"All the other matches have ended."
In the room on the second floor, the three of them turned their attention to the last remaining screen still broadcasting a match.
Thud!
Thud!
Thud!
On the court, the two players were locked in a fierce battle.
Oshitari's technique was solid—smooth, efficient, and free of unnecessary flair. His Cloud-Phoenix Return and Bear Crusher had completely stifled Fuwa's offensive attempts.
At this moment, the U-17's No. 11 was actually being pushed into a corner, visibly flustered.
Thud!
Suddenly, Oshitari delivered a return shot. The ball soared over the net, then sharply dipped and skidded low across the ground.
"This move again?"
Fuwa narrowed his eyes but immediately sprang into action.
This technique would be considered impressive even among high schoolers, but for a player like Fuwa, it wasn't unbreakable. After seeing it a few times, he had already deciphered its mechanics. Without hesitation, he dashed forward, preparing to counter with a low, slicing stroke.
Whoosh!
But then—
The ball abruptly changed direction.
To Fuwa's shock, it veered sharply away from him, shooting toward the opposite side of the court.
"Game."
Securing the point, Oshitari calmly announced, "Oshitari leads, 2-1."
"This brat…"
Repeated setbacks had finally disrupted Fuwa's composure. He hadn't expected his opponent's understanding and execution of techniques to be at such a high level.
"I underestimated you."
A cold glint flashed in Fuwa's eyes.
Up until now, he hadn't taken this match seriously. Even when Oshitari countered his smashes with ease, he hadn't been fazed.
But now—
He was finally treating this middle schooler as a real opponent.
"Getting serious now?" Oshitari smirked. "So, senpai, are you finally going to show me your true strength?"
"Don't flatter yourself." Fuwa scoffed. "You think this is enough to make me go all out?"
It wasn't arrogance—just absolute confidence.
After all, Fuwa had only been using about half his strength, treating the match as little more than a warm-up.
"Is that so?"
Oshitari chuckled.
He could sense the overwhelming pride and superiority radiating from his opponent. Once upon a time, Oshitari himself had harbored similar feelings—though not to this extent.
That was, until he met Ishikawa.
That seemingly ordinary boy had shattered Oshitari's pride completely. From then on, he had abandoned flashy playstyles and focused solely on efficiency—winning became his only goal.
Thud!
Fuwa served again.
This time, he had raised his output to about 60%. His serve was noticeably faster, a clear step up from before.
Unfortunately—
For the current Oshitari, it still wasn't enough.
Thud!
In an instant, the serve was returned.
Tap-tap!
Fuwa quickly closed in, redirecting the ball toward Oshitari's backhand with a sharp, angled shot—clearly aiming to disrupt his rhythm.
Swish!
But just as the ball was about to bounce, Oshitari's figure was already there, waiting.
"Huh?"
Fuwa's eyes narrowed.
He hadn't expected his shot placement to be read so easily.
"A fluke, or…?"
Without dwelling on it, Fuwa launched another attack.
Yet once again, his shot was anticipated.
"Tch."
Once could be luck. Twice was a pattern.
"His perception is this sharp?"
Fuwa had full confidence in his offensive skills. While his piercing power might not match Bullet Shot, and his raw strength couldn't rival Four Seasons, his overall versatility was unmatched among the lower-ranked U-17 players.
But now—
A middle schooler was reading his every move?
"Wait…"
Then, Fuwa noticed it—the faint, moonlit aura shimmering around Oshitari's body.
Shadow Moon Mode!
Oshitari had activated his ultimate technique.
In this state, his perception and judgment skyrocketed, allowing him to pinpoint his opponent's weaknesses and strike with precision.
"Not bad, kid."
Realizing his plays were genuinely being deciphered, Fuwa took a deep breath and upped the intensity.
Instead of retreating, he decided to overwhelm Oshitari with sheer speed—ending this before it dragged on.
Hum!
But then—
A crimson aura flared around Oshitari.
Solar Flare Mode!
Now, his explosive power and strength surged. His movements became swift and aggressive, like a lion pouncing on prey.
Boom!
With a thunderous impact, Fuwa's rapid attack was met with an even fiercer counter. The ball rocketed past him, landing squarely on the baseline before shooting out of bounds.
"0-15!"
Oshitari called the score, his aura fading as he returned to his normal state.
"Alright, kid… I admit it. I underestimated you." Fuwa exhaled sharply, his gaze hardening. "You've earned my full attention."
Hum!
As he spoke, an overwhelming pressure erupted from him.
This was the true might of U-17's No. 11.
Oshitari, however, remained unfazed.
He had expected this. Now that Fuwa was serious, the real match had finally begun.
Thud!
Fuwa served again.
This time, the ball was not only faster but also carried a fierce, spiraling force.
Tap!
Upon bouncing, it kicked up dust before abruptly changing trajectory.
"A curveball?"
Oshitari's eyes flickered.
But he was no amateur. He had seen Ishikawa's true Super Rising Shot before—compared to that, Fuwa's twist serve was nothing special.
Swish!
Without hesitation, he sidestepped and swung, intercepting the ball just before it could escape.
"Nice."
Fuwa nodded in approval.
His eyes sharpened as he lunged forward, his speed increasing dramatically—like a leopard closing in for the kill.
Boom!
The ball was blasted back with terrifying force.
Hum!
Oshitari seamlessly switched from Shadow Moon to Solar Flare, using his enhanced strength to return the shot.
Boom! Thud! Boom! Thud!
In just ten seconds, they had exchanged nearly a dozen blows.
The ball streaked back and forth, the wind from their swings kicking up dust that obscured half the court.
"Incredible!"
Upstairs, Tōru gaped. "He's actually holding his own against Fuwa?!"
This was Fuwa Tetsuhito they were talking about—a high school elite. At just 16, he still had room to grow. In another year, he'd likely break into the U-17's top five.
And yet—
Here he was, trading blows with an unheralded middle schooler.
"So this…" Tōru muttered, shaking his head in disbelief, "is the caliber of a Hyōtei regular?"
"It's not over yet." Kurobe cut in. "Fuwa's only at about 80%, and Oshitari hasn't used his strongest technique."
"What?!"
Saitō thought he'd misheard.
Boom!
On-screen, Fuwa's return tore through the dust cloud, rocketing toward the baseline.
Oshitari, no longer holding back, activated both Shadow Moon and Solar Flare simultaneously.
Hum!
A fusion of black and white light enveloped him.
His speed, power, and perception all surged. In a flash, he caught up to the ball and smashed it down with a devastating spike.
Boom!
The impact sent the dust scattering, revealing Fuwa's stunned expression.
"0-30!"
"This speed… this power…"
Fuwa was at a loss. He hadn't expected a middle schooler to match him in a direct exchange—let alone score against him at near-full strength.
"Guess I have no choice."
He took a deep breath and locked eyes with Oshitari.
"Hm?"
The moment their gazes met, Oshitari felt an odd sensation—though he couldn't quite place it.
Thud! Boom! Thud! Boom!
The match resumed, the two diving back into their fierce duel.
But as they fought, Oshitari grew increasingly uneasy. There was something familiar about Fuwa's style—an eerie resemblance.
Thud!
Then, Fuwa struck.
The ball cleared the net, dipped sharply, and skidded low—just like before.
"This is—?!"
Oshitari's eyes widened.
Cloud-Phoenix Return?!
No—
It was his Cloud-Phoenix Flash!
Because the ball changed direction twice mid-flight.
"How?!"
"How does he know this move?!"
"Is it Muga no Kyōchi?!"
Countless questions flooded Oshitari's mind.
And worse—a creeping dread.
Earlier, when the match had reached its peak, he had considered using Cloud-Phoenix Flash to turn the tide.
Yet Fuwa had used it first.
As if he'd plucked the thought straight from Oshitari's mind and executed it himself.
"Wait… those eyes—?!"
Suddenly, Oshitari noticed it—Fuwa's silver-white eyes, mirror-like, reflecting his own unsettled expression back at him.
"There's something wrong with them!"
Oshitari's breath hitched. He wasn't stupid—he realized he'd fallen into some kind of trap.
Fuwa's ability seemed to mirror his techniques, throwing them back at him.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
As the match continued, Oshitari's own moves kept being used against him. His suspicion solidified into certainty.
But now—
He was trapped.
Facing his own perfected techniques, he found himself at a loss. The very skills he'd honed were now his shackles.
Thud! Boom! Thud! Boom!
Fuwa dominated the exchanges.
His Mirror Eye didn't just replicate Oshitari's moves—it enhanced them.
If Oshitari held back, he was overwhelmed. If he used his techniques, they were turned against him.
He was stuck in a paradox, and time was running out.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
On the court, Oshitari's earlier confidence had vanished.
His movements grew sloppy, his breathing heavier. The match was slipping away.
"What do I do?"
"Power—I need more power! Enough to shatter that mirror!"
"No… that's not it."
"The mirror is just a medium. My real enemy is the one behind it. Unless I can break his racket, brute force won't work!"
Gradually, Oshitari's mind cleared.
He had never been a power player. When faced with a problem, his instinct was to analyze, to think.
Calm.
Logic.
That was the core of his tennis.
In this critical moment, the adrenaline faded, allowing his rationality to take over.
"Do I really need more strength?"
"No."
"No amount of force will break his defense. Instead of trying to overpower him… I need to find the balance."
"Movement and stillness aren't opposites."
"I need… a deeper understanding."
Thoughts swirled in his mind, chaotic yet pointing toward a single truth.
So—
He closed his eyes.
Shutting out the world, he sought the path to a higher realm.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Point after point slipped away, but Oshitari didn't waver. To Fuwa, it looked like surrender.
"Is this all you've got?"
As the match neared its end, Fuwa sighed. "You've got talent, kid, but your mental game is weak. Needs work."
As a second-year, he knew his spot would eventually go to a middle schooler. But if Oshitari couldn't earn his respect, Fuwa had no intention of handing over his badge.
That was his pride.
Besides—
He still had his own ambitions.
The upcoming World Cup would have limited slots for high schoolers, but nothing was set in stone. Until then, he'd keep fighting for his chance.
Even if the odds were slim.
"But I won't just give my spot away."
With that thought, Fuwa's gaze turned icy. He raised his racket, aimed at Oshitari's weakest angle, and fired.
"Game over, kid."
As the ball shot forward, Fuwa started to turn away—
Swish!
—only to freeze when Oshitari appeared at the landing spot, seemingly out of nowhere.
"When did he—?!"
Fuwa's eyes widened.
He hadn't even seen him move.
"Doesn't matter. Tricks won't work on me."
Fuwa prepared to intercept, activating Mirror Eye to reflect whatever technique came next.
But then—
He stiffened.
Boom!
The ball shot past him, landing cleanly before bouncing out.
Fuwa could only stare in disbelief.
"No… that's impossible!"
For the first time, his Mirror Eye had seen nothing—just empty void.
And he had only ever experienced that once before.
Back when he'd first joined U-17, he'd arrogantly challenged the entire top team.
And then—
He met him.
The one who had crushed him so thoroughly that even his Mirror Eye showed only emptiness.
"Don't tell me…"
Fuwa's voice trembled as he stared at Oshitari.
"He's touched the realm of Mu—Nothingness?!"
(End of Chapter.)