The court fell into a half-minute silence.
Then—
"SO HANDSOME! MY HUSBAND IS AMAZING! ☆(￣▽￣)/$:"
A high-pitched scream shattered the stillness.
The crowd snapped back to reality, their gazes locked onto Yoru with awe.
The first two games had been a blistering exchange, making everyone think this would be a close match.
But the moment Yoru got serious—it was over.
Shitenhouji's team looked like they'd swallowed flies. Even Mori himself never expected to lose so easily. His proud "Sleep Mode" had been a joke in the face of true dominance.
"Terrifying," mused Washio Issa from the sidelines. "Even if Shiraishi faced Yoru, he'd be in trouble."
During the Kansai Regionals, they'd watched Shitenhouji vs. Maizono Academy. Mori's match against Shiraishi had been intense—a high-difficulty loss, but still competitive.
This?
Mori had been playdough in Yoru's hands—kneaded, twisted, and crushed when boredom struck.
Suzuki Jun shook his head. "With Mori gone, Shitenhouji's done."
Everyone knew the stakes.
If both Mori and the Hirakoba/Hara duo lost, the team collapsed.
Tennis wasn't like basketball.
In the NBA, even a bottom-tier team like the Hornets could luck out with bench players during garbage time.
But tennis?
The skill gap was brutal. Sometimes, you couldn't even touch the ball.
---
On the court, Mori stared at Yoru's retreating back, heart pounding.
His "Sleep Mode" erased his conscious mind. He'd always assumed that even if he lost, it'd be after a grueling battle.
This?
A humiliation.
"So this is the genius Tennis Weekly won't shut up about…"
The scoreboard burned into his vision. The time.
For the first time, he'd truly faced a monster—one even Shiraishi couldn't compare to.
"Sorry, guys," Mori muttered, returning to the bench. "I blew it."
"Damn right you did."
"Deserved."
Hirakoba's eye twitched.
If not for Yoru's post-match explanation, he might've believed Mori gave it his all.
But no—his idiot teammate had half-assed it. If he'd mastered true sleep-state focus while retaining awareness… Could things have been different?
"Watch the footage. We're up next." Hara tossed Mori his phone—recorded, as always, for sleep-mode review.
---
"Buchou, I'm seething."
Back at Seigaku's bench, Kirihara's teeth had torn holes in his shirt.
Yoru shrugged. "I didn't expect their lineup change either."
"I know! It's not your fault! They're just morons!"
The team stifled laughter. Even QP's lips quirked.
FLOKITOTO.
Over these months, he'd actually started fitting in. This relaxed vibe? Nothing like Germany's rigid elitism.
"…Should I stay longer?"
The thought flickered.
His skills had skyrocketed here—Yoru's sparring, that man's guidance, Japan's hidden aces…
But then—Leitner's face flashed in his mind. The idea vanished.
---
"Doubles 2, prepare to start!"
The whistle blew.
Seigaku's Yamato and Kawasaki warmed up, while Hirakoba and Hara stood.
"They adjusted," QP noted calmly.
Shitenhouji's only hope was sweeping both doubles. Most schools stacked their stronger pair in Doubles 1, but Seigaku had kept Yamato's duo in Doubles 2—intentionally.
Their synergy had surpassed Kaidou's pair, making them the real threat.
But QP hadn't changed the lineup.
Yamato's growth mattered more. Kaidou's pair had hit their ceiling with Synchro. Yamato? His potential was still unfolding.
---
"Buchou… Can they win?" Kaidou asked nervously.
QP's data, Yoru's tone—everything hinted at how strong Hirakoba's duo was.
"A chance. But slim."
Yoru shook his head.
Yamato's stats neared high-tier 7-star, but doubles was doubles. He wasn't strong enough to solo-carry against two 6-star veterans with flawless teamwork.
Still…
Not impossible.
30-70 odds.
---
THUD. THUD. THUD.
Hara bounced the ball, exhaling.
Even if Shitenhouji had already lost, they wouldn't go down scoreless.
SWISH—
A spin serve ripped across the court.
Their intel said Seigaku's players had freakish speed. Against that? Spin was key.
Kawasaki Haruna swung—
The ball skewed off-center, veering wildly.
Hirakoba pounced, smashing it to the far corner with monstrous force—
"Too heavy!"
Yamato's return soared high, helpless—
A shadow loomed over him, blotting out the sun.
Hara, already at the net, smiled.
"Game set."