Instead of feeling discouraged by Shōji's return, Yoru only grew more excited.
After his match with Ralph, he had been longing for an opponent who could keep up with him—but still couldn't beat him.
An opponent like this meant he could enjoy the entire match while maintaining his cool demeanor.
Forget that nonsense about "evenly matched."
A comeback match might be slightly thrilling, but fighting tooth and nail the whole time? Exhausting.
Plus, he'd have to take off his jacket—ruining his image.
Opponents like Ralph and QP, who were strong but posed no real threat, were the real deal. Pure, uninterrupted fun.
Swish—!
Watching the ball fly toward him, Yoru smirked. "Then I won't hold back."
With a swing of his racket, a thunderous boom echoed across the court, startling the spectators.
Full Five-Dimensional Stats Unleashed.
The sheer power behind his return sent tremors through his arm, leaving players from both schools' benches wide-eyed.
Boom—!
With his senses heightened and his dynamic vision locked on, Shōji intercepted the ball with precision.
Using some unknown method, he made the ball hover on his racket's surface, buying himself time to switch to a backhand strike.
But before he could unleash his power—
Ripples spread from the impact, and the ball visibly lost all momentum.
"Muga no Kyouchi – Hadōkyū no Kiwami!" (Annihilation of All Things!)
By analyzing the ball's trajectory through his senses and vision, he transmitted the data to his wrist, allowing the ball to pause momentarily on his racket before altering its return path—effectively erasing its force.
"He's already forced to use Hadōkyū no Kiwami from the start?!"
In the stands, Mori, who had come to watch, looked stunned.
Beside him, Hirakoba's expression turned grave. "That only means one thing—Yoru's return shot surpassed normal interception levels. Hadōkyū no Kiwami was necessary."
"Scary…" Mori gulped.
During his own match against Shōji, the latter had only revealed Hadōkyū no Kiwami at the very end—just to satisfy the crowd's curiosity.
The level Mori had brought to the table wasn't even worthy of the technique.
Yet here was Yoru, forcing it out with just his basic returns.
The gap between them…
Just thinking about it sent shivers down Mori's spine.
Back when he'd watched Yoru's matches on video, he'd foolishly believed he could fight him evenly.
How naive.
Boom—!
Boom—!
Boom—!
On the court, Yoru's oppressive dominance was on full display.
Most spectators couldn't even see the ball—only the deafening booms as it vanished mid-air.
Yet, against all odds, Shōji kept intercepting it.
Their rally lasted a full ten minutes.
And this was just the first point—neither had scored yet!
Maintaining such a prolonged exchange was no easy feat.
Both needed flawless fundamentals—otherwise, mistakes would pile up.
It was like trying to stay in peak adrenaline mode indefinitely.
Kawasaki muttered, "This is dragging on forever…"
Yamato frowned. "Why isn't the captain using his Tezuka Zone? This isn't like him—he usually ends points in a dozen exchanges."
"He can't," QP calmly interjected.
"That guy has a neutralizing technique. By altering his return motions, he can strip any shot of its spin or power—turning it into a normal ball."
"…Seriously?!" Kaidō and the others fell silent.
They'd noticed Shōji's odd returns earlier but never imagined it was a countermeasure.
Kiriya scowled. "So it's a battle of stamina now?"
Hiss— The team collectively stiffened.
Had their captain really been pushed this far?
QP, however, rolled his eyes. "How little faith do you all have in Yoru?"
As if answering QP's words—
On the court, Yoru suddenly murmured, "Warm-up's over."
Shōji blinked.
Before he could react, Yoru sent a drop shot skimming over the net.
Tap-tap-tap—!
Shōji sprinted forward, but Yoru's voice cut through:
"Don't bother. You can't return this one."
Can't return it?
Shōji almost scoffed—there was no ball he couldn't return.
But what happened next froze him in place, drawing gasps from the crowd.
The moment the ball touched down—
It rolled backward without bouncing.
"Zero-Shiki Drop Shot!"
"Tezuka's Zero-Shiki!"
On TV, Sanada shot to his feet, eyes locked on the screen.
Yukimura's voice was tight. "It is Zero-Shiki—but stronger."
He'd faced Tezuka's version before.
Yoru's descended faster—and instead of spinning in place, it rolled back instantly.
The same realization hit Tezuka.
Facing his teammates' questioning looks, he said, "I've been sparring with Yoru-senpai often. Last night, too. Given his skill, his version would naturally surpass mine."
Ah.
That made sense. Everyone knew Yoru could copy techniques—then refine them beyond the original.
"Yoru scores! 15-0!"
The umpire sighed in relief. Even he was exhausted from tracking that rally.
Yamato suddenly paled. "If he copied Zero-Shiki Drop Shot… then does that mean—?"
Boom—!
Before he could finish, Yoru served.
The ball flew slower than usual.
Shōji barely had time to wonder why before—
It landed, rolled forward, and stopped dead at the net.
No bounce. No return possible.
"…How?"
Shōji's racket hung limp in his hand, disbelief flooding his eyes.
The same effect as the drop shot—but as a serve?!
That was insane.
"Yoru scores! 30-0!"
Yoru smirked. "What's your next move, Shōji?"
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