Night fell.
The park returned to silence.
Akutsu Jin sat slumped against the fence, his clothes torn and blood staining his chest.
If someone were to look down at the court from above, they'd see a horrifying sight—the entire half of the court was covered in spiderweb-like cracks, fanning outward all the way to the stone benches outside the court.
Half the court had been completely destroyed.
In one corner lay the splintered remains of Akutsu's wooden racket. Now, he clutched a silver one in his hand.
Ten minutes ago, Yoru had unleashed a terrifying shot.
Under a crimson glow, a shockwave of force engulfed the entire half of the court, leaving Akutsu unable to move.
Luckily, the ball hadn't been aimed at him—it had flown past.
Yet even so, the aftermath left him covered in wounds, his shirt in tatters.
The sheer force of the shockwave had shattered his wooden racket.
Before leaving, Yoru tossed him a new racket and said:
"Come challenge me again after you've beaten Tezuka Kunimitsu."
And with that, he was gone.
Akutsu sat there, still paralyzed by the lingering fear.
It was the first time since childhood he'd felt true terror.
---
"Yo, kid. Looks like you got wrecked pretty bad."
A hoarse, mocking voice cut through the silence.
Akutsu looked up to see an elderly man with white hair standing before him.
---
Meanwhile, on the train…
QP broke the silence.
"That new shot earlier—it was a variation of Light Strike, wasn't it?"
He had never seen that technique before.
Its destructive power far surpassed Destruction, and the sheer area of effect was terrifying—the shockwave alone had obliterated Akutsu's racket.
This was the first time QP had witnessed Yoru use it.
Yoru nodded. "Yeah. My own version of Light Strike."
QP narrowed his eyes. "How much power did you put into it?"
"Less than 20%."
QP's pupils contracted.
Less than 20%… and it still caused that much damage?
Even if the court was old and poorly maintained, no ordinary technique could've done that.
The sheer devastation—cracks spreading from half the court all the way to the stands—was unnerving.
QP frowned. "Weren't you afraid of killing him? That kid was covered in injuries."
Yoru chuckled. "Nah. He's the same type as Byoudouin Houou—the harder you crush him, the stronger he comes back. Don't underestimate him."
"Byoudouin Houou…"
QP's expression darkened.
If Akutsu was truly like Byoudouin, then his potential was frightening.
Back then, after Byoudouin was injured by Oni Juujirou, his growth had been monstrous—forcing Yoru to resort to Sensory Control just to keep up.
And now, another one existed in this tiny island country?
As the future pillar of the German team, QP couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease.
Thud.
Yoru stood up and walked to the window, gazing down at the passing scenery.
QP tilted his head. "What is it?"
Yoru smirked.
"I was just thinking… Tezuka and Fuji's match must be starting soon."
---
Under the train bridge.
Two figures stood beneath the flickering streetlights.
Tezuka Kunimitsu.
Fuji Syusuke.
They had agreed to this match long ago—tonight, after practice, they would settle it.
Fuji's eyes widened as he took in the court. "This place is incredible. Feels like a professional stadium."
Tezuka nodded. "The captain found it. No idea who built it here."
He set down his bag and began warming up.
No unnecessary words were exchanged.
Both had been waiting for this moment.
Within the tennis club, the gap between the strongest and the rest was too vast.
The only ones who could push each other to the limit…
Were the two of them.
No—
Correction.
After Tezuka's match with Yamato, Fuji had realized there might be a small gap between them.
But that only fueled his determination.
Ten minutes later, they stepped onto the court.
"Rough or smooth?"
"Smooth."
Clatter.
The racket hit the ground—letters down.
Fuji to serve first.
---
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The rhythmic bounce of the ball echoed as Fuji's blue eyes snapped open.
From the very first point, he was in full focus.
At the start of the year, Seigaku's "Big Three" had been Yoru, QP, and Yamato.
But now, with Yamato replaced…
Tezuka had taken his place.
'Tezuka Kunimitsu…'
Fuji's grip tightened.
He would give this match everything.
With a fluid motion, he tossed the ball high—
Whoosh!
—and leaped into the air, racket flashing down.
A heavy topspin serve.
Not the Disappearing Serve.
Against someone like Tezuka, a predictable trick would only backfire.
"Spin serve, huh?"
Tezuka's movements were precise, his focus unshakable.
No matter the opponent, he never let his guard down.
Swish!
He intercepted the ball right after the bounce, driving it deep into Fuji's far corner—
Near-Drop Shot!
A perfected technique, honed under Yoru's guidance.
Even Yamato had struggled to return it.
But Fuji wasn't most players.
In a blur of motion, he lunged, racket barely grazing the ball before it could bounce twice.
Returned.
Tezuka's eyes sharpened.
Just as expected.
Fuji's reflexes and anticipation were elite.
Already sprinting to the net, Tezuka angled his racket—
Slice!
Zero-Shiki Drop Shot!
Fuji's mind raced. "Can't let it touch the ground!"
He charged forward, racket swinging upward in a modified—
Counter Moon!
A technique not just for smashes—it extended his reach for any net shot.
Tezuka didn't retreat.
Instead, he leaped, intercepting the high return with a smash.
Fuji countered again—
BAM!
BAM!
BAM!
The rally escalated, the ball screaming back and forth as both players pushed their limits.
The first point alone was brutal.
Sprinting, sliding, attacking, defending—
Tezuka finally understood why Yoru had insisted on no spectators.
If the underclassmen saw Fuji like this—fully unleashed—it might shatter their confidence.
"I've never seen Fuji like this before."
Tezuka's lips curled faintly as he leaped for another smash.
"Then I'll go all out too!"
A glint of light flickered across his racket—
The match had only just begun.
---