame.

“Crap,” Kai muttered. “Tanishi’s stamina is garbage. A long match is bad news.”

Kote’s face darkened. He hadn’t expected Kabaji to match Tanishi blow for blow. If this dragged on, Tanishi would collapse.

“Tanishi!” Kote snapped. “You fat pig, you wanna get chewed out when this is over?”

SWOOSH!

Tanishi’s face paled, but Kote’s threat lit a fire in him. He charged at Kabaji with renewed ferocity.

WHAM!

Tanishi’s onslaught was brutal, even pinning Kabaji to the baseline at times.

POP!

Suddenly, Tanishi dropped a short ball.

“What?!” Inoue and Shiba gasped.

Hyotei’s team blinked in disbelief. Who’d have thought a bulky guy like Tanishi could pull off such a delicate shot?

“This point’s mine,” Tanishi grinned confidently.

His aggressive play had been a feint, and this short ball was the finishing blow.

SWOOSH!

But just as Tanishi thought he’d sealed the deal, a figure flashed from the baseline to the net at lightning speed.

“What?!” Tanishi’s face fell. “Shukuchihou?!”

WHAM!

Kabaji didn’t waste words. He smashed the ball to Tanishi’s right.

THUD!

“Game! Hyotei’s Kabaji, 5-4!”

HISS!

Higa’s team sucked in a collective breath. Kabaji’s use of Shukuchihou left them floored.

“Even Shukuchihou?!” Kai and Hirakoba gaped.

Big Bang, Samba Steps, and now the secret Okinawan martial arts technique Shukuchihou—what kind of monster was this Hyotei giant?!

The point rattled Tanishi. Kabaji seized the moment, dominating his tenth-game serve and piling on points.

By the time Kabaji reached match point, Tanishi snapped out of it, spurred by Kote’s icy glare. Panicked, he went all-out, burning through his stamina to try and win the game and tie the score.

In his desperation, Tanishi started trash-talking:

“Hey, Hyotei mute! Can’t talk?”

“You’re a moron. Won’t even clap back. You’re a disgrace to Hyotei!”

“No clue how Hyotei’s coach picked a dimwit like you for Singles 3. Oh, wait—he’s probably an idiot too.”

Tanishi kept taunting, but Kabaji was like a statue, completely unfazed.

Hyotei’s team fumed, but there was nothing they could do. Tanishi’s antics, while scummy, were within the rules.

Then, running out of insults, Tanishi glanced at Atobe outside the court and sneered, “Besides Hyotei’s coach, that Atobe guy’s gotta be a moron too—”

SWOOSH!

Something clicked. Kabaji’s dull expression vanished. His eyes blazed with a fierce, almost feral intensity as he glared at Tanishi, fury radiating from him.

“Hah! Got you mad?” Tanishi grinned.

WHAM!

He deliberately lobbed a ball at Kabaji. An angry player loses control, and their precision tanks. This shot looked like an easy feed but was meant to force a mistake.

SWOOSH!

Kabaji leaned forward, poised to charge. In his mind, he recalled Ishikawa’s training—the explosive shot he’d been drilled on.

Suddenly, Kabaji’s racket whipped up, meeting the incoming ball with a ferocious swing.

BOOM!

A pale yellow streak shot out like a cannonball.

“This shot…” Tanishi’s face twitched.

The ball’s power was insane. Taking it head-on would hurt.

But he was cornered. Losing this point meant losing the match. Steeling himself, Tanishi raised his racket, muscles tensed, and swung as the ball arrived.

“Just a flat shot. No way you’ll overpower me!” he roared.

BOOM!

The ball met the racket—and Tanishi’s confidence shattered. His face twisted in horror and pain.

WHOOSH!

In front of a stunned crowd, Tanishi was blasted back, racket and all, screaming like a pig as he crashed into the walkway above the court with a THUD.

“Match over,” the referee said, snapping out of his shock. “Hyotei Academy’s Kabaji wins, 6-4!”

“Ahh! My hand! It’s broken! It hurts!” Tanishi wailed, rolling on the walkway like a flailing hog.

GULP.

Higa’s team and the crowd stared, swallowing hard. The writhing figure was a shocking sight.

“Kabaji…” Even Hyotei’s players looked at him with a mix of awe and fear.

No one expected the quiet, stoic Kabaji to have such a ferocious side.

---

Chapter 180: Two Straight Wins, Hyotei’s Golden Duo (Update 3)

Moments later, medical staff rushed to the court, carrying off Taninishi, who was wailing like a pig being slaughtered.

“Man, that guy got wrecked,” Akutagawa said, shaking his head from Hyotei’s side. “Of all people to mess with, he picks Kabaji. And then trashes Atobe right to his face? Tch, tch.”

“No kidding,” Hiyoshi added, still in awe.

He’d never seen Kabaji so ferocious before. That explosive shot was something entirely new, too.

Curious, Hiyoshi asked, “Could it be… Kabaji got so mad he tapped into some hidden power?”

“Nah, that’s not it,” Oshitari said, shaking his head. “From what I know, Ishikawa put Kabaji through some intense strength training. He even taught him a special move—probably that one.”

“Kabaji, relax,” Atobe said, stepping in to calm the still-fuming Kabaji. “Don’t let that guy’s words get to you, got it?”

“Yes,” Kabaji nodded stiffly, his emotions slowly settling.

“By the way,” Akutagawa piped up, curiosity piqued, “Vice-Captain, that move you taught Kabaji… it’s not Ishida’s Hadokyuu (Wave Surge Ball) from Fudomine, is it?”

“You’re spot on,” Ishikawa said, not denying it. “I tweaked Ishida’s Hadokyuu a bit—boosted its power and reduced the strain on the arm’s bones.”

“Man, I’m jealous,” muttered Kurokawa, Shika, and other second-string players, their envy clear.

Shinohara’s face dimmed slightly. Ishikawa’s coaching was reserved for the main roster or second-years with potential. Third-years like him, whose growth had plateaued, didn’t get the same chances.

Still, they understood. Ishikawa was just the vice-captain, and he was already doing an incredible job. If anyone was to blame, it was their bad luck for being born a couple of years too early, missing the chance to witness Hyotei’s quest for a third consecutive national title alongside Ishikawa.

“The Doubles 2 match is about to begin,” the announcer called. “Hyotei Academy’s Shishido Ryo and Ootori Choutarou versus Higa Junior High’s Hirakoba Rin and Chinen Kan.”

“Players, please prepare.”

As the announcement ended, the crowd’s eyes shifted to the players stepping forward from Hyotei and Higa.

“It’s them?!”

On Higa’s side, the blond-haired Hirakoba and gaunt-faced Chinen narrowed their eyes at their opponents.

Across the court, Shishido and Ootori recognized them too. Shishido had faced Hirakoba before, and Chinen was the guy who’d refereed their beach tennis match. Old acquaintances, to say the least.

At the net, they exchanged words.

“Didn’t expect you to be with Hyotei,” Hirakoba said to Shishido, brimming with confidence. “I beat you once before, and I’ll do it again!”

“Oh, yeah?” Shishido replied with a calm smile.

He wasn’t riled up. He genuinely wanted to face Hirakoba in a proper match and settle the score.

“You,” Chinen sneered, eyeing Ootori. “You’re probably no better than that shorty from Hexagon, huh?”

“Maybe,” Ootori said, his face serene.

Gone was the naive kid who’d get rattled by taunts. The Metropolitan and Kanto Tournaments, along with battles against tough opponents, had sharpened his experience and tempered his personality. To him, ignoring provocations and focusing on the game was what mattered.

Seeing their taunts fall flat, Higa’s duo dropped the mind games.

After the coin toss, both teams retreated to their baselines.

“Hyotei’s duo is tough,” Hirakoba thought, recalling Kite’s pre-match warning as he prepared to receive. His eyes narrowed. “They went toe-to-toe with Rikkai’s top-ranked national doubles pair. We’ve gotta break their serve right out of the gate!”

With that resolve, he locked onto his opponents.

“The match begins,” the referee announced from the high chair. “Hyotei’s Ootori serves. First game!”

Whoosh!

Ootori tossed the ball high, tiptoeing as he tracked it. Raising his racket, he swung with precision.

“Ichi-dama… Tama-shii!” (One Ball, Into the Soul!)

Bang!

A thunderous crack. Ootori’s serve rocketed like a cannonball, slamming into the court just to Hirakoba’s right.

“What the—?!”

Hirakoba, who’d been itching to break the serve, froze as the ball landed. His pupils shrank.

Too fast!

The serve’s speed was beyond his reaction time. By the time he processed it, the ball had zipped past him, crashing into the wall with a loud thud.

“15-0!”

Hiss.

Higa’s team sucked in a collective breath at the direct ace.

“Nice one,” Ishikawa said from Hyotei’s side, nodding approvingly. “Ootori-senpai’s new Heavy Cannon Serve has gotten a lot stronger.”

“New serve?” The others, who hadn’t paid much attention, turned to him curiously.

“As expected,” Oshitari said, raising an eyebrow. “Even Ootori’s serve got an upgrade from him?”

A pang of disappointment hit Oshitari. But he quickly shook it off. Sure, outside help could boost you fast, but it wouldn’t last forever. In the end, you had to rely on yourself.

Bang!

Another serve landed. Facing Ootori’s revamped Heavy Cannon Serve, Chinen stood like a statue, his movements stiff.

“30-0!”

“Hyotei!”

The back-to-back aces sent Hyotei’s morale soaring. Higa, on the other hand, was reeling. Taninishi’s crushing defeat, coupled with Hirakoba and Chinen failing to even touch Ootori’s serves, left their spirits in the gutter.

Bang!

Ootori fired off more Heavy Cannon Serves, racking up points.

“Game! Hyotei, 1-0. Change sides!”

Four straight aces completely rattled Higa’s duo.

Riding that momentum, Shishido and Ootori dominated with their seamless teamwork and individual skill, keeping Higa on the defensive. Higa only scored in Hirakoba’s service games, otherwise stuck in a one-sided beating.

“How pathetic!”

From the coach’s bench, Higa’s balding, pot-bellied coach, Saotome Harumi (a greasy middle-aged man), scowled in frustration.

With their Shukuchiho (Shrinking Ground Technique) exposed, Higa’s players were left powerless.

“Ugh.”

On the court, Hirakoba’s face darkened at his coach’s irritation. Acting on instinct, he swung his racket with a fierce snap.

Thwack!

The ball shot out like a venomous snake, weaving unpredictably as it sped across the court.

“Now’s my chance!”

Shishido, who’d been waiting, sprang into action. He’d lost a game to Hirakoba before and had been bitter about it ever since. Back at Hyotei, he’d trained relentlessly, honing his footwork and explosive power.

Swish!

Shishido darted to the ball’s path, locking onto it and swinging decisively.

Thwack!

A clean volley landed in the gap between Higa’s duo.

“Game! Hyotei, 3-1!”

The score gap widened, and Higa’s situation grew dire. In the fifth game, Ootori’s serve came up again, and—predictably—four more unstoppable aces gave Hyotei another point, leading 4-1.

“You idiots!” Saotome roared, his anger boiling over.

During Higa’s next serve, he coughed repeatedly, signaling Hirakoba to switch to another plan.

“Hm?”

Feeling a sudden chill, Saotome looked up toward Hyotei’s side.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Hiyoshi, one of Hyotei’s players, was lightly bouncing a tennis ball, a mischievous grin on his face.

“What the—?” Saotome’s expression shifted.

Recalling Hyotei’s fierce reputation, his anger fizzled out.

“Uh…”

Hirakoba, about to serve, hesitated. He wasn’t sure what his coach meant. But as he wavered, a sharp sense of danger hit him. He glanced up instinctively.

On Hyotei’s side, a black-haired boy standing behind their coach was smiling at him.

Hiss.

Hirakoba’s heart skipped a beat. He remembered that guy’s terrifying skill, the infamous “poison drink,” and how Kai’s hat had been blasted off during the morning match. From the sidelines, Hirakoba had seen it clearly—the ball was aimed straight for Kai’s hat. No luck involved.

Without hesitation, Hirakoba made the safe choice.

Thwack!

He hit the serve, refocusing. Despite the score gap, he hadn’t given up. He wanted to fight fair and square, to win this match head-on.

But Hyotei’s duo was just too strong. Hirakoba and Chinen’s synergy was lackluster, and their teamwork was thoroughly outclassed by Hyotei’s.

“No choice left.”

After losing more points and facing match point, Hirakoba finally unleashed his trump card.

Thwack!

The ball soared, its trajectory morphing into a massive, vicious arc—far more dangerous than his earlier Viper shot.

“There it is!” Higa’s team perked up. “Hirakoba’s Giant Viper!”

“Whoa.”

Up in the stands, Inoue’s face tightened at the sight of the exaggerated spin.

He hadn’t expected Higa’s player to have such a hidden ace. The move was on par with some of Kanto’s top techniques—a serious challenge for Hyotei’s duo.

“Hmph.”

After hitting the Giant Viper, Hirakoba smirked coldly. Normally, he could only manage one such shot per game. But after losing to Ishikawa, his burning desire for revenge had fueled intense training, allowing him to hit it three times per game. If he could score just one more point outside this move, he could secure a game.

Swish!

But as Hirakoba brimmed with confidence, Shishido moved.

In that moment, he erupted with incredible speed.

Buzz!

A faint blue glow shimmered around him, as if he’d broken through the air’s resistance.

“Oh?”

From the coach’s bench, Sakaki Taro’s eyes widened in surprise. “Is this the Limit Break Ishikawa mentioned before?”

Swish! Swish! Swish!

Shishido’s rapid movement left afterimages in his wake. His real body closed in on the Giant Viper in an instant.

Thwack!

He returned the ball, piercing Higa’s defense once again.

“I won’t let you win!”