"This kid..."
The more they practiced, the more shocked Nanjirou became.
Ages 3 to 7 were the best time to lay a foundation.
While children at this age were naturally in a state akin to Samurai's Aura, making it easier for them to pick up tennis, their innate talent still determined how quickly they could grasp the sport.
And Yoru's performance?
It was anything but ordinary.
After just a dozen or so ball-toss drills, his ability to return shots had visibly improved. His ball sense was scary good.
If not for his unrefined form—his returns still looked awkward—Nanjirou might've suspected Yoru had already been playing tennis for years.
Of course, he had no idea that Yoru was simply adapting to the feeling of hitting the ball, and that his Multiplicative Feedback System required gradual adjustment.
Otherwise, how else could this be explained?
Meanwhile...
Little Ryoma, still too young to understand the significance of what he was seeing, just knew one thing: Yoru-nii is learning so fast! Soon, we can play together!
"Alright, break time!"
"Dinner's ready!"
Just as Yoru was hitting his stride, Nanjirou called a stop.
"Aww..."
Seeing Yoru's reluctant expression, Nanjirou grinned.
Good. The kid liked tennis.
That was crucial.
With monstrous talent and genuine interest?
Even if Yoru had missed two years of training, Nanjirou was confident he could catch up—maybe even surpass Ryoma.
Hell, Ryoma hadn't been this impressive at his age.
Weeks passed.
Nanjirou began training both Ryoma and Yoru simultaneously.
And this was where the Multiplicative Feedback System truly shined.
Every time Ryoma showed even the slightest improvement, the system would supercharge Yoru's growth in return.
Honestly? Ryoma's talent was insane. He absorbed Nanjirou's teachings like a sponge.
But the real winner?
Yoru.
Thanks to the system, every ounce of Ryoma's progress was multiplied and funneled straight into him.
That said, Nanjirou hadn't taught Ryoma any flashy techniques yet—just fundamentals, refining every tiny detail.
On the surface, it seemed basic.
But day by day, Ryoma's game transformed.
Yoru mimicked the training earnestly.
With the system's boost, his performance already looked sharper than Ryoma's.
Over time, Nanjirou became convinced: Yoru's talent eclipses Ryoma's.
He'd often sigh, half in awe, half in sympathy.
"Being born in the same era as this little monster... I wonder if that's a blessing or a curse for Ryoma."
One afternoon.
Nanjirou wandered into the backyard to check on Yoru's progress.
And what did he find?
Yoru, sprawled under the porch, napping with his racket.
Meanwhile, Ryoma was happily hitting balls against the wall on the dirt court.
Nanjirou's eye twitched.
"Yoru! Get up and train! Don't you want to play a proper match with Ryoma?!"
The scolding jolted Yoru awake.
Rubbing his eyes, he yawned. "Uncle, I have been training hard..."
Nanjirou deadpanned. "Oh really? Because all I see is you sleeping! Talent means nothing without effort!"
Yoru shrugged helplessly.
How could he explain?
"Hey, Uncle, Ryoma's training is secretly powering me up. Also, I get stronger by napping."
Yeah, that'd go over well.
Besides, why should he train when sleeping worked just fine?
In the corner of his vision, system notifications flooded his view:
[Multiplicative Feedback: Five Stats Increased!]
[Multiplicative Feedback: Tennis Fundamentals Improved!]
[Multiplicative Feedback: Five Stats Increased!]
...
Thank god he'd muted the alerts. Otherwise, the constant dinging would've driven him insane.
He didn't fully grasp what these "minor boosts" meant, but he could feel himself improving.
Beyond the feedback, the system only had one other function—a vague stats display.
But with his trusty "Bull Horse" (Ryoma) around?
Becoming the best in Prince of Tennis was just a matter of time.
Nanjirou, however, was fuming.
Yoru had more talent than Ryoma—yet he treated tennis like a passing hobby!
"RYOMA!" he barked. "Play a match against your brother! Let's see his hard work in action!"
He emphasized "hard work."
Yoru blinked. "Huh?"
Ryoma, though? Eyes sparkling."I can play against Nii-san now?!"
Nanjirou crossed his arms. "Right. Now."
"Seriously?" Yoru scratched his head.
But he obediently grabbed his racket and stepped onto the dirt court.
The surface was rough, pockmarked with bumps—making ball bounces wildly unpredictable.
A brutal training ground.
Yet, it was perfect for honing precision.
Yoru had to admit: Nanjirou's methods were genius.
"Ready? Who's serving first?" Nanjirou glared.
Yoru sighed. "Uncle... do I have to?"
He wasn't afraid of losing.
He was afraid of crushing Ryoma's spirit.
And if Ryoma got discouraged... who'd power him up then?
Nanjirou's expression didn't budge. "I want to see your progress."
"...Fine."
Yoru forced a smile.
To Ryoma, it looked like his brother was nervous—unsure how to face Nanjirou's expectations.
I'll go easy on Nii-san! Ryoma decided. If he hits normally, I'll pretend it's hard to return! That way, Dad won't be mad!
"Nii-san can serve first!" he announced, crouching at the baseline.
Yoru exhaled.
"Alright..."
Please, Ryoma... don't let this break you.