"The boss actually…"
Outside the court, Duke Watanabe—a fair-skinned, heavyset player—wore an expression of shock.
Among the representatives of the first-string players, No. 2 Shūji Tōjirō was absent, as was Oni. That left Duke as the strongest player present after Kōjirō Byōdōin.
Yet even he hadn't been able to see how Shin Ishikawa had returned that shot.
But the proof was undeniable—Byōdōin's golden hair, swept back before it could even settle, was testament to the sheer terror of that last strike.
Thud!
Thud!
Thud!
At the baseline, Byōdōin bounced the ball, his usual aggressive playstyle momentarily paused in contemplation. The other first-stringers found it unbelievable—Byōdōin never hesitated.
Yet, in that moment, his mind was racing, analyzing the kendō mastery hidden within Ishikawa's technique. The more he thought about it, the less certain he became.
"Shin Ishikawa."
Gripping the ball, Byōdōin locked eyes with his opponent. "Your kendō may be impressive, but swordsmanship alone doesn't make a tennis player."
Boom!
With that, he served.
The ball streaked across the court, landing with pinpoint precision on the service line. Dust erupted, obscuring Ishikawa's figure—but a moment later, the ball came rocketing back, effortlessly returned.
"Senpai,"Ishikawa said with a smile, "I think we're past warm-ups. No need to hold back—show me the techniques you used overseas."
The first-stringers—Kaji, Kiyosumi, and the others—stiffened.
No one had ever dared provoke Byōdōin on the court like this.
"This kid's got a death wish!"
"Does he even know who he's talking to?"
"Once Byōdōin gets serious, it's over for him!"
To them, Byōdōin was an untouchable force. During their recent Southeast Asian tour, they'd crushed every opponent without a single loss.
And Byōdōin?
He'd left rival team captains trembling in fear. Match after match, he'd humiliated them so thoroughly that some had quit tennis entirely.
That was why he'd earned the title—**"The Conqueror."**
And now, this arrogant rookie was taunting him?
Didn't he know that when the Conqueror raged, blood would spill?
Swish!
Byōdōin moved.
A top-tier player like him wouldn't be baited by mere words—but he did recognize that Ishikawa was no ordinary opponent.
"If you're so confident," he growled, "then try stopping this!"
CRACK!
His racket whipped forward, the strings biting into the ball with brutal spin. To the spectators, it looked like a raging bull, hooves kicking up dust as it charged straight at Ishikawa.
"It's here!"
"The Conqueror's Spanish Bull!"
"A world-class technique!"
The first-stringers tensed in anticipation.
Byōdōin had finally unleashed his signature move—and it was a devastating one.
"The power behind this shot is monstrous,"Mitsutaka muttered from the stands. "The sheer force and spin combine into something even deadlier. That 'bull' could shatter a racket!"
PING!
But then—a crisp return.
"He blocked it?!"
The first-stringers froze.
SCREECH!
The ball shot back like a blade slicing through air, gleaming under the sun's glare. The sound of its flight was so sharp it made their ears ring.
Advanced Technique—Daybreak!
Struck at a precise angle with the racket's metal frame, the ball refracted sunlight—creating a near-blinding flash. Even Byōdōin was caught off guard.
But a player of his caliber didn't need vision.
His instincts kicked in, his senses locking onto the ball's trajectory.
THUD!
He returned it cleanly.
"Nice visual effect," he sneered. "But the actual shot? Pathetic."
Swish!
His racket moved—slow at first, then splitting into a dozen afterimages, like the arms of a thousand-handed goddess.
"India—Snake Charmer!"
The afterimages morphed into venomous serpents, fangs bared as they lunged for Ishikawa.
"Good."
Ishikawa grinned.
His own form split into a dozen copies, each swinging at an incoming 'snake.'
SWISH! SWISH! SWISH!
In an instant, the illusions collapsed—leaving only the real Ishikawa, who smashed the ball back with a roar like a lion's fury.
BOOM!
The ball split midair, multiplying into a storm of afterimages that rained down on Byōdōin.
"Huh?"
Byōdōin's brow rose. "A world-class technique?"
He hadn't expected Ishikawa to not only counter his move but retaliate with one of the same caliber.
"Interesting."
His body blurred, splitting into matching afterimages—each intercepting a 'ball.'
CRACK!
Ishikawa's Wild Ball Barrage was dismantled.
But then—
The ball changed direction mid-flight, arcing high into the sky.
"Egypt—Phoenix!"
Byōdōin's voice was calm.
SCREECH!
The ball blazed like a fiery phoenix, streaking down toward Ishikawa's backhand corner.
"That lob—!"
Tetsuya's face paled.
It was terrifying.
The ball's descent was so violent he could smell the burning air—less like a phoenix and more like a meteor.
Swish!
Ishikawa moved.
His upper body remained perfectly still as his feet carried him to the landing point in an instant. Without even looking, he swung at empty air—
PING!
The ball met his racket as if drawn to it.
Then—
He launched it skyward in a mirror-image lob.
"Another lob?!"Mitsutaka gasped.
Kiyosumi narrowed his eyes. "Is he mocking Byōdōin by copying him?"
But then—
The ball merged with the sun's glare, erupting into a fiery bird of its own.
"One of the Four Divine Strikes—Vermilion Bird!"
The blazing shot hurtled toward Byōdōin's backhand.
"Not bad!"
Byōdōin's eyes gleamed.
He exploded into motion, his form blurring as he intercepted the ball mid-descent. His racket lashed out at 'nothing'—
CRACK!
The spinning ball was smashed back, but upon landing, it shattered into jagged afterimages that shot in all directions.
"American Pirate!"
Yet Ishikawa was already moving, splitting into multiple forms—each intercepting a 'fragment' before the ball could fully rise.
THWACK!
The return was instantaneous.
"A super half-volley?!"
The first-stringers shuddered.
Not only had Ishikawa countered American Pirate—he'd done it with a near-impossible reflex shot!
"Sharp reflexes,"Byōdōin acknowledged.
Then—he lunged.
His racket's edge met the ball, twisting violently upon contact.
SCREECH!
A crimson dragon erupted, fangs bared as it roared toward Ishikawa.
"China—Red Claw Dragon!"
The heat was palpable, the flames licking at Ishikawa's skin as the beast's maw opened wide—
"A high-speed spin technique?"
Ishikawa didn't flinch.
His racket shifted into a kendō grip—then slashed forward like a blade.
SHING!
A gust of wind split the dragon clean in half, the flames dissipating as the ball rocketed back—now infused with storm and fire.
One of Ishikawa's signature moves—Gale Force!
"A kendō technique?"
Byōdōin's eyes narrowed.
Unlike the earlier Iaido-style strike, this was pure swordsmanship—using the racket's edge to exploit the dragon's weak point, then channeling the force of a blade into the return.
To onlookers, it looked effortless—like Ishikawa had casually bisected Byōdōin's fiery beast.
"This kid's skill… is terrifying."
Any remaining arrogance in Byōdōin vanished, replaced by wariness.
But he was the Conqueror.
He didn't retreat—he attacked.
THUD! CRACK! BOOM!
The two traded blows, Byōdōin hurling world-class techniques while Ishikawa countered each one. The spectators could only watch, mouths agape, as the match escalated beyond comprehension.
"Incredible!"
Up in the observation room, Saitō stared in awe. "He's matching Byōdōin shot for shot!"
"Yes,"Kurobe agreed. "Their technical mastery is peerless. To them, the racket is just an extension of their will."
He focused on Ishikawa, a flicker of disbelief in his eyes.
Last time, against Oni, it had been speed versus power.
Now?
He was dueling Byōdōin in a pure battle of skill.
Speed. Power. Technique.
Every aspect of his game was flawless—and he was only a first-year middle schooler.
ROAR!
On the court, Byōdōin's latest shot bellowed like a lion—only for Ishikawa to cage it mid-charge, the ball's furious spin useless against his control.
SWOOSH!
The return was effortless.
"Tch."
Byōdōin clicked his tongue.
How many times had it been now?
None of his techniques could break through.
His eyes hardened.
Crackle…
Golden light gathered in his left palm, seeping into his racket as the ball approached.
"Perish."
He swung.
The first-stringers recoiled—they knew this technique.
"The Light Shot—Annihilation!"Mōchi's voice was tense.
That shot carried obliterating force. If Ishikawa tried to block it head-on, the backlash could destroy him.
But then—
Ishikawa's left hand also began to glow.
A golden sphere materialized above his palm.
"What?!"
Before anyone could process it, he swung.
BOOOOOOM!
The two light shots collided at the net.
The ground beneath them shattered, fissures spiderwebbing outward as the shockwave erupted into a miniature mushroom cloud.
RUMBLE!
Debris rained down as the dust cleared, leaving the court in eerie silence.
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