Thud—!
Yoru scores! 30-0!
...
Thud—!
Yoru scores! 40-0!
...
Thud—!
Yoru scores! Game 1-0!
...
Four serves. Four returns.
Every single return landed at the absolute limit of Ryoga's reach.
Yoru didn't just read Ryoga's playstyle—he saw through the shifts in his mentality, too.
Watching the ball roll to a stop against the far wall, Ryoga wiped the sweat from his brow. "He's strong."
And he was strong.
Technically, Yoru was only a few months older—practically the same age.
Ryoga had faced countless opponents in the U.S., some even years older, but none had pressured him like this.
It almost felt like playing against Echizen Nanjirou.
Second game.
The players switched sides.
Yoru picked up a ball from the baseline, a faint smile on his lips. "Ryoga, you don't need to hold back."
Though Yoru lacked match experience, his **"Eye of Insight"**—honed through relentless training—let him see it clearly.
Ryoga's muscles were too relaxed.
He was suppressing himself, carefully restraining his rhythm.
Probably to avoid triggering his "Ability Thief" talent.
"Got it!" Ryoga replied without hesitation.
After that first game, he knew Yoru was on another level. Maybe even someone who could resist the theft.
Taking his stance, Ryoga braced for Yoru's serve.
Swish—!
The ball soared into the air as Yoru's arm arced gracefully.
A perfect knee bend, a fluid swing—his form was mesmerizing.
For a split second, Ryoga was captivated. There was something familiar about it...
Thud—!
The ball rocketed past him before he could react.
Thud—!Thud—!Thud—!
The rally exploded, both players locked in a blistering exchange.
Dozens of strokes flew back and forth.
But soon, Ryoga noticed something off.
His Ability Thiefseemed to be working—Yoru's rhythm had shifted.
Yet, instead of crumbling, Yoru only grew more precise.
Meanwhile, Ryoga was the one losing control.
Somehow, despite the stolen rhythm, he felt… comfortable.
Like he was playing his own game—just better.
The points piled up mercilessly.
Thud—!
Yoru scores! 2-0!
...
Thud—!
Yoru scores! 3-0!
...
Thud—!
Yoru scores! 4-0!
On the surface, it looked even. But only Ryoga kept losing.
Thud—!
A streak of light. The ball skipped past Ryoga's racket.
5-0!
Ryoga's breath came in ragged gasps, sweat drenching his face. His muscles burned, his body pushed to the brink.
Meanwhile, Yoru looked like he'd just finished a warm-up—barely winded.
"Why…?" Ryoga's voice was hollow.
This match defied everything he knew.
The rhythm, the flow—even the silence around them felt unnatural.
Then, without warning—
Rustle.
Leaves stirred.
Ryoga's eyes snapped wide. "There's… no wind."
But as soon as he spoke, a breeze drifted through.
"What the—?"
Was he imagining things?
Before he could process it, Yoru's figure across the net shifted—
—into his own reflection.
Silence.
The scoreboard glared: 6-0.
Ryoga stood frozen, his racket swinging at nothing.
The match had ended minutes ago.
Yet he'd been trapped in an illusion, dueling a phantom.
Little Ryoma watched in horror. "What's… happening to him?!"
Neither Yoru nor Nanjirou moved to stop it.
Finally, Yoru sighed. "Old man, it's no use. This is his instinct."
By 3-0, Ryoga had already fallen into Yoru's "Ten Senses Manipulation."
His plan? Pit Ability Thief against itself—force Ryoga to control his talent.
But instead, Ryoga and his illusion kept stealing from each other, spiraling endlessly.
Nanjirou exhaled. "Wake him up."
Snap.
Yoru's fingers clicked.
Ryoga's mind jolted back to reality.
His eyes locked onto the scoreboard.
6-0.
"...Figures."
He'd sensed something was wrong.
But he never imagined Yoru was that kind of player—one who could warp perception itself.
Now, staring at Yoru, Ryoga could only think one thing:
"Monster."
Just as Yoru opened his mouth to explain—
[System Alert: "Echizen Ryoma's talent—'Copy'—has awakened! Feedback multiplier activated. You have acquired: 'Perfect Copy'!"]
Yoru froze.
What?!
Ryoma's talent unlocked… just from watching?
Last he checked, Ryoma's profile listed his talent as [LOCKED].
Now, it blazed to life:
[Perfect Copy]:If the user's stats and fundamentals reach 80% of the opponent's, they can fully replicate any technique or playstyle—and unleash it at120% power.
"That's broken."
Not just copying—surpassing the original.
Ryoma's version was similar but capped at 100%.
"No amplification, huh?"
Two talents: Copy and Ability Thief.
Mirrors of each other.
"Maybe… this can fix Ryoga's flaw?"
Yoru's gaze sharpened.
"Ryoga. One more match."