Thud—!
Yoru scores, 1-0.
Four Zero-Shiki Serves, each faster than the last.
The entire game was over in less than a minute.
During his break, Yoru had nothing better to do than train his Zero-Shiki series to Level 14. The true terror of these techniques far exceeded what everyone had witnessed.
Truthfully, Yoru had once considered creating his own overpowered move.
But aside from Sensory Manipulation, his other talents seemed to have been inherited from his father—a complete sports idiot.
Still, the system had hinted at something:
After winning his first national championship, the Fusion Card reward would unlock. The only problem? The mission to trigger it hadn't appeared yet.
"Damn it..."
Despite returning from England with absolute confidence in his abilities, Atobe couldn't help but feel the psychological weight of those four Zero-Shiki Serves.
A strong serve is just a strong serve.
In England, he'd faced plenty of players with powerful serves—most of them were one-trick ponies with mediocre overall skills.
Losing a single game meant nothing.
Counterattacks were his specialty.
---
Change of sides.
Second game—Atobe Keigo's serve.
Thud… thud… thud…
Bouncing the ball methodically, Atobe scanned Yoru's stance, searching for any weakness.
Stay calm. Only composure will get you through this. Panic leads to mistakes.
A deep breath steadied him.
Yoru observed Atobe's shifting expressions with interest.
To adjust this quickly… No wonder he's one of the Four Heavenly Kings of the Golden Generation.
His talent and mentality surpassed ordinary geniuses.
Even Fuji could learn a thing or two from Atobe's sheer dedication to tennis.
---
Ready stance.
Yoru crouched low, gripping his racket with both hands.
Whoosh—!
The ball soared into the air.
Atobe leapt, arm snapping downward like a whip.
Cannonball Serve!
Boom—!
The shot blazed past the net, skimming the outer edge of the service box with brutal topspin.
A textbook heavy topspin serve—designed for speed, sharp descent, and a low rebound.
Among spin serves, the topspin variant was the hardest to master.
Atobe executed it flawlessly.
But…
It wasn't enough.
Swish—!
Before the ball could even reach its peak rebound, Yoru was already there.
Atobe's eyes widened.
A moment ago, Yoru had been three full steps behind the baseline.
How the hell is his footwork this fast?!
The racket flashed.
Using the ball's own topspin against it, Yoru redirected the shot with surgical precision.
"That's… Tsubame Gaeshi!" Kikumaru blurted out.
Tsubame Gaeshi?
Another named technique.
Atobe's instincts screamed danger as he sprinted forward, racket raised—
Only for the ball to skim the ground without bouncing, gliding past his swing like a phantom.
Another Zero-Shiki variant?!
His body trembled mid-swing.
What kind of monster was he facing?
Even now, Atobe had no idea what he'd just challenged.
Thud—!
Yoru scores, 2-0!
---
Thud—!
3-0.
Thud—!
4-0.
"Atobe Keigo… Is this all you've got? I'm getting bored."
Thud—!
5-0.
---
Six minutes.
That was all it took for Yoru to dominate five straight games.
Atobe's breath came in ragged gasps, sweat dripping from his chin. His pupils were dilated, focus shattered.
Every time he thought he'd grasped Yoru's level—
Another impossible technique crushed him.
- Game 1: Zero-Shiki Serve
- Game 2: Tsubame Gaeshi
- Game 3: Supersonic Vertical Serve
- Game 4: Speed of Wind
- Game 5: Twist Serve – Hundred Blooms
He'd been toyed with the entire match.
Now, at 40-0 in the final game, one more point would end it.
23 shots.
Under 10 minutes.
Atobe hadn't even managed a single proper rally.
This wasn't just defeat—it was a systematic dismantling of everything he thought he knew about middle school tennis.
How?
Yoru was only a year older. Even in England, no one at this age could play like this.
"Damn it…!"
With a roar, Atobe hurled his final serve with everything he had.
Yoru watched the ball approach, then spoke softly:
"Since you've come… fall into hell."
"Then claw your way back out."
A blinding light erupted across the court.
The air itself shuddered as his racket connected.
Hadoukyuu!
Gasps exploded from the sidelines. Even the regulars froze—their captain had never used Hadoukyuu in a practice match before.
BOOM—!
A shockwave tore through the court.
Though Yoru had held back, it was still far beyond what this version of Atobe could handle.
The ball closed in—
Atobe stood paralyzed, unable to react.
Then—
A shadow lunged in front of him.
Oshitari!
Acting on pure instinct, he'd thrown himself into the path of the shot, racket braced—
But one man wasn't enough.
The moment the Hadoukyuu struck—
CRACK!
Oshitari's feet left the ground.
The impact launched both him and Atobe backward, smashing through the chain-link fence and out of Court 1.
---
Silence.
A crushing, disbelieving silence.
Fuji and the others could only stare, their understanding of tennis shattered.
What kind of technique could do this?!
The upperclassmen, however, barely reacted. They'd seen Yoru unleash far worse.
Turning, Yoru called out:
"Ohishi."
The burly boy jolted to attention.
"This is the direction I want you to grow in."
In the original Prince of Tennis, Ohishi Ryu was often sidelined—a supportive but underutilized character.
Yet his raw strength, loyalty, and ability to befriend even wildcards like Akutsu Jin made him invaluable.
Yoru refused to let him fade into irrelevance—not before the World Cup arc.
"Y-Yes, Captain!" Ohishi stammered, still shaken.
---
Walking over to the wrecked fence, Yoru found Oshitari unconscious—but Atobe, though dazed, was unharmed.
"Oshitari…!"
Atobe cradled his teammate, voice strained.
"Relax. Just bruises."
Atobe looked up—
The sun framed Yoru's silhouette, his coat fluttering like a conqueror's banner.
"If you want a rematch?"
"Beat Tezuka Kunimitsu first."
---