At that moment, Niō felt a flicker of hesitation. His Illusion hadn't been unleashed at full power yet. In truth, during the previous group matches, most of the Japan Team hadn't shown their full strength either.
Take Sanada, for example. If Niō used his Illusion at full capacity now, it would inevitably expose much of Sanada's confidential data—especially his Lightning Strike, Divine Path of the Asura, and Alternate Dimension techniques. Because of that, Niō had been suppressing his Illusion's ability to the same level Sanada had displayed against Australia.
Indeed, after that match with Ochi and Mōri, Sanada had completely awakened his Alternate Dimension—and even played a private match against Yukimura afterward. No one except Niō knew the outcome, since he had been there as a witness. That match was something both Yukimura and Sanada had specifically invited him to see.
As the rally between Kaji and Edgard grew increasingly fierce, Kaji began to feel pressure mounting. Even his once-unshakable conviction in his own tennis was starting to waver. For a long time, Kaji had believed that as long as he was fast enough, he could intercept any ball.
But Edgard's endlessly shifting Art Tennis shattered that belief. With Kaji's speed, he could reach those balls—but speed alone didn't mean his neural reflexes could fully keep up.
Although Kaji's Ultra-Speed Dimension enhanced his reaction ability, its true focus was on movement speed, not sensory perception. In contrast, Fuji's Light Wind was the opposite—centered on reflex and perception over raw speed.
So while Fuji often claimed to play aggressively, most of his developed techniques still leaned more toward counterattacks. Whether Fuji himself realized this, no one knew.
After about seven or eight exchanges, Edgard finally found a brief opening. Jonathan synchronized perfectly with him, preventing "Sanada" from covering in time. The ball struck the sideline and bounced out of bounds.
"30–40!"
From the Japan Team's bench, Coach Mifune's sharp eyes narrowed. He seemed to realize something, his gaze hardening with intent. But before he could shout a warning, Kaji had already begun his next serve, forcing Mifune to hold back.
The next rally played out almost identically. No matter how hard Kaji tried, he couldn't intercept every return, and Jonathan had completely deciphered all of "Sanada's" major techniques, including Black Dragon Double Strike.
"Game! France leads 1–0!"
"Sorry, Japan Team~ but this is the difference in true strength!" Camus said lightly from the French bench, smiling as he watched his teammates break serve.
The second game began with Jonathan serving. But just as he moved to the baseline, a calm, commanding voice rang out from the Japan Team's bench.
"Go all out, Niō! Don't hold back!" Tezuka's voice carried across the court.
On the court, "Sanada" froze for a moment. His figure shimmered—and then Niō returned to his true form. He turned toward Tezuka, then glanced at Yukimura and Sanada, and finally met Akashi's steady gaze.
Akashi's expression was calm, unflinching as their eyes met. Strangely, that alone eased the weight in Niō's chest. He exhaled softly, a sly grin curling onto his face.
Mifune, who had been about to yell again, suddenly chuckled and shook his head. It seemed he wasn't the only one who had noticed Niō's inner conflict. With so many prodigies like these gathered, Japan would surely have a shot at the next World Cup.
On the court, Niō's outline began to blur again. The Japan Team watched closely, wondering who he would copy this time. Then, a completely unexpected figure materialized—one that made even Akashi's eyes widen slightly.
"Madamada dane~"
Wearing the U.S. representative team uniform, "Ryōma" switched his racket to his left hand and smirked confidently at his opponents.
"That's… Echizen Ryōma! The American middle school representative!" Jonathan's mind went blank for a second. He never imagined that in a match against the Japan Team, he would face a player from America.
But it didn't stop there. The next instant, dazzling aqua-blue light burst from "Ryōma's" body. His hat shadowed his face, but countless blue particles began swirling around him like stardust.
"Ten'i Muhō no Kiwami!"
"Tch… this is trouble," Edgard muttered, his face tightening as he watched the transformation.
"The Light of Pride, huh? It seems the Japan Team has quite a few players who've mastered that realm," Camus said from the bench, frowning slightly.
Jonathan froze for a moment at the sight before him, but since it was time to serve, he forced down his shock and quickly sent out a diagonal serve.
"Ryōma" stepped to the drop point with a confident smirk, swinging his racket in a clean backhand. The tennis ball, wrapped in a bright blue light, shot toward the net and struck the cable connecting the post and net.
Sparks burst out, and in the next instant, the ball split perfectly in half, flying in two directions—one high, one low. Both halves struck the baseline and bounced out of the court under Edgard and Jonathan's stunned gaze.
"Samurai Drive!"
"0–15!"
"Hey~ I gotta say, your data tennis isn't even on Mitsuya-senpai's level, let alone Inui-senpai's!" "Ryōma" said, pointing his racket toward Jonathan from where he stood.
Thankfully, the Jonathan in play wasn't the hot-headed version. Hearing the provocation, he only tilted his head slightly, though his eyes grew sharp and serious.
Without responding, Jonathan tossed the ball again. As the sound of impact echoed, the ball shot toward the open space on "Ryōma's" right. Yet, in the very next second, "Ryōma" appeared there as if he had teleported.
Seeing that, Edgard instantly tightened his focus, locking his eyes on "Ryōma's" every move. He then noticed a golden light forming around "Ryōma's" right hand, and his pupils shrank sharply.
As expected, in the next moment, "Ryōma" unleashed a Glowing Shot, but Edgard was already ready at the net, moving his racket in a fluid, sweeping motion. A knight in heavy armor materialized in front of him—it was the same defense once used to block Byoudouin's Glowing Shot.
However, as soon as the glowing ball crossed the net, something unexpected happened. A samurai's phantom appeared before it, gripping a katana with both hands and slashing downward in one swift motion. The armored knight was cleaved clean in half.
The ball pierced straight through Edgard's racket, flew out of bounds, and embedded itself deep into the back wall amid a burst of smoke—but without causing the massive destruction everyone anticipated.
"Glowing Shot—Hope!"
"0–30!"
"Wait, wasn't that Ryōma's Alternate Dimension? How can Niō even copy that?" Kikumaru exclaimed in disbelief from the stands.
"Didn't he also copy Byoudouin-senpai's Alternate Dimension earlier? That's what makes Niō so terrifying!" Marui replied casually, clearly used to it by now.
"Ryōma went to the U.S. team without saying a word, and now watching Niō-senpai's Illusion of him… it just feels weird," Momoshiro said with a conflicted sigh.
After Edgard replaced his broken racket, Jonathan served again. This time, Kaji easily returned the ball. Despite "Ryōma's" impressive showing earlier, Kaji refused to let himself get overshadowed.
Just like before, he rushed the net, engaging in another lightning-fast volley exchange. Yet as the rally continued, the Japan Team noticed something strange—despite being surrounded by the radiance of Light of Pride, neither of the French players showed any signs of being affected.
Instead, Edgard suddenly erupted with fierce power. Kaji struggled to keep up, pain flaring through his wrist. Thankfully, "Ryōma" kept covering him, but whenever Jonathan took the return, his shot angles were razor-sharp, leaving "Ryōma" no room to fire another Glowing Shot—Hope!
"15–30!"
With Edgard's sudden burst, the French team managed to score. "Ryōma" adjusted his cap, his expression hardening, while Kaji's aura flared just as intensely as Edgard's, rising by several levels.
"The hardest part about the Light of Pride is its effect on one's inner self. Unfortunately, Delacroix's paint-induced hypnosis works on him too. It seems the revolution has reached its final stage," Camus murmured from the bench, his eyes deep and calm.