The applause grew louder around the court—especially from female spectators, their cheers nearly making Kirihara lose his composure (and not just mentally).
But the distraction threw off his rhythm.
With Hopkins still struggling under pressure, an overzealous Kirihara activated his Hyper-Speed Mode, drastically increasing his scoring efficiency at the cost of stamina.
It worked—for a while.
The score climbed to an impressive 5-1.
Then, disaster struck in the seventh game.
Stamina collapse.
Having triggered Hyper-Speed too early, Kirihara's energy reserves were drained dry by the third game. By the seventh, he could barely maintain the technique.
Then came the real killer: his old injury.
The ankle injury—originally sustained in a brawl at Hōsen Academy—should've healed long ago. Yet here it was, flaring up mid-match.
To most, it seemed like bad luck. But Yoru saw the truth.
Hopkins had a "Trauma Vision" ability—an uncanny knack for identifying past injuries, even fully healed ones. A Prince of Tennis version of The Good Doctor.
Once he spotted Kirihara's weak ankle, he spent the entire match hammering low, right-side shots, forcing Kirihara into repeated half-squat returns. The strain on the old injury eventually became unbearable.
By the fourth point of the seventh game, Kirihara could barely walk, let alone run.
Final score: 7-5, with Hopkins claiming six straight games.
As the match ended, Yamato rushed to support a limping Kirihara off the court. Even Ryoma and Tezuka's eyes flickered with concern.
Hopkins approached casually. "Don't worry. It's just temporary stress on the joint. Rest will fix it."
The group sighed in relief—except Yoru, who muttered, "With that talent, why not become a doctor instead of playing tennis?"
Athletes with medical knowledge were borderline cheaters.
He recalled a news story from his past life: a college basketball match between Traditional Medicine Majors and Civil Engineering Students.
Final score: 72-28.
Post-game, one civil engineering player complained: "That guy pinched my acupressure points mid-dunk!"
Moral of the story: Never piss off med students.
Yoru shot Kirihara a deadpan stare. "Horniness is your downfall. A few cheers and you lose all focus—even pitched a tent mid-match. Do you have Hyper-Libido Syndrome or what?"
"Depression? But..." Yamato studied Kirihara's dazed expression. "He doesn't look depressed?"
"Yamato."
"Yeah?"
"I said 'excessive desire, not —depression. Keep reading those books instead of googling."
"Oh! R-right..."
---
### QP vs. Ralph
After several matches, the showdown everyone awaited finally arrived.
"Next match: Team Leader Ralph Reinhardt versus Q.P.!"
At the referee's call, both men stepped onto the court—prompting murmurs as the crowd noticed their shared European heritage.
Byōdōin muttered, "So this is the foreign ace from Seigaku..."
Seigaku's upset over Rikkai's 13-year championship streak had made waves nationwide. Even in Kansai, rumors spread about their "overseas recruit."
Center Court
After warm-ups, the two shook hands.
Ralph smiled. "I thought you looked familiar yesterday. You're the prodigy dubbed 'Masterpiece' by Germany's elite clubs, aren't you? I've read your dossier."
"Hello."
The socially awkward Q.P. fumbled for a response before settling on: "Looking forward to our match."
Ralph nodded.
Serve: Q.P.
As the challenger, Q.P. took first serve.
Kirihara, now bandaged but still energetic, turned to Yoru. "Captain, Ryoma said you played Ralph last night. What was the score?"
The question piqued everyone's interest—including eavesdropping Byōdōin and Tetsujin.
Before Yoru could answer, Ryoma chirped: "6-0~ I've never seen niisan lose a single game to anyone except oyaji."
"As expected."
The group nodded like this was common knowledge. Meanwhile, Byōdōin's brow furrowed.
A U17 national leader… couldn't score even once against a middle school captain? Was Ralph a fraud?
Yamato pressed further. "Between Q.P. and Ralph, who's stronger?"
"Hard to say. Ralph's got better odds now."
Yoru shook his head.
It wasn't about raw stats. At full power, Q.P.'s extracted Kōki could push him beyond 10-star combat ability.
But therein lay the problem.
Before last night's match, Q.P. and Ralph would've been 50-50. In a prolonged battle, Ralph's adaptability might've tipped the scales.
Now?
Thanks to their spar, Ralph had evolved again. His baseline stats now matched mid-tier pros, let alone his in-match growth potential.
Current odds: 60-40, favoring Ralph. If the match dragged on, Q.P.'s chances would plummet further.
"Poor Q.P.," Yoru sighed.
The "early-bloomer advantage" was brutal in this transitional era of tennis. Talent mattered, but biological timing—dictated by lifestyle and genetics—was uncontrollable.
---
### The Match Begins
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Three consecutive sonic booms erupted as Q.P. unleashed his serve—a basic flat shot with monstrous speed, crossing the net in a blink.
Yet Ralph intercepted it.
"Too fast!" Byōdōin's pupils contracted.
He'd seen trick-based "super serves" before, but none matched Q.P.'s raw, technique-less velocity.
The third BANG was Ralph's return—grunting as the ball writhed against his racket strings like a live thing.
"Scary stuff. Good thing I did my homework on you," Ralph chuckled, heaving the ball back.
The comment caught Byōdōin's attention.
Homework? Is Q.P. some kind of legend?
He made a mental note to research Q.P. later.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The two traded supersonic rallies, reaching ten exchanges before Q.P. suddenly stopped mid-swing.
The ball landed millimeters outside the line—a visual illusion made it seem in.
The umpire called "Ralph's point", but Q.P. immediately challenged.
Tokyo Tennis Park lacked Hawk-Eye, but the U.S. team had brought their own system.
Replay confirmed: OUT. By a data cable's width.
"Insane judgment..." Byōdōin's voice tightened.
He turned to Tetsujin. "We need to adjust our recruitment plans."
---