(Sigh… Now there's another rumor about the Ushijima brothers being at Seigaku. Might as well stick to my usual mischief.)
The semifinals had ended.
The finals would take place the following Saturday.
After watching the matches between Rikkai Dai and Hyotei, the team boarded the bus back to school.
The whole ride, QP felt something was off. His brow furrowed as he flipped through the data collected by the team members.
Yoru noticed his unease but didn't ask—everyone else on the bus was asleep, and any noise would disturb them.
After about half an hour, they arrived back at Seigaku.
Yoru didn't order any extra practice. Instead, he dismissed the team.
We've finally made it to the semifinals. A day off won't hurt.
Besides, it was exam season—they needed time to study, too.
After saying goodbye to everyone at the train station, Yoru turned to QP.
"You've been distracted the whole ride. What's on your mind?"
QP seemed to have expected the question. Without hesitation, he replied, "Rikkai Dai's match was strange."
"What's strange about it?"
Yoru thought back to the match—it had seemed perfectly normal.
QP didn't give him time to dwell on it. "Remember Hyotei's lineup against us?"
Yoru nodded.
The first three matches had featured characters straight from the original story, so they were fresh in his memory.
"That's the issue."
QP's expression remained calm. "I reviewed all of Hyotei's matches this year. From the Kantō Tournament onward, their doubles lineup never changed—Doubles 2 was strong, Doubles 1 was weak. The only variation was Yūji Mōri, and that was because Hyotei's singles lineup had too many gaps."
"But based on Rikkai Dai's lineup today, their Doubles 1 was clearly stronger. Why not assign them to Doubles 2 to secure an early point? That way, they could've taken both doubles matches."
"Even if they had to concede one singles match, they could've minimized exposing their players' abilities."
Yoru began to understand.
With Hyotei's lineup completely transparent, Rikkai Dai could've won while keeping one more player's skills hidden.
Yet they didn't.
Even Seigaku's intelligence network had picked up on this—there was no way Mitsuya Akuto, with his data tennis, wouldn't have noticed.
Yoru thought for a moment. "Maybe it's overconfidence from their 12-year winning streak?"
"If I were in their position," QP countered, "I'd do everything possible to maintain that streak. I wouldn't make such careless decisions."
A winning streak wasn't just a legacy—it was a burden the next generation had to carry.
As QP's analysis sank in, Yoru suddenly remembered his role in the German team.
The master strategist.
His tactical instincts were among the sharpest in the Prince of Tennis world.
QP ignored Yoru's silence and continued, "Seigaku has been dominant all season. You and I haven't played much, but every match we have played was against top-tier opponents."
At this point, Yoru would've been an idiot not to catch on.
"You think Rikkai Dai is setting a trap for us?"
"Most likely targeting Kirihara. Aside from the Hyotei match, our lineup hasn't changed since the Kantō Tournament."
"Our overwhelming strength and Rikkai Dai's apparent arrogance would naturally make us assume they'd fight head-on."
QP's eyes sharpened.
"You can gauge everyone's strength. Tell me—does anyone on their team have a chance against Kirihara?"
"None—"
Yoru's voice cut off.
The more he considered QP's analysis, the more plausible it seemed.
If Mitsuya Akuto had full data access, he could give Kirihara a real fight—even with his "Rune Enhancement." Data tennis accounted for variables like that.
Yoru had assumed Kirihara's "Super Speed State" would neutralize the threat, but…
What if?
According to the system's stats, Kirihara didn't have a 100% win rate.
If Mitsuya did capitalize on that slim chance, Seigaku would lose—even if Yoru and QP won their matches. The overall score would already be decided.
The system let Yoru see individual strengths, but QP was thinking on a macro level.
If QP was right, Mitsuya had been setting up this trap since before the Kantō Tournament—staking everything on the Singles 3 match.
Yoru took a deep breath.
For the first time, he felt the pressure of tactical warfare.
"What's your suggestion?"
His tone was uncharacteristically humble.
The system had given him confidence, but in a team competition, that confidence was being tested.
The further we go, the more strategy matters.
QP tilted his head slightly. "Yamato and Kirihara… They know each other well, don't they?"
---
One Week Later – Preparation Period
Rikkai Dai had spent five days training with Yamabuki to maintain their competitive edge.
BAM!
"Game set! Rikkai Dai wins!"
With the final whistle, the last practice match ended—a 5-0 victory for Rikkai.
Mitsuya Akuto approached the net and extended his hand.
"Thank you for training with us all week. We appreciate it."
Yamabuki's captain, Nakahachi Gaido, glanced at the 6-0 scoreline and didn't return the handshake.
On the first day, he'd managed to take two games. But as Rikkai's data tennis sharpened, he hadn't won a single point since.
After a pause, Nakahachi spoke flatly, "Honestly? I wanted to see Rikkai's 12-year streak end. But Coach Banji sent us, and Seigaku is annoying. No thanks needed."
He turned away.
"Let's go."
Without another word, Yamabuki's team packed their bags and left.
Five days of practice matches had broken their spirit.
No one could endure that kind of losing streak.
Like Nakahachi, they'd scored a few points on the first day.
But from the second day onward, Rikkai's players seemed to know their every weakness, targeting their most uncomfortable spots relentlessly.
By the fifth day, Yamabuki's players were numb.
They'd been reduced to stepping stones for Rikkai's ambition—volunteering to be humiliated.
For the first time, they hated tennis.
"Captain… Maybe tennis isn't that fun after all."
The words made Nakahachi stiffen.
Seeing the emptiness in his teammates' eyes, he recalled Coach Banji's words:
"When you start hating what you love but keep going anyway—that's when true growth happens."
Nakahachi clenched his fists.
In the end, he chose to believe in Banji's wisdom.
Their skills were thanks to him.
If they couldn't improve further, the fault lay with their own perseverance.
---