Thud!
Thud!
Thud!
One ball after another blasted past Fūra's defenses. His once-unbeatable Mirror Eye technique had completely failed him.
"Nothingness..."
At the baseline, Fūra stared grimly at his opponent.
He was certain now—this move bore an eerie resemblance to that technique he'd encountered before. His opponent had somehow rendered the tennis ball utterly void, as if it didn't exist at all.
In other words…
Unless Fūra could forcibly break through this technique, none of his signature moves would work.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
On the other side of the court, Yūshi lightly bounced the ball.
He had entered an extraordinary state—the perfect balance of yin and yang, culminating in his mastery of [Nothingness], a power that dissolved spin and force, reducing everything to its most basic form.
However…
Since he'd only just grasped it, the technique was still rough. His control over the ball was far from refined, and a few times, he'd barely managed to neutralize Fūra's power.
But with each swing, Yūshi's wrist and racket grew noticeably sharper.
Swish!
The ball arced just over the net, landing softly before rolling away. Fūra twitched, as if to move—then sighed and let it go.
He knew.
There was no way he could reach it.
The [Nothingness] had erased all spin and power from his shots. Worse, Yūshi had placed the ball precisely where he couldn't return it.
Of course, it wasn't impossible to counter.
If Fūra went all out—burning stamina, disregarding everything—he could break through.
But he wouldn't.
For someone as prideful as Fūra, being forced to unleash his full strength against an opponent two years his junior… that alone would mean defeat.
"Enough."
With that, Fūra looked up, his gaze piercing. "You win."
Flick.
Before Yūshi could react, Fūra unpinned the badge from his collar and tossed it over.
"Don't waste that ability," he said as he turned away. "And never let your guard down. The U-17 is far more complicated than you think."
Then, without another word, he walked off the court.
"Huh?"
Yūshi blinked at the retreating figure.
That's it?
He'd braced for a desperate, all-out battle—yet the No. 11 badge had fallen into his hands this easily.
Shouldn't he have at least asked for my name?
"Right."
Shaking off his thoughts, Yūshi exhaled. "From his warning… the waters here run deeper than I thought."
He could tell—Fūra hadn't fought seriously.
Even with his newfound power, Yūshi doubted he could've won a full-strength match.
Among middle schoolers, Yūshi was easily top ten. But high schoolers as a whole still outclassed them.
And then there were the anomalies—Oni and Byōdōin, who weren't even ranked among the top players.
"Is that the complication he meant?"
A storm was coming. Yūshi could feel it.
---
### Coaches' Room – Second Floor
"Finally… it's over."
Takuzō leaned back as the last match between the second-string and the top players concluded. "I never expected all the middle schoolers to walk away with badges."
"True," Kurobe nodded. "Their growth in such a short time is remarkable. To earn the top players' recognition… they've truly transformed."
Sure, some matches—like Yūshi vs. Fūra or Yanagi vs. Mitsuya—had been concessions by the high schoolers.
But that didn't change the fact: the middle schoolers had evolved.
"That said," Saitō interjected, "the high schoolers forfeited to avoid the upcoming Shuffle Matches."
Under standard rules, once the Shuffle began, the top players would face challenges in reverse order—from lowest to highest rank.
By surrendering their badges, they dodged the storm. The middle schoolers still had to prove themselves in the real battles ahead.
"Let's go."
Kurobe checked the monitor. "It's time to greet the others."
"Right."
Saitō and Takuzō nodded.
The top players, led by Ishikawa, had just returned from an overseas tour—three straight wins, plus flawless exhibition matches. The coaches had to welcome them properly.
---
### Parking Area
Screech—
The bus rolled to a stop.
Ishikawa, Tokugawa, Ōchi, and others stepped out. After a month of travel—plus last night's impromptu match—they were exhausted but in good spirits. Jet lag would take time to shake off.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Among them, one figure stood out—a hooded young man in a red-and-black jacket. The others kept a cautious distance.
Creak.
The gate swung open.
The three coaches stood waiting.
"Welcome back," Kurobe said warmly, nodding especially to Ishikawa.
"Hm?" Saitō's eyes landed on the stranger. "A new face?"
"Yeah," Ishikawa replied. "Met him in Macau. Said he was interested in Japanese tennis, so I brought him along."
"I see."
The coaches exchanged glances.
An unofficial player joining like this was unprecedented. But Ishikawa wasn't someone they could easily refuse—not when he had six more years of potential dominance.
"Chief Coach's idea," Ishikawa added, sensing their hesitation. "But he's strong. Hope you'll let him stay."
With that, he led the group inside.
"Strong?" Saitō and Takuzō perked up.
If Ishikawa called him strong…
"Hmm."
But Kurobe caught the subtext.
"This guy…"
His gaze shifted to the hooded figure just as the young man glanced back—and smirked.
"Looking forward to working with you, Coaches."
A tangerine sailed through the air. Kurobe caught it on reflex.
For a split second, he swore he saw—
"Wait… If the Chief sent him—?!"
His eyes widened.
---
### Central Courts – 9:00 AM
After a lively discussion, the middle schoolers resumed training under Byōdōin and Oni's watchful eyes. The high schoolers, meanwhile, trained even harder—no one wanted to become an example.
Bam!
Bam!
Bam!
At Court No. 2, red-haired Kintarō faced Inui in a five-ball rally.
"Too easy!" Kintarō grinned. Defeating Udon had proven he could handle ten balls—five was nothing.
"Oh?" Inui smiled. "Don't get cocky. Five-ball rallies aren't as simple as they seem."
"Prove it!"
"Gladly."
Inui's racket blurred—five different shots at once.
Topspin. Slice. Drop shot—
Kintarō's grin faltered.
This wasn't just five balls in a row—each one had different trajectories and speeds.
But Kintarō didn't overthink it.
"Raaah!"
He lunged, returning four in rapid succession—
"One left—!"
His instincts locked onto the final ball.
"Haaah!"
With a furious swing, he smashed it back.
"Tch."
Oni shook his head from the sidelines.
"You're still far from mastering this."
Inui didn't even move as all five balls sailed past him—landing just outside the lines.
"Five-ball rallies aren't about just hitting them," Oni growled. "If you can't control placement, you've barely scratched the surface."
"…Got it."
Kintarō hung his head.
The other middle schoolers watched intently. This wasn't just a lesson for Kintarō—it was for all of them.
"He's the real deal," Atobe, Yukimura, and Tezuka noted silently.
Oni's insight confirmed it—he was far beyond the average top player.
If anyone could rival Byōdōin, it was him.
Or…
"That guy who still hasn't shown up."
Just then—
Footsteps.
Everyone turned.
The missing middle schoolers had arrived—some bruised, some supporting each other—but all wearing golden badges.
"They won?!"
"No way…"
Shock rippled through the crowd.
Yet Byōdōin, Oni, Inui, Duke, and Shirato remained unfazed.
"They knew," Atobe realized.
These players weren't just top-ranked—they were beyond the usual hierarchy.
Then—
More footsteps.
The middle schoolers froze.
"The real Top 10…?"
But what they saw next made their blood run cold.
"That guy—?!"
"Impossible!!"