Thud.

Under the stunned gazes of the crowd, Park Geon-soo—tall, muscular, and moments ago brimming with confidence—locked eyes with Tokugawa one last time before collapsing face-first onto the court.

"Huh?!"

Silence.

The spectators and Korean team members froze.

"G-Geon-soo...?"

The lower-ranked Korean players panicked, while Lee Seung-bok and Kim Tae-woo, their top two, exchanged grim looks.

Unthinkable.

Their power specialist had been utterly crushed in his own domain.

Their eyes snapped back to the slender figure now fully visible through the settling dust—Tokugawa.

This Japanese player... was strong.

"P-Park Geon-soo?!"

The umpire leaned forward, voice tense. "Are you... alright?"

No response.

"Damn it."

The Korean team's stomachs dropped. A forfeit here, on live TV, would be a national humiliation.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Heads turned as Coach Park Dong-gun strode onto the court.

"Poor Coach Park," someone muttered. "He trained Geon-soo personally. This must be devastating."

But then—

Splash!

Park Dong-gun upended a water bottle onto his son's face.

"Wake up, brat," he hissed. "If you want to sleep, do it after the match. Right now, you finish this."

The Korean team collectively flinched.

This harsh? To his own son? On national television?

Clang!

The empty bottle sailed into a trash bin. Park Dong-gun returned to his seat without another glance.

"Impressive," Ishikawa mused from Japan's bench. "Using his son as a warning to the others. Ruthless."

Click-click-click!

Cameras zoomed in on Park Dong-gun's stony expression.

"This," commentator Kim Gun-yoon intoned solemnly, "is how Korea's national coach operates. No exceptions. No mercy."

The broadcast audience nodded—anger momentarily soothed by this display of discipline.

"Cough... cough..."

Park Geon-soo stirred. His physique had absorbed the worst of the impact; consciousness returned quickly.

"Tokugawa Kazuya!"

No more arrogance. Only wariness. He adjusted his stance—defensive now.

The match resumed.

A calmer Park managed to steal a few points, even clinching one game.

But the first set ended 6-1 for Tokugawa.

By the second set, Park's stamina crumbled—his earlier power surges exacting their price.

6-0.

A shutout.

"Game, set, match!" The umpire exhaled. "Japan's Tokugawa Kazuya wins 6-1, 6-0!"

Post-Match:

Japan's side nodded in quiet approval.

Korea's? Park Geon-soo slunk into the shadows while his father's scowl deepened.

Gulp.

The next Korean doubles pair swallowed hard.

If the coach's son got no leniency... losing wasn't an option.

"Doubles 2 commencing!"

"Korea: Jung Eun-hyuk (3rd year), Yoon Seung-hyun (3rd year) vs. Japan: Ryouma (3rd year), Ryouga (3rd year)!"

"Players, prepare!"

"What?!"

Park Dong-gun's pulse spiked.

The twins?!

In his intel, the Ryouma-Ryouga duo had a near-perfect record. He'd expected them in Doubles 1!

His current pair—Korea's No. 6 and 7—were versatile but outmatched. A sacrificial move in his "lower-tier vs. upper-tier" strategy.

Yet after losing the first match, this gamble felt dire.

First Set:

The Koreans exploded off the blocks, disrupting the twins' rhythm with aggressive plays.

"First set to Korea, 6-4!"

The stadium erupted.

Thousands roared—Japan finally feeling the host nation's pressure.

"Perfect." Park Dong-gun nodded. "Deny them momentum. Choke them out."

His players grinned. That first-set win had reignited their confidence.

Physically, Korea's No. 6/7 were superior to Japan's No. 15/16.

But then—

Second Set:

The twins shifted tactics.

Their synergy—previously restrained—uncoiled like twin vipers.

Park Dong-gun burned all three timeouts, each masterfully timed to disrupt Japan's surges.

"Brilliant!" Kim Gun-yoon praised on-air. "Coach Park's control is absolute. This match is ours."

He smirked. "Japan's 'coach' might as well be a spectator. No comparison to a real tactician."

The camera cut to Ishikawa—just as he snapped his fingers, smiling faintly.

"Huh?" The host blinked. "What does that gesture mean?"

"Nothing," Kim scoffed. "Unless he intervenes properly, this outcome is locked."

Amateur.

But then—

The twins relaxed.

"Finally," Ryouma sighed. "Our new boss really makes us work for it."

"Seriously," Ryouga groaned. "Holding back against these guys? Painful."

"Hey!" Jung Eun-hyuk barked. "You done stalling?"

"Oh?" Yoon Seung-hyun sneered. "Ready to quit already?"

The twins grinned.

"Wish granted."

Hummm!

White light erupted. Their bodies levitated, auras intertwining into a single entity.

"That's—?!"

Park Dong-gun and Kim Gun-yoon paled.

"S-Synergy!" Kim choked out. "And not just basic... Stage Two!"

The Three Stages of Synergy:

Awakening – Initial synchronization. Harmonization – Deeper fusion, shared instincts. Oneness – Legendary unity; rare even among pros.

Most pro doubles teams stop at Stage One.

Stage Two? Only the elite.

And the twins?

Brutal.

Six minutes.

That's all it took to claim the second set 6-3.

The third set?

A 6-0 massacre.

"Match to Japan!" The umpire gaped. "4-6, 6-3, 6-0!"

Thud! Thud!

The Koreans crumpled, exhausted.

The twins walked off—cool as ever.

"That..." A Korean doubles specialist trembled. "That was their real level?"

Lee Seung-bok's gaze sharpened.

Stage Two Synergy.

And then—his focus shifted to Japan's bench.

To that snap.

"Just who is he?"

The dismissed rumor resurfaced in his mind:

Did this kid really defeat Byoudouin Houou?!