Game 2 – Yoru's Serve
As the two returned to the court, that obscure, oppressive aura grew even thicker.
"He's stockpiling it more and more… Is he trying to mentally assassinate me into becoming an idiot?"
Yoru frowned.
He had been playing along precisely to gauge the potency of this mental suppression. But now, with his opponent hoarding his "ultimate move," Yoru was starting to worry.
Even firecrackers could kill if you stacked a thousand of them.
"Players, resume the match!"
Before he could overthink it, the umpire's whistle blew.
Back on the court, Yoru bounced the ball with his racket and suddenly asked, "Ever had your own technique used against you?"
What?
Mochizuki Tsukimitsu froze at the question.
Whoosh—!
The tennis ball soared higher than ever before.
Yoru didn't have Tsukimitsu's height.
To execute the Supersonic Vertical Serve, he had to toss the ball extra high and rely on his superior physical stats to leap into the perfect striking position.
As the ball climbed, Yoru bent his knees and jumped.
A familiar sensation crawled up Tsukimitsu's spine.
"Don't tell me—"
His own thought horrified him.
Boom—!
The explosive sound of impact echoed across the court.
The ball vanished midair—only to reappear with another sharp thud as it zipped past Tsukimitsu's side!
A cold gust brushed his elbow.
"How… How is this possible?!"
Cold sweat dripped down Tsukimitsu's forehead.
It was his Supersonic Vertical Serve—but faster.
"15-0, Yoru leads!"
Ooooh—!
The crowd erupted, with Hyotei's members reacting the most violently.
"H-He knows the Supersonic Vertical Serve?! And it looks even more polished?!"
"I swear that was faster than the captain's version!"
"This is bad… Our captain's signature move just got stolen and weaponized against him!"
"What kind of monster is this guy?!"
Hyotei's players paled.
No one liked seeing their ace's trump card copied—and used to score on them.
"When did the captain learn that serve?" Kirihara muttered, baffled.
Yamato hesitated. "Muga no Kyōchi lets you mimic techniques instantly, but… he's not even using it."
"Did he already know it and just waited for the right moment?"
Even Seigaku's team was lost.
Yoru never trained in front of them, so his arsenal was a mystery.
While the spectators buzzed, the scoreboard ticked relentlessly.
Serve after serve, Yoru's Supersonic Vertical Serve grew even faster, each shot more viciously angled than the last.
The trajectories tightened into near body shots.
Against Tsukimitsu's towering frame, close-range returns were far deadlier than wide ones.
Forced to adjust his stance just to swing, Tsukimitsu stood no chance against serves breaching 220 km/h.
In under a minute, Yoru effortlessly secured his service game.
2-0!
"Learned it beforehand?"
QP's brow furrowed.
During their match, Yoru had said: "I've shown you everything I can do."
But the Supersonic Vertical Serve wasn't part of that.
Given how Yoru had studied Tsukimitsu's serves in the first game… Did he copy it on the spot?
This kind of instant mimicry reminded him of elite club specialists.
So why had Yoru never demonstrated it before?
"Unwilling… or unnecessary?"
QP couldn't tell.
But he leaned toward the latter.
For someone like Yoru, the Supersonic Vertical Serve wasn't a standout technique.
---
After indulging his mischief, Yoru stopped holding back.
The scoreboard raced forward.
Boom—!
4-0!
...
Boom—!
5-0!
Under Hyotei's despairing gazes, Yoru scored as easily as sipping water.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"This is Seigaku's captain?!"
"Terrifying… Even from the sidelines, you can feel Hyotei's captain breaking."
"The first game was somewhat even, but now? He can't even return normally!"
"I thought the 'Mysterious Captain' thing was just hype. But he's way stronger than that Fuji and Yamato!"
"Remember Game 1? Tsukimitsu's returns all flew straight to Yoru. Even pros struggle with that precision!"
"How is he this good?!"
"Seigaku's rising!"
Amid the praise, Seigaku's members beamed with pride.
Kirihara smirked smugly, as if he were the one being complimented.
---
"Why… Why hasn't the captain's Mental Assassin taken effect?!"
Matsudaira glared at Yoru.
The oppressive aura had peaked—normally, opponents would be mentally crushed by now.
Yet Yoru remained unfazed.
Coach Sakaki sighed. "This is the end."
As an experienced mentor, he saw the gap clearly.
Yoru's breathing was steady, not a drop of sweat on him.
Meanwhile, Tsukimitsu was drenched, panting, his face pale.
He'd barely touched the ball—this fatigue wasn't physical.
It was mental exhaustion.
Never in this Nationals season had Tsukimitsu been pushed to this state.
Yoru shared the curiosity.
Cutting to the chase, he asked: "Rumor says Hyotei's captain has mastered mental techniques. Mind letting me experience it?"
The question hung in the air.
Hyotei froze.
Tsukimitsu's eyes flashed with fury. "Are you mocking me?!"
Yoru: "???"
What's his problem?
[System: …]
A notification popped up.
Yoru raised an eyebrow. "You ovulating or something?"
[System: Master, your Mental stat is 9. Tsukimitsu's is 7. Even with his innate talent, the gap is too wide. What "mental technique" were you expecting to feel?]
"Wait, so…"
"The difference is so big I didn't even notice?"
[System: At least you're not hopeless.]
Yoru suddenly felt a phantom stomachache.
That entire match-long oppressive aura?
Tsukimitsu wasn't charging some ultimate move—he was just struggling to even make a dent.
No wonder he looked ready to murder someone.
In hindsight, Yoru's question did sound like trolling.
"Let's wrap this up."
Rubbing his nose awkwardly, Yoru prepared to end the match.
---