The next day.
5:30 AM.
The sky was still dark, and thick fog enveloped the cliffs of Heart's Peak. Inside the cave, the defeated high schoolers slept soundly, completely unaware of the movement outside.
"Yaaawn~"
Amidst the mist stood a group of boys in white T-shirts. One of them rubbed his bleary eyes and grumbled, "What's the big idea, Oni-san? Why'd you wake us up so early?"
Lately, they'd been waking up at 6 AM sharp, their bodies locked into a strict routine. Waking up half an hour earlier left them groggy and disoriented.
Yawning and sluggish, they all looked half-asleep.
THUD!
Oni didn't answer. Instead, he tossed a large cardboard box in front of them.
"Huh?"
The ever-curious Hyōgo stepped forward to check and gasped. "Our uniforms?!"
"Correct," Oni said sternly. "By Coach Inui's orders, your training is complete. You're leaving today."
Leaving?!
For a moment, they thought they'd misheard. They stared at Oni, searching his face—cold, stern, and intimidating as ever—before realizing it was true.
"Finally, we're going back!"
Mukahi nearly jumped for joy. Even the usually stoic Kabaji couldn't hide his relief.
"At last!"
Sanada, Yanagi, and the others were just as thrilled.
The past month of training had been hell—nothing but drills, meals, and sleep. They'd been like wind-up toys, repeating the same grueling routine day after day.
And now…
They were finally free.
Watching their reactions, Irie smiled. "Hurry up and change. We're leaving."
"We?"
The sharp-eyed Echizen caught the implication. "You're coming back with us?"
"Yeah."
Oni gave a single nod.
Whoosh!
The middle schoolers exchanged glances.
After training under these two, they knew just how terrifyingly strong they were—bottomless didn't even begin to describe it.
In many ways, Oni and Irie had been their real coaches, the reason their skills had skyrocketed.
And now…
They were returning too.
Some of them could already picture it—the two leading them to absolute domination.
Even the usually stern Sanada couldn't suppress his excitement.
---
2:30 PM.
At the U-17 training camp, afternoon drills were in full swing across all courts. The top four courts trained the hardest, but among them, Courts 4 and 2 were especially tense.
There was a reason.
Under Byōdōin's brutal regime, the middle schoolers of Court 5 had become monsters, radiating sheer killer instinct.
Meanwhile, Courts 3 and 1 had Duke and Tanegashima holding the fort—if things went south, at least the big guns would handle it.
But their courts?
Their leaders could barely hold their own against the lower-ranked members of the Elite 10. At this rate, they wouldn't even need Byōdōin to step in—the middle schoolers alone could wipe them out.
"Move it, move it!"
In Court 2, Udon—one of the court's leaders—barked at his players. "Slacking off won't cut it against those middle school brats! Pick up the pace!"
Exhaustion weighed on him.
Lately, he'd been having nightmares about facing Court 5 in a shuffle match—with Byōdōin as his opponent. Every time he dreamed of that golden tennis ball hurtling toward him, he'd wake up in a cold sweat.
"Give me a break…"
Rubbing his temples, he muttered Ōmori's catchphrase under his breath.
Right now, he wanted nothing to do with being a court leader.
"At least the overseas squad should be back soon."
That thought gave him some relief. "Byōdōin's real target is them. A guy like him wouldn't settle for losing."
Most likely, the middle schoolers were just pawns in Byōdōin's plan to take down the Elite 10.
Then again…
There was always the chance he'd go after Court 2 first.
After all, Byōdōin had made it clear—only those who earned his approval could challenge the Elite 10.
Watching his players push through drills, Udon sighed. "Just hang on until the others return…"
BANG!
Suddenly, the court's iron gate was slammed open.
"Huh?!"
Udon whipped around, instantly on edge—until he saw it was just a heavyset guy in a black jacket.
"Phew… Not Court 5."
Lately, he'd been having nightmares about this exact scenario. He'd even studied Court 5's players to prepare.
"Still…"
His eyes narrowed. "If you're not from Court 5, who the hell do you think you are, barging into Court 2 like this?"
For the first time in days, Udon felt a flicker of confidence. As one of the camp's top players—a regular in shuffle matches—he had every reason to be self-assured.
Arms crossed, he glared at the dark-skinned intruder with icy disdain.
"Which court is this?"
"Doesn't matter. Oni-san said any court's fine."
"Right. From now on, this is our turf!"
Before Udon could react, a group of boys with brightly colored hair filed in behind the first guy.
"You little—!"
The Court 2 players, finally snapping out of their shock, bristled at the audacity.
"Hey!"
Udon's patience wore thin. "Which court are you from?"
"Court?" A boy with brown mushroom-cut hair smirked. "We don't belong to any court. But starting today, this one's ours!"
"If you've got a problem with that," added a redheaded boy, "we can settle it on the court!"
THUD! THUD! THUD!
More black-jacketed boys poured in.
"These guys…"
Udon's expression darkened.
Their arrogance was unbelievable. He was ready to teach them a lesson—
"Udon."
A deep, commanding voice cut through the tension. "As Court 2's leader, have you lost the ability to make decisions?"
"Huh?!"
Udon's blood ran cold. He knew that voice.
Slowly, he turned toward the gate—
And there he was.
A towering figure with fiery red hair, a fearsome glare, and an aura of pure intimidation.
"O-Oni?! Wh-what are you— Wait!"
His eyes widened in realization. "These guys… Are they the middle schoolers who got eliminated?!"
Now it made sense.
The rumors about the mysterious "Black Jacket Group" suddenly clicked. About a month ago, a group of middle schoolers had been weeded out in brutal internal matches.
They'd been sent to the mountains.
And now they were back.
"Damn it!"
Udon cursed inwardly.
All this time, he'd been worried about Court 5—only to walk right into Oni's trap.
His fighting spirit evaporated.
Whether it was Byōdōin or Oni, both were monsters he couldn't hope to beat.
"Huh."
The middle schoolers exchanged glances. Oni's reputation here was even more terrifying than they'd thought.
"Relax."
Irie, standing beside Oni, chuckled. "Oni and I won't be playing."
"Really?!"
Udon perked up, hope flashing in his eyes.
"Right," Oni confirmed. "This is your fight. We won't interfere."
"Good."
Udon's confidence returned—though he wasn't as cocky as before. "Then let's do this fair and square."
He turned to his players. "These are the middle schoolers who got cut last time. We'll handle them one-on-one. Understood?"
"Uh…"
The high schoolers hesitated.
But then they remembered—these were the rejects. The ones who hadn't made the cut.
There was no reason to be afraid.
Nodding, they steeled themselves.
The matches began.
But to their shock, the high schoolers didn't win a single game.
"What the hell?!"
Udon was stunned.
His players weren't pushovers—they were strong.
But these middle schoolers?
Their ferocity was unreal. Every swing, every step radiated raw power. Even he felt a chill watching them.
What he didn't know was this:
For the past month, under Oni's harsh rules, the Black Jackets had barely touched their rackets.
All they'd done was eat, sleep, and train—relentlessly.
Now, finally unleashed, even the gentlest among them played like wild beasts.
BAM!
Tanishi's smash cracked the court's surface, sending his opponent's racket flying.
Thud.
The heavyset boy landed lightly—proof of his newfound control.
"This guy…"
Udon's eyes narrowed.
Despite his bulk, Tanishi moved with surprising agility.
"Tch."
A quick glance confirmed the worst—only he and one other high schooler remained.
Under his glare, the last player stepped forward reluctantly.
"Heh."
Kintarō, fiery-haired and eager, was about to charge in—until Oni stopped him.
"My turn."
Understanding Oni's intent, Echizen stepped onto the court. Within minutes, the last high schooler fell.
"Your turn, Kintarō."
Irie smiled. "Don't underestimate Udon. He's strong enough to rank in the Elite 10's lower half."
"Really?"
Kintarō's eyes sparkled. He didn't fully grasp what that meant, but "strong opponent" was all he needed to hear. Bouncing excitedly, he dashed onto the court.
"The Elite 10…"
Outside, Sanada, Yanagi, and the others exchanged glances.
Echizen, too, was deep in thought.
Irie's words hinted at something—the camp's hierarchy wasn't as simple as court numbers.
The "Elite 10" reminded him of the two players he and Kintarō had met in the indoor courts.
"So that's how it is."
Echizen nodded to himself. "This place is more complicated than it seems."
After everything he'd been through—the matches, the losses, especially that crushing defeat against Ishikawa—he wasn't the same hotshot who'd won four straight U.S. junior tournaments.
Failure had humbled him.
Seeing players like Ishikawa and Kintarō—his own age but just as strong—kept him sharp.
And the grueling training at Heart's Peak had sanded away his impatience, leaving him calmer, more focused.
In the past, he might've resented Oni for favoring Kintarō.
But now?
He understood.
The U-17 camp was full of monsters.
If Udon was only in the lower half of the Elite 10, then he wasn't worth Echizen's time.
He could wait for a real challenge.
"Good."
Oni watched Echizen closely.
The boy's talent was undeniable—second only to Ishikawa in his generation, tied with Kintarō.
But their personalities were worlds apart.
Kintarō was pure, unbridled energy—a force of nature.
Echizen, though, was more like Ishikawa—calculating, composed, and fiercely independent.
That's why Oni hadn't sent him against Udon.
In his eyes, Echizen belonged higher.
He'd already decided—when the shuffle matches came, he'd push Echizen to aim for the top ten.