Crack!
Crack!
On the court, Kintarō twisted his neck and stretched his limbs, his joints popping like firecrackers.
"Hey, old-timer, you ready?"
His sharp gaze locked onto Udon, radiating an aggressive intent that sent a chill down the latter's spine.
BAM!
Kintarō tossed the ball and smashed it down.
"Huh?"
The high schoolers scoffed.
"That's it? I thought it'd be something scarier."
"Kid, with a serve like that, you've got no chance against Udon."
"That's the 'Divine Territory'—no way a middle schooler can break it."
THUD!
Udon swung, returning the serve—but unease prickled at him.
The serve was weaker than before, yet something felt off.
Like an eagle slowing before a dive, or a wolf stalking in silence—Kintarō was in hunting mode.
BAM!
Kintarō fired a straight shot to Udon's right.
But the Right-End Saber twisted its trajectory, pulling it back toward Udon.
"Useless."
A high schooler smirked. "Without top-tier technique, you can't break this!"
THUD!
The ball landed.
Udon returned it smoothly.
Kintarō dashed, caught up, and smashed again—only for the ball to curve back once more.
On the surface, it seemed Udon's technique had trapped Kintarō in an inescapable cage.
But Udon's unease grew.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Each shot was reeled in by the Right-End Saber—yet Udon's expression darkened.
"What's… happening?"
The high schoolers sensed something wrong but couldn't pinpoint it.
"Look at the ground."
Dry adjusted his glasses. "Kintarō's shots are inching closer to the right side."
True enough—faint white marks dotted Udon's right flank.
The Right-End Saber still worked… but its walls were crumbling.
"Why?!"
Udon's composure frayed.
This technique could be broken—but only by superior skill. Yet Kintarō wasn't using any spin!
BAM!
Finally—
The ball broke through, landing cleanly on Udon's right.
"Wha—?!"
The high schoolers gaped.
Udon's 'Divine Territory'—shattered.
"How?!"
Udon's voice rose. "You didn't use any technique!"
The middle schoolers exchanged stunned looks.
"No spin? Impossible!"
Hiyoshi, Momoshiro, and Kaidō—who'd faced Ishikawa and Tezuka's Zone—knew breaking such a move required reverse spin.
"Did raw power overwhelm technique?"
Yanagi murmured. "As the saying goes, 'Absolute strength defeats all skill'?"
"Perhaps."
Dry wasn't convinced. The force needed would be monstrous.
"It's not just power."
Sanada crossed his arms. "The mountain training honed Kintarō's instincts. In this state, he sees weaknesses in techniques."
"Correct."
Inui smiled, glancing at Oni. "Kintarō's innate predatory sense is terrifying."
Oni gave a slight nod.
During training, Kintarō had once begged to learn "real tennis." Oni agreed—on one condition: Beat a U-17 high schooler without technique.
This match was that test.
But Kintarō hadn't just overpowered Udon—he'd outsmarted him.
"If this ability develops further…"
Oni mused. "He might even dismantle world-class techniques."
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Without his 'Divine Territory,' Udon was back on the defensive—overwhelmed.
CRACK!
Kintarō suddenly ramped up the power, forcing a weak return.
"Ready, old-timer?!"
Kintarō's grin turned feral—like a hawk spotting prey.
WHOOSH!
He leaped, soaring higher than thought possible.
Then—
SPIN.
A tornado of motion erupted around him.
"EVERYONE, GET BACK!"
Shiraishi's team shouted in alarm.
"SUPER… ULTRA… DELICIOUS… BIG WHEEL MOUNTAIN STORM!!!"
BOOOOOOM!
A meteor-like smash slammed down.
Udon braced—instinct screaming at him to dodge.
But as Court 2's leader, retreat meant surrender.
BANG!!!
The impact sent him flying—crashing into the fence, racket shattered.
"G-Game… set."
The umpire swallowed. "Winner… Tōyama Kintarō."
Silence.
Then—
"That was AWESOME!"
Kintarō stretched, grinning. Then he blinked at Udon's crumpled form.
"Uh… oops?"
The contrast between his violence and innocence was jarring.
"Well, Oni?"
Inui teased. "Happy with your student?"
"Hn."
Oni's stern face hid pride.
Then he turned to the gawking high schoolers.
"What are you waiting for? Carry him to the infirmary!"
"And from now on—"
His voice boomed. "This court belongs to the Black Jackets!"
The high schoolers scrambled, hauling Udon away in panic.
The middle schoolers exchanged glances.
Oni and Inui's authority was undeniable—were they part of U-17's elite "Top 20"?
CLANG!
The gate swung open.
"You actually made it back?"
Atobe strode in, scowling. "And you took Court 2 before us?"
"Yeah."
Oshitari adjusted his glasses. "We can't accept that without a match."
But the tension dissolved as teammates reunited—smiles breaking out.
"Welcome back."
Ōtsuka clasped Mukahi's shoulder.
Even rivals like Tezuka and Yukimura exchanged nods.
"How heartwarming."
Inui sighed. "This year's talent is unbelievable."
Oni agreed.
But then—
His gaze snapped to the entrance.
A figure stood there—golden hair, white headband, stubble.
"Oni…?"
Inui followed his stare—then froze.
"…Phoenix."