The atmosphere in Hyotei's camp was tense.
But no one could blame Kishimoto Mashou and his partner—anyone could see they had given their all.
Coach Sakaki turned to Kabaji. "No matter who the opponent is, we believe you can lead us to victory. Don't let the pressure get to you. We've already secured our spot in the Kanto Tournament."
"I'll bring back the win."
Kabaji stood up, his expression steeled.
As Hyotei's captain, he could not lose—no matter who stood on the other side of the net.
If he won this match, they still had a chance in the remaining two.
With that in mind, Kabaji began warming up.
Meanwhile, Yoru stood at the center of the court, waiting.
No warm-ups.
Just pure, unapologetic swagger.
"Is he seriously not warming up? That's just showing off."
"Obviously. Look at that jacket draped over his shoulders—though I gotta admit, it's kinda cool."
"Captain, you should try wearing your jacket like that."
"…Somehow, I feel like our captain doesn't look as good doing it."
"Kid, some truths are better left unsaid."
---
"BEEP BEEP—!"
"Kanto Semifinals—Seigaku vs. Hyotei! Singles 3 match begins! Players, take your positions!"
The whistle blew.
Kabaji, now fully warmed up, stepped onto the court—muscles primed, reflexes sharp.
He had no data on Yoru, but anyone who could drag Seigaku out of obscurity and into the spotlight was not to be underestimated.
The two stood at the net, facing each other.
Yoru extended his hand first. "Yoru. Pleasure."
"Munehiro Kabaji. Likewise."
A firm handshake. Then, they retreated to their respective baselines.
The referee's voice rang out: "Game start! Hyotei to serve!"
BANG—!
The moment the whistle sounded, Kabaji bounced the ball once—and the entire atmosphere shifted.
A heavy, almost suffocating pressure settled over the court. Even the spectators felt it.
Yet some of Hyotei's players smirked.
"Mental play…" QP observed.
If Yoru had done this, it would've been silent—QP had experienced it enough times to know.
SWISH—!
Kabaji tossed the ball high—very high.
Before it even peaked, he leapt into the air.
Kabaji was tall—exceptionally tall.
Around 190 cm, though still far from his original 226 cm stature.
("Guess he hasn't hit his growth spurt yet. No wonder he can't pull off the 'Mach Serve.'") Yoru mused.
BANG—!
The ball vanished the instant Kabaji's racket connected.
In the blink of an eye, it was already rebounding off the ground in front of Yoru—no time to react.
Ultra-High Speed Vertical Serve!
"Fast!" Kirihara's eyes narrowed.
As someone who had developed his own high-speed serve, he recognized the skill instantly. "Using height and reach to maximize serve velocity…"
"But that won't work on the Captain."
BANG—!
True to his words, Yoru's racket intercepted the ball before it even finished rebounding, sending it rocketing back to Kabaji's side.
"Impossible!"
"He returned the Ultra-High Speed Serve—on the first try?!"
"What kind of monster is this guy?!"
Hyotei's team paled.
That serve had clocked 210 km/h in past matches—no one had ever returned it so effortlessly.
THUD THUD THUD—!
Kabaji's footsteps were heavy but precise as he dashed into position.
"Just as I thought."
His expression didn't waver. He'd noticed Yoru's eyes locking onto the contact point during the serve, so he'd already positioned himself mid-court.
His instincts were right—but not entirely.
Because…
[You have perfectly replicated 'Ultra-High Speed Vertical Serve (Lv. 6)'! Power increased by 120%! You now possess Ultra-High Speed Vertical Serve (Lv. 8)!]
Yoru had been studying Kabaji's form—not out of necessity, but curiosity.
The replication effect was stronger than expected. ("So the power boost applies like this…")
BANG—!
Kabaji returned the shot.
Yoru moved like lightning, intercepting before the ball even touched the ground and directing it to the far corner.
Kabaji anticipated it—barely.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
A rapid-fire rally erupted.
"@@##&%..."
A string of German spilled from QP's lips.
Yamato, nudged by Kirihara, awkwardly asked in English: "Uh… QP, what did you just say?"
QP switched languages. "He's holding back."
With Yoru's stats, he could've ended the point on the first return—a sharp cross-court shot to Kabaji's weakest position.
Even if it didn't score outright, it wouldn't have let Kabaji counter so easily.
BANG—!
Back on the court, as Kabaji's return crossed the net—
ZZZT—!
A swirling vortex of blue-white electricity engulfed the court, dragging the ball straight to Yoru's racket.
"That's—!"
Coach Sakaki shot to his feet.
Zone.
A masterful Zone.
He hadn't seen a technique this refined in middle school tennis in years.
The only comparable one was Ryouhai's Ushiwaka Maruo, but even that was a crude imitation.
BANG—!
With one final strike, Kabaji—overwhelmed by the Zone's pull—couldn't keep up.
"15-0!"
The referee's call echoed.
Kabaji exhaled, his face unreadable.
He returned to the service line and served again.
Same Ultra-High Speed Vertical Serve—even faster this time.
But the result didn't change.
"30-0!"
"40-0!"
"Game! 1-0!"
Once the Zone took hold, Yoru dominated every subsequent point, controlling the match with his superior stats.
The crowd—and Hyotei's team—was stunned.
---
Break time.
Yoru sat down, taking a sip of water.
QP's voice cut through his thoughts. "You could've ended those points faster. Why waste time?"
"Found something more interesting." Yoru shrugged. "Wanted to see if he'd surprise me. Tennis is supposed to be fun."
"…"
QP couldn't comprehend that mindset.
In Germany, efficiency was everything—every point was to be won in the fewest strokes possible.
If he were on the court, no rally would last beyond three hits.
Yoru glanced at Kabaji, a smirk playing on his lips.
("Wonder how you'll feel… facing your own techniques."")