Prince of Tennis: Shocking! Hyotei's Demon King is a Yukimura fangirl!

On the east side of the stands, Irie Kanata watched Oshitari on the field for a while before chuckling softly and turning to Tokugawa beside her to speak:

"How about it? Compared to Coach Saito's data from half a month ago, isn't this person a completely different person? Basics, footwork, anticipation skills, all improved in every aspect. You can't deny Mochizuki Ryo's ability to train people."

Tokugawa Kazuya stood beside him, his jawline taut, his gaze fixed on Shinobu's footwork: "The path of his footwork has also been optimized. Every step is taken at the point of least effort, with no unnecessary movements. This is not an effect that can be achieved through casual practice."

"It's not just that." Irie shook his head with a smile, tapping his temple with his finger. "The most important thing is his mentality. He used to play with a bit of nonchalance, not caring whether he won or lost. Now it's different. He has a competitive spirit now. That's what's most terrifying."

The interval between the second rounds was very short; the players could wipe their sweat and rehydrate in the blink of an eye.

Fuji turned and walked back to the rest area, bent down and pulled a towel from his bag, pressing it against his face. The towel covered his mouth and nose, his breath trapped in the fabric. He stood in the darkness for two seconds, then took the towel off, folded it neatly, and placed it back on the chair.

Ryuzaki Jin sat on the coach's bench, her hands resting on her knees, her fingertips tapping lightly. She glanced at Fuji, her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but then she swallowed it back.

Fuji turned his head and met her gaze.

"coach."

"Shusuke," Ryuzaki Jin began, his voice a little deeper than usual, ultimately saying only, "You've been testing him for the first two rounds. You've tested him enough."

Fuji didn't reply, but his gaze remained fixed on Fuji.

"Don't get fixated on specific techniques. Pay attention to the spin variations in his serves, don't try to match power with him, and focus on varying the placement of his shots. His spin is strong, so try to avoid his strengths."

"Hmm." Fuji nodded, a faint smile still on his lips, but his eyes darkened. "His preparations were more thorough than mine."

"It's true that he completely analyzed those two of your moves." Long Qijin nodded, not denying the statement. "But analyzing them presupposes that he did his homework. Doing your homework creates path dependence. He got used to the rhythm and style of your play in those two games. You also figured out his stride, his return habits, and his backhand starting method."

Fuji unscrewed the cap of the sports drink, took a sip, swallowed, and then screwed the cap back on: "Hmm."

"It's time to pick up the pace now." Long Qijin leaned forward, lowering his voice so only the two of them could hear, "It's time to bring out those things you've been hiding. He's not someone you can wear down with ordinary tactics."

"You can only play if you control the rhythm. In the first two sets, you were following his lead, but his pace was half a beat faster than yours, so you were trying to catch up with his rhythm. If you want to win the third set, you have to let him catch up with you first."

As she spoke, she gestured towards the court: "The next game is your serve. Don't let him guess where you're going to hit when he's receiving the serve."

Fuji listened, remaining silent for two seconds. He nodded, a something in his eyes that was hard to pinpoint—whether it was seriousness or something else—and he seemed a little more somber than before.

He usually drags out his service games to at least ten minutes, using long rallies to wear down his opponent's patience, waiting for them to show a weakness before scoring.

But today is different.

Today, the opponent didn't give him a chance to grind it out. Every point was pushed forward from the very first shot, so fast that he didn't have time to adjust the angle of his racket, so fast that before he could fully get into his rhythm, the game was over.

If they continue playing at the same pace, the third game will be in jeopardy.

In the next game, he needs a new variable. A variable that his opponent won't have time to dismantle within four balls.

Only then can you break the opponent's rhythm.

On the other side, Shinobu also walked back to the rest area. Hearing someone call his name from the stands, he didn't turn around, but just raised his racket as a response. He unscrewed the cap of the sports drink that Mochizuki Ryo handed him and took a sip.

The cool liquid slid down my throat, suppressing the burning sensation.

He wiped his face with a towel and looked up at the Seigaku rest area across the street. Fuji was standing next to Ryuzaki Jin, the two talking a short distance apart. The boy had his back to him, his shoulders were steady, and he showed no signs of panic.

Shinobu raised an eyebrow.

He's quite composed.

He looked away and tugged at the elastic band of his wristband. He had played well in the last two games, even quite well. He controlled the rhythm, suppressing Fuji and preventing him from playing freely; every point was within his expectations. But as he walked back to the rest area, a thought popped into his head.

Everything went too smoothly.

He won two games in a row without losing a single point. This kind of smooth sailing is a good thing in a normal match, but against a player like Fuji Syusuke, such a rapid rise in the score made him feel uneasy.

This genius from Seigaku is not one to give up easily.

People like Fuji Syusuke don't reveal their cards. Just when you think he only has three cards, he actually has a fourth one in his pocket.

We still need to be careful.

Wang Yueling sat in the coach's chair, slowly grinding her thumb across the base of the crystal trophy.

"The most talented of all."

A voice came from the side, drawn out with the lazy tone characteristic of the Kansai dialect. Shinobu stood next to him to change his racket, muttering to himself as he adjusted his grip tape.

Wang Yueling looked up, meeting his gaze. Her voice was low, with a slight rise at the end: "Do you want to take it back?"

Shinobu tightened the grip tape on the racket handle by half a turn, then patted the racket twice: "Since you've already engraved it, of course I want to take it back."

Wang Yueling smiled and placed the trophy back on the coach's chair: "I spent almost forty minutes carving this line of text."

Shinobu knew that his opponent wanted him to win the game within forty minutes.

"If I don't get it, wouldn't you have wasted forty minutes of your time and a wreath for nothing?"

"The wreath was sent by Keigo; I'll make sure you regret it."

Mochizuki Ryou smiled and moved the crystal trophy beside her two inches to the side. Sunlight cut in from a new angle, and the trophy's brilliance flickered before landing on where Shinobu was standing.

Shinobu withdrew his gaze, turned and walked back to the baseline, adjusting his glasses. The moment he stood still, the corners of his mouth curled up slightly, a small gesture, but one that conveyed a sense of absolute confidence.

Third set, ready to begin.

A gust of wind blew in from the east of the stadium, swirling a few leaflets that had fallen from the stands overhead. The referee's whistle, mingled with the wind, acted like a taut string, drawing everyone's attention back to the center of the field.

Two boys stand at opposite ends of the baseline.

One is looking for answers.

One is waiting for the next question.

……

The competition has officially begun.

Fuji stood behind the service line, about half a meter further back than in the previous two games, and his center of gravity was also lower. He twirled the ball twice between his fingertips, looked up at Oshitari opposite him, and a smile curved his lips.

"Oshitari-kun, you'd better watch this ball carefully."

As soon as he finished speaking, Fuji Syusuke changed his rhythm. After he released his grip, the ball hovered below his palm for an extremely short moment. This pause was so short that it was almost imperceptible to the naked eye, but for the muscle memory honed through professional training, this delay of a fraction of a second was enough to alter the nature of the serve.

After the ball landed in the right position, Fuji leaned back slightly, raising his right arm from behind like a bird spreading its wings. He swung the racket cleanly, slicing the ball to the lower side and then sharply inward at the moment of contact. The angle at which the racket face brushed the ball was almost fifteen degrees different from a standard serve.

His movements were as light as brushing a feather.

The sound is different the moment the racket contacts the ball. It's not a crisp "thud," but more like a "snap," as a slight friction occurs between the ball's surface and the racket strings.

The ball flew out.

Initially, the trajectory was no different from a normal serve. The initial velocity was not high, the arc was not high, and the line of the ball landing in the service area was also normal.

A spectator in the front row blurted out, "Why is this ball so soft?"

No one was optimistic about Fuji's ordinary serve, but the moment the ball touched the plastic surface, its trajectory followed the sideline and shot forward rapidly.

Fuji stared intently at the ball flying over the net, his eyes sharp, and confidently declared, "This serve is going to disappear."

His voice was very soft, drifting away on the wind.

Marui, still chewing the same piece of gum, stood on the sidelines, but he didn't blow on it this time. He watched the ball fall through the air, clear the net, and land in Oshitari's half of the court...

Then it disappeared.

Marui's body jerked forward half an inch, his eyes widening. "Wait... where's the ball?"

At the same time, Shinobu tensed up the moment he took his stance, his eyes fixed on the ball darting left and right in the air, making a "thud" sound as it cut through the air. He prepared to counterattack with focused concentration, his arm swinging out of habit. But the ball seemed to be playing hide-and-seek with him; its trajectory appeared correct, but the moment it reached him, it vanished.

He swung his sword and missed.

The wind ruffled Fuji Syusuke's hair as he faced Oshitari across the court and whispered, "See, it's gone."

As Shinobu was still in the finishing swing position, the tennis ball appeared behind him and bounced away with a "bang".

This drew gasps of amazement from the entire audience.

"What?!"

"Where's the ball? What happened?"

"Did the ball just disappear for a moment?!"

"I didn't even see it clearly..."

Seigaku were also dumbfounded. The three first-year students from Seigaku were clinging to the railing, their eyes wide open and their mouths agape.

Horio rubbed his eyes, then rubbed them again, and muttered softly, "Really... Fuji-senpai's ball really disappeared, right?"

The other two nodded blankly and echoed, "Yeah, it's disappeared."

Inoue and Shiba Saori, standing near the Seigaku stands, stared wide-eyed, unable to close their mouths for a long time. Shiba Saori, her camera still in her hand, murmured, "What...what happened? How did the ball disappear?"

The Seigaku regulars were also quite surprised, because they had never seen Fuji hit this shot before. Oishi suddenly grabbed the railing and turned to ask Kikumaru next to him, "Eiji, have you ever seen this move before?" Kikumaru hadn't come to his senses yet, his mouth forming a silent "Wow," shaking his head, his eyes still fixed on the court, saying, "No... I've never seen him hit it before."

Momoshiro clenched his fist tightly: "Fuji-senpai was hiding this move! That's great, that's great! I knew he was prepared!"

Inui stood in the back row, his pen scribbling two lines quickly across the paper before stopping. He looked up, his gaze shifting from his notebook to Fuji's profile on the court, muttering under his breath, "...the vanished serve."

"After the ball lands, it changes direction, and its bounce trajectory after hitting the ground deviates from the normal angle by about 45 degrees. This change of direction requires extremely high wrist control, which cannot be achieved with a regular serve."

He closed his notebook, pushed up his glasses, the movement was very light, but his knuckles lingered a little longer on the edge of the frame.

Kaidou stood beside him, his brow twitching beneath his headscarf, and hissed, "...That ball looks a bit like a snake ball."

Qian glanced up at him briefly, then looked down again: "The principles are similar; both use spin to change the direction of the bounce after landing. But the change of direction in a snake shot occurs during flight, while this serve's change of direction occurs after landing. It's more difficult because the impact of landing interferes with the stability of the spin."

Ryoma Echizen looked at Fuji on the field, his hat brim pulled low, but his amber eyes beneath it remained fixed as he uttered, "Not bad, Fuji-senpai."

Long Qijin sat in the coach's chair, her hands clasped on her knees, her face expressionless. She stared at Fuji's back on the field for two seconds, something flashing in her eyes before she regained her composure.

"Good shot, Shusuke."

She said it so softly that only she could hear it.

In the center of the court, Fuji stood behind the service line, watching the ball stop at the bottom of the net, and slowly exhaled. When he served, he added a little more spin to his wrist than he had in practice. That extra bit made the ball's landing angle about five degrees greater than expected, and the bounce position was also slightly off.

I can hit the serve, but I can't maintain it.

He needs to finish the game within at least four points. Otherwise, his serve accuracy will drop.

He looked up at Shinobu across from him.

Shinobu remained in the position after his swing, racket held horizontally at his side, his entire body motionless for a moment, like a frozen image. His gaze was fixed on the ball resting at the bottom of the net, his expression obscured behind his glasses, but his shoulder line tightened for a fleeting moment before relaxing.

He retracted his racket, switched it from his right hand to his left, and then back again. His fingers gripped the handle tightly once more, and he looked up at Fuji.

That last goal wasn't entirely unjustified.

After all, he really didn't see the ball's trajectory after it landed.

They actually had a new trick up their sleeve.

This was something new and exciting for him.

"Oh?! Were the first two rounds just a test?"

He spoke in a low voice, a voice only he could hear. Then he held the racket back in front of him, adjusted his stance, and lowered his center of gravity by half a point: "Then let me see how it disappears again."

Fuji stood behind the baseline, gently flexing his right wrist with small, controlled movements. He didn't look in Shinobu's direction, seemingly focused on regulating his breathing.

Shinobu glanced in the direction of the coach's bench.

Wang Yueling sat in the coach's chair, his right index finger tapping lightly on his knee. When he saw Shinobu looking over, he didn't give any instructions, nor did his expression change. He just raised his eyebrows slightly, as if to say, "You decide what to do."

Shinobu turned his gaze back, his racket spinning gracefully around his wrist, the sunlight reflecting off it.

In the stands, Taro Sakaki had just gone backstage to handle a few things regarding the match arrangements. When he returned, the third inning had already begun. Sitting alone in the empty Hyotei stands, he noticed the referee hadn't quite caught up yet and spoke up to remind him.

"Referee. Inbounds."

The referee glanced back at him, checked with the linesman next to him, and announced the score loudly:

"ACE, Qingxue, 15-0."