"He returned it!"
Fuji's eyes narrowed, but he reacted instantly.
The ball was fast—yet still within his range. He sprinted toward its trajectory, analyzing the heavy topspin mid-motion. Adjusting his grip, he switched to a slice, sending the spinning ball back with precision.
"Here it comes."
Yoru's lips curled slightly.
He'd deliberately used topspin to bait Fuji's [Higaeri (Swallow Return)]—a technique Fuji had never revealed in official matches. Today, Yoru planned to force all his tricks out… and copy them.
In the past, Yoru might've dismissed such techniques. But after the Nationals, Nanjiroh had taught him the value of absorbing diverse styles—like solving endless math problems to master every possible variation.
That's why he'd even copied Yamato's [Misalignment Shot].
[You've copied Higaeri (Lv. 7). Feedback complete—Higaeri upgraded to Lv. 9!]
[Due to your base stats, Higaeri has evolved to Lv. 12!]
As the system's voice faded, the ball struck the court. It barely bounced, skimming the surface like a stone across water.
"Higaeri. Careful—your racket might just swing through air~" Fuji's gentle taunt floated across the net.
"Whoa!"
Gasps erupted from the sidelines.
"The—the ball didn't bounce?!"
"No, it did! Just… barely a centimeter off the ground!"
"Since when are middle schoolers this insane?!"
"Can the captain return it?!"
Even Yamato looked stunned. "Incredible. Reminds me of that out-of-bounds shot Byoudouin once hit… though this one technically bounced."
"Not enough." QP, perched on the referee's chair, spoke flatly.
The moment he said it—
Whoosh!
Yoru blurred into motion, intercepting the ball just as it grazed past his feet. His racket scraped the court, sparks flying as he flicked it back effortlessly.
"Too fast!" Fuji's breath hitched.
Yoru had not only chased down the ball—he'd replicated Higaeri mid-rally. And his version was worse.
The ball dipped faster, spun sharper, and skidded like a bullet.
Thud-thud-thud!
Tezuka rushed to cover the baseline, but the ball kissed the tape and rolled out before his racket could connect.
"Yoru scores. 15-0!" QP announced, utterly unfazed.
If he could return it, Yoru's success was inevitable.
"Next." Yoru retreated to the baseline, twirling his racket.
"…Overwhelming." Fuji exhaled, resetting his stance.
He'd heard about Yoru's replication ability—how he could not only copy techniques instantly but enhance them. Now, facing it firsthand sent a chill down his spine.
"T-this is the #1 middle schooler…?" Kikumaru and the others swallowed hard.
Fuji's Higaeri had been dazzling enough. Yet Yoru's version was monstrous—faster, heavier, deadlier. The gap was visible.
Boom—!
Tezuka served—a sharp [Inside Corner Serve] this time. His earlier [Zero-Shiki Serve] had been a test, and Yoru's casual return made further strain pointless.
The ball kissed the outer line—
But Yoru was already there, racket raised.
"His footwork's impossible." Inui sighed, shutting his notebook.
Recording data was futile. Yoru's speed covered the court like a shadow. Unless the ball broke some ungodly speed barrier, reaching him was hopeless.
Swish!
Yoru's return shot toward Fuji, daring him to counter.
Higaeri wouldn't work twice. A net volley? Useless against Yoru's reflexes.
"Then—!"
Fuji's racket tilted upward, lofting a high lob.
"Oh no—!" Oishi paled.
Even beginners knew: a lob was just an invitation for a smash.
Sure enough—
Yoru leapt, his jacket flaring mid-air as his racket descended like a guillotine.
[侵略如火—Gluttony of Fire!]
"That smash—!" Tezuka's pulse spiked.
It mirrored the technique Sanada had developed under Yoru's guidance.
"Fuji, move!"
"I've got it!"
Fuji's eyes snapped open. Sprinting forward, he twisted his racket horizontally—
[Higuma Otoshi (Bear Drop)]
"Wait, that's—?!" Kikumaru gaped.
"Fuji mentioned this before," Inui cut in. "A counter-smash that accelerates the ball's drop, making recovery impossible for the attacker."
The plan was flawless—
Until—
GRIIIND—!
A metallic screech tore through the air.
The ball warped Fuji's racket strings, vibrating violently as if trying to punch through. Pain shot up his arm—
Clang!
His grip failed. The racket slammed into the court, ball flying out of bounds.
"Yoru scores. 30-0!"
Tap.
Yoru landed lightly, watching Fuji kneel on the court. "Solid counter. But against a smash this heavy, it becomes suicide. Stop feeding lobs so recklessly."
In the original timeline, Fuji had a bad habit—opting for flashy lobs to set up Higuma Otoshi even when simpler returns existed. It took having his racket shattered mid-match to break that instinct.
Later, he'd develop [Aoi Fubuki (Blue Blizzard)]—a monstrous counter that didn't rely on opponents' smashes.
But without [Mind's Eye], Fuji couldn't yet perceive the path to such a technique.
---
### Meanwhile: Okayama Town
A burly man with a scruffy beard and a gourd of sake strapped to his hip stopped outside the Nukumori Orphanage.
The guard tensed, gripping his baton. "State your business!"
"Relax~ Fancy a drink?" The man uncorked the gourd—rich, pungent alcohol fumes flooding the air.
---
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