"Next up, the final match of the ranking battle! Representing the first string, No. 1, Kōtarō Byōdōin! Versus the second string's representative from Court 3—Shin Ishikawa!"
Soon, the referee announced the players.
"Court 3?"
Hearing that unusual court number, the other first-string members turned their heads in surprise.
"Interesting."
Among the first-string players, Kyōsuke Kiyosuji—a silver-haired, mature-looking player—adjusted his glasses with a smirk. "This year's Court 3 is full of surprises."
"Mitsuya."
Ryōji Mōri, a brown-haired player with a white beanie and a thin mustache, turned to the person beside him. "Do you have any data on this guy?"
At his words, the others also looked over.
The young man with flaxen hair and glasses was Mitsuya Akuto, a 17-year-old second-year high school student. Currently ranked No. 17 in Japan's U-17 first string, he also served as the team's strategist during overseas expeditions—a master of data tennis.
"Hm."
Mitsuya nodded. "Shin Ishikawa, a newcomer, currently the leader of Court 3. His match records include defeating Tsukimitsu Oshi in the first ranking battle, beating Inui in a practice match, and defeating Oni in the team ranking battle."
His expression turned serious as he continued, "Based on my analysis, his strength is already at captain level. One detail to note—after his match with Oni, the court was completely destroyed."
"D-destroyed?!" No. 5, Kazuya Kaji, widened his eyes in shock.
"He actually defeated Oni head-on?" Mōri's face darkened.
Unlike later members like Kiyosuji, who believed Oni had fallen behind the rest of the first string, Mōri knew better. Despite not participating in overseas expeditions, Oni's monstrous strength was still unmatched—even No. 3, Duke Watanabe, wouldn't stand a chance against him.
"Hmm."
Among the group, Gōzō Mōri—a towering figure and the former ace who led Hyōtei to nationals—narrowed his eyes.
Without me even realizing it… he's already left me far behind.
"Ishikawa."
His gaze sharpened as he watched the black-haired boy step onto the court. "I hope you're ready for this."
He knew how strong Oni was.
But as Kiyosuji had said, Byōdōin—who had led the team through countless overseas battles—was no longer the same player he once was.
Most importantly, Ishikawa was just a first-year middle schooler. Byōdōin, on the other hand, was a prodigy who had survived life-and-death battles abroad. His match experience rivaled that of professional players.
"Shin Ishikawa, huh?"
At the net, Byōdōin smirked at the black-haired boy. "I don't know how you shut Tokugawa up, but since you've chosen to step onto this court… be prepared to be crushed."
"Something that insignificant?"
Ishikawa chuckled in response. "Senior, I hope you don't disappoint me. I'd appreciate it if you went all out."
In the original ranking battle, Byōdōin had fought Tokugawa in a three-set match that appeared evenly matched. But in reality, Tokugawa had likely only pushed Byōdōin to about 60% of his full strength.
That was why Ishikawa wanted his opponent to take this match seriously.
To others, however, his words sounded downright arrogant.
"You've got guts."
Byōdōin laughed. "But since you defeated Oni, you must have some skill. Let's see if Oni's level has really dropped."
His tone was indifferent, as if Ishikawa wasn't even worth his attention. And in truth, he wasn't. The only reason Byōdōin acknowledged the boy at all was because of Oni.
After dozens—no, hundreds—of overseas battles against other national aces, Byōdōin had developed an unrivaled confidence. Even Oni himself barely registered in his mind now.
The only reason he felt anything at all was because of that one loss to Oni in the past.
But that thought vanished as quickly as it came, crushed under the weight of Byōdōin's overwhelming mental fortitude.
Soon, they spun their rackets to decide the serve.
Byōdōin won.
Both players retreated to the baseline.
"Best of three sets."
The referee, fully aware of the match's significance and danger, spoke gravely. "First set, Byōdōin to serve. Game start!"
As soon as the announcement ended, the noisy court fell silent.
All eyes turned to the golden-haired player.
"Hmph."
Byōdōin smirked.
After a quick glance at Ishikawa's positioning, he casually tossed the ball up and struck it.
Ping!
A crisp sound echoed as the ball shot forward, its trajectory almost invisible to the naked eye.
"Too fast!"
The second-string players tensed.
Had their strongest player already started with a serve of this caliber?
"This is nothing."
Among the first string, Izo Hakamada—a white-haired player with earrings—grinned. "That was just a casual serve from Byōdōin."
Hakamada, 17, was ranked No. 14.
But as soon as he and the others looked toward the expected landing spot—
Pong!
A sharp impact rang out.
Their eyes snapped to Ishikawa's racket, where the ball was spinning violently—proof that he had just returned Byōdōin's serve.
"He blocked it?!"
Hakamada stiffened. The other first-string members were equally stunned.
"A bit underwhelming."
Holding the racket with one hand, Ishikawa smiled. "Senior, could you try taking this a little more seriously?"
Swish!
The ball shot back like a bullet, so fast that most only saw a blur before it slammed onto the baseline.
"Nice reflexes."
Byōdōin nodded slightly.
Ishikawa's response had been flawless—from receiving the serve to judging its path and countering, every movement was precise and efficient.
"A fundamentals-based player, huh?"
Byōdōin's brow lifted as he swung his racket with added force.
Swoosh!
The ball streaked across the court like a yellow flash, landing right beside Ishikawa.
BOOM!
Before the ball even arrived, the sheer pressure sent dust flying into the air.
"He's increasing the power already?"
The first-string members tensed.
They hadn't expected Byōdōin to escalate so quickly.
CRACK!
But in the next instant, the dust around Ishikawa split apart as the ball shot past—only for an equally powerful return to blast through Byōdōin's side.
"This level of force?!"
The lower-ranked first-string players paled. Mitsuya, who had been analyzing the match, muttered, "The match just started—what are they trying to do?!"
THUD!
Another strike echoed.
Byōdōin's voice followed. "Not bad. Your control over power is impressive."
At his words, the first-string's power players—No. 12, Otoko Date, and No. 13, Rikiya Ban—exchanged glances.
Byōdōin's standards were extremely high. For him to acknowledge Ishikawa's strength meant the boy was anything but ordinary.
"This ball—"
But when they saw Byōdōin's return, their faces changed.
The thick smoke around him split apart as the ball shot forward—its surface flickering with a terrifying black light.
As power players themselves, they knew what that meant.
Only when destructive force reached a certain threshold would a ball appear to emit "black light" to the human eye.
In other words—this shot was on another level.
They glanced at each other, stunned.
Why was Byōdōin escalating so quickly?
This shot's power… if Ishikawa misjudged it, his arm could fracture—or worse.
BANG!
Yet, as soon as the thought crossed their minds, the sound of Ishikawa's return echoed.
"He blocked it?!"
They stared in disbelief.
Sizzle…
Through the thinning smoke, they saw a figure swinging his racket—
"Wait… is that—?!"
Their pupils shrank.
"A one-handed return?!"
"He blocked that with one hand?!"
Swish!
The next moment, a return carrying the same black light tore through the smoke, flashing past the spectators.
The first-string members' expressions darkened.
If Ishikawa could return that shot one-handed, his strength was terrifying.
"Oh?"
Byōdōin's eyes gleamed with interest. "So you countered it with pure power?"
He had considered several possibilities—the most likely being that Ishikawa had used technique to mitigate the ball's force.
But instead, the boy had relied on raw strength.
A clear challenge.
Byōdōin's smile widened as he added even more power to his next shot.
Yet Ishikawa returned it effortlessly.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
The two exchanged blows at a frightening pace.
Each strike carried enough force to make the audience's ears ring.
And yet, they kept going—twenty exchanges in the blink of an eye.
"Is he a power player?"
Even Mitsuya was starting to doubt his own analysis.
Very few players could match Byōdōin's strength one-handed.
"Not bad."
After several exchanges, Byōdōin nodded approvingly. "For a newcomer, you're one of the rare few with this level of power and stamina."
Around this time last year, he had fought Tokugawa in the U-17 camp.
But Tokugawa hadn't been able to withstand even a few rounds of this intensity.
This year's newcomers were on another level.
"However."
Byōdōin's grip tightened as his eyes sharpened. "Power alone won't be enough."
Swish—!
With a flick of his wrist, the ball vanished—reappearing in midair at blinding speed.
"This trajectory?!"
Even the newly promoted first-stringers, like Jūjirō Mori and Tetsuya Hara, stiffened.
Too fast!
Not just in speed, but in how unpredictably it moved. Even Tokugawa's "Phantom Serve" paled in comparison.
"Heh."
But Ishikawa only smiled. "If you're testing me, I'll play along."
He lowered his racket to his left side, thumb resting on the frame, while his right hand assumed a stance—like drawing a sword.
SHING!
The moment the ball approached, Ishikawa's racket slashed forward like a blade.
CLANG!
A metallic clash rang out as a silver streak cut through the smoke, flashing toward Byōdōin.
Swip!
The ball shot past him.
To the shock of the first-string players, it landed perfectly on the baseline—then dug into the wall from sheer spin.
"0-15!"
The umpire's voice broke the silence.
The high schoolers—especially the first-string members—stared in disbelief.
"He… scored?!"
No one had expected Ishikawa to take the first point.
"What… just happened?"
Many hadn't even seen the silver flash clearly.
But then—
"Wait… is that—?!"
Mōri, Kiyosuji, and the other top-ranked players froze.
A few strands of golden hair drifted down from Byōdōin's forehead.
That last shot… had cut his hair?!
"Hmm."
Byōdōin's gaze darkened as he studied Ishikawa. "That technique just now… was it swordsmanship?"
Swordsmanship.
One of Byōdōin's own mastered skills.
But even after honing his craft worldwide, he had felt something unsettling in that last strike—
A pressure he rarely encountered.
"An illusion?"
Byōdōin's eyes narrowed.
For the first time, he wondered—
Could this kid's swordsmanship be… above mine?