King of Tennis (POT)

Evening.

At the hotel where Japan's U-17 expedition team was staying, Ishikawa went door to door as promised, notifying everyone to gather for dinner.

For him, the most important thing while traveling was ensuring the players' physical condition. To guarantee everyone arrived on time, he had to enforce a strict meal schedule.

Otherwise, if someone ate something questionable and got sick, it would disrupt his plans.

Some might think he was being too controlling, but to strategist Mitsuya, Ishikawa's approach was undoubtedly correct.

He couldn't help but feel relieved—if not for Ishikawa's authority, who knew what kind of trouble these unruly players might cause?

After dinner, Ishikawa ordered everyone back to their rooms with a strict no-going-out policy. Once he confirmed no one had disobeyed, he returned to his own room.

Meanwhile, at the Korean U-17 training base…

Head coach Park Dong-geon received an intriguing report.

"So, Japan has a new captain?"

He smirked. "Changing leaders right before a match… What is Coach Mikuni thinking? Or do they believe Japan is already guaranteed a World Cup spot?"

"Well, no matter."

Park's eyes gleamed with ambition. "This is Korea's chance to shine!"

As head coach, he had long been criticized for his overly conservative strategies. But outsiders didn't understand—whether they ranked in the top 32, top 10, or even the Big Four, the result was the same: a World Cup qualification.

Park's philosophy was simple—secure the ticket with minimal losses.

But Japan's sudden leadership change presented the perfect opportunity to prove himself.

Tomorrow's exhibition match… I'll make sure we win decisively!

Nightfall. Deep in the mountains behind Japan's U-17 camp.

The defeated middle schoolers trudged through the dense forest. After scaling a steep cliff, they had fallen into a river when an old bridge collapsed beneath them.

Now, soaked and exhausted, they pressed on.

Two hours passed—still no sign of their destination. Some began to doubt whether Coach Saito had given them the wrong directions.

But turning back wasn't an option.

Silently, they marched another hour.

Just as exhaustion threatened to overwhelm them, they finally spotted the plateau Saito had described—perched precariously on the cliffside.

Gritting their teeth, they climbed up, only to find the area shrouded in thick mist.

"W-What's that?!"

Tohyama's sharp eyes caught movement in the fog. His face paled.

"A GHOST!!!"

His shriek sent chills down everyone's spines—especially Kaidō, who nearly bolted back down the mountain.

"Who's there?"

A voice cut through the mist.

The middle schoolers froze.

Bold as ever, Shishido stepped forward. As the fog thinned, he made out a blond pompadour.

"You?"

"These guys…" Ryōma muttered. "The high schoolers who failed to catch the balls earlier?"

A breeze scattered the mist further, revealing a group of high schoolers in white shirts and shorts—the very ones expelled from the main camp.

"Well, well." The blond sneered. "Look who got sent to the loser's corner too."

The middle schoolers' expressions darkened.

Losing to their teammates still stung.

"Tch." The high schooler—Sasabe Jun'ichi—grinned. "But since we got here first, you brats get the caves over there."

"Says who?" Shishido shot back. "U-17 rules don't care about 'first come, first served.'"

"Correct." Inui adjusted his glasses. "Priority goes to the stronger players."

The middle schoolers straightened, confidence radiating.

Sasabe's smirk faltered.

He could bully them with seniority, but in a real match? After witnessing what happened to the No. 8 court player earlier…

"What's wrong?" Shishido taunted. "Scared? Some high schoolers you are."

Tennis was about strength. And the middle schoolers were ready to prove theirs.

"Enough."

A deep voice boomed.

The high schoolers instantly parted, forming a path.

A towering, scarred redhead emerged from the shadows—Oni Jūzaburō.

"You're the middle schoolers?"

His gaze swept over them before locking onto Shishido.

"So you're the one who said strength decides everything?"

Shishido swallowed hard but held his ground.

"Damn right. And that's not just my opinion—it's U-17's law."

As Hyōtei's national-level player, Shishido wasn't one to back down. Today's match had been a deliberate loss to his partner, leaving him restless.

Now? This was his chance to vent—and establish the middle schoolers' dominance.

"Good."

Oni nodded approvingly. "Follow me."

He led them to the cliff's edge, where a battered, uneven court lay under torchlight.

"This…" Shishido hesitated.

"Problem?" Oni challenged.

"Hell no."

Shishido grabbed his racket and stepped onto the jagged terrain.

Then he noticed Oni's "racket"—a wooden frame with just two strings forming a cross.

"Well?" Oni growled. "Serve."

With a sharp exhale, Shishido tossed the ball—

BANG!

"Bullet Serve!"

The middle schoolers recognized it instantly. Even after a month, Shishido's signature shot hadn't dulled.

But the uneven ground sent the ball ricocheting wildly—

THWACK!

Oni's "racket" intercepted it effortlessly.

"Impossible!" Inui and Yanagi gasped.

In near darkness, on unstable footing, with a two-string racket—he'd returned an unpredictable bounce perfectly.

Shishido barely managed a super half-volley return, but the impact nearly wrenched his arm off.

"What kind of power…?!"

Each return grew heavier. Soon, sweat dripped from Shishido's brow.

I need to end this fast.

"HYAH!"

Blue light erupted around him—Limit Break!

His speed doubled as he lunged forward like a panther.

"Nice spirit." Oni's eyes glinted. "But not enough."

BOOM!

The next shot blasted Shishido off his feet—

"WATCH OUT!"

He skidded to a stop inches from the cliff's edge.

"YOU BASTARD!" Mukahi screamed. "YOU COULD'VE KILLED HIM!"

"Shh."

A cheerful voice interrupted.

A round-faced, bespectacled man smiled from the sidelines.

"Don't worry. Oni knows exactly how much force to use."

His grin turned ominous.

"But I'd keep quiet if I were you. You wouldn't want to wake Coach Mikuni."