"What did he just say?"
Kirihara blinked in confusion.
Yamato, having recovered from his own shock, translated Schneider's words—and within seconds, Kirihara's expression mirrored his captain's: utter disbelief.
The sheer weight of Schneider's background was enough to make him question his life choices.
Same age.
Kirihara hadn't even made it to nationals in a tennis backwater like Japan, while this guy was already in the pipeline to go pro.
"C-Captain… maybe you should apologize?"
Kirihara shrunk back slightly, glancing at Yoru.
As much as he respected Yoru, going toe-to-toe with a future pro was a different league entirely.
This wasn't just a gap in skill—it was a dimensional divide.
The idea of facing someone like Schneider had never even crossed his mind.
"He's not a pro yet."
Yoru rolled his eyes before turning to Schneider. "Fine, let's play a set. Show me what a 'genius' from Germany's elite club can do."
At the same time, Schneider's stats materialized in Yoru's vision:
[Name]: Dankmar Schneider
[Age]: 15
[Techniques]:
Base Stats (Lv. 7) Tennis Fundamentals (Lv. 7) Ultra-Wide Defense (Lv. 7) Cage Counter (Lv. 7)
[Talent]: Giant's Aura
[Power Level]: 7 Stars
[Giant's Aura]: When activated, drastically boosts speed, power, and defensive range.
An insane stat sheet.
Though Kirihara was also a 7-star, in a real match, he'd never break through Schneider's defense.
Speed-based players had one fatal flaw: stamina drain. The longer the rally, the higher their error rate.
And Kirihara's current strength?
It was entirely thanks to Yoru's training—plus the boost from his sigil.
Yet even then, he barely scraped the lower-middle tier of 7-star players.
The higher the star rating, the wider the gaps became.
The jump from 6 to 7 was already a chasm—but the difference between 7-stars could be colossal.
Worse, Schneider at full power could temporarily hit 8-star levels.
Kirihara? Not a chance.
In the original timeline, Schneider and Ralph both turned pro. While singles/doubles specialization played a role, very few in the Prince of Tennis universe made it to the pro circuit as frauds.
If not for Yoru's relentless training, Ralph's star rating would've barely matched Schneider's.
"Well, if you insist."
Harold Adler, Schneider's coach, sighed theatrically—though his smirk betrayed his amusement.
No one insulted his club without consequences.
Yoru glanced at Tezuka. "You'll referee. Watch closely—this'll be good for you."
Tezuka stiffened slightly, then nodded.
Truthfully, he'd always been curious about Yoru's true strength.
After yesterday's crushing loss to Kirihara, Yamato had offhandedly mentioned "Kirihara can't even score against the captain."
The revelation left Tezuka equal parts terrified and fascinated.
No time for chatter.
The group scoured the JR Tournament grounds for an open court—only to find none.
Eventually, they settled for a street court outside the venue.
Schneider stripped off his jacket, warming up meticulously.
Yoru?
He just strolled onto the court, racket in hand—zero warm-up.
Tezuka's brow furrowed from the referee's chair.
This was exactly how Sanada acted before I crushed him.
"Don't mind it," Yamato whispered awkwardly. "The captain never warms up. It's not arrogance—just habit."
Schneider paid no attention.
At an elite club, every prodigy had quirks. Eccentricities were normal.
"Guess I've cost Tezuka his finals spot."
Yoru checked his watch.
Less than ten minutes until the final. No way they'd make it back in time.
Tezuka seemed unbothered.
Likely, he'd never cared about the JR title—not after the disappointments he'd faced these past two days. Even Sanada, the best of the lot, couldn't take a single point off him.
"Done warming up? Heads or tails?"
As Schneider finished stretching, Yoru spun his racket on the ground.
Fluent German.
Schneider blinked, momentarily thrown—but recovered fast. "You serve. This won't take long."
"My thoughts exactly."
Yoru didn't argue, heading to the baseline.
"One-set match! First game—Yoru's serve!"
As predicted, Tezuka didn't care about the JR title.
Watching this match would teach him far more.
THWACK!
Yoru bounced the ball once, twice—calibrating.
Schneider's stats painted a clear picture: elite defender, weak offense.
In other words—a doubles specialist. The kind who anchored the backcourt.
SWISH!
Yoru tossed the ball higher than usual, his racket arm pulling back further—
CRACK!
A crisp, clean strike.
The ball vanished mid-air, reappearing at the service line with brutal spin.
"Too fast!"
"That rotation—!"
Schneider's instincts kicked in.
Elite club training. Even if he'd underestimated Yoru, he never let his guard down.
He lunged forward, opting for a volley—the best counter to spin.
But he'd misjudged the bounce.
THUD!
The ball rocketed upward—straight at his face—at nearly the same speed as the serve.
"What—?!"
Schneider's eyes widened—
But his body moved before his mind could panic.
A sharp head tilt.
The ball grazed his cheek, shearing off a few strands of hair as it screamed into the sky.
**"A Twist Serve…"**
Tezuka's breath hitched.
The Twist Serve was famous worldwide—any decent player could learn it.
But this?
The speed, angle, and hang time defied everything Tezuka knew about the technique.
Yet—
Schneider wasn't done.
In one fluid motion, he dodged, then leaped—
Unreal agility for someone his size.
BAM!
His racket intercepted the ball mid-air—
But the impact sent a shockwave up his arm.
**"This weight…!"**
Schneider's stomach dropped.
No amateur packed this much power.
Yoru had perfectly blended speed, spin, and raw force into a single serve—proof of flawless fundamentals.
His return was weak, floating helplessly over the net.
"Too bad."
A shadow blurred at the net.
Schneider barely registered Yoru's smirk before the ball screamed past him.
"Hope you can keep me entertained."
The words lingered in the air like a challenge.