King of Tennis (POT)

"That guy's glare is terrifying!"

After Tohno left, Osaka's Tohyama muttered with lingering fear.

"Yeah," Shiraishi nodded. "If I'm not mistaken, he's probably one of the U-17 training camp's top players—on a completely different level from that high schooler earlier."

"Welcome, middle schoolers, to the U-17 training camp."

Just then, a tall, middle-aged man in a white lab coat, his hair tied in a small ponytail, appeared on the second-floor platform of the building in front of them.

"Allow me to introduce myself—I'm Saito Michiru, the mental training coach of this facility." He smiled. "Congratulations on passing the initial test. However, the head coach wants a deeper understanding of your abilities. So, next up, we'll be conducting actual matches. The rule is simple: pair up in teams of two."

"Teams?" Mukahi blinked in surprise. "Wait, so we're doing doubles matches?"

"Doubles? Perfect!"

Established doubles pairs, like Yamabuki's Minami and Higashikata, visibly brightened.

Soon, the middle schoolers began forming their pairs.

"Chotaro."

"Yeah."

"Bunta, this is our specialty!"

"Of course. We're unstoppable."

"Oishi, time to show them what we've got."

"Right. But we don't know our opponents yet, so we should stay cautious."

The strongest doubles pairs from each school quickly teamed up, while others found their own partners—like the Fuji brothers, Akutsu and Hiyoshi, Atobe and Kabaji, Yukimura and Sanada.

"Echizen!"

Osaka's Tohyama jogged over to the boy in the black jacket and grinned. "Let's team up!"

"Sure." Echizen nodded.

He knew Tohyama's skills well. Even if their doubles coordination wasn't perfect, as long as they each held their ground, they could take on most opponents.

"Good."

Once all the middle schoolers had formed their teams, Saito spoke again. "Now, those who've paired up will compete in singles matches."

"Singles?!"

The middle schoolers' expressions froze.

"Wait, wasn't this supposed to be doubles?" Kikumaru was stunned. He'd been ready to team up with Oishi and dominate the court with their synchro play—only to find out it was singles after all?!

"Correct."

Saito continued, crushing their hopes. "And according to the rules, the loser will be eliminated immediately—just like those who failed to retrieve the balls earlier."

A sharp intake of breath swept through the group.

Winner stays, loser leaves.

Did that mean they'd have to personally send their own partners packing?

The thought made them glance at each other, a pang of guilt twisting in their chests.

But Saito's next words shattered any remaining illusions.

"Teams that refuse to compete will be disqualified together."

There was no way out.

The U-17's rules had them cornered, forcing them into brutal, unavoidable battles against their own teammates.

One by one, heartbreaking matches unfolded.

"Echizen!"

"Yeah."

Echizen and Tohyama exchanged determined looks. Both had lost to Ishikawa before, but in their respective regions, they were among the best. They'd been itching for a match against each other.

"Grrr…"

But then, Tohyama's stomach growled loudly.

"Uh-oh." His face paled. "Stomachache. Gotta go!"

Without another word, he bolted off the court.

"This guy…" Echizen sighed.

He knew Tohyama wasn't faking it to avoid their match.

"Grrr…"

Then his own stomach protested.

"Not good." His expression darkened. "Dad's cooking this morning was definitely off…"

Without hesitation, he sprinted after Tohyama.

"Those two…"

In a dimly lit monitoring room, Kurobe, the tactical coach, shook his head in exasperation. "I was hoping to see how much they'd improved over the past month."

He had high expectations for Echizen and Tohyama. They were likely to become key players in future international tournaments, supporting Ishikawa as his right-hand men.

"Huh? That direction…"

Next to him, Takashima frowned. "Are those two seriously not reading the signs? They'll never find the court at this rate."

Kurobe chuckled. "Can't expect them to be as sharp as Ishikawa. A talent like his only comes once in a decade."

Takashima didn't disagree. He was certain that Ishikawa's leadership would shock their opponents in the upcoming matches.

"Wait—"

But then, Takashima's eyes widened. "Those idiots just went where?!"

"Hm?"

Kurobe turned to the screen—and his expression shifted.

"That's the rehabilitation training room!"

THUD! THUD! THUD!

Elsewhere in the U-17 facility, inside a secluded indoor court, two figures were engaged in an intense rally.

Though it was just practice, every shot carried enough force to knock a regular player's racket out of their hands.

"Not bad, Boss."

On one side of the court, a fair-skinned, pudgy man with a pompadour—former No. 3, Duke Watanabe—grinned. "You're handling my power shots without breaking a sweat now."

"Heh."

His opponent—the once-injured, long-absent Byodoin—merely smirked.

Gone was his former domineering aura. Now clad in the second-string uniform, he exuded a weathered maturity.

THUMP! THUMP!

Suddenly, hurried footsteps echoed from the entrance.

"Hm?"

The two exchanged glances.

Byodoin distinctly remembered Kurobe promising him an undisturbed training environment.

"Figures I can't trust those second-rate coaches."

He sighed. He hadn't wanted anyone to see him like this. Though his match with Ishikawa had been inconclusive, he considered it a loss.

But unlike his defeat against Oni years ago, this loss didn't shake him. His only goal now was to see Japan rise in the World Cup, making up for their past failures.

"Whatever."

Resigned, he reached into a nearby equipment box, pulled out two items, and tossed one to Duke.

THUMP! THUMP!

A red-haired boy burst in, followed closely by a black-capped youth—Tohyama and Echizen.

"Uh…"

The two froze mid-step, their eyes widening.

"GHOSTS!!!"

Tohyama, superstitious about the supernatural, shrieked.

Echizen, however, narrowed his eyes, studying the two masked figures warily.

"Uh, excuse us," he began, prioritizing his urgent need. "Where's the restroom?"

The one with the phoenix-and-demon mask (Byodoin) answered gruffly, "Left ahead, 20 meters in."

"Thanks."

The two hurried off.

Once they were gone, Duke (wearing an oni mask) tilted his head. "Those kids…?"

"Middle schoolers," Byodoin said. "Coach mentioned the rules changed this year—three middle schoolers must participate in every match. Those two are probably new recruits."

"Weird," Duke mused. "They look pretty young. First-years?"

"Maybe." Byodoin shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Middle schoolers won't change anything."

He still believed high schoolers were the backbone of the team.

That said, he did see potential in Ishikawa, Marui, and Tetsukawa. With them, Japan might even reach the semifinals this year.

And in two years? With Ishikawa leading, they'd have no weaknesses.

"Still, Boss, you should focus on recovering," Duke said seriously. "The Big Four won't go down easy."

As a former top player from France's U-17, he knew how formidable the top teams were. Even France, ranked third, struggled—let alone Switzerland or Germany.

"Yeah." Byodoin nodded. "Let's keep going."

They resumed training.

When Echizen and Tohyama returned, their eyes gleamed with excitement.

"Echizen, what do you think?"

"Yeah."

Echizen smirked.

No doubt about it—these two were hidden elites of the U-17. And wasn't facing strong opponents the whole point of coming here?

"Hey, seniors," Echizen called out boldly.

"Hm?" Duke turned. "Need something else?"

Like Byodoin, he had zero interest in middle schoolers.

"We heard Japan's U-17 has some of the strongest high school players," Echizen said, grinning. "Mind giving us a match?"

Duke's eyes narrowed behind his mask.

"A match?"

Did these kids think they were that easygoing?

But before he could refuse, Byodoin spoke.

"Fine."

"YES!" Tohyama cheered.

Echizen's smirk widened.

Just as he'd guessed—the pride of these elites made them easy to provoke.

Soon, the four stood across from each other in the spacious indoor court, preparing for one-on-one matches.

Tohyama, drawn to Duke's imposing build, chose him. Echizen picked Byodoin.

"Ah, my apologies for earlier," Echizen said suddenly. "I'm Echizen Ryoma. He's Tohyama Kintaro. And you two are…?"

"Names?" Byodoin's lips curled. "Call me Masked Man H."

"Masked Man D," Duke added.

"Masked Men?" Tohyama blinked. "Weird names."

"H and D?" Echizen mused, intrigued.

He had a hunch these two were far stronger than that creepy high schooler, Tohno.

"Well then," Echizen said, bouncing a ball lightly before flashing a confident grin. "Let's begin."

With a sharp whoosh, he tossed the ball high, coiled his body, and sprang upward—

SMACK!

A crisp twist shot through the air as his racket whipped down, launching the ball like an arrow.

"A twist serve?"

Byodoin's eyes flickered in surprise.

This kid—likely a first-year—could pull off a serve like that?

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