(Note: According to official settings, Ryoga is two or three years older than Ryoma—either the same age as Kunimitsu Tezuka or Shusuke Fuji. In this story, I've set him to be the same age as Fuji. Don't overthink it.)
Yoru turned around when called.
There, sitting in the courtyard sipping tea, was Nanjiroh Echizen.
At first glance, it looked like a serene scene.
Unfortunately, Yoru's sharp eyes immediately caught the corner of a book peeking out from under Nanjiroh's seat.
Yoru rolled his eyes. "You old man, really? Reading porn in the middle of the night?"
Ever since Nanjiroh had cut his signature topknot into a buzz cut two years ago, Yoru had taken to calling him "old man." By now, it had become a habit.
Ahem~
Nanjiroh awkwardly shifted in his seat.
Then he said, "Kid, you're just in time. There's something I need you to do. I was planning to tell you tomorrow."
Yoru gave him a questioning look.
Nanjiroh continued, "I want you to play three matches against Ryoga."
Three?
Yoru blinked. "Back-to-back?"
Nanjiroh shook his head. "The first one tomorrow. The second and third… I'll decide later."
Yoru raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"
A simple match didn't warrant such a serious tone.
Nanjiroh was usually so carefree—why the sudden gravity over something so minor?
Nanjiroh's expression darkened slightly. "It's not a normal match. I need you to crush him. No holding back."
That harsh?
Yoru was taken aback.
Despite his eight-year-old appearance, if he went all out against Ryoga, he could absolutely demolish him—possibly even inflict physical harm. A two-star difference in combat power was no joke.
It would be a complete, overwhelming domination.
The higher the star rating, the wider the gap in ability.
Combat power reflected the minimum practical skill level in real matches.
Just the basics alone would be enough to overwhelm Ryoga.
Before Yoru could respond, Nanjiroh added, "I know what you're thinking. Ryoga has a powerful but troublesome innate talent. I need you to use your ability to seal it."
Though Nanjiroh didn't specify, Yoru already knew what he meant.
He wanted Yoru to use his own talent to suppress Ryoga's.
Ever since his Fundamentals and Five Dimensions reached Level 5, his unique innate ability had unlocked—
"Ten Senses Manipulation."
[Ten Senses Manipulation]: The ability to control a target's ten senses.
(Unlocked: Sight, Hearing, Touch, Smell, Taste // Locked: Premonition, Time Sense, Spatial Sense, Consciousness, Thought.)
This ability was insanely overpowered.
As long as his mental stamina held, even Nanjiroh wouldn't be immune.
When he first awakened it, he'd tested Visual Manipulation on Nanjiroh—and the man had collapsed on the spot.
According to the system, improving his mental stats would enhance the power of Ten Senses Manipulation and unlock more controls.
Yoru nodded. "I'll try. What exactly do you want me to do?"
Nanjiroh met his gaze calmly and began to explain...
Click~
The sound of a door closing echoed in the room.
The noise stirred Ryoma from his sleep. Blinking groggily, he saw Yoru entering before rolling over and drifting off again.
Yoru lay in bed, thinking about tomorrow's task, until sleep finally took him.
The next morning.
Under Nanjiroh's arrangement, the two stood on the tennis court within the estate.
Compared to the makeshift court at the temple, this one was far superior—on par with professional club facilities.
As Yoru warmed up, Ryoga hesitated on the court.
After a long pause, he turned to Nanjiroh. "Father… are you sure about this? I mean, against him—"
Nanjiroh cut him off. "Don't worry."
Yoru finished his warm-up, grabbed his racket, and took his position at the baseline.
"Ryoga, I'm ready~"
Truthfully, he was curious about Ryoga's strength—but not in his current state.
In the original World Tournament Arc, aside from the undisputed top-tier players like Nanjiroh, the strongest characters were Ryoga Echizen and QP. Even Volk and Kintarou couldn't match up.
By the final showdown between the brothers, the author had likely planned to give them new, broken abilities—far surpassing even the World Tournament's power scaling.
Not even players like Medanore, Volk, Byodoin, or the perfected QP could compare.
But that was the future.
Right now, Ryoga wasn't strong enough to pique Yoru's interest.
Ryoga stepped to the baseline, watching Yoru with unease.
"Yoru… if you feel unwell at any point, just call the match off, okay?"
Yoru smirked. "Got it."
For most players—even those slightly stronger than Ryoga—countering an ability like "The Snatch" would be near impossible.
But Yoru was curious to see how it worked.
As both took their positions, Nanjiroh—acting as referee—tossed the ball to Ryoga.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
The rhythmic bounce of the ball filled the court.
Ryoga tapped his racket against the ground, syncing with the sound to steady himself. His expression hardened.
With a fluid motion, he tossed the ball high and swung—
BANG!
A sharp serve tore across the court.
Ryoma's eyes sparkled. "That's fast!"
For their age group, it was a quick serve.
But to Yoru?
Pathetic.
The moment the ball left Ryoga's racket, Yoru was already moving. A single step forward, a casual flick of the wrist—
POCK!
The ball was caught cleanly mid-rebound.
Ryoga stiffened.
He had held back slightly, but he hadn't expected Yoru to return it so effortlessly.
A thought flashed through his mind:
"Anyone trained by Father can't be underestimated. If he says not to worry… then I'll go all out!"
WHOOSH—
A streak of light blazed across the court, landing just inside the baseline before rocketing out of bounds.
By the time Ryoga processed what happened, the ball had already bounced twice.
Yoru grinned. "Ryoga, focus. This is a real match."
"R-Right!"
Ryoga scratched his head, embarrassed. He had zoned out.
On the sidelines, Ryoma turned to Nanjiroh. "Can Ryoga beat him?"
Nanjiroh chuckled. "Well… just watch."
As the person who knew Yoru's strength best—and as Japan's former #1 prodigy, hailed as a once-in-a-century genius—Nanjiroh knew better than anyone:
Even at the middle school level, no one could defeat Yoru.
Ryoga was talented, yes—
But he wasn't on that level.
**Not even close.