The Truth Revealed

Sharama had figured it out.

His opponent's technique wasn't some advanced skill—it relied on tiny, barely noticeable pebbles scattered across the court.

A fast, straight serve would hit one of these pebbles, causing the ball to bounce unpredictably.

That was the secret behind his serves!

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Sharama narrowed his eyes at Ishikawa. "Is this guy another data-driven player, just like Kiran?"

A similar trick had been used by Kiran in his Singles 2 match.

The difference?

Sharama hadn't considered the possibility earlier. Now, it was clear—his opponent wasn't some prodigy. He had simply underestimated him.

"Hmph!"

With a cold smirk, Sharama locked onto Ishikawa with a sharp gaze.

BAM!

Another serve.

The ball rocketed past the net, landing precisely on the service line. But this time, Sharama spotted the small pebble lying in wait.

"Did you really think I'd fall for the same trick twice?"

TAP!

The ball struck the pebble, veering off-course—but Sharama, already anticipating it, smoothly adjusted his stance and smashed it back.

"He returned it!"

The Indian team erupted in cheers.

"So that's how it is."

Rohit, his dark skin glistening with sweat, frowned. "He's been cheating. His technique isn't as advanced as we thought."

"Mmm."

Kiran nodded, studying Ishikawa with newfound interest. A data player… just like me.

But then, his expression darkened.

"Too bad for him. Sharama isn't someone you can beat with just data."

BANG!

Ishikawa countered with a sharp topspin shot, forcing Sharama to scramble toward his backhand side. With the serve advantage and his environmental tricks, Ishikawa had the upper hand.

THUD THUD!

But Sharama's footwork was exceptional. He caught up effortlessly.

"Don't get cocky. I'm not some pushover."

Gripping his racket, Sharama's eyes gleamed. "Let me show you a move that defies data!"

SWOOSH!

His swing seemed to slow—yet multiplied into dozens of afterimages, like the arms of a thousand-handed deity.

"It's here!"

The Indian team buzzed with excitement.

"The captain's signature move—Snake Charmer!"

WHOOSH!

The afterimages came alive, lashing out like vipers.

CRACK!

The ball split into a swarm of black streaks, darting across the court like serpents hunting prey.

"This technique…?!"

The Japanese team stiffened.

A certain blond, white headband-wearing player came to mind.

"So…" Tokugawa murmured. "Byoudouin learned this during his travels?"

Rumors said Byoudouin had spent the past two years battling worldwide, honing his skills beyond imagination.

Perhaps his natural talent had always matched Oni's—but those battles had unlocked something monstrous.

Now, it made sense why the coaches had given him the No. 3 position.

SHHHHK—!

Meanwhile, the serpentine trajectories closed in on Ishikawa, swallowing him whole.

"Game over," Kiran said coolly. "Sharama's already half a step into the pro realm. No data can save him now."

Rohit nodded grimly.

Even his own stamina-focused playstyle would crumble against such overwhelming force.

"Still," the towering Bhatt mused, "forcing Sharama to use this… That's impressive."

But then—

SWISH!

A silver flash cut through the darkness.

"Wha—?!"

The Indian team froze.

Ishikawa's racket moved in slow motion—yet the serpentine afterimages slowed with it, as if time itself had warped.

BAM!

With a single stroke, he blasted the real ball back like a lightning strike.

BOOM BOOM BOOM!

The sound of thunder rolled across the court as the ball tore through Sharama's defenses.

"40-0!"

"You—!"

Sharama's face twisted in fury.

Not only had his ultimate move failed—his opponent had replicated it in seconds!

"No… He couldn't have learned it on the spot. He must've studied me beforehand!"

A data player's worst nightmare: being pre-analyzed.

Like Kiran, who'd lost to Tokugawa due to insufficient intel.

"Tch. Annoying."

Sharama's patience wore thin.

Data players were his least favorite opponents—always exploiting weaknesses.

"Fine. If that's how you want to play…"

He exhaled sharply, his demeanor shifting.

No more holding back. He'd crush this guy before he could adapt.

BAM!

Ishikawa's next shot came fast.

THUD THUD!

Sharama intercepted it with a vicious slice, the ball spinning like a crescent blade toward the corner.

"That speed…!"

Even among Japan's elites, only a few (like Mouri or Yukimura) could hope to return it.

But Ishikawa?

He glided across the court, reaching the ball a full step ahead of normal reaction time.

BAM!

Effortless.

Sharama's eyes narrowed.

He repeated the slice—harder, sharper.

WHOOSH!

Dust swirled as the ball skidded toward the opposite corner.

Yet again, Ishikawa was there.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

No matter how Sharama attacked, every shot was sent back with precision.

"His foresight is insane," Coach Vyas muttered. "I've never seen anyone read Sharama this easily."

"Is this all India's best has?"

On Japan's side, Akutsu adjusted his cap with a smirk. "Even Korea's captain put up more of a fight."

"Bastard!"

Though Sharama didn't understand the words, the mocking tone was unmistakable.

Frustration boiled over.

HUM!

A golden aura erupted around him.

"Brahma's Radiance!!"

The Indian team gasped.

Brahma—the Hindu god of creation, wielder of infinite power. A technique worthy of the name.

"Enough games."

Sharama's voice turned icy. "Time to show you the gap between mortals and gods."

CRACK!

His racket became a blur.

The ball shot forward, wrapped in golden flames and crackling electricity. A dust storm trailed in its wake.

"MOO!!"

A deafening bull's roar echoed as the shot morphed into a divine charging beast, its hooves shaking the earth.

"It's here!" Kiran's breath hitched. "Sharama's Raging Bull Charge!"

A move that had once shattered an Argentine captain's racket.

Most players couldn't even see it—let alone return it without their gear being destroyed.

THUD THUD!

But then—footsteps.

Ishikawa was chasing it down.

"He's keeping up?!"

A silver streak flashed through the dust.

BOOM!

The ball screamed back, carrying the fury of a spring thunderstorm.

Sharama's vision blurred—raindrops, lightning, an unnatural chill—

"An illusion?!"

He shook it off just in time to swing—

SNAP!

His racket tore apart like paper.

"GAME! Japan leads 1-0!"

Silence.

Sharama stared at his broken racket, numb.

"How…?"

The Indian team was speechless.

"The Raging Bull… was crushed?"

Kiran and the others exchanged stunned glances.

Sharama had used three ultimate techniques in one game—and hadn't scored a single point.

"Speed, power, perception…"

Coach Vyas studied Ishikawa intently. "His physical stats are beyond data-player range. This isn't just analysis—it's monstrous talent."

Even against Argentina's captain, Sharama had never been shut out so completely.

But then—

A shudder ran through Sharama's body.

His posture shifted.

"Ah." Vyas' lips curled. "Finally… His second consciousness has awakened."

(End of Chapter)