[Ding!]

As Tokugawa conceded defeat, the system notification chimed.

[Player defeated boss-level opponent Tokugawa Kazuya. Earned 5,600 EXP.]

[Player acquired Tokugawa Kazuya's dropped skill: Photon Strike.]

Meanwhile, Tokugawa picked up his racket, gave Ishikawa one last glance, and walked away—his silhouette stark and solitary against the fading light.

"Alright," Ishikawa turned to Marui and Ōtsuka. "We should head back too."

"Huh?"

The two checked the time and froze.

6:40 PM.

Marui distinctly remembered it was 6:37 PM when he'd climbed into the referee's chair.

Which meant…

This grueling match had lasted only three minutes.

Was Tokugawa weak?

No.

Marui and Ōtsuka knew better. The problem wasn't the Court 1 leader's skill—it was that Ishikawa was just that strong.

At that moment, Ōtsuka finally understood the weight of Hirarin's parting words.

Nightfall — U-17 Training Camp

The compound buzzed with activity under bright floodlights. But with the top players' return and the ranking matches looming, the second-stringers kept a low profile—even the elite third-year players from the top courts.

Ten kilometers away, atop the cliff behind the camp, a bonfire crackled against the dark. Two figures sat beside it, discussing the day's training: Oni and Inui.

Since Ishikawa's departure, they'd pushed their limits daily. Tonight was no exception—they'd only wrapped up an hour ago.

But their efforts bore fruit. The relentless training deepened their connection to the [Path of Asura]. Their mental barriers were thinning; the "door" was within reach.

"One more week," Inui said, eyes gleaming. "That's all I need to break through."

"Time's not on our side," Oni muttered. "By my count, those guys are already back."

Inui stiffened.

Right.

Without him or Oni—especially Oni—there was nothing stopping Byōdōin from targeting Tokugawa.

"This is bad." Inui's voice turned grim. "If Byōdōin makes a move, Tokugawa won't stand a chance alone."

Technically, assaulting another player violated U-17 rules. But Inui knew better than to expect the coaches to rein in Byōdōin—not after the captain had openly mocked them as "second-rate instructors."

"We should go back," Inui urged.

"Unnecessary." Oni shook his head.

"You're not seriously hoping Byōdōin will play nice?"

"No." Oni poked the fire with a stick. "I'm saying Tokugawa doesn't need our protection anymore. Haven't we coddled him enough?"

Inui fell silent.

He recalled his own loss to Ishikawa—how effortlessly the rookie had dismantled him and Oni. What right did losers have to shield Tokugawa?

Oni was right. Tokugawa had outgrown their shelter. Overprotecting him would only stunt his growth.

Besides…

Inui had a hunch.

This ranking match might not unfold as they feared.

Next Morning — 8:00 AM

The entire camp gathered at Center Court.

On one side stood eighteen players adorned with gold badges—the first-string representatives, led by Byōdōin.

Opposite them, the second-stringers lined the台阶, eyes locked on their rivals.

"I'll go first."

A lanky teen in a white baseball cap stepped forward—his badge marked [No.20].

"It's Akiba Kōyou!"

Murmurs rippled through the second-string ranks.

As the lowest-ranked first-stringer, Akiba was their best chance at a win. Immediately, five or six players stepped forward—but one moved fastest.

"Akiba," declared a sharp-featured gray-haired player, "you're mine."

"Ishimaru?" Akiba raised a brow. "I thought you were gunning for the top ten. Slumming it with No.20 now?"

"The top ten's a pipe dream." Ishimaru smirked. "I just want that overseas expedition slot."

"Overseas, huh?" Akiba's grin turned razor-thin. "Prove you're worthy of it, then."

After the coin toss, the referee announced:

"Ranking Match #1 — First String No.20 Akiba Kōyou (3rd Year) vs. Second String Court 1 Representative Ishimaru Mikito!"

"Best of three sets. First set — Ishimaru to serve!"

The Match Begins

Ishimaru struck instantly—a [Quick Serve], designed to catch opponents off-guard.

Thwack!

The ball bulleted past before most spectators registered the motion.

Whispers spread. Ishimaru wasn't called the "Tennis Assassin" for nothing. His unpredictable style made him Court 1's wild card.

Yet Akiba barely flinched.

Crack!

He returned the serve with casual ease. "This is all you've improved?"

Ishimaru retaliated with a flurry of spins and slices—but Akiba dismantled each technique effortlessly.

6-2.

First set: Akiba.

Second Set

Ishimaru unleashed his full arsenal.

It didn't matter.

Akiba's defense was impenetrable. Every attack fizzled out; every strategy crumbled.

Bang!

A final smash sealed the match.

"Second set: Akiba wins, 6-1!"

"Match result: First String No.20 Akiba Kōyou defeats Ishimaru Mikito, 6-2, 6-1!"

Gasping for breath, Ishimaru stared in disbelief.

"H-How…?"

Just a month ago, they'd been evenly matched. How had Akiba grown this much in weeks?

"Surprised?" Akiba adjusted his cap. "This is what real competition does. You'll never understand—not stuck here in this cage."

With that, he walked off—leaving the second-stringers to grapple with the chasm between them and the first string.