As Niō's words faded, he slowly unzipped his jacket, as if he felt a little hot. Neither Edgard nor Jonathan paid much attention to the small action.
The ninth game was Kaji's service game, but judging from his current condition, even hitting a high-speed serve seemed nearly impossible. Standing at the baseline, Kaji took a deep breath before tossing the ball up. When his racket made contact—
"Fault! Second serve!"
The umpire's voice made Kaji's already pale face look even worse. Still, he had no choice but to toss the ball again. This time, it just barely cleared the net, though it was noticeably weak.
With a few quick steps, Edgard reached the landing point, swinging his racket in a blur. The tennis ball transformed into a massive white shark, lunging across the net with its jaws open. Seeing this, Niō sprinted forward, his figure blurring as he ran.
In the next instant, Edgard suddenly felt a heavy pressure surge toward him. A flash of blue light streaked past, and the ball shot toward the open space on his right. He didn't even have time to think—his instincts took over, and he stepped sideways, intercepting the ball.
But the moment the ball struck his racket, a powerful numbness spread from his right hand through his entire body. Caught off guard, Edgard's racket was sent flying from his grip.
"15–0!"
When Edgard looked up in disbelief, he saw 'Yukimura'—still wearing his jacket—standing at the net with an emotionless face, eyes calm and distant as he stared at him and Jonathan.
"I really underestimated you. To think you could even mimic a mental-based technique!" Edgard muttered, frowning as he shook his right hand, trying to regain sensation.
Before long, the numbness faded. Edgard quickly picked up his racket and pulled a paintbrush from his pocket. He drew a strange symbol on the right side of his face, then stepped back to the baseline, ready for the next serve.
Seeing Edgard's action, 'Yukimura's' eyes narrowed slightly. Based on what he'd seen so far, he already had a rough idea of what was going on. But before he could think deeper, Kaji had already tossed the ball again and successfully served over the net.
Edgard immediately countered with a sharp forehand, but it wasn't an Art Tennis shot. 'Yukimura' flickered forward, his racket glowing faintly as a surge of mental force wrapped around the ball.
Edgard signaled Jonathan not to intercept. He stepped up himself, ready to receive. When his racket met the ball, that mental energy shot through the frame and into his body—but Edgard showed no reaction at all, instantly returning the shot.
"So that's it? Using self-hypnosis to resist sensory deprivation. Quite the clever idea. I guess this will come down to fundamentals after all," 'Yukimura' said calmly, showing no surprise, as if he had already expected this outcome.
Then the fierce rally began. No matter if it was Edgard's Art Tennis or Jonathan's data-based play, neither could easily breach 'Yukimura's' precise defense.
As the ball flew toward his back left, 'Yukimura' quickly retreated, switching his racket to his left hand mid-step. He intercepted the ball and countered with a reverse crosscourt shot. Edgard couldn't react in time—the ball shot past his right side.
"Mirage Mirror!"
Just before the ball bounced out of bounds, Jonathan's figure suddenly appeared—it was as if he'd been waiting there all along. He swung quickly, redirecting the ball straight toward Kaji, who was still struggling to recover his stamina.
"You didn't really think I came here without data on Yukimura Seiichi, did you?" Jonathan said with a cold smirk as he returned the shot.
"Of course not. But it seems you still don't understand... sometimes, having my data isn't an advantage at all," 'Yukimura' replied evenly, his tone as calm as ever as he moved in front of Kaji.
Jonathan wanted to retort, but before he could, a strange image flashed through his mind. The next instant, 'Yukimura' used Mirage Mirror again, subtly distorting Edgard's judgment, and sent the ball flying toward Jonathan's backcourt.
Trusting his data, Jonathan shifted left—but the sight that followed made him freeze. The vision that had flashed in his mind a moment ago was now happening in real life. The ball struck the right baseline, bouncing out of bounds at high speed.
"30–0!"
"You've gathered all my data, so you act based on analysis before instinct. It gives you an initial edge... but it also makes it much easier for me to steal your future," 'Yukimura' said as he walked to the net, his voice calm but cutting with each word.
Jonathan stared at him, still in disbelief. Luckily, Edgard stepped forward and motioned for him to take the next receive while he handled the next exchange. Jonathan exhaled, glancing at Kaji, who was already readying the next serve, and crouched down to receive.
As Kaji's third serve flew out, Jonathan swiftly returned it, and 'Yukimura's' figure suddenly appeared at the net, blocking the ball with precise timing. Both sides immediately entered a high-speed rally once again.
This time, Edgard went all out. Every ball he hit manifested into a different creation—beasts, waves, storms, flames—each one an extension of his Art Tennis. He refused to believe that a middle schooler could predict every trajectory of his ever-changing attacks.
Against the barrage of artistic techniques, the illusionary 'Yukimura' couldn't quite seize Edgard's future. But soon, Jonathan began to notice something off—the way 'Yukimura' was playing no longer matched the data he'd collected.
"Wolf? Then the probability of topspin is 87.4%," murmured 'Yukimura' quietly as he returned a shot.
"Edgard-senpai! Be careful! He's not—" Jonathan shouted, trying to warn him.
"Not Yukimura Seiichi, right?" a calm voice interrupted from across the court before Jonathan could finish. The next instant, the tennis ball struck the dead zone between Jonathan and Edgard and bounced out of bounds.
"40–0!"
When Edgard turned toward the opposite court, Yukimura was gone. Standing at the net was 'Mitsuya,' his left hand adjusting his glasses, a serene smile on his face as he gazed steadily at them.
"You've got to be kidding me! Even if you were a real data tennis player, it's impossible to have collected all my data!" Jonathan's composure finally cracked, and he shouted in disbelief.
"No matter how your style changes, your core abilities and five-dimensional data don't. Once the data collected during the match is applied to your current mindset, your shot direction can be predicted. This theory works on Art Tennis too, you know~" 'Mitsuya' replied in a calm, measured tone, completely unbothered by Jonathan's outburst.
From the Japan bench, Akashi's sharp gaze shifted toward the real Mitsuya. He knew Niō had some data-collection ability, but to perform at this level was beyond what Niō could manage alone—it had to be external support.
"What's wrong, Akashi-kun? ...Alright, fine~ I admit it. I might've given Niō-kun a tiny bit of data assistance," Mitsuya said with a helpless chuckle, sensing Akashi's piercing stare.
On court, the match had reached match point, but Jonathan and Edgard showed no signs of surrender. When Kaji served, both players put everything they had into breaking 'Mitsuya's' seemingly flawless defense.
"Crosscourt probability, 91.4%. After shifting, straight-line counter probability, 97.8%," 'Mitsuya' muttered softly, eyes focused.
"Advanced movement by 0.9 seconds. Intercept probability, 99.4%. Passing-shot success probability, 83.6%," he continued, his voice calm but rhythmic, as streams of data spilled from his lips.
Jonathan felt his chest tighten with frustration. He was a data tennis player himself—but to his disbelief, he was completely outmatched in numbers.
"In the end, it's still just copied data tennis! This is your limit! Even if you predict this shot, you can't return it!" Edgard yelled, refusing to believe that Niō could outclass Jonathan in data play, no matter how perfect the imitation seemed.
His racket swung fiercely, and the ball turned into another massive horizontal supercell tornado, roaring across the court with unstoppable force.
'Mitsuya' frowned slightly, then smiled faintly. With a light step to the side, he evaded the incoming storm entirely.
"Once physical conditioning reaches its ceiling, the only way to break limits is by enhancing recovery speed through specialized training. Therefore—this point's probability of success is 100%," he said evenly as he moved.
The next moment, a streak of silver lightning flashed across the half-court. The giant tornado vanished into the air, and just as 'Mitsuya' finished speaking, the ball struck the ground with a sharp bang.
"Godspeed!"
"Game! 6–3! Match over! Total score 2–0! Winner—Japan Team!"