Following the umpire's signal, the four players met at the net for a handshake and coin toss. Luck was on Shiraishi's side today—he won serve for the Japan Team. Still, he decided to let the eager Kintarō take the first game's serve.
"One set match! Japan Team to serve first!"
Jean and Chris eyed the bouncing, hyperactive Kintarō on the opposite baseline with full caution. After the Japan Team's display against Germany in the exhibition match, no one in the tournament dared underestimate them anymore.
Jean Fitzgerald.
Chris Hoppman.
Standing behind the baseline, Kintarō tossed the ball high into the air. His entire body shot upward after it, spinning through several somersaults before slamming his racket down hard.
"Take this! Haaa!!!"
The serve exploded off the strings like a cannon shot, streaking across the net with terrifying power and speed. Chris's pupils shrank as he sprinted to intercept, meeting the ball with a sharp forehand. The moment the ball hit his racket, the impact nearly numbed his wrist—but gritting his teeth, he forced it back over.
In an instant, Kintarō leapt toward the front court, his body still airborne as he gripped the racket with both hands and unleashed a fierce counter-smash. The returning ball burst forth like a wave of invisible force, hurtling toward the Australian side.
Jean reacted swiftly, gripping his racket with both hands as he stepped forward to meet it. The ball spun violently on his strings, testing his control. With a loud grunt and a burst of power, he managed to return it—but his shot flew high toward the center of the court.
Kintarō's grin widened. He bounded upward once again, this time spinning even more times than before. As momentum peaked, he roared and swung with every ounce of strength.
"Watch this! Super Thousand-Ton Invincible Mountain Smash!"
The ball turned into a blazing yellow beam that slammed into the front court with earth-shaking force. Anticipating it, Jean and Chris had already fallen back to the midline. The instant the ball bounced, Chris lunged forward, and Jean followed closely behind.
When Chris's racket met the ball, it groaned under the pressure, creaking audibly. Just as the handle nearly slipped from his grip, Jean's racket aligned with his, the two combining strength to send Kintarō's monstrous smash flying back.
"Hah! It's been forever since I've had this much fun! Then next—Super Megaton Deluxe Volcano Eruption Shot!"
Kintarō spun rapidly on the spot, laughing joyfully. Flames suddenly burst along his racket, and the next moment, the ball ignited into a sphere of molten light, screaming through the air toward Jean and Chris.
A deafening boom rocked the Australian court. Dust and smoke blasted upward, sparks scattering everywhere as two rackets were sent spinning into the air.
"15–0!"
"Looks like I won't need to lift a finger after all~" Shiraishi murmured under his breath, smiling at the sight of Kintarō celebrating like a child after scoring.
"No matter how tough the defense looks, it can't hold forever. 'Iron wall' playstyles like that? Pathetic. Compared to Volk, they're not even close," Akashi said quietly from the players' lounge, eyes fixed on the monitor.
"Ever since Volk rose to fame, more and more pros have started mimicking his defensive tennis," Mitsuya replied calmly. "That airtight guarding style, coupled with timed counterattacks, has become the dominant trend in the modern pro circuit."
"Hmph. Do they really think anyone can just become Volk? That kind of monstrous physical ability isn't something you copy by imitation," Byoudouin scoffed, tone full of disdain.
"Still," Tanegashima chuckled, "these two Aussies are doing pretty well. Too bad for them, they ran into Kintarō~ Oh, and Akashi-chan, that rock-paper-scissors trick for deciding the lineup—brilliant idea! We should totally use that again against England tomorrow!"
"Don't get too relaxed, Tanegashima brat!" Mifune barked gruffly from behind, clearly unimpressed.
Back on court, Kintarō had already fired off another one of his wild serves. This time, Chris braced himself with both hands and managed a steady return. Kintarō, bursting with energy, rushed the net again, swinging into a powerful drive shot.
Jean intercepted the ball the instant it crossed the net. With a forceful push and a sharp upward motion of his right arm, he sent the ball arcing over Kintarō's head toward the baseline.
"Oh? Coming for me this time?" Shiraishi said with a light chuckle. As the ball descended, he blurred forward, stepping smoothly into position.
He raised his racket horizontally as the ball fell and, with perfect timing, struck through it in a fluid motion. The impact flattened the ball's shape, sending it screaming back across the net toward the Australian half.
The ball barely cleared the net before vibrating sharply in midair. When it hit the ground, it traced a perfect circle, then — to Chris's shock — skipped right over his racket and flew clean out of bounds.
"Round Table Drive!"
"30–0!"
"Ahh~ That felt absolutely perfect!" Shiraishi brushed back his hair and struck his signature pose with a satisfied smile.
Shiraishi Kuranosuke.
"Sorry, Captain! I couldn't react fast enough just now!" Chris apologized immediately, looking frustrated.
"Don't worry about it, Chris. Just pay more attention to their drives from now on," Jean replied calmly, patting his teammate on the shoulder.
"Hey, Kintarō, don't have too much fun out there," Shiraishi said as he walked up beside him, ruffling the boy's hair with a small sigh. "Don't forget this is a doubles match."
"Huh? Oh, hahaha~ I totally forgot! My bad, my bad! Got a bit too excited!" Kintarō laughed cheerfully, though whether he actually took the reminder to heart was anyone's guess.
In the blink of an eye, Kintarō sent out his third serve. Compared to Chris, Jean's return was far steadier, sending the ball sharply toward the left sideline — too far for Kintarō to reach in time.
But then, Shiraishi's body flickered. For an instant, the shadow of Kaji Kazena flashed behind him, and in the next heartbeat, Shiraishi's figure blurred like a teleportation afterimage, appearing near the front court. A trail of motion shadows followed as his left hand whipped the racket horizontally at the incoming ball.
"A speed-type player? Careful, Chris—watch for his drive!" Jean shouted in warning.
"Drive? You've got the wrong idea," Shiraishi replied with his usual gentle smile. As he spoke, he sliced down on the ball, making it spin lightly over the net and drop softly toward the ground.
"A drop shot?! Hah, don't think you can score that easily!" Jean roared, diving toward the front court. His racket barely scraped the ball before it hit the ground, keeping the rally alive.
"Watch for the smash!" he yelled to Chris as he recovered his footing.
"Ahh~ One person alone can't block Kintarō's smashes, you know~" Shiraishi teased.
Right as his words fell, Kintarō's small frame came flipping over Shiraishi's shoulder, his body spinning wildly before striking down at full power.
"Here it comes again! Super Thousand-Ton Invincible Mountain Smash!!!"
Chris roared and intercepted the ball head-on. His arms trembled violently as the impact shook his racket. The ball's force pressed against his strings like a hammer blow, making veins bulge across his forehead. With a guttural shout, he forced his racket forward in a desperate counter.
But the ball, though struck back, didn't clear the net—it slammed straight into it. When the spin finally died, it rolled slowly down to the court surface.
"40–0!"
"Damn it! How can someone that small hit with so much power?!" Chris growled through gritted teeth, glaring at the hyperactive redhead across the court.
"Stay calm, Chris. Keep your rhythm steady," Jean said, patting his teammate's shoulder again.
"Yes, Captain!" Chris took a deep breath, forcing himself to refocus.
The Australian audience, however, was far less composed. Booing erupted across the stands as they jeered at their own players. They had come expecting an easy home victory — not to watch their team get flattened by a bunch of Japanese middle schoolers. Chris's earlier frustration wasn't entirely his fault; the suffocating tension of the crowd weighed heavily on every swing. Sometimes, home advantage wasn't an advantage at all.
Kintarō, on the other hand, was completely unaffected. The crowd noise didn't even reach him. To him, only tennis existed.
He tossed up the ball again, his focus unwavering. This time, he didn't somersault—but instead began spinning midair like a whirlwind. As he leveled his body, both hands gripped the racket, and with a snapping motion, he struck the serve like a drive shot.
Jean frowned deeply. He couldn't even begin to understand how a human body could move like that. He had never faced anyone quite like Kintarō before. But there was no time to think—the ball had already landed. He dashed forward, intercepting it cleanly.
Though heavier and faster than before, Jean managed to return the serve. What followed was a blistering exchange at the net between the Australian pair and Kintarō, who was bouncing everywhere like an uncontainable spark, while Shiraishi calmly covered behind him, sealing every gap.
With every hit, Kintarō's returns grew stronger, forcing Jean and Chris to grit their teeth under the pressure. Their rackets quivered with every impact, and both of them could only curse inwardly—'What kind of monster kid is this?!'
Then, suddenly, Jean caught his chance. The moment Kintarō leapt into the air again, he fired a sharp passing shot under him. The ball sliced beneath Kintarō's feet, racing straight for the baseline—only for a familiar white silhouette to flash into its path.
Shiraishi.
Jean and Chris were ready this time. They split left and right, closing in on the net to block his shot.
But in that instant, a dark aura flickered around Shiraishi—the shadow of Oni Juujirou appeared faintly behind him. He gripped his racket with both hands, spun once in place with perfect control, and then unleashed a devastating strike.
"Black Axe!"
The ball streaked forward, wreathed in a black gleam, roaring straight toward Jean. His eyes widened, and he brought up his racket in reflex—but the instant the ball made contact, he knew it was over. The next second, his racket was torn clean from his hand, sent flying backward by sheer force.
"GAME! Japan! 1–0!"
"Huh? When did Shiraishi learn Oni-senpai's technique?" Yukimura's tone carried genuine surprise as he watched the replay from the bench.
"Heh~ That kid asked me about it back at training camp," Oni replied with a rare smile. "Said he wanted to shock the world stage when the time came."
That smile, though—well, best not to describe it too closely.