[Reigning Over All] – Possesses a monarch's insight, physical prowess, and indomitable will.
6-star peak, slightly below a boosted Fuji's level, but with terrifyingly balanced stats.
Yoru initially thought it was just an observational-type talent.
He was wrong.
Unlike Tezuka and the others, whose abilities scaled with match intensity, Atobe's buffs were active from the very first point.
In the original series, Atobe's overall stats were the highest among middle schoolers—but this was ridiculous.
Both he and Tezuka had 7-tier stats, yet Atobe's total was higher.
- Tezuka: Technique alone at 7.
- Atobe: Technique and stamina at 7, with power, speed, and mental all close behind.
In raw stats? Tezuka lost outright.
---
"You're Seigaku's captain, Yoru, right? Play a match with this king!"
The arrogant demand snapped Yoru back to reality.
He studied Atobe's defiant smirk but didn't refuse—just picked up his racket and walked to the baseline.
"Ten minutes to warm up."
"You're seriously playing him?" QP muttered.
Yoru shrugged. "In my homeland, showing up uninvited like this is called 'dojo storming.' Back in the day, it'd be a fight to the death."
Atobe didn't complain.
He was prideful, not stupid.
Yoru's reputation as Japan's #1 wasn't unearned. Overconfidence got you wrecked.
Still…
The regional matches had inflated his ego.
Hyotei's so-called "elite" seniors were trash. It skewed his perception—maybe all Japanese middle schoolers were overrated.
How strong could this "#1" really be?
---
Ten minutes later.
Atobe returned to the court—then froze.
"Hey. You're seriously keeping that jacket on?"
Yoru smirked. "Try making me take it off."
He spun his racket. "Heads or tails?"
Normally, he'd concede the serve. But this wasn't a normal match.
This was war.
Atobe scoffed. "You serve first. Don't disappoint me, '#1.'"
QP climbed into the umpire's chair.
In all of Seigaku, only he could referee Yoru's matches.
"Game start! Yoru to serve!"
---
"This level… is weak. Like Kirihara when he first joined."
SWOOSH—!
The toss. The wind-up.
Atobe braced, eyes sharp.
THOK.
A slow, spinning serve arced toward the inner corner.
Atobe almost laughed. "This is it?"
He sauntered into position, racket primed for a brutal return—
—then the ball stopped dead on impact.
SPIN—SPIN—ROLL.
It reversed direction, trickling back toward the net without bouncing.
Atobe's brain short-circuited.
"…No rebound?!"
15-0, Yoru.
"Not bad," Atobe forced out, already scrambling for a counter.
Prideful, but analytical.
One serve was all it took to shatter his assumptions.
---
"The captain's holding back," Yamato murmured.
The upperclassmen knew Yoru's Zero-Shiki Serve could be faster, with no spin decay.
That version? Tezuka-tier at best.
"Found a solution yet? No? Here comes another."
Yoru's next serve was a bullet.
Atobe's eyes barely tracked it before—
SPIN—ROLL.
Same result. 30-0.
"Zero-Shiki… as a flat serve?!" Fuji's pupils shook.
The first-years had never seen this.
No wind-up. No tell. Just instant death.
Fuji turned to Tezuka. "Can you do that?"
Their promised match hadn't happened yet. If Tezuka could pull this off, his service games would be unbreakable.
"No." Tezuka adjusted his glasses. "The captain taught me, but the strain is too much. Even my Zero-Shiki slice can't mimic it."
A collective gasp.
Yoru's version was strictly superior—no bounce, faster, deadlier.
Atobe's only hope was stomping the landing spot to force a rebound…
…but at this speed? Impossible.
---
40-0.
Yoru's third serve was even faster.
Atobe didn't even twitch before the point ended.
The Seigaku kids gulped.
Inui's pen hovered over his notebook. How do you analyze this?!
Yoru just stared Atobe down.
"Is this really all you've got?"
---