"I never expected that middle schooler, Hiyoshi, to be this strong."
Inside the monitoring room on the second floor, Saitou couldn't help but marvel as he watched the confrontation between the Second String and the First String through the training camp's surveillance cameras.
"Hmm."
Kurobe tapped the desk lightly and nodded. "It makes sense—he's from Hyotei, after all."
Hyotei.
The name alone made Saitou and Takuzou straighten up.
In the U-17, there were no such things as factions. The players here were all elites handpicked from across the country. It was rare to find even three players from the same prefecture, let alone the same school.
But now, things were different.
The arrival of the middle schoolers had shattered that long-standing norm—and Hyotei stood out the most.
There was no helping it. After all, the middle schoolers from that school now occupied the highest positions in the U-17.
"Look."
Kurobe, resting his chin on his hand, suddenly grinned as if he'd noticed something interesting. "Those two… they used to be from the same school, didn't they?"
"Huh?"
Saitou and Takuzou turned their attention to the screen.
On the court, a young man with flaxen hair and glasses walked in with an air of calm confidence.
A gentle breeze swept across the court.
The cool wind made the bespectacled boy smile. "How nostalgic. The first time we met, it was just like this, wasn't it… Yanagi?"
As he spoke, he lifted his gaze toward the mushroom-haired boy who had appeared at the edge of the court without warning.
It was Yanagi Renji—one of the "Big Three" of Rikkai Dai.
The previous evening, Yanagi had visited Oni and Inui's room to gather intel on the First String. When he learned that the First String's strategist—the No. 17 player—was none other than his former senior, he made up his mind.
He would challenge him.
"Akkuto-senpai."
Yanagi opened his eyes, his gaze burning with fighting spirit. "As the First String's strategist, your Data Tennis must have reached an even higher level by now, right?"
"Oh?"
Mitsuya raised an eyebrow in surprise. He hadn't expected Yanagi to know his rank and position within the U-17.
"As expected of you, Renji."
Mitsuya chuckled. "Then let me see just how much your Data Tennis has improved."
Meanwhile, on another court…
A figure darted across the court at blinding speed—rivaling even Shitenhouji's Marui Bunta.
"Not bad, kid."
A high schooler with ash-brown hair and a scar across his forehead smirked. "But for a high schooler, this is nothing."
"Tch."
On the other side of the net, a boy with wine-red hair and a fringe covering one eye scoffed. Accelerating further, he closed in on the ball and swung his racket with a sharp snap.
BANG!
The ball shot forward like an arrow.
"Try this—Sonic Bullet!"
The boy—Kamio Akira from Fudomine—gritted his teeth.
This was his ultimate technique. By harnessing the momentum from his high-speed dash, he could unleash a strike with 1.5 times his usual power.
After his training at the mountain camp, this shot had reached national-level speed.
THUD!
Yet, before Kamio could even finish speaking, his signature move was effortlessly returned.
"Sonic Bullet? More like a slowpoke's serve."
Hakamada Izou, the pierced-ear delinquent-looking high schooler, smirked. "Is this all you've got, kid?"
"Damn it!"
Kamio's expression darkened.
That morning, he and Hiyoshi had set out to intercept the First String players. He'd assumed his opponents wouldn't be that strong.
But this delinquent in front of him?
He was on a completely different level.
"Fine."
Taking a deep breath, Kamio's aura shifted.
A dark red energy began to swirl around him.
A dangerous, beast-like pressure radiated from his body, making Hakamada raise an eyebrow in surprise.
"Oh?"
He hadn't expected the kid to have another card up his sleeve.
Kamio's current state was undoubtedly powerful.
Ever since his humiliating defeat against Ishikawa at the street courts before the middle school tournament, he and Ibu Shinji had trained relentlessly.
Six months had passed.
And now, Kamio was a completely different player.
His "Wild Beast" aura had become tangible.
WHOOSH!
With a burst of speed, Kamio's afterimages multiplied. His movements were so fast that even Hakamada felt a flicker of pressure.
"Super… Sonic Bullet!!!"
Kamio swung with all his might.
The ball tore through the air like a storm, kicking up a whirlwind of dust in its wake.
"This one… has to work!"
Kamio narrowed his eyes, watching the ball's trajectory with sharp focus.
BOOM!
But in the next instant—
Hakamada's figure blurred.
A shadowy afterimage flickered through the dust before vanishing entirely.
BAM!
The ball reappeared out of nowhere—
And sent Kamio flying.
"Kid."
Hakamada turned his back as Kamio crashed to the ground. "Be proud. You actually forced me to get serious."
THUD.
But instead of hitting the ground, Kamio was caught midair by a pair of strong arms.
"T-Tachibana… senpai?"
Bleary-eyed, Kamio looked up at the familiar face and winced in shame. "I'm… sorry. I let you down…"
"No."
Tachibana shook his head. "You did well. Leave the rest to me."
Kamio gave a weak nod before passing out.
"Oh?"
Hakamada glanced up. "You're his friend, huh? Take him and get out of here. This level of competition isn't for—"
His words died in his throat.
Because the moment Tachibana set Kamio down, a dark red aura erupted around him—far denser and more violent than Kamio's.
Even Hakamada, known for his ruthless playstyle, felt a chill run down his spine.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
The match between Tachibana and Hakamada reached a fever pitch.
Both were giving it their all—speed, power, explosiveness—pushed to the absolute limit.
With every strike, Hakamada's wariness grew.
"This guy…"
His eyes widened. "Since when were middle schoolers this strong?!"
Despite going all out, he couldn't suppress Tachibana. In fact, it felt like his opponent was evolving mid-match.
BAM!
Hakamada's return shot spun wildly upon landing, kicking up a dust cloud before vanishing.
"Got you!"
Tachibana's senses sharpened. He focused on the subtlest disturbance in the air—
And found the ball.
In that instant, every ounce of his strength concentrated into a single, devastating swing.
Memories flashed through his mind—
His crushing defeat against Ishikawa.
The endless training.
The frustration of being left behind.
All of it fueled this one strike.
"This is my answer!"
BOOM!
The ball shattered the dust cloud—
And then, it split into countless afterimages.
WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
A storm of phantom shots rained down on Hakamada's side.
"Afterimage shots?!"
Hakamada's pupils contracted.
The sheer number reminded him of Byoudouin's "Indian Snake Charmer."
"But tennis balls don't multiply—!"
He focused, trying to pinpoint the real ball—
Only for every single afterimage to vanish at once.
"What?!"
Hakamada froze.
"They… disappeared?!"
Before he could react, the ball reappeared—
And landed just outside the baseline.
"You…"
Hakamada stared at Tachibana, his expression grim. He hadn't expected to be outplayed by a middle schooler.
After a tense silence, he finally spoke.
"Your name?"
"Tachibana Kippei."
Though exhausted, Tachibana's spirit burned brighter than ever.
His battle with Ishikawa had taught him one thing—
A truly strong player controls their emotions.
And he wasn't arrogant enough to assume he'd already won.
"Tachibana, huh?"
Hakamada nodded. Then, to Tachibana's surprise, he tossed his badge over.
"I don't need this anymore. It's yours."
With that, he turned and walked away.
"Wha—?"
Tachibana was stunned.
He hadn't expected a proud high schooler to concede like this.
But this wasn't surrender.
Hakamada wasn't a coward—his aggressive playstyle proved that much.
"This… is fine."
From a distance, Hakamada smirked.
He hadn't lost. If they'd kept going, the outcome was still uncertain.
But he'd acknowledged Tachibana's strength.
As a First String member, he knew the new World Cup rules required at least three middle schoolers per match.
That meant one-third of the team would have to be replaced.
For lower-ranked players like him—who rarely got to play anyway—it was better to pass the torch to those who deserved it.
And Tachibana had earned his respect.
"But."
Hakamada glanced back at Tachibana, who was now carrying Kamio. "That badge is only yours for now. Whether you can keep it… depends on you."
Like Hirakoba, Hakamada sensed the coming storm—the reshuffling matches that would shake the U-17 to its core.
And these middle schoolers?
They were at the eye of the hurricane.
One misstep, and they'd be crushed.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
On another court, Oishi and "Kikumaru" (actually Yuushi in disguise) battled the Ohtori brothers.
But even with Synchro, they were outmatched.
Finally, Yuushi dropped the illusion and frowned.
"I told you."
Ohtori Yuuho's voice was cold. "When both sides use Synchro, the stronger pair wins."
"You stand no chance."
Ohtori Yuuma's gaze was unwavering.
"Tch."
Oishi clenched his teeth.
But Yuushi suddenly smirked. "Oh? I wouldn't be so sure…"
"Hmph."
Yuuho's eyes narrowed. "Still stubborn?"
"Then we'll make you understand."
Yuuma's tone was firm.
They unleashed their full Synchro power—Stage 2—enough to dominate even high schoolers, let alone middle schoolers.
But just as they moved in for the final strike—
Their Synchro flickered.
The rhythm of the match shifted.
"What?!"
Yuuho's eyes widened. He stared at Yuushi, who had now transformed into their triplet brother.
"He… Synchro'd with us?!"
By synchronizing with the Ohtori brothers, Yuushi had relayed their deepest weaknesses to Oishi.
BAM!
A perfect lob shot landed squarely on the baseline.
The Ohtori brothers were speechless.
Even the coaches watching from the monitors were stunned.
"The Trickster of the Court…"
Kurobe's voice was low. "Truly, a player with limitless potential."