A ball that was about to fly out of bounds—
A figure wreathed in lightning instantly cut off its path.
With a swing of the racket, arcs of electricity crackled as the ball was smashed back.
A flash streaked across the court.
Fuji pupils shrank as he felt a chilling breeze rush between his legs, followed by the sound of impact behind him.
It was a kudashi (body shot aimed between the legs)!
Just how confident was Kiriya in his speed to attempt such an angle?!
---
Kanagawa Hospital.
Sanada's voice echoed in the room: "Hyper Speed Mode—Kiriya-senpai's signature technique..."
Ever since Yukimura's surgery, Sanada had been by his side daily.
The two were now fixated on the live broadcast playing on the TV.
The footage couldn't fully capture the anomaly surrounding Kiriya, but his movements were so fast they seemed to skip frames, instantly reminding Sanada of Hyper Speed Mode.
Yukimura studied the screen thoughtfully. "So this is the framework developed from 'Raging Thunder', huh?"
Sanada nodded. "Kiriya-senpai's Hyper Speed Mode pushes his speed to the limit—enhancing his serves, returns, and footwork all at once."
On screen, Kiriya's activated state caused the broadcast to stutter repeatedly.
Though the Nationals were high-profile, the live cameras weren't the high-speed capture equipment used in pro matches.
Sanada's expression turned wistful. "Yoru-senpai advised me to draw inspiration from Kiriya-senpai's Hyper Speed Mode."
He paused, then admitted awkwardly, "But he also warned me not to copy it outright—because the technique is built on Kiriya-senpai's innate talent. It's impossible to replicate."
Yukimura nodded in understanding.
Though the footage was blurry, it was clear Kiriya's movements weren't bound by inertia.
His transitions from sprinting to striking were seamless—a fluidity that couldn't be achieved through training alone. Pure talent.
Scratching his head in frustration, Sanada sighed. "So Yoru-senpai told me to study his footwork and combine it with my kendo techniques to improve my striking power... but I'm still stuck."
"That's actually a brilliant approach."
Yukimura's admiration for Yoru grew.
From what Sanada had shared, Yoru had also provided insights for developing "Fire, Shadow, and Thunder."
Coupled with the fact that he'd saved Yukimura's life, the mysterious powerhouse intrigued him even more.
Taking a deep breath, Yukimura said, "Genichirou, once I'm discharged, let's visit Yoru-senpai together."
"Yeah!"
Sanada agreed instantly.
He, too, had countless questions for Yoru.
If not for Yukimura needing care, Sanada would've already moved into Seigaku's dormitories.
Ever since Tezuka remembered their childhood friendship—and with their frequent visits to Seigaku—the Tezuka family had even reserved a room for him.
---
BAM!
With one final kudashi shot flying past his opponent—
The match ended 6-1, Kiriya securing the victory in Singles 3 and giving Seigaku a strong start.
"Damn it..."
Fuji Fengdu slumped to the ground, exhausted.
Once Hyper Speed Mode activated, every one of Kiriya's returns had been a kudashi shot—widening the skill gap to an insurmountable degree.
The entire match had left Fuji feeling breezy down under.
Even if he could react, he didn't dare move recklessly—unless he wanted to become the "Cheerleader Captain of Mayumizaka."
"That was a fun match!"
Kiriya's voice snapped Fuji back to reality.
Seeing his opponent offering a handshake at the net, Fuji pushed himself up with his racket.
"Even if I couldn't react, your shots were way too dangerous," Fuji grumbled.
"But... thanks for letting me take a game."
"Heh~" Kiriya scratched his head sheepishly. "Once I got faster, I wanted to try something fun. Don't worry, I had full control!"
"Control?"
Fuji rolled his eyes. Your 'control' almost cost me two inches!
As they walked off the court, the Seigaku team gave Kiriya weird looks.
"Since when did you develop the 'Nutcracker Strategy'?"
"Yeah, that was brutal. Even I felt a chill, and I wasn't even playing!"
Kiriya just laughed. "Improvised it on the spot! Want me to try it on you guys later? Perfect for cooling off in this heat!"
"HARD PASS!"
---
Mayumizaka's bench.
Fuji shrugged at his teammates. "Gave it my all. Almost couldn't face my ancestors."
"Pfft—HAHAHA!"
The team burst into laughter.
With no pressure to win, the atmosphere was unusually light.
Shiraishi didn't hold back his teasing. "First time seeing you like this. Keep it up~"
As the school's three-year library committee head, Fuji was usually stoic and indifferent—making today's emotional rollercoaster a rare sight.
Next up: Doubles 2.
Yamato and Kawasaki strode onto the court, pumped—
Only to be stunned when, during the handshake, Mayumizaka's pair begged for mercy.
After much pleading, Yamato's duo reluctantly agreed to let them win one game at 5-0.
The blatant match-fixing talk made the referee's eye twitch.
Since it was just about saving face, the ref let it slide and started the match.
As for how bad Mayumizaka's pair was?
Imagine Yoru's first day at Seigaku, watching the complete beginners play.
Yamato and Kawasaki never dreamed that in the national semifinals, they'd face opponents this unskilled—like being handed a first-grade test during final exam prep.
And they couldn't even win flawlessly—having to intentionally lose points.
They reached 5-0 in under eight minutes.
In the sixth game, as agreed, Yamato's pair prepared to concede—
But Mayumizaka's duo was so rattled that:
- First point: Double fault.
- Second point: Tripped over their own feet, locking themselves in a tangle.
- Third point: Dropped their racket, hitting their partner's butt.
- Fourth point: The pièce de résistance—headed the return like a soccer ball.
What should've been a nap-inducing match instead delivered four legendary blunders, reigniting the crowd's energy.
Even the referee couldn't tell who was throwing the match.
In the end, Yamato and Kawasaki walked off with a flawless 6-0 victory—yet feeling weirdly unfulfilled.
"Something feels off. We won, but... not really?" Kawasaki muttered.
Yamato scratched his head. "A win's a win."
With Seigaku now leading 2-0, one more victory would send them to the National Finals.
"My turn, then."
QP stood up calmly, his gaze fixed on his opponent—Inui Sadaharu.
According to data analysis, Inui's strength was unpredictable—fluctuating wildly.
He often feigned weakness early, only to strike decisively in critical moments.
"Wait."
Just as QP was about to step out for warm-ups, Yoru stopped him—then turned to a certain suspicious-looking teammate.
Yamato: "..."