171-175

*Chapter 171: Shukuchi Method - Shishido’s Defeat, Ishikawa Steps Up (3rd Update)*

“Whoa, what’s this?”

Spotting someone stepping onto the court, the beach-capped teen—Higa Chuu’s vice-captain, Kai Yujiro—perked up. He’d already braced himself for a slow day with less cash flow, but now his eyes gleamed with interest.

“Heh heh.”

Nearby, the Higa Chuu team members doubling as ball boys snapped to attention, their spirits lifting.

“Another fat sheep’s walked in,” they thought, grinning. This could mean another day of raking in the yen.

“Hey there!” Kai, acting as the rule announcer, flashed a grin at the challenger. “Our beach tennis game’s got two ways to play.”

“Option one: fun mode. Our players will rally with you for 10 minutes, and it’ll cost you 5,000 yen.”

“Option two: challenge mode. Pick any one of us to face off against. It’s a one-game match, winner takes all. Win, and you pocket 5,000 yen. Lose, and you owe 5,000 yen.”

He paused, then added with a smirk, “Oh, and if you’re short on cash, we’ve got another way to settle up—the Bitter Gourd Challenge!”

He gestured toward a chubby guy guarding a pile of long, green, gnarly-looking veggies nearby.

“All you gotta do is eat a whole bitter gourd—or chug its juice—in under a minute, and you’re off the hook.”

“Bitter gourd?” Shishido raised an eyebrow.

No way was he touching something that’d assault his taste buds like that. Besides, as a student at the elite Hyotei Academy, 5,000 yen was pocket change for him.

“I’ll go with challenge mode,” Shishido said with a nod.

From what he could tell, these guys were pulling some shady tricks, but they weren’t just out to scam people. At least they offered the bitter gourd workaround. Plus, bitter gourd was cooling in this sweltering heat—a decent drink if you could stomach the awful taste.

“Sweet!” Kai grinned at Shishido’s decisiveness. “Alright, pick your opponent.”

Around the court, the tanned Higa players straightened up, their sharp gazes locked on Shishido, each one ready to throw down.

“I’ll take him,” Shishido said, pointing at Hirakoba.

He didn’t know the others, but this blond guy? Definitely not someone to underestimate.

“No problem,” Kai said, nodding toward the high chair where a lean-faced teen with gray hair and a streak of yellow sat. The ref gave a quick nod back.

“Game on!” the ref announced. “Challenger serves first. One game decides it!”

Kai handed Shishido a racket and a ball.

Shishido eyed Hirakoba’s stance, tossed the ball up, and swung hard, sending it rocketing across the court.

Wham!

The ball shot forward with a crisp sound.

“Huh?” Hirakoba’s brow twitched, sensing the ball’s speed. “Not bad.”

Tap tap!

He darted forward, catching the ball just after it bounced and returning it with a solid, no-frills shot.

Shishido wasn’t fazed. He knew Hirakoba was holding back. Moving quickly, he chased the ball, his mind racing as he analyzed the court.

Beach courts were a whole different beast compared to hard courts. Hard courts were solid, so balls bounced higher with sharper angles. Sand, though? Even if this sand was firmer than the stuff by the shore, it was still just a pile of fine grains. Balls didn’t bounce as high here.

Shishido had watched plenty of matches from the sidelines, but now that he was on the court, he wasn’t taking any chances.

Wham!

He waited for the ball to bounce before firing it back, aiming a sharp shot at Hirakoba’s backhand side.

“Whoa!” Kai, watching from the sidelines, raised an eyebrow. “This new guy’s got some skills!”

Still, he had full confidence in Hirakoba. After all, the guy was Higa’s second-best player, only behind their buchou, Kite, and able to hold his own against him.

Wham! Wham!

On the court, the two quickly fell into a baseline rally, trading shots back and forth.

“That’s insane!” a spectator gasped.

“This guy’s holding his own against the blond dude!”

“Gotta be a pro, right? No way a random guy shows up this strong!”

The crowd buzzed, clearly impressed by Shishido’s game.

“Alright, time to heat things up,” Kai muttered, arms crossed, a sly grin creeping onto his face. He shot a quick glance at Hirakoba.

“Got it!” Hirakoba caught the signal from the corner of his eye, his expression turning serious.

“Sorry, man, my time’s too valuable to keep this stalemate going,” he thought.

Chasing down the next ball, Hirakoba swung his racket with a sudden burst of speed.

Wham!

The ball blasted across the court, way faster than anything he’d hit before, catching everyone off guard.

“So fast!” the crowd yelped.

The Higa players smirked, fully expecting Hirakoba’s shot to score.

Tap tap!

But then, out of nowhere, a figure appeared right at the ball’s landing spot.

“What the—?!” Kai’s jaw dropped. “When did he get there?!”

This guy’s reflexes were unreal.

Smack!

The ball wham! Shishido caught the ball mid-bounce and smashed it back, drilling it right to Hirakoba’s backhand corner near the baseline for a clean point.

“Uh…” The ref blinked, then called, “15-0!”

“WOOO!” The crowd roared, blown away by Shishido’s play.

That chase, that crisp topspin shot—it was straight-up cool!

“Half-volley?” Hirakoba’s brow furrowed.

He studied Shishido closely. “So, we’ve got a real contender this time, huh?”

The shock wore off quickly. He’d faced tough opponents before, like that Uehara guy from earlier. One point wasn’t a big deal.

Wham!

But on Shishido’s next serve, he didn’t hesitate, charging straight to the net.

“Serve and volley?!” The Higa players gaped.

Tap tap!

As Shishido closed in on the net, Hirakoba raised an eyebrow and fired a lightning-fast shot right at Shishido’s feet.

Whoosh!

The ball came so fast that, given Shishido’s speed, he’d either have to slow down or risk getting hit. Everyone—Higa’s team, the crowd—figured the blue-capped kid would back off.

But Shishido? He didn’t slow down one bit. As the ball bounced, he swung mid-stride, wham!, nailing a blistering half-volley that caught Hirakoba off guard.

Wham!

The ball landed, too fast for Hirakoba to react. Point lost.

“30-0.”

“Crap,” Kai muttered, exchanging looks with his teammates. This guy was the real deal.

From the serve to the net rush to that slick half-volley—Shishido moved like he’d done it a thousand times. No way he was some amateur.

“A pro, huh?” Hirakoba smirked, unfazed.

Sure, he felt a bit of pressure from this guy, but that was it.

He glanced at Kai, who gave him a nod.

Game face on. Hirakoba crouched low, feet spread, ready for war.

“Finally getting serious?” Shishido’s eyes glinted with intensity.

Wham!

He served and charged the net again, just like before.

“Here we go again!” a spectator shouted.

“This guy’s net game is unreal!”

“So young and this good? Bet he’s an elite from some fancy tennis club!”

Wham!

Hirakoba, facing Shishido’s aggressive play, angled a sharp shot to pull him out of position. But Shishido was too quick, sliding over, smacking the ball back, and pressing closer to the net.

“This guy’s reactions are nuts,” Hirakoba thought, feeling the heat. With the green light to go all out, he raised his racket and hammered the incoming ball.

BOOM!

The ball rocketed out, then—mid-flight—curved wildly.

“Snake Ball?!” Shishido blinked, recognizing the spin from Seigaku’s Kaidoh.

“Wait, no!” He caught it a split second later.

The ball, spinning like crazy, curved one way, then jerked another, zigzagging unpredictably.

Swish, swish, swish!

It slithered past Shishido like a cobra, landing just inside the baseline with a thud.

“30-15!”

“Whoa!” The crowd gasped in awe.

“What was that?!” Uehara, the short-haired guy who’d lost earlier and came back for a rematch, went pale. That shot was beyond anything he’d seen.

“There it is—Hirakoba’s Cobra!” The Higa team cheered.

As one of Higa’s top three players, Hirakoba’s skill was no joke.

“Cobra, huh?” Shishido’s gaze sharpened.

He replayed the shot in his head, nodding to himself. “Tricky angles, unpredictable spin… yeah, it’s like a damn snake.”

Compared to Kaidoh’s Snake Ball? This move was on another level.

And the guy pulling it off? Definitely not some nobody.

Still, Shishido kept his cool. More mature now, he didn’t rush in blindly. Instead, he settled in, ready to study Hirakoba’s trick shot.

Wham! Wham! Wham!

As the rally continued, Shishido played defensively, letting Hirakoba unleash more Cobras, racking up points.

In no time, the score flipped to 30-40, Hirakoba in the lead.

“Too strong!” a spectator marveled.

“Yeah, who knew blondie was hiding that kind of power?”

“This match? Blue cap’s toast.”

The crowd seemed convinced Hirakoba had it in the bag.

Wham!

But Shishido stayed unfazed. He served, stepped forward, and inched closer to the net.

“Switching to defense now?” Hirakoba thought, smirking as he held game point. “Too late, buddy.”

Wham!

He unleashed another Cobra, the ball spinning wildly, its path impossible to predict.

“No way anyone’s returning that,” the Higa team thought, grinning. Forget hitting it—nobody could even track Hirakoba’s Cobra.

Step!

But Shishido’s eyes flashed. After two balls, he’d adapted to the insane spin. Legs pumping, he exploded toward the ball’s path.

Wham!

Reading its trajectory, he swung without hesitation, blasting it back.

“What?!” The Higa team’s faces fell. “He returned it?!”

“This guy…” Hirakoba’s expression darkened.

That reaction speed, that burst of acceleration—it was unreal.

Shishido, though, stayed calm. After cracking the Cobra, he didn’t rush. Step by step, he crept closer to the net.

“Hm.” Hirakoba’s face tightened. If this guy got to the net, he’d be in deep trouble.

Tap tap!

But Shishido was too fast, closing the gap before Hirakoba could react.

“This point’s mine,” Shishido thought, eyeing the incoming ball. He reared back for a smash—then, at the last second, dipped his racket and tapped it softly.

“A drop shot?!” The crowd gasped.

Nobody saw it coming. With all his momentum, Shishido had faked everyone out, landing a perfect, delicate shot.

“Nice one, Shishido-senpai!” Choutarou clenched his fist. “The tide’s turning—wait, what?!”

His eyes widened.

Swish!

Out of nowhere, the blond kid—Hirakoba—appeared at the net.

Wham!

He fired a clean passing shot, scoring the point.

“Game over,” the ref called without missing a beat. “Hirakoba wins!”

“…” Shishido froze.

How the hell did he cover that ground? “How’d he do that?”

Hirakoba smirked, and Shishido’s brow furrowed. “I’m challenging again,” he said firmly.

“Uh, hold up,” Kai chimed in, grinning. “Gotta pay for the last challenge first. Oh, and second challenge? Double the fee.”

“No problem,” Shishido said, unfazed. Money wasn’t an issue.

“Alright, that’s enough.”

A voice cut through just as Shishido reached for his wallet.

“Huh?” Shishido and Choutarou froze, turning toward the familiar voice.

There, strolling up in light gray shorts and a T-shirt, was Ishikawa.

He smiled and said, “Shishido-senpai, with your current skills, you’re not beating this guy’s Shukuchi Method.”

Whoosh!

At those words, Kai and the Higa crew’s eyes widened, their pupils shrinking in shock.

*Chapter 172: Ishikawa’s Shukuchi Method, Beach Court Iced Tea*

“Shukuchi Method?”

Houshi tilted his head, puzzled. “Is that the move that guy used to zip from the baseline to the net in a flash?”

“Exactly,” Ishikawa nodded. “It’s a technique from an ancient Okinawan martial art. If you don’t understand how it works, there’s no way you’re beating them.”

“Ancient martial arts, huh?” Shishido narrowed his eyes.

He didn’t doubt Ishikawa’s words. After all, the guy’s knowledge of martial arts went way beyond even Hiyoshi’s, whose family ran a dojo.

“Let me take this one,” Ishikawa said with a grin. “I’m curious to see what Okinawan-style tennis is all about.”

“Uh, fine,” Shishido grumbled, though he wasn’t thrilled. Losing earlier left a bad taste in his mouth, but he trusted Ishikawa. If the guy said this “Shukuchi Method” was the key, then he probably couldn’t win without cracking it.

“Hold up,” a voice interrupted.

Kai, one of the locals, strolled over and snatched Shishido’s racket. “Sorry, you two. To keep things fair for the other guests, we swap out rackets after every match.”

“Fair enough,” Shishido shrugged. Made sense, and it was their business, after all. Fair play was part of the deal.

But Ishikawa raised an eyebrow. Something about Kai’s tense movements caught his attention. “Is that so?” he muttered, sensing there was more to it.

A moment later, Kai returned with a blue racket. “Here you go,” he said, handing it to Ishikawa. “Sorry for the wait.”

“Thanks,” Ishikawa replied, flashing a polite smile as he took the racket.

He gave it a quick once-over, and sure enough, something was off. The racket was worn out—badly. From the front, the strings looked fine, but tilt it slightly, and you could see several loose ones, barely holding together.

So that’s their game, Ishikawa thought. It wasn’t exactly high-class, but it fit the vibe of this team perfectly.

“Sir,” Kai said, relieved to see no reaction on Ishikawa’s face, “do I need to go over the rules again?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Ishikawa replied, pulling out a bottle of reddish-brown liquid with a sly grin. “But I’ve got a condition. If I lose, I’ll pay up or eat that bitter melon, no problem. But if your guy loses, I don’t want your prize money. All I ask is that each of you drinks 50 milliliters of this.”

Kai froze, staring at the murky liquid in Ishikawa’s hand. A nervous twinge hit him. “Uh… what is that?”

“Relax, it’s just my usual drink,” Ishikawa said, chuckling. “Tastes great, plus it’s got anti-fatigue and beauty benefits. Don’t believe me? Ask them.”

Anti-fatigue? Beauty benefits? Kai glanced at Houshi, skeptical. “Is that true?”

“Yup,” Houshi nodded, dead serious.

He wasn’t lying—Ishikawa drank this stuff all the time. The catch? Its flavor was… let’s just say, not for the faint of heart. Even someone as wild as Akutsu turned into a whimpering kitten after 300 milliliters.

“Alright then,” Kai said, reassured by Houshi’s innocent demeanor. Shishido, he might’ve doubted, but this shy, honest-looking kid? No way he’d lie.

“So, who’re you challenging?” Kai asked.

Ishikawa’s eyes flicked to Hirakoba, standing across the court. “Him. If he’s still got the stamina for another match.”

“Oh, no problem,” Kai grinned. “Hirakoba-kun’s got stamina for days. In this heat, he could play another hour, easy.”

He wasn’t exaggerating. Growing up by the sea, used to scorching weather, and trained in ancient martial arts from a young age, these guys were built like tanks.

“Let’s do this,” Ishikawa said, stepping onto the court.

Kai smirked to himself as he watched Ishikawa’s back. Doesn’t matter if you’re some hotshot. With that rigged racket, even Yongshirou couldn’t beat Hirakoba.

“Game on!” the referee, Chinen, called from the high chair. “Challenger serves, one game to decide the winner!”

*Thwack!*

Ishikawa sent the ball flying.

“Nice one!” Hirakoba shouted, zeroing in on the ball’s trajectory and darting toward its landing spot.

Like Kai, he could tell this guy was no pushover—probably even stronger than the cap-wearing dude from earlier. Two tough opponents in one day? Most players would curse their luck. At Higa Chuu, they got paid per match, so quick wins meant more cash.

But Hirakoba? He lived for the thrill of facing strong players. Within Higa, only Kai could give him a real challenge, but that guy was too slippery to play often. And their captain, Kite? Way too dangerous to even consider.

So, moments like this were Hirakoba’s chance to scratch that competitive itch. The stronger the opponent, the more pumped he got.

*Thwack!*

Hirakoba fired back a sharp return.

Ishikawa smiled faintly, countering with a backhand that pinned the ball right on Hirakoba’s left baseline.

“Whoa!” Hirakoba’s eyes widened at the pinpoint precision. That control’s insane!

“Just a fluke, right?” he muttered to himself. “Even Yongshirou can’t hit shots like that every time.”

But then—

*Thwack!*

Ishikawa’s next shot landed perfectly on the right baseline.

Hirakoba’s face fell. “No way… that’s no coincidence.”

His pupils shrank as he realized he couldn’t afford to underestimate this guy. He chased the ball, glancing at Ishikawa. This dude’s control is unreal. I can’t play a normal game with him.

*Thwack!*

Hirakoba hammered the ball back, then took a step forward. In a blur, he closed the distance to the net at a speed that left everyone’s jaws on the floor.

“There it is!” Shishido, Houshi, and the crowd outside the court gasped, eyes wide.

*Swoosh!*

In the blink of an eye, Hirakoba went from the baseline to the net, slamming the ball toward Ishikawa’s right corner.

“Hmph!” Hirakoba smirked, thinking, Forcing me to use this move? You should be proud.

“Shukuchi Method,” a calm voice said from the ball’s landing spot.

“What?!” Kai, Hirakoba, and the Higa team snapped their heads up.

Ishikawa was already there, standing right where Hirakoba aimed. With a casual flick of his racket, he sent the ball back.

“In Okinawan martial arts, it’s a way to close in on your opponent before they notice,” Ishikawa explained, smirking at the stone-faced Hirakoba. “You don’t push off the ground—you just use gravity, letting yourself fall forward. It’s like stepping across in one smooth motion. To others, it looks like you teleported to the net.”

“Damn it!” Hirakoba growled, his teammates’ faces darkening with shock.

This guy didn’t just know the Shukuchi Method’s secret—he understood it.

With a sneer, Hirakoba raised his racket, channeling his technique into a vicious strike.

*Thwack!*

The ball shot out like a venomous snake, weaving through the air in an unpredictable arc.

“There it is! His signature move!” the crowd roared.

*Cobra Strike!*

Hirakoba’s ultimate technique. Without top-tier reflexes and insight, no one could return this shot. Even Shishido, the guy in the blue cap, needed two points to figure it out.

“Not bad spin,” Ishikawa said, nodding as the ball came at him. “But the pattern’s too simple.”

Simple?! The Higa team froze, then scoffed.

One guy couldn’t help but snap, “If it’s so ‘simple,’ then let’s see you—”

*Thwack!*

Before he could finish, Ishikawa’s racket met the Cobra Strike head-on, sending it rocketing back. The ball smashed onto the baseline with pinpoint accuracy.

“Uh… 15-0!” Chinen, the ref, stammered, snapping out of his shock to call the score.

“No way!” Kai and the Higa team gaped at Ishikawa. “He cracked the Cobra Strike in one look?!”

Hirakoba’s face twisted. He hadn’t expected his ace move to get shut down so easily. But standing on the court, he felt something else—a crushing pressure radiating from Ishikawa.

This guy’s a monster, Hirakoba thought, his gaze sharpening.

First the blue-cap guy, now this beast. Was today his lucky day or a total nightmare?

*Thwack!*

Ishikawa served again, and Hirakoba and Kai’s faces paled. Another shot right on the line.

This guy’s control wasn’t just “good”—it was on another level.

Under intense pressure, Hirakoba fought back, trying to lean on his Cobra Strike and Shukuchi Method to turn the tide. But Ishikawa had already seen through the technique’s weakness.

Every shot Ishikawa hit targeted Hirakoba’s left or right sidelines, pinning him down. Point after point slipped away.

*Thwack!*

“30-0!”

*Thwack!*

“40-0!”

In no time, Ishikawa was at match point.

Hirakoba, desperate, switched tactics. After a quick rally, he dropped a short ball.

*Tap-tap!*

Ishikawa rushed the net, returning the shot with ease.

“Now!” Hirakoba’s eyes gleamed as he seized the moment. “This was meant for the nationals, but you’re forcing my hand!”

*BOOM!*

The ball exploded off his racket, spinning and speeding through the air like a missile, whipping past Ishikawa’s side.

Kai’s eyes nearly popped out. “The Grand Cobra Strike?!”

He couldn’t believe it. Hirakoba was pulling out his strongest move, a shot with spin three times stronger than the Cobra Strike—a technique that could dominate even at the national level.

But then Kai glanced at Ishikawa, still at the net. No way he’s returning that from there.

“This guy’s done for—” Kai started, then froze.

*Swoosh!*

Ishikawa was suddenly moving—not running, but gliding backward at an impossible speed, like he’d teleported from the net to the baseline.

“Sh-Shukuchi Method?!” Hirakoba blurted, his eyes bulging.

Not only had this guy cracked the technique’s secret—he was using it better than them.

*Thwack!*

Ishikawa’s racket sliced into the ball at an angle, scraping the strings to boost its spin. With a lightning-fast swing, he sent it screaming back.

*Whoosh!*

The ball spun like a top, drilling toward the baseline.

“No way!” Hirakoba roared, sprinting to the landing spot with everything he had.

“I got it!” he shouted, swinging his racket at the bouncing ball.

*Thud!*

The moment his racket connected, Hirakoba’s face froze.

“What… what kind of power is this?!”

The impact was unreal, like hitting a brick wall. His racket shuddered, then—

*Riiip!*

The ball tore through the strings, smashing into the sand with a *BOOM*, leaving a crater over ten centimeters wide.

The beach court fell silent.

“How… how is that possible?” Hirakoba stared at his ruined racket, dumbfounded. “His racket was swapped out by Kai! That piece of junk shouldn’t be able to hit a shot like that!”

Kai was just as stunned. He’d made sure Ishikawa got the rigged racket. With that kind of force, the strings should’ve snapped instantly. How was this happening?

“Hey,” Ishikawa called up to Chinen on the referee’s chair. “Does that count as my point?”

“Uh, y-yeah, of course!” Chinen nodded frantically. “Challenge successful!”

“Damn it!” Hirakoba growled, his face twisted in frustration. Not only did he lose, but he’d have to pay up too—prize money came straight out of their pockets.

“Uh, so…” Hirakoba shuffled to the net, holding his broken racket, looking sheepish. “Can I take your penalty instead?”

Ishikawa hadn’t even reacted yet when Shishido and Houshi shot Hirakoba looks of pure admiration.

“Sure thing,” Ishikawa said, grinning.

Hirakoba let out a relieved sigh. Paying up hurt, but drinking some weird juice? He’d eaten bitter melon before—what could be worse?

Ishikawa poured 50 milliliters of the reddish-brown liquid into a small cup and handed it over. Hirakoba took it with a polite smile, figuring he’d be courteous since he was dodging the fine.

Then, without a second thought, he downed the super-special penalty tea in one gulp.

“Guh?!”

His eyes nearly popped out of his skull. In front of Kai and the horrified Higa team, Hirakoba clutched his throat, making choking “hrrk hrrk” noises like he was on death’s door.

*Thud.*

He collapsed, frothing at the mouth, out cold.

The beach tennis court went dead silent.

---

*Chapter 173: Kite’s Fury, The Enlightenment Dojo of an Unnamed Island*

“What the hell did you give Hirakoba to drink?!” Kai and the others glared at Ishikawa, their voices laced with shock and anger.

Ishikawa just shrugged calmly. “Like I said, just a regular drink.”

“Oh, and one more thing,” he added, flashing a grin at Kai. “You mentioned we could keep challenging. Since I won, I don’t owe any extra fees, right?”

“Uh…” Kai and his crew froze, their hairs practically standing on end like startled cats.

Are you kidding?! Face off against this monster?!

But as more and more spectators gathered around, Kai saw the bigger picture. This was risky, sure, but also a golden opportunity. If they could beat this guy, Higa’s name would explode in fame.

Plus, that racket Ishikawa was using? Total junk. That last shot probably nearly broke it.

“Fine!” Kai said after weighing his options, giving the green light.

Ishikawa, though, wasn’t here to school a bunch of small fries. His real goal was to meet the guy they called “The Assassin”—Higa Chuu’s buchou, Kite Eishirou, a major player in the original manga with serious presence.

Too bad. Even after wiping the floor with every Higa player, Kite never showed.

“Whatever,” Ishikawa said, shaking his head at the sprawled-out Higa team. “Let’s go, senpais.”

“W-Wait…” Hirakoba, the first to recover, croaked weakly. “Who… who are you guys?”

No way was he letting his team get smashed like this without even knowing who did it.

“Chill,” Ishikawa said, glancing back with a smirk. “We’ll cross paths at Nationals.”

“Nationals…” Hirakoba muttered, staring at their retreating figures. His gaze hardened with determination.

“Ishikawa-kun,” Choutarou asked curiously as they walked away, “you said we’d run into those guys at Nationals?”

“Yup,” Ishikawa replied, smiling. “If I’m right, those were players from Okinawa’s Higa Chuu.”

“Higa Chuu?” Shishido’s brow twitched. “The school that took down last year’s Top 4 team, Shishigaku, and dominated Kyushu?”

“Exactly,” Ishikawa nodded.

“That’s weird,” Shishido said, puzzled. “Even if Tachibana and Chitose left Shishigaku, their lineup shouldn’t have lost to those guys, right?”

Sure, Hirakoba and Kai were strong, but Kyushu’s tournament was a team event. Individual skill alone wouldn’t cut it.

“Simple,” Ishikawa said with a grin. “Higa’s buchou, the guy they call ‘The Assassin,’ Kite Eishirou, wasn’t there.”

“The Assassin?” Choutarou’s eyes widened. “There’s a player with a nickname like that?”

“Yup. Kite’s tennis is… different. He’ll do whatever it takes to win, no matter how dirty,” Ishikawa explained. “At the Kyushu tournament, he crushed every school’s ace, leading Higa to total domination.”

“Got it,” Shishido and Choutarou nodded, their curiosity about Higa growing.

Meanwhile, not long after they left, a teen in a purple tank top, hair slicked with gel, and glasses strode toward the beach court, racket in hand.

“Hm?” Seeing the Higa team sprawled on the ground, his expression darkened.

“Hirakoba-kun,” said Kite Eishirou, Higa’s buchou, his voice low. “What happened here?”

“Eishirou!” Hirakoba’s face lit up like he’d seen a lifeline. “Three guys showed up and wiped us out!”

“Three guys?” Kite’s brow arched. “Tell me everything. Walk me through the match.”

Hirakoba recounted every detail.

“Hm?” Kite picked up the beat-up racket Ishikawa had used, inspecting it closely. A glint flashed across his glasses. “He beat everyone with this piece of junk… Nationals, huh?”

“Hmph!” His eyes narrowed dangerously. “I don’t care who you are. If you’re coming for me, you’d better be ready to pay with your life!”

A menacing spark flickered in his gaze.

---

That same day, Ishikawa didn’t return to the beach courts. His goal was mostly accomplished. Sure, he didn’t meet Kite, but he’d picked up the Shukuchi Method from the Higa players, massively boosting his Enbu-style footwork.

As for Kite? Ishikawa was sure they’d clash at Nationals, even if Hyotei’s draw didn’t pit them against Higa. With Kite’s personality, he’d come knocking regardless.

And Kite’s mastery of the full Shukuchi Method? With Ishikawa’s current insight and grasp of ancient martial arts, he was already piecing together a way to counter it.

Later, Ishikawa, Shishido, and Choutarou regrouped with Atobe and the others. They toured the island’s sights, hit up some famous spots, and as night fell, grabbed dinner. Atobe dragged everyone to karaoke, and they didn’t crash until 1 a.m.

The next day, Atobe planned a trip to some farther-off islands to check out their local culture.

Blue seas, clear skies.

Lounging on the ferry, Ishikawa felt a rare sense of peace.

“So this is what the ocean’s like, huh?” he said, stretching lazily on a deck chair. His mind was at ease, his spirit refreshed.

Basking in the warm sunlight, he felt like he was melting into the surroundings.

Then, a seagull swooped down, landing on his shoulder and closing its eyes to rest.

The Hyotei team gawked but didn’t dare disturb him. Ishikawa dozed off for the whole ride, only waking when they reached the island.

“Hm?” As he stepped off, feeling the sea breeze and the shift in the air, he said casually, “Storm’s coming.”

“What?” Akutagawa snorted. “A storm? In this weather?”

If he wasn’t a bit intimidated by Ishikawa’s usual aura, he’d probably have cracked a joke already.

“Just be careful,” Ishikawa said without explaining, stepping off the boat.

The group followed a local guide, exploring the island’s sights. To their surprise, they stumbled across an open-air tennis court.

Hyping themselves up, they played a few matches.

The guide explained that the court was old, built four or five decades ago by a respected figure. The man taught martial arts and tennis on the island.

The locals, though, weren’t great at tennis. Martial arts? That was another story—they produced some serious talents, even blending Okinawan ancient martial arts into a new school.

Years later, the man brought back a disciple with real tennis potential. He trained him carefully, and the kid made a name for himself in Japan before heading overseas. No one heard from him after that.

Over a decade later, when the man was in his sixties, he returned with another young guy. This one was odd—long hair loose most of the time, but tied back when he played tennis.

The guide chuckled. “Back then, I was shocked by his vibe. Nothing like the sneaky, pervy guy flipping through dirty magazines. On the court, he was like a drawn sword!”

“Word is, he went overseas and made a name for himself. Pretty impressive.”

“You kids play tennis, right?” the guide said encouragingly. “Poke around here. You might find something unexpected.”

“Oh?” Ishikawa’s interest piqued.

An old master, a disciple, martial arts, tennis… and a perv?

A scruffy, bearded figure in a black monk robe, flipping through sketchy magazines, popped into his head.

“So he trained here?” Ishikawa mused.

As for the master-like figure, he had a good guess who that was.

The others, tired from their matches, wanted to explore more. Ishikawa glanced at the clear blue sky but still warned them about the coming rain.

Once they left, he grabbed a racket and stepped onto the moss-covered, cracked court.

“Gotta hand it to those guys for having fun on this,” he said, shaking his head.

Looking around, he saw overgrown weeds and no houses closer than 500 meters. This was just a rest stop for hikers, with only a polished bench standing out among the untamed grass.

“Hm?” Something caught his eye.

He walked toward a patch of weeds and parted them, revealing a mossy, weathered wall. Most of it was illegible, but there were clear signs of impact marks.

At the center was a fist-sized, bottomless hole, like a hidden drainpipe.

But Ishikawa knew—this was no pipe. Something, or someone, had struck it.

“So this is where he trained?” he murmured, eyeing the wall’s tough material, far sturdier than any normal surface.

In his mind, he pictured a figure with tied-back hair, racket in hand, relentlessly smashing tennis balls against the wall.

“What’s that?” His eyes caught something else.

He grabbed a stick, scraped away dried moss, and revealed a line of crooked, etched words:

“Don’t be limited by what your eyes see. Look for the essence of things.”

---

*Chapter 174: Breakthrough in the Storm, Power Unleashed! (Third Update)*

*Thwack!*

Near a rundown tennis court on a nameless island, a sharp gust of wind from a tennis ball sliced through the air. The overgrown weeds around the stone wall were neatly trimmed by the force.

*Zzzzt!*

The ball slammed into the wall, its powerful spin and force scraping away dried, dead moss clinging to the surface.

*Plop.*

But eventually, the ball lost its momentum and dropped to the ground.

“Hmm…” Ishikawa stared at his impact point compared to the deep, mysterious hole in the wall nearby. His heart sank. “As expected, this wall’s harder than any ordinary court surface. Even with my second-stage Sword Intent boosting Jingzhe, I can’t replicate that kind of mark.”

Truth be told, if he hadn’t known about the insane shots from the U-17 arc in the original story, Ishikawa wouldn’t have believed anyone could punch through a wall like this.

But knowing something and doing it were two different beasts.

Even the so-called “God of Hax,” Echizen Ryoma, needed guidance from his brother Ryoga to pull off a Light Shot. Without that, he’d have been stuck.

Ishikawa had tried before, too. He’d gotten close to the ideal striking point but never quite nailed it. To him, it meant his skills weren’t there yet.

So, instead of obsessing over the elusive “Super Sweet Spot,” he decided to double down on strengthening his fundamentals. After all, true power came from within.

Now, standing in the legendary dojo of the Tennis Bushi, Ishikawa gazed at the deep hole left by a tennis ball—a mark of legend. His eyes hardened with resolve.

*Thwack!*

He fired another shot.

When the ball bounced back, he smashed it again with explosive force.

*Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!*

The relentless sound of his strikes echoed from the crumbling court halfway up the mountain, carrying across the island.

“Huh?” The Hyotei team, hiking up the trail, froze as the sound reached them, their faces lit with surprise.

Yueji blinked. “That noise… is that Ishikawa practicing?”

“But… we’re so far away, and we can still hear it!” Shishido added, baffled. “Just how hard is that guy hitting?!”

Shishido knew Ishikawa well enough to assume he’d be chilling on this vacation, not grinding. Especially after yesterday’s match against those Higa Chuu players on the beach court.

Was this guy seriously a training maniac who never took a day off?

“That boy, huh?” The guide’s face flickered with surprise.

He’d only mentioned the legend of the Tennis Bushi in passing, hoping to inspire the group. He never expected the kid to actually take it seriously and start training.

Shaking his head, the guide muttered to himself, “Hope he doesn’t get too discouraged when he sees that terrifying mark.”

After all, that hole was said to be from the Tennis Bushi’s youth. If word got out, this place would probably be turned into a tourist attraction.

*Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!*

Back at the dilapidated court, Ishikawa kept swinging, maintaining a steady rhythm, hammering the ball into the stone wall over and over.

If the guide were here, he’d be floored. Ishikawa’s relentless barrage had carved a shallow dent in the wall—visible to the naked eye.

Sure, it was nothing compared to the deep, legendary hole beside it. But this wasn’t just any wall. It was made of one of the hardest rocks in the world, so tough even power drills couldn’t pierce it.

That’s why, years ago, when the young Bushi left this mark, the entire island was in an uproar.

And now, in the same spot, a teenage boy was chasing that same impossible feat.

*Hummm!*

As his warm-up ended, a fiery red aura flared around Ishikawa, like flames licking the air.

Martial Momentum!

This was a unique ability Ishikawa had unlocked through his maxed-out ancient martial arts mastery. In this state, his explosive power, strength, and speed were all amplified.

*Whoosh!*

The ball came rocketing back.

Ishikawa raised his racket and smashed it with a thunderous swing.

*BOOM!*

A cyan spiral trail blasted forward, slicing through the already-trimmed weeds, shaving them down even further.

*KABOOM!*

The ball hit the wall, unleashing a deafening explosion. A cloud of dust erupted, and the wall trembled.

*Zzzzt…*

The ball spun fiercely against the stone, grinding away.

*Crack! Crack!*

Fragments of the wall broke off and tumbled to the ground.

“Not enough,” Ishikawa muttered, shaking his head at the wall, which had barely lost a layer of its surface.

Even with Martial Momentum, a shot strong enough to fracture Akutsu’s arm had only caused this minor damage. The wall’s durability was downright terrifying.

*Tap. Tap. Tap.*

Ishikawa stood at the court’s edge, lightly bouncing the ball, his eyes locked on the distant wall. In his mind, it wasn’t just a wall—it was an opponent on the court. He was in full-on battle mode.

*Humm!*

The red glow of Martial Momentum faded, replaced by a sharp, silver-white radiance. His Second-Stage Sword Intent (Lv2) surged, pushing his presence to a chilling, almost monstrous level.

*Swoosh!*

With laser focus, he tossed the ball up, swung his racket, and unleashed a ferocious shot toward the wall.

*Zzzzt!*

The ball hit, spun wildly, and bounced back. Like a relentless machine, Ishikawa raised his racket and struck again.

*Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!*

Over and over, he poured himself into each swing.

As time passed, sparks began to fly when his shots hit the wall. The phenomenon grew more intense, a clear sign that his power was climbing.

*Whoosh!*

After what felt like an eternity, a strong gust of wind swept through. Ishikawa caught the rebounding ball and frowned, glancing at his surroundings.

The sky had darkened without him noticing.

“No… a storm’s coming,” he realized, his gaze sharpening.

On the ferry earlier, he’d picked up signs from the seagulls’ behavior and the shifting environment—a storm was likely. He could’ve easily avoided the rain.

But then he glanced at the shallow dent in the wall, barely two fingers deep. His resolve hardened.

*Thwack!*

He fired another shot.

Even as the wind howled, his ball flew straight and true.

*Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!*

The challenge continued. With every swing, his shots grew stronger, and a vague boundary he’d been chasing started to come into focus.

Then—

*Flash!*

A bolt of lightning tore through the sky.

*BOOM!*

Thunder roared overhead.

The wind roared, and the storm loomed. Dark clouds gathered, painting a picture of an impending tempest.

Halfway down the mountain, the Hyotei team, led by their guide, hurried back from their tour of the island’s ruins.

*BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!*

But the closer they got to the base, the louder the thunder grew.

“Ugh, Ishikawa called it,” Yueji groaned. “A storm’s really hitting. There goes one day of our three-day vacation.”

He shot a playful glance at Atobe, hoping for a reaction. But Atobe ignored him, locking eyes with Takanotsume instead. They shared a knowing look.

Coincidence?

Neither thought so. Even the weather forecast hadn’t predicted a storm in the area. The more they learned about Ishikawa, the less anything about him seemed random.

*BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!*

The thunder-like sounds grew clearer.

“Wait!” The guide stopped, turning toward the old tennis court. “That’s coming from the court!”

“Let’s check it out,” the Hyotei team said, already suspecting who it was. They rushed over.

“What the…?”

When they reached the court, their eyes widened. There was Ishikawa, relentlessly smashing tennis balls against the stone wall.

“Ishikawa-kun?” Houshi gasped, then shouted, “Stop practicing! The storm’s about to hit! Let’s get to the village at the base and take shelter!”

“You guys go ahead. I’ll catch up,” Ishikawa replied, raising his racket and unleashing another explosive shot.

*Thwack!*

“Hiss…” Shishido, Yueji, and the others flinched at the sheer power behind the strike.

That shot… even Sanada, the “Emperor” of Rikkai Dai, couldn’t hit something that intense, could he? And Ishikawa was using shots like that for practice?

Akutagawa and Hiyoshi’s mouths twitched. The level they’d been chasing so hard was just Ishikawa’s warm-up?

The team exchanged wry smiles, their respect for Ishikawa’s strength deepening.

“Let’s go,” Coach Sakaki said, shaking his head. “Ishikawa’s got his reasons for staying. We shouldn’t disturb him.”

The others nodded and headed down the mountain.

The guide lingered, staring at Ishikawa’s back. For a moment, he saw a flicker of the past—a young man with tied-back hair, training day after day in this very spot, twenty years ago.

“Keep at it, kid,” the guide murmured, nodding before following the team.

*Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!*

With everyone gone, Ishikawa was alone.

Thunder rumbled. Wind howled. The sound of his shots wove through it all.

Lightning flashed, stretching his shadow across the court.

But Ishikawa was in a trance, completely focused.

He wasn’t staying out of ignorance of the danger. Something powerful was stirring inside him, a breakthrough on the verge of erupting.

He could feel it—the boundary was clearer than ever. One more shot, and he’d shatter it.

Yet, despite his relentless assault, the wall still didn’t yield a mark like the deep hole beside it.

“Not enough!”

“Still not enough!”

His gaze sharpened, fierce and unyielding.

*Drip. Drip.*

The sky began to weep, thin lines of rain falling from the darkened clouds. As the wind picked up, cold droplets pelted Ishikawa’s body.

The rain had begun.

And it wasn’t stopping. The storm grew fiercer, the downpour intensifying.

*WHOOSH!*

A torrent of rain cascaded down.

Ishikawa closed his eyes, letting instinct guide him as he returned each shot.

In that moment, he emptied his mind, tuning into the world around him—the raging wind, the pounding rain, the roaring thunder. He embraced the raw fury of nature.

Slowly, a new understanding bloomed within him. His grasp of storms and lightning deepened, and that elusive boundary became almost tangible. His instincts screamed: the next shot would be the one.

*BOOM!*

A bolt of lightning struck, hitting a tree just meters away.

*CRASH!*

The massive trunk snapped in half, its splintering wail piercing the air as it toppled toward Ishikawa.

Danger!

A primal alarm blared in his mind. Every instinct urged him to dodge, to abandon the shot.

*Swoosh!*

But Ishikawa’s eyes snapped open.

Instead of fleeing, he faced the falling tree head-on, staring down the fear in his heart.

As the ball flew toward him, a light brighter than the lightning flashed in his eyes.

*Swoosh!*

Without hesitation, he swung his racket, meeting the ball as the tree crashed down.

*BOOM!*

The ball rocketed forward, a razor-sharp aura slicing through the air. The sheer force parted the rain and wind, creating a vacuum in its wake.

A thread of silver light streaked ahead, piercing through just before the tree hit the ground.

*THUD!*

The ball struck the wall.

It wasn’t as loud as before, but it sank deep into the stone.

*Crack. Crack.*

Fractures spread from the impact point, spiderwebbing across the wall.

*BOOM!*

The ball burrowed deeper, and the wall caved in, forming a new pit—not as deep as the Bushi’s, but far more striking in its raw, jagged impact.

Ishikawa lowered his racket, his face calm as he turned away.

*CRASH!*

The tree slammed into the ground, kicking up a gust of wind. Its branches stopped just ten centimeters from Ishikawa, but he stood unscathed.

*Ding!*

A system notification chimed in his mind.

*Player’s Sword Intent and Martial Momentum levels have increased!*

*Sword Intent: Lv3*

*Martial Momentum: Lv2*

---

---

*Chapter 175: National Tournament Draw, Ishikawa’s Evolving Strength*

“See through the surface to the essence of things!”

Torrential rain poured down.

In the dilapidated tennis court halfway up the mountain, Ishikawa gazed at the distant stone wall, nodding solemnly.

In that moment, his understanding transcended a critical boundary, touching a new realm of mastery.

With that, he left the court.

At the mountain’s base, he regrouped with Atobe and the others.

The rain stopped, and they boarded a ferry back to Okinawa’s main island. The weather was gloomy, though, so no one ventured out in the afternoon. The beaches were deserted.

After a night’s rest, the Hyotei crew hopped on Atobe’s private jet and returned to Tokyo.

Wham! Wham! Wham!

Meanwhile, at Higa Chuu in Naha City, the tennis club was a hive of fiery training.

Losing to Ishikawa had left Hirakoba, Kai, and the others burning with frustration. They were pouring everything into their drills, determined to spring a surprise on those three guys’ team at Nationals.

“Someone who mastered the Shukuchi Method after just one look?”

On the sidelines, the gel-haired, glasses-wearing teen in a jacket—Kite—raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t recall any player like that in Kyushu, Kansai, or even the distant Kanto region.

“But… if you dare mess with Higa Chuu, you’re done for!”

Kite’s sights were locked on the mysterious guy who’d disrupted his business and crushed his team.

Back at Hyotei, the team took the day off from training.

Ishikawa, living at the dorms, wasn’t one to slack. That afternoon, he hit the ground running—literally. Jogging, push-ups, pull-ups, all to keep his stamina and core strength sharp.

Then came racket swings and wall-hitting drills.

By evening, drenched in sweat, he finally called it a day.

And so it went—day after day of grueling, monotonous training.

With one week left until Nationals, Ishikawa and Atobe boarded a helicopter to Kanagawa’s Rikkai Dai.

Like the Kanto draw, the National Tournament’s draw was held at the previous year’s champion school—a prestigious honor symbolizing the defending champion’s status. It almost felt like a pilgrimage for the other teams.

For Rikkai Dai, who’d lost the Kanto final, the mood was surprisingly upbeat.

And not just because of the draw. Their buchou, the nation’s top junior high player, the “Child of God” Yukimura, had recovered!

The news broke just in time for the draw, sending a surge of excitement through Rikkai’s ranks.

Wham!

At Rikkai Dai’s tennis club, a swift, precise shot zipped past Kirihara, landing dead on the baseline as he stared in awe.

“Match over,” Yanagi, refereeing from the high chair, announced. “Yukimura wins, 6-0!”

“Yukimura-buchou… he’s unreal!”

In under ten minutes, Kirihara had been steamrolled. And this was Yukimura fresh off rehab, still in light training mode. His true strength was almost unimaginable.

But after the shock wore off, Kirihara and the rest of Rikkai buzzed with excitement.

The Child of God was back.

Rikkai’s final weakness was patched. This was the ultimate National champion, flawless in every way.

“Welcome back,” Yanagi and the others said, nodding with smiles.

Even the usually stoic Sanada cracked a faint grin, the weight on his shoulders easing.

“Not bad,” Yukimura said, stepping off the court with a smile. “Recovery’s going better than I expected.”

His jacket fluttered in the breeze as he walked, his otherworldly charisma drawing stares from the regional representatives gathered for the draw.

“That’s the Child of God… Yukimura Seiichi!”

In the distance, a handsome teen in a white shirt with silver-gray hair sighed in admiration.

Shiraishi Kuranosuke, Shitenhoji’s buchou and one of Kansai’s top players.

Beside him, a broom-haired teen—Shitenhoji’s vice-captain, Koishikawa Kenjirou—nodded gravely. “Yukimura’s recovery right before Nationals… Rikkai’s got no weaknesses this year.”

Rikkai’s loss at Kanto had made other teams think the former titan had fallen. Yukimura’s return was like a sledgehammer to their hopes.

“Yukimura… still as impressive as ever,” muttered Higa’s buchou, Kite, his gelled hair pristine, his voice low. “His return just made our championship run a lot tougher.”

“Not that big a deal, right, Eishirou?” Kai said, puzzled. “We took down Shishigaku at Kyushu, and they were Top 4 last year, weren’t they?”

Dominating Kyushu had Kai brimming with confidence for Nationals. Weeks of intense training, with visible strength gains, only fueled his swagger.

“It’s not that simple,” Kite said, his usual cool confidence replaced by a frown. “Yukimura’s different. Three years, not a single loss. Even the ‘Emperor’ Sanada can’t touch him.”

Deep down, Kite saw Yukimura as the biggest obstacle to his national conquest.

Still, he had faith in his own skills. If push came to shove, Kite would use any means to crush Yukimura and carve out his junior high tennis legend.

Elsewhere, other teams watched the purple-haired teen commanding the court—Rokkaku’s Saeki and Aoi, Yamabuki’s Minami and Sengoku, Fudomine’s Tachibana and Kamio, Seigaku’s Tezuka and Oishi. All eyes were on Yukimura, the undeniable center of attention.

Whirrr!

Suddenly, a piercing noise cut through the air.

“Is that… a helicopter?”

Heads turned as a chopper descended smoothly onto Rikkai’s field.

“Who’s that?” Kai gaped. “A helicopter for the draw? Staff or something? That’s overkill.”

“No,” Kite said, shaking his head. “If I’m right, that’s Hyotei, this year’s Kanto champs. Word is, their buchou, Atobe Keigo, is loaded.”

At the word “money,” a glint flashed in Kite’s eyes.

“Hyotei?” Kai’s brow twitched.

He’d heard of them—perennial Kanto runners-up, regular Top 8 at Nationals. Strong, but not on Shishigaku’s Top 4 level. Their Kanto win? Kai figured they just got lucky while Yukimura was out, beating a weakened Rikkai. No big deal.

Click!

The cabin door slid open.

Atobe, with his striking purple-gray hair, stepped out first, instantly drawing every eye.

“Atobe Keigo, a national-level elite,” Kite muttered, squinting. Truth be told, Atobe was on his “assassination” list, too.

If the draw pitted Higa against Hyotei, that is.

“Pfft,” Kai scoffed. “Just some rich kid. Nothing special.”

Maybe it was his disdain for the wealthy, but Kai had zero respect for Atobe. If Higa faced Hyotei, he was sure he could take him down.

“Be careful,” Kite warned. As a court “assassin,” he preferred staying low-key, keeping his presence under wraps.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kai said, brushing it off with a grin. But then his eyes locked on something, and his pupils shrank. “Th-That guy…! No way he’s here!”

“Who?” Kite frowned.

“That black-haired dude behind Atobe,” Kai stammered, his voice trembling. Memories of getting crushed by Ishikawa—and that horrifying drink—sent a shiver of fear through him.

“Him?” Kite’s gaze zeroed in on the black-haired teen behind Atobe.

“So the one who trashed my court… was from Hyotei?”

A dangerous glint flickered in his narrowed eyes.

These past few days, his anger had been simmering. It was the first time in years he’d taken a hit this big.

Without hesitation, Kite started walking toward Ishikawa, ready to “say hello.”

As an Okinawan martial arts prodigy, with fighting skills as sharp as his tennis, Kite was confident he could teach this Hyotei kid a lesson without anyone noticing.

“Hm?” But he froze mid-step.

Yukimura, who’d been on the court below, was now heading his way with the Rikkai team.

“What’s this?” Kite’s expression shifted.

Higa had dominated Kyushu, sure, but Kite had kept a low profile. There was no way Rikkai had him on their radar.

Still, as Yukimura approached with Sanada, Yanagi, and the others, Kite steadied himself, ready to greet the top junior high player with his smoothest demeanor.

Whoosh!

But to his shock, Yukimura and Rikkai’s big three brushed right past him.

Marui, Yanagi, Kirihara, and the rest didn’t even glance his way, walking straight by.

“Damn Rikkai…” Kite’s forehead vein pulsed, his fist clenching as he fought to keep his cool. Exploding here, in front of everyone, would only humiliate him further.

“Been a while, Atobe,” Yukimura said, leading Rikkai to Atobe with a smile. “Congrats on the Kanto title.”

“You’re back in form?” Atobe nodded, sizing him up. “This year’s Nationals just got a lot more interesting.”

As the two buchou chatted, the crowd watched curiously.

Other schools’ players nodded to themselves, thinking only someone like Hyotei’s Atobe could stand toe-to-toe with the Child of God in a conversation.

“You’re Ishikawa-kun, right?”

To everyone’s surprise, Yukimura turned to the black-haired teen behind Atobe. “A first-year with your kind of skill… I’m looking forward to facing you at Nationals.”

What?!

The crowd—those unfamiliar with Ishikawa, like Shishigaku, Makinofuji, and even Higa’s Kite—gaped at him in shock.

“Yukimura… just called him out for a showdown?”

“Hm,” Shitenhoji’s Shiraishi said, surprised. “Chitose mentioned Hyotei got a top-tier player this year who beat Rikkai’s Sanada at Kanto.”

Deep down, Shiraishi was wary of Ishikawa. But he hadn’t expected Yukimura to bypass Atobe and address Hyotei’s rookie directly.

“Is this… him acknowledging a rival?”

Recalling Chitose’s uneasy expression after Kanto, Shiraishi’s gaze on Ishikawa grew heavier.

“No problem,” Ishikawa replied to Yukimura’s challenge, calm as ever. “I’m looking forward to a real match with you, senpai, the top junior high player.”

His words left some team reps thinking he was cocky.

But Rikkai’s players didn’t see it that way. Especially Sanada, who’d been utterly dismantled by Ishikawa at Kanto. He knew better than anyone: if anyone could threaten Yukimura’s throne in junior high tennis, it was this guy.

After a brief chat, both teams headed to Rikkai’s auditorium for the National Tournament draw.

About half an hour later, the results were in. Higa’s Kite and Kai left early.

“Confirmed,” Kai said, exhaling, his eyes narrowing. “First round’s Chiba’s Rokkaku. Second round… Hyotei.”

“Got it,” Kite nodded firmly.

One week until Nationals. He’d whip his team into shape and crush Hyotei on opening day.

That same day, after the draw, Ishikawa and Atobe returned to Hyotei.

The team trained as usual, while Ishikawa reviewed his techniques and playstyle.

Day after day, he refined his game.

Six days later, the night before Nationals, Ishikawa finished training and finalized Hyotei’s lineup and tactics for potential opponents.

Before bed, he opened his character panel, dumping his accumulated experience points into his stats.

[Ding!]

[Player level up! Current level: Lv53]

*Name*: Ishikawa Shin

*Age*: 12

*Identity*: Hyotei Junior High 1st Year, Tennis Club Regular, Training Advisor, Vice-Captain, Street Tennis Legend, Hyotei’s Demon King (+15% EXP gain)

*Main Profession*: Tennis Lv53 (0/26,000)

*Sub-Professions*: Kendo Lv9, Shogi Lv9, Ancient Martial Arts Lv9, Yoga Lv3

*Five Dimensions*: Speed 4, Strength 4, Stamina 4, Technique 6, Mental 5 (Total: 23)

*Basic Skills*: Serve Lv7, Forehand Lv7, Topspin Lv7, Sidespin Lv7, Smash Lv7 (+1 level)

*Advanced Skills*:

- Lv7: Star Mark, External Spin Serve, Gale, Awakening, Zero-Style Drop Shot, Giant Bear Counter, Heart Shift, Dawn, Super Volley

- Lv6: Waltz Toward Destruction, Explosive B

arrage

- Lv5: Four Gods Enbu (Azure Dragon, Vermilion Bird, Black Tortoise, White Tiger)

*Special Abilities*: Kendo True Intent Lv3, Shogi Truth Lv2, Martial Aura Lv2, Eye of Truth

*Sub-Profession Points*: 2

*Skill Points*: 78

*Items*: Sadaharu’s Juice Recipe

*Evaluation*: An elite high school-level player, steadfast on his path, with unparalleled potential.

One day until Nationals.

---