In Japanese junior high tennis, there's an unspoken tradition: first-year students usually spend their first year training before being considered for the regular lineup.
But Hyotei was different.
Under Coach Tarō Sakaki's philosophy of "absolute strength above all else," even first-years could challenge for a spot—if they were strong enough. Talent was the only ticket to the court.
And today, Ryohei Rin had just turned the tables on Taki Haginosuke.
"So that's how it is…"
"What an arrogant brat! Taki, you did the right thing. Teach him some manners!" Shishido Ryoh barked from the sidelines after hearing the story.
With his fiery personality, there was no way Shishido could watch a cocky freshman openly defy his senior without wanting him to be humbled.
But before Taki could even reply, a heavy bang echoed across the court.
Ryohei Rin had already served.
The bright green ball cut through the air, arcing toward the service box. At first glance, it looked almost like a weak lob. Its speed and power were nothing compared to the sharp serves of Hyotei's regulars.
Taki Haginosuke saw it clearly, smirking as he mocked, "Is this all you've got?"
He barely moved before sending the return back.
"..."
Rin didn't respond. He knew his serve was nothing special. Serving wasn't his weapon.
His true weapon came from the Strongest Player System—a template borrowed from Kuroko no Basket's phantom sixth man.
The [Accelerated Return].
"Bang!"
Rin stepped into position without hesitation, his racket snapping forward in a seemingly ordinary flat shot. But the moment the strings connected, the System activated.
The energy of accelerated passing was reborn as accelerated ball return.
The ball shot off like lightning.
"W-What?!"
Taki's eyes widened.
His strength as a quasi-regular came from his exceptional dynamic vision. He was confident in his ability to read the ball. But this—this was too fast.
All he could see were afterimages. His eyes tracked the ball, but his body lagged hopelessly behind.
"Bang!"
The ball thudded into the court before he could even react, bouncing past him.
"15–0."
Even Shishido and Oshitari, seasoned players with national-level experience, couldn't hide their shock.
That return speed… it was unnatural.
"Yuushi, did you catch that?" Shishido muttered, his tone unusually serious.
Oshitari Yuushi adjusted his glasses, his sharp eyes gleaming. "Flat shot…"
"Flat shot? You're telling me that was just a flat shot?!" Shishido snapped.
"Yes." Oshitari's voice was calm, but his expression was deadly serious. "Only a flat shot can accelerate like that. No topspin, no slice, just pure force. His timing and explosive power pushed it beyond what most of our regulars can do."
His gaze sharpened on Rin.
"I didn't expect a newcomer to develop something so basic into something this dangerous. His reaction speed and control… they're already above most Hyotei regulars."
Shishido stiffened, his pride stung. Why did Oshitari glance at him when he said that?
But he shook it off—the match was still unfolding.
"Bang!" – "30–0."
"Bang!" – "40–0."
"Bang!" – "Game, 1–0."
Within moments, Rin had secured his service game.
Speed. Absolute, overwhelming speed.
The oldest truth in sports was simple: what the eye can't follow, the body can't stop.
On the other side, Taki Haginosuke's face had turned dark.
How could someone whose physical test scores were only average suddenly unleash returns that even he couldn't react to?
It didn't make sense.
"How… how did you do that?!" Taki demanded, blurting out his frustration.
But Rin only shrugged. "You guess."
"You—! Don't get cocky! Just because you surprised me once doesn't mean you can win. Once I get used to your speed, let's see if you can still laugh!" Taki snarled, his eyes blazing.
"Oh?" Rin replied flatly, expression unreadable.
Enraged, Taki slammed a serve forward.
Bang!
The ball exploded off his racket like a bullet, streaking toward the far corner of Rin's service line. The precision and speed were top-class—on par with Rin's accelerated returns.
A powerful serve like this could force an error, maybe even score an ace.
But Rin was ready.
He had plenty of time to read the shot.
An ace? Not against him.