Starting position? Give it to me!

Watching Ryo Shishido’s posture, Akira Matsubara’s expression gradually darkened. That stance had left an indelible impression on him back when he watched The Prince of Tennis years ago. The outer spin drive, also known as the Skyshot Smash, was a short, plunging shot that placed immense strain on the arm. Its trajectory was similar to that of the outer spin serve, but its power, spin, and bounce were all far superior!

For someone like Shishido, still just a first-year student, the outer spin drive would be much more damaging to his arm than it was to Yuuta Fuji, who had already reached his second year. Overusing this technique could lead to Shishido’s shoulder giving out even earlier than Yuuta’s, ending his tennis career far too soon!

“That bastard Hajime Mizuki...”

If Shishido had been practicing the outer spin serve or even Fuji’s disappearing serve, Matsubara might have offered him some guidance. But if it was the outer spin drive, there was no point in learning it at all!

Striding quickly toward Shishido, who was intently refining his form, Matsubara called out in irritation, “Hey, Shishido!”

“Huh? Oh, Matsubara!” Shishido turned around, drenched in sweat, and greeted him cheerfully. “Matsubara, Matsubara, I just learned an awesome new move! I haven’t tried it with a real ball yet, but—”

“Stop practicing that shot right now!” Matsubara snatched the racket from Shishido’s hand, his face stern. The abruptness left Shishido bewildered, and he muttered, “What’s your problem? Why are you so mad...?”

“I’m telling you to stop for your own good. I don’t want your shoulder to give out while you’re still a first-year. You’re still growing—using a technique that puts this much strain on your arm will only end up hurting you,” Matsubara said, his tone softening as he saw Shishido’s crestfallen expression.

“But... Mizuki said this move really suited me, and he didn’t mention any side effects,” Shishido replied in confusion, scratching his head.

“Just don’t practice that shot anymore. Where is Hajime Mizuki?” Matsubara pressed, his brow furrowing.

“Oh... after teaching me that move at noon, he went back to the classroom to write something, I think. Not sure if he’s still there now,” Shishido guessed, his ponytail swaying gently.

Watching Matsubara hurry off before he’d even finished speaking, Shishido pouted. “What’s with Matsubara today? Why’s he so angry...?”

Meanwhile, Hajime Mizuki was still in the classroom, hunched over his desk, scribbling furiously. Analyzing the data and intelligence he’d gathered, he realized that Jin Akutsu, who’d joined Everlasting Academy that morning, had probably betrayed him to side with Matsubara. With that, his greatest card was lost.

Worse yet, Akutsu might have already told Matsubara all about his plans—how else could that brat have said such strange things to him?

Just thinking of that boy’s mocking, provocative attitude made Mizuki’s blood boil. If Akutsu had betrayed him, then he would simply treat both Akutsu and Matsubara as enemies.

For the sake of seizing the captain’s position in the future, Mizuki had secretly befriended Akutsu and other tennis prodigies as soon as he became coach at Everlasting Academy. If he ever met resistance on his way to the top, he’d rally them and apply pressure to the team.

But Matsubara’s arrival had turned his carefully crafted script on its head!

Mizuki was a perfectionist to an extreme degree—everything had to unfold according to his plan. Even achieving the same goal by a different method would irk him, let alone failing after disobeying his orders.

Akutsu’s case was a prime example.

Now, he’d lost his place as a regular, lost Akutsu as a powerful ally, and, worst of all, had to endure Matsubara’s mockery. It was always the final straw that broke the camel’s back!

With no way out, Mizuki could only set his sights on the second player Matsubara had recruited—Shishido.

His plan was simple: ostracize and suppress Shishido as much as possible. If he could disgrace him in front of everyone, perhaps it would alleviate his frustration.

He could no longer act directly against Matsubara or Akutsu, who had deliberately distanced himself, but Shishido was a fat lamb Matsubara had handed to him on a silver platter.

Clicking the cap onto his pen, Mizuki raked a hand through his bangs and let out a self-satisfied laugh.

Why was he so amused? Because Shishido’s very request had played right into his hands.

A few hours earlier—

After getting directions to Everlasting Academy from Matsubara, Shishido had taken the bus and promptly gotten lost upon entering the campus. While wandering, he’d bumped into Mizuki.

“Excuse me, could you tell me how to get to the tennis club?” Shishido asked, approaching the boy in a blue uniform, a tennis racket in hand.

“Oh? Are you a transfer student?” Mizuki asked, noting Shishido’s athletic wear.

“Yeah, I’m Ryo Shishido—just transferred from Hyotei Academy!” Shishido replied.

Mizuki was visibly surprised. After shaking hands with Shishido, who smiled with open sincerity, he couldn’t help but ask, “Wait, you’re really from Hyotei? Why’d you come to our school?”

“Of course! Here’s my Hyotei student card. I returned the uniform, but I really was a Hyotei student,” Shishido explained, pulling out his card—now clipped at one corner—to show Mizuki.

“Incredible... you really are from Hyotei...” Mizuki muttered in disbelief. He had never imagined a student would leave such a prestigious school. Once you enrolled in Hyotei’s elementary division, unless you committed a grave mistake, it was practically a guaranteed path to the university.

Moreover, Hyotei wasn’t just for the wealthy—it was a private institution with an aristocratic flair, a place countless people dreamed of joining. And yet, Shishido spoke of transferring as if it were nothing special. Was he out of his mind?

“Do you believe me now?” Shishido chuckled, retrieving his invalidated card from Mizuki’s hand.

“You... you weren’t expelled for something serious, were you? Is that why you came to Everlasting Academy?” Mizuki asked, voice low.

“Huh? What are you talking about? I transferred out of my own will! I didn’t do anything wrong,” Shishido protested, starting to get annoyed by Mizuki’s probing questions.

“Don’t get upset... I just don’t understand—why did you leave Hyotei for a no-name school like ours?”

Mizuki hastily tried to smooth things over.

“I came to join your tennis club, of course! Anyway, do you know where it is or not? If not, I’ll ask someone else.” Shishido was beginning to suspect something was off about this guy.

“Of course I know! I’m Hajime Mizuki, the tennis club coach. Come with me!” Mizuki quickly put on a friendly smile and patted Shishido on the shoulder, leading the way.

...

“So, you’re saying a boy named Akira Matsubara recruited you from Hyotei?” Mizuki asked in surprise as they walked.

“Yeah, he said he had urgent business elsewhere and sent me to report to the tennis club. By the way, Mizuki, you’re amazing—same age as us, but already coaching the tennis team!” Shishido’s eyes sparkled with admiration. He’d never even heard of this school before, but for someone his age to be coach... it was just as Matsubara had said—Everlasting Academy was full of hidden talents.

Maybe here, in this new school, he could find a meaning entirely different from what he’d known at Hyotei.

“Haha, it’s nothing...” Mizuki waved off the praise with modesty, but inside, he was exultant.

He’d been wondering how to strike back at Matsubara, and now the opportunity had presented itself.

How to torment Shishido? Should he humiliate him in public, or set up obstacles to embarrass him? So long as he could hurt the people around Matsubara, his goal would be achieved.

Eventually, with enough accumulated frustration from their ongoing rivalry, Matsubara would be dismissed as a regular by Tezuka, and Mizuki could smoothly reclaim his position.

A regular’s spot? I’ll be taking it back!

As he pondered, an idea flashed through Mizuki’s mind. He quickly asked, “Shishido, you mentioned wanting to learn a powerful special move like your peers at Hyotei, right?”

“Yeah! To be honest, I was cut from the team not because of my fitness—if I’d known a killer move, I’d definitely have made the cut!” The memory of those scornful, dismissive faces at Hyotei still stung, and Shishido clenched his fists.

“In that case, I know a really powerful move. Want to learn it?” Mizuki flashed a devilish grin, like a villain luring a child. Shishido’s eyes lit up, and he agreed without hesitation, “Absolutely!”