Thwack!

Bang!

Thwack!

The crisp sound of tennis balls echoed across the Ice Tennis Club grounds. Even though classes were in session, heads turned toward the courts.

"Someone's playing a match now?"

In Class 3-A, a boy sitting by the window gaped in shock. But when he recognized the figure on the court, his eyes widened. "Vice-Captain?!"

"Suzuki!"

The middle-aged teacher at the front—parted hair, square glasses—glared. "What are you muttering about?"

Normally, Suzuki would've shrunk back. But this time, he turned to Atobe. "Captain! Vice-Captain Ishikawa is back!"

The teacher's frown deepened. "With your entrance exams just—

His scolding died in his throat.

Atobe had already risen from his seat and strode to the window. His ocean-blue eyes sharpened as he took in the two figures battling below.

"So, he's finally back."

Even from this distance, Atobe could sense it—an aura unlike anything before.

He's gotten stronger.

Atobe's pupils flickered.

Meanwhile, students from Classes C, D, H—even first and second-years—leaned out their windows, drawn to the match.

The teacher sighed in exasperation—until the bell rang, saving him.

Within seconds, the entire tennis team (minus Atobe) bolted for the courts.

"It is the vice-captain!" Oshitari grinned as they reached the gates, spotting Ishikawa locked in a fierce rally with Akutsu.

"About time," Mukahi added.

It had been a month since Ishikawa left for the U-17 camp. Without his relentless presence, the club had felt… incomplete.

From April till now, this first-year had quietly become Ice's core—surpassing even Atobe. Coach Sakaki and Atobe themselves had unofficially named him next in line for captain.

Now, their soul was back.

Even with no major tournaments left, the team breathed easier.

Thwack!

Bang!

Thwack!

But as they neared, the sheer force behind each shot wiped the smiles off their faces.

"This level…" Oshitari and Mukahi exchanged grim looks.

The pressure radiating from the court was suffocating. The speed? Unreal.

Akutsu—a beast relying purely on instinct—moved like a panther, his steps a blur, leaving afterimages in his wake.

Bam!

He caught the ball mid-flight and slammed it forward.

Hiss—

The ball streaked across the court, trailing a dark aura.

"Deep-level power?!"

Oshitari's jaw dropped.

In just a month, Akutsu had mastered it to this extent?

After Ishikawa left, Akutsu had barely trained. Coach Sakaki had given up nagging him. Everyone assumed he'd plateaued.

But now…

They realized how wrong they'd been.

Thwack!

Yet Ishikawa returned the shot effortlessly.

"Senpai," he called, amused. "Surely you've improved more than this?"

Akutsu's lips curled.

A dark, oppressive energy erupted from him—condensing into a regal, obsidian cloak that draped over his frame. His presence turned feral.

"Tyrant Mode!"

Shishido and Mukahi recoiled.

During Nationals, this form had crushed Seigaku's Sanada—the "Emperor" himself—without mercy.

And now?

It was even stronger.

Fwoosh!

Akutsu lunged.

His movement was so fast, his afterimage lingered like a fading shadow.

"Too fast!" Shishido's throat went dry. Even his Limit Break couldn't match half that speed.

BOOM!

Akutsu's racket connected.

The ball rocketed toward Ishikawa like a black comet, trailing dark flames—a direct challenge.

Everyone held their breath.

Oshitari expected Ishikawa to counter with Shishin Engi—his Four Gods technique.

Thwack!

Instead…

A casual flick of the wrist.

The "comet" bounced harmlessly back.

"…Huh?!"

Silence.

Even Akutsu froze.

"He… just returned it?!"

Up in the faculty office, Sakaki smirked. "A month at U-17 has honed him further."

If anyone could rein in Akutsu, it wasn't him or Atobe—it was this first-year prodigy.

Because taming a beast required strength, not seniority.

"You—!"

Akutsu's grip tightened.

Ishikawa had dismantled his attack like swatting a fly. It infuriated him—but also left him speechless.

Step!

Akutsu vanished again.

This time, his gray eyes gleamed with something darker.

RUMBLE.

A bloodthirsty aura exploded outward.

Shishido shuddered. "That pressure… It crushed Sanada's Emperor aura at Nationals."

Even Hyoutei's genius, Fuji, had folded under it.

But Ishikawa?

Unfazed.

Calm as still water.

"RAAAAH!"

Akutsu's strike sent dust geysering into the air, obscuring half the court.

"What kind of power—?!"

The first-years trembled. Facing that shot head-on would've sent them fleeing.

Yet Ishikawa just…

Tap.

The racket met the ball—and the violent momentum died.

No explosion. No recoil.

Just… silence.

Like a wild beast tamed mid-pounce.

"Not bad," Ishikawa mused, like a teacher grading homework. "Power's solid, but spin needs work. Slacking off, senpai?"

Zip!

His return shot was a blur.

But instead of raging, Akutsu smirked.

"I was saving this for our rematch. But I guess… I underestimated you."

A hush fell.

Something was coming.

Flick.

Akutsu raised his racket—

And three spectral afterimages materialized behind him.

"Four Akutsus?!"

Even Atobe and Sakaki stiffened.

This wasn't an illusion.

Four real stances.

Four real attack angles.

If all four struck at once, the opponent would have to predict four trajectories simultaneously.

Whoosh!

The images merged.

Akutsu's swing was a black flash.

The ball vanished.

"Oh?"

Ishikawa's brow rose.

Akutsu was conscious during this?

"Tyrant Mode… Muga no Kyouchi?"

So he'd trained his mind to tap into deeper consciousness without losing himself.

Impressive.

But four afterimages?

Child's play.

Swish!

Without activating Ken'i or Muga, Ishikawa intercepted the ball with pure skill.

Thud!

His swing was deceptively simple—yet the ball screamed back, a crimson streak.

Akutsu barely tracked it.

Step!

Step!

Tyrant Mode flared.

This time—five afterimages split from him.

His limit. Any more would break his body.

"F-five?!"

Shishido's nails dug into his palms.

When had Akutsu reached this level?

Atobe's expression darkened.

Five simultaneous attack vectors.

CRACK!

Akutsu's racket connected—

And shattered.

The ball drilled into the court, shaking the ground—before bouncing innocently away.

"How?!" Mukahi gasped. "That swing… shouldn't have that much force!"

It defied physics.

Unless…

Oshitari's eyes widened. "Is this… the pinnacle of ancient martial arts?

'Light as a Feather, Heavy as a Mountain'?!"

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