In the end, no one managed to complete the entire training regimen.
But just as Yoru had said—
Thanks to the incremental design of the program, over half the club had completed more than 50%.
The next morning...
Every member who returned to the tennis club was shocked to discover—
Their training had become easier.
They barely even felt fatigued.
This obvious improvement boosted Seigaku's morale even further.
Without needing Yoru's reminders, they finished warm-ups and dove straight into practice.
Within just one week—
Every member could complete 50% of the training plan.
Yamato? He could finish 100%.
The clear boost in skill was addictive.
Getting stronger was a drug.
Now, Yoru barely had to lift a finger—the team's enthusiasm and growth had earned him unquestioned respect.
Just as Seigaku steadily improved...
An unexpected visitor arrived.
Seigaku's Front Gate
"So this is Seishun Gakuen..."
A bald teenager with a tennis bag slung over his shoulder stood at the entrance, squinting at a crumpled note.
The paper was filled with school names—
One of them was Seigaku.
Every school above it had been crossed out, as if marking some kind of progression.
Tucking the note away, the boy strode onto campus, asking for directions to the tennis club.
Minutes later, the sound of vigorous training reached his ears.
His eyes widened.
Not a single person was slacking off.
"Rumors said Seigaku was weak... How come they're training so hard?"
Confused, he stepped forward—
Only to be blocked by a figure with an almost unnaturally striking face.
Yoru.
He'd been observing from the platform when he spotted the outsider.
A student from another school, carrying a tennis bag—clearly not here to spectate.
"You guys have a lot of rules, huh?"
The boy rubbed his bald head, unfazed.
"Who's the strongest here?"
"Probably me. What do you want?"
Yoru studied him.
No character like this existed in the original series.
"You?"
The boy blinked, finally noticing Yoru's regulars' jersey.
"Perfect. Saves me the trouble of looking."
A grin spread across his face.
"Let's play a match."
"Hōsen Junior High, third year—*Kiriyama Renji. Here to challenge you!"*
Hōsen?
Kiriyama?
Now it was Yoru's turn to freeze.
Hōsen was from a delinquent manga, wasn't it? How'd that crossover happen?
The bald look fit—in Hōsen, only the strongest were allowed to keep their hair.
But what really shocked him was the name.
Kiriyama.
In the original series, he was U-17's former No. 4.
Well, technically—
He only appeared once, effortlessly crushed by Echizen Ryoga as part of the latter's infiltration plan.
No screen time, but former No. 4 meant he had skills.
Yoru's eyes narrowed.
[Name]: Kiriyama Renji
[Age]: 14
[Techniques]:
Base Stats (Lv. 6) Fundamentals (Lv. 6) Supersonic Serve (Lv. 6) Extreme Drive (Lv. 5)
[Talent]: Light as a Feather
[Power Level]: ★★★★★★ (6-Star)
[Light as a Feather]:
Unmatched speed talent. Gets faster as the match progresses.
"Interesting."
Yoru smirked.
He'd expected Kiriyama to be strong—but 6-Star?
No wonder he'd been No. 4.
He'd just been unlucky enough to face Ryoga, a walking cheat code.
By U-17 standards, Kiriyama was likely just below monsters like Oni Juujirou and Duke Watanabe.
Maybe I can...
A thought flickered in Yoru's mind.
"Hey! You playing or what?"
Kiriyama's patience wore thin.
"I could... but why should I?"
Yoru's tone was teasing.
"Huh?"
Kiriyama scowled.
"Too scared to accept a challenge? Seigaku's got no pride?"
"Given our recent records, 'pride' is a luxury."
Yoru shrugged.
"That's... Wait, no!"
Kiriyama's eye twitched.
Since when does the captain trash-talk his own team?!
"How about a wager?" Yoru grinned. "If you lose, you join Seigaku's tennis club."
"Fine. And if you lose?"
Kiriyama agreed instantly—
He never considered losing.
If Seigaku's captain could beat him, joining wasn't a bad deal.
Hōsen's tennis club was a disorganized mess, barely surviving district preliminaries.
He'd been school-hopping just to find decent opponents.
"If you win, you join Seigaku as my subordinate."
"If I win, you call me big brother."
"Deal!"
The moment he agreed, Kiriyama paused.
Something felt off—but he couldn't pinpoint what.
"Yup. Not the brightest."
Yoru's smirk widened.
That dumb, earnest glare hadn't even noticed the loophole.
A devil's tail might as well have sprouted behind him.
After warming up, they moved to Court 1.
The team glanced over but quickly returned to training—
Too addicted to the Training Rune's effects to care.
Only Yamato, having finished early, approached.
"Need a referee?"
"We haven't decided serve."
Yoru shook his head. "Let him have it."
"Bad move."
Kiriyama sneered, tossing the ball back.
"With my Supersonic Serve, you're already dead."
Yoru didn't flinch. "Keep it."
Yamato's eyebrows rose.
Seeing his reaction, Kiriyama's expression darkened.
*"Fine. Watch this."*
Whoosh—!
The ball soared.
At its peak—
CRACK!
Two impacts echoed in rapid succession.
By the time Yamato whipped his head around—
The ball had already landed.
"When did it—?!"
Kiriyama smirked at Yamato's shock.
"See? This is what happens when you give me serve."
In all his matches, no one had ever returned his Supersonic Serve.
But what he didn't realize—
Yoru was on a completely different level.