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

The referee looked at both sides and, after confirming that everyone was ready, raised his hand.

Fuji stood about half a meter further back than the previous few balls. Someone in the front row noticed this change and whispered something to the person next to them.

The fifth ball has been scored.

Fuji raised his arm, his wrist rotating inward faster than the previous four balls. The moment the racket face sliced ​​through the ball, he felt that familiar, slight tremor that traveled from the base of his wrist to his palm.

That's the feedback that occurs when the friction between the ball and the racket strings reaches a certain peak.

"boom--"

The ball flew out.

It was very fast. But the trajectory was very low, almost grazing the net when it went over it.

Shinobu kept his eyes fixed on the ball, without backing down.

Instead, he stepped forward to face the direction the ball bounced after landing. He extended the racket face a little earlier than before, flicked his wrist, and returned the ball directly to the air.

"boom--"

He caught the ball and immediately "cut" it back.

The ball went over the net and landed in the backhand corner of Fuji's hand.

Fuji reacted quickly and chased after him, but the angle of his return shot was difficult and the quality was not high, landing in the front court of Shinobu's backhand side.

Renji lunged forward, extending his racket face to its lowest point to lift the ball.

He returned an unexpected "short ball".

The ball landed, bounced, and hit the net behind Fuji.

"40-30."

The referee's voice, announcing the score, fell clearly in the wind.

Someone in the stands shouted excitedly, "So cool!" Then someone next to him clapped, and after a few scattered claps, it stopped again.

Shinobu stood on the court, adjusted his slipping glasses, and looked down at his racket face. The previous shot, because of that step forward, had shifted the angle of his racket face by about four degrees, preventing the ball from landing where he wanted.

The quality of his return shot was half a level lower than he had expected.

But it doesn't matter.

He caught it.

That's enough... at least for now.

He looked up at the opposite side. Fuji stood behind the baseline, racket face down, his breathing slightly faster than before.

Not obvious.

It seems that... that serve requires a high degree of precision, and by the fourth ball, the opponent's wrist had already started to feel fatigued.

Wow, that's a really good trend.

Oshitari hummed a cheerful tune, smoothed his messy hair behind his back, and leisurely walked back to his receiving position, lowering his center of gravity again to wait for the next ball.

Compared to his good mood, Fuji Syusuke on the opposing team wasn't in such a good mood in the second half.

The serve was broken again.

Moreover, the accuracy of his shot had decreased. Although not by much, it was enough for Shinobu to seize that momentary deviation and return the ball.

The serve with a double change of direction puts a lot of strain on the wrist flexor tendon, and after playing several volleys in a row, the wrist will start to lose accuracy. If the same serve is continued, Shinobu's response will become more and more stable, while his own accuracy will continue to decline.

He glanced at the scoreboard.

40-30. Just one more point and we'll win this game.

Can't delay any longer.

He looked away, adjusted his breathing, and focused his attention back on the ball at his fingertips, then rotated it inward and released it.

Another "disappearing serve".

The ball reached a higher height than ever before. It also remained suspended in the air for a considerable time, long enough that even the front-row spectators were tilting their heads back slightly. Fuji's body leaned back as the ball rose, his right arm rising from behind, his wrist making a deft twist before striking the ball.

The ball's spin was pushed to the highest level among today's five serves.

Shinobu stood behind the baseline, making his judgment.

The ball's initial trajectory was not significantly different from the previous balls, but its flight speed was slightly faster. This likely means that the spin intensity has also changed.

The instant the ball touched the ground, he saw the fluff on the surface of the ball spin and form a very small deflection angle, and after bouncing, its direction in the air changed to the left.

Once he determined the direction, Shinobu immediately gave chase. He took a large step to the side and met the attacker head-on.

The ball was hit back, cleared the net, but went slightly off course, landing about a foot outside the opposite service line. Fuji took two steps forward, intercepted the ball before it hit the ground, and sliced ​​it with a backhand, sending the ball back to the front area of ​​Oshitari's half of the court.

Oshitari caught up with them.

The two players exchanged a short shot at the net.

Between the back and forth of the ball, Fuji didn't use his full strength during the serve, conserving his energy for the subsequent net play, and his footwork was lighter than before. Shinobu's footwork was also steady; he took a step back and then half a step forward to meet the ball, pressing the bottom edge of the ball with his racket face to send it back to near the baseline in Fuji's half of the court.

The two players spread out and started shooting stalemates again.

The ball flew back and forth on both sides of the court more than ten times, with its speed and spin remaining at a relatively stable level. No one deliberately added power to score.

But anyone can notice if they pay attention...

After the third shot, Shinobu's footwork began to shift slightly forward, and with each return, he took a small step forward more than before. Fuji's stance, on the other hand, began to gradually retreat after the sixth shot, and with each return, he stepped back a little more than before.

The space is shrinking.

On the twelfth shot, Shinobu hit a deep shot down the middle, landing slightly behind the center line with a low bounce. When Fuji received the shot, his center of gravity was already slightly back, and he didn't generate full acceleration during his swing. The return shot was too high, and when it bounced over the net, it was within Shinobu's volley range.

Shinobu rushed up and used his racket face to send the ball back to the sideline of Fuji's half of the court. However, he flicked the ball a little too deep, and the ball floated in the air, neither too high nor too low, before landing near the mid-court after crossing the net.

This gave Fuji space to jump and spike.

Fuji took a half step back, then jumped up and smashed the ball...

Shinobu rushed forward, his back to the basket, and the instant his racket face caught the ball, he executed an extremely fast wrist flick. After the ball was deflected by "Brown Bear in the Net," it flew back with a side spin, its trajectory very low, sliding along the net for a distance before landing in the inside corner of the front court sideline.

Before Fuji could fully regain his balance after landing, he took a half-step forward, his racket outstretched...

The slap only reached the air.

"boom--"

The ball goes over the net and lands.

"Deuce."

After the referee announced the score, there were a few gasps from the stands.

Momoshiro's clenched fist hadn't yet loosened, and the smile on his face froze for a moment: "...You took this point back with you?"

Kikumaru was silent for half a second, then continued shouting, "It's okay! Fuji only needs to win one more point to hold his serve."

……

At the same time, Hyotei's cheering squad went wild. Golden fans surged, mingling with whistles and stomping, the sound of the entire stadium rising from the bottom.

"Hyotei! Hyotei!! Hyotei!!! Oshitari! Oshitari!"

Shishido clapped his hands, the palms hitting each other with a muffled thud. Feng, standing beside him, also clapped a few times, not with much force, but with a steady rhythm.

Kirihara squatted on the steps, his hands supporting his knees, staring intently at the ball that had stopped on the field. He looked up at Liu, his mouth agape for a long time.

"Shinobu-senpai accepted it."

Liu's pen hovered on the paper for about three seconds. Then he wrote a line down, his handwriting slightly more illegible than usual.

[The serve disappeared; the fifth ball was received. Receiving method: delayed judgment, quick reaction after landing. System rebuild completion time: four balls.]

Marui blew a bubble halfway and then sucked it back in, twirling the candy on his tongue: "He didn't just catch it. He went so far as to retaliate with a move Fuji knew well."

When exactly did he learn the "brown bear trap" technique?

"What do you mean by 'what' and when did he learn it?" Marui chewed his gum a couple more times. "He was practicing during the training camp. He even used Atobe's spikes as his sparring partner, practicing hundreds of times. That move just now was definitely a muscle reaction developed through practice, not something he learned on the spot."

Liu's fingertip hovered over a certain page: "Renji's 'Brown Bear in the Net' shot just now had its power deflection angle slightly adjusted by about eight degrees. After the adjustment, the return ball landed further towards the forecourt sideline than the original, compressing the opponent's reaction window. This adjustment wasn't an impromptu change; it was optimized during training."

Ren-ou turned his head, glanced at Liu, and smirked: "Ren-er, you've already memorized how many degrees the deflection angle was adjusted?"

"The value of data lies in its accuracy."

"Okay, okay, you're amazing."

Sanada stood at the front, his gaze never leaving Oshitari on the court. He was silent for a moment, then suddenly spoke: "Oshitari's return of the serve just now wasn't based on his eyes tracking the ball."

Yukimura turned his head to look at him.

"He truly saw through Fuji's serve," Sanada said in a deep voice. "After the ball landed, he judged the direction and force of the spin, and headed towards that landing point before the ball changed direction."

Yukimura didn't reply, but the admiration for his childhood friend was unmistakable in his eyes. He glanced down at Luna in his arms; the kitten was following the yellow ball rolling around on the field with its round, heterochromatic eyes.

The tip of its tail lightly brushed against his wrist twice.

"Did you understand?" Yukimura asked it softly.

Luna meowed back, tilted its head, and looked back at the field. Yukimura figured it probably didn't understand, but that didn't matter. He rubbed its little ears with his fingertips.

Atobe leaned back in his chair, legs crossed, his posture relaxed yet not slouching. He had clearly seen that "brown bear in the net" shot just now; Shinobu's power generation pattern was exactly the same as during their practice the day before yesterday, from the angle of power release to the landing point of the return shot, it was exactly the same.

He turned his head slightly and glanced towards the coaching bench. Wang Yueling was still in the same position, his left hand resting on the armrest, his index and middle fingers tapped together very lightly, then stopped.

Atobe withdrew his gaze and gave a soft hum.

They put on quite a convincing act.

On the sidelines, Shinobu stood still, glancing down at his racket face. His judgment, acceleration, and accuracy in that last shot were all perfectly timed, leaving Fuji no chance to retaliate.

He raised his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead with his wristband, then looked up at Fuji opposite him.

Fuji stood behind the baseline, his breathing slightly faster than before. His expression remained unchanged, but he shifted the position of his grip on the racket.

"That's about the limit," Shinobu said in a low voice.

This statement is neither a mockery of the opponent nor a boast; it's simply an observation. Fuji's serve has already passed its peak accuracy; using it further will lead to a continuous decline in the control over variables.

His data system is already complete.

From now on, the ball will no longer be led around.

Fuji lowered his eyes and walked to the service line, adjusting his breathing to return to normal. He hadn't fully controlled the rhythm of those long rallies, and Shinobu's footwork had also moved forward, compressing his hitting space, making him hesitant to hit the ball.

He looked away and pulled a new tennis ball from his pocket. He rubbed the ball's fuzz between his fingertips, making a soft, rustling sound in the dry air.

A clean swing, and the serve.

He maintained the same starting posture as before. The height, the angle of his backward lean...

But at the moment he touched the ball, his wrist made a completely different change than before.

The ball bounced along a perfectly normal trajectory after landing, straight and without any sudden movement. It landed right in the center of the service line, a standard serve that couldn't be more perfect.

No change of direction!!!

When Shinobu saw that the ball was not changing direction, his center of gravity had already shifted.

He readjusted his footwork as fast as he could and chased after the ball, but by the time he extended his racket, it was already a fraction of a second too late. The ball grazed the edge of the racket frame and flew out, landing within the bounds.

"Game, Qingxue. The game score is 2-1."

As the referee's announcement faded, Fuji stood on the service line, switched his racket from his right hand to his left and back again, and loosened his wrist joints. He had used all his strength on that last shot, and the soreness in his wrist flexor tendons was noticeable, but still within a controllable range.

The stadium erupted in cheers that Seigaku had been holding back for so long, their voices carrying a hint of relief after surviving a close call.

Momoshiro let out a long, hard sigh, slamming his fist against the railing with a loud thud. "See that?! Fuji-senpai hasn't even used his full strength yet! They think it's over in two rounds? This is nothing!"

He had a loud voice, which drew the attention of everyone around him.

Kikumaru also let out a shout of "Yeah!", his red curly hair swaying. He patted his chest and let out a long sigh: "That scared me to death, that scared me to death... I thought we were going to lose on that last ball."

Oishi let out a long breath, looking a bit more relaxed. He patted Horio on the shoulder beside him, his tone tinged with relief, "Great, you've stabilized, Fuji's serve has held."

Inui adjusted his glasses, his pen moving rapidly across the notebook, but his brow remained furrowed. "The serve win rate is 42%. Much lower than expected. Moreover, this serve demands extremely high wrist strength, and continued use will affect subsequent baseline rallies."

Ryoma Echizen reclined on his chair, pulled down the brim of his hat, and stared at Fuji's back on the field with his amber eyes, his lips twitching slightly.

"It's still a long way off."

Ryuzaki Jin stood by the coach's bench, her arms still crossed, but her expression had softened considerably. She looked at Fuji in the center of the court and nodded slightly.

Finally, we managed to get the pace back a bit.

……

Fuji stood in the center of the arena, slightly out of breath, and raised his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

He made subtle adjustments to all the spins of his serves, with different offsets each time, making it impossible for Shinobu to figure out the pattern.

But the other party was too perceptive.

He can only win by surprise.

I used a standard serve without any change of direction to break through Oshitari's anticipation system. This shot wasn't about technique, it was about timing...

bet.

Shinobu's judgment system was used to the setting that "the ball will only change direction after landing," so when the ball actually did not change direction after landing, his system became biased.

The result was obvious: he succeeded.

Fuji closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again, gripping his racket tightly. A tingling sensation spread through his fingertips; the spin from the previous few shots had taken a toll on his wrists more than he'd anticipated. He gently rotated his wrist to ease the tension, then repositioned himself for receiving serves. He brought his breathing and heartbeat back to a steady rhythm.

They didn't relax just because they won a game, and prepared to receive their opponent's serve.

He knew that this tactic could only be used to surprise people and couldn't be used a second time.

He needs to redesign the rhythm.

The wind blew in from the sidelines of the field, carrying the burnt smell of the sun-dried plastic and the fresh, green scent of withered leaves in the distance.

On the opposite half of the court, Shinobu stood in front of the service line, his fingertips stroking the fuzz on the ball's surface, and remained silent for a few seconds.

I mentally retraced the ball's trajectory, and I'd already gotten pretty much there.

He looked up, his gaze sweeping across the net, past Fuji's shoulder, and down to the coaching bench. Mochizuki Ryo was resting his elbow on his knee, his chin on the back of his hand, looking down at his fingers as if checking his nails, completely oblivious to the commotion on the court.

Shinobu withdrew his gaze, adjusted the racket strings, hooked his thumb on the middle vertical line and flicked it, a faint smile playing on his lips.

He wasn't flustered at all after losing a game.

When he looked up again, the usual lazy smile was still on his lips, but the look in his eyes was colder than before.

"Wow, that's an interesting serve, Fuji-kun." Shinobu's voice drifted on the wind, his tone as casual as if he were praising a cat on the street for being cute. "The second game was a bit boring, but this one is finally getting interesting."

He paused, then gently twirled the yellow tennis ball in his hand with his fingertips. The ball spun into a small yellow circle in the sunlight, and his smile deepened.

"Unfortunately, it won't work next time."

The wind carried those words to Fuji's ears. He stood behind the baseline, his face down, neither responding nor looking away. He saw the faint smile on Shinobu's lips…

The fourth game.

The referee's whistle blew.