Is this murder tennis?

“That was close.” Nio Matsubara wiped the sweat from his brow. With the rapid slice, Phantom Cicada, the weakened version of Swallow Return, and the White Whale's counterattack all combined, the current Renji Yanagi was only missing the super-speed slice and the Whirlwind Vacuum Slash—those were the only moves he hadn’t used yet, right?

“Tell me, every time I use a technique that’s not in your database, do you need some time to update your records?” Matsubara tapped his racket against the ground, his grip alternately tightening and loosening, the rhythmic thwacks echoing through the court.

“Hm?” Yanagi paused, as Matsubara tossed the tennis ball into the air and swung his racket directly at it. Watching the ball hurtle toward him, Yanagi quickly analyzed—this was likely a no-spin serve.

As Yanagi received the ball, he felt an indescribably powerful force transmitted from the strings to the frame, and finally onto his hand and arm. His eyes widened in shock.

The overwhelming impact carried by the tennis ball twisted Yanagi's strings, nearly tearing through them. He gritted his teeth and held out for several seconds, but the unstoppable force overwhelmed him, and his fingers suddenly released.

“Bang!” The racket spun through the air and crashed to the ground. Yanagi clutched his numb wrist, silently watching the yellow-green ball roll along the wire fence. Then he turned to look at Matsubara, still poised in his serving stance.

“A serve clocked at 190 km/h… This is on a completely different level from the last game.” Sadaharu Inui broke out in a cold sweat, his voice grim.

“This… this is killer tennis, isn’t it?”

“The serve even scraped the paint off the wire fence!”

“So this is what a match between starters looks like?”

A few spectators close to the fence murmured anxiously. The previous matches between Akutsu’s four and Ueto’s four had been predictable, but at least they hadn’t seemed outrageous. Yet, watching Matsubara and Yanagi, it felt as though they were witnessing supernatural tennis.

“Referee, aren’t you going to announce the score?” Matsubara smiled at the young man sitting high above, shaded by a sun visor.

“Oh, right… What’s the score again? 40-15!” The referee called out hurriedly.

Seeing that the strings had not been dented as they were during his match with Akutsu, Matsubara decided to deliver another serve imbued with excessive repulsion force.

Back at the sporting goods store, Matsubara had asked the saleswoman to string his racket at 55 pounds. This way, even if he used the excessive repulsion force multiple times, the strings would withstand the power without caving in.

“One… serve… soul!” The boy’s deliberate words sent Yanagi into a panic. With a deep, resounding boom, the yellow-green ball shot forth like a cannonball. Yanagi gripped his racket with both hands—there was no such thing as an absolutely unreturnable ball; if one hand wasn’t enough, then two would do!

Akutsu, watching from outside the court, mirrored Yanagi’s expression as if reliving his own experience. That day, he had been dominated by this cannonball serve, and he still couldn’t forget his own wretched state.

“Bang!” Yanagi again forced himself to take Matsubara’s serve. The excessive repulsion serve was not as fast as the one with traction force; the perceived speed was merely an illusion caused by insufficient dynamic vision.

A white shockwave spread outward. Yanagi’s hands gripping the racket turned pale from the effort, but this time he lasted even less than before. His arms shook violently, and once again, the racket was sent flying.

“Thud, thud!” Staggering from the powerful impact, Yanagi retreated, his arms heavy. After a brief check for lingering effects, he bent down and picked up his fallen racket.

The strings now sported a gaping hole, and on the other side, the damaged web had burst open like a spider’s web. After signaling the referee, Yanagi retrieved his backup racket and returned to the court.

“2-1! The match continues!” Watching Yanagi prepare to serve, Matsubara smiled. Those two serves might not have caused any visible harm, but the toll of taking them head-on was more than words could express.

“Whap!” As Yanagi swung his racket, he immediately sensed something was wrong. His hand trembled uncontrollably in an almost imperceptible way as he served.

Matsubara returned the ball with ease and rushed the net. Yanagi, unable to adapt in time, accidentally hit a lob. The boy seized the moment, planted his foot, and soared high.

“Heh!” A smash scored the point. Yanagi, observing Matsubara’s power—so different from his serves—muttered inwardly, “Was it just a normal smash?”

“15-0!” From the moment he scored the first point, Matsubara stopped using his enhanced skills. Simply playing normally was enough to prevent Yanagi from holding out for more than two rallies before losing the point.

“30-0!”

“40-0!”

“Matsubara! 3-1!”

“Renji…” Inui watched Yanagi anxiously, worried by his drastic drop in performance. After taking two of Matsubara’s cannonball serves head-on, Yanagi’s hands were temporarily numb, and both his serving and hitting had deteriorated sharply.

Sweat dripped incessantly from Yanagi’s forehead. Even if he used his updated data to predict Matsubara’s shots, he couldn’t send the ball to places the boy couldn’t reach. With his hands numb, even simply hitting the ball across the net was a struggle.

As Yanagi’s condition plummeted, Matsubara scored point after point, quickly bringing the match to 4-1.

Six days of intense training had paid off. After using techniques like Universal Pull and Almighty Push so many times, Matsubara barely felt any burden. He was confident he could execute four complete Flash Steps, and possibly even a fifth!

But Yanagi, stunned by the cannonball serves, now had paralyzed arms. Even playing with ordinary tennis balls, he couldn’t stir up much trouble.

“Is it coming to an end…?”

Yanagi asked himself, but after a long moment, he denied the thought.

So what if it was 4-1? He refused to accept he was at a dead end. As long as the score wasn’t 5-1 with 40-0, he still had a chance!

The outcome was undetermined, and he couldn’t give up yet!

A fire ignited in his heart. Yanagi tossed the ball and swung with all his strength, the crisp sound of contact ringing out.

“Whoosh!” As Matsubara returned the ball, he felt the power transmitted from the strings and was taken aback. What was happening?

A slip in his grip, and Yanagi knocked the racket from Matsubara’s hand. The ball soared, tracing a beautiful V-shaped arc of light. Matsubara frowned.

“Did he overcome muscle fatigue with sheer willpower?” Matsubara whispered, seeing Yanagi panting heavily across the court.

“15-0!”

For Yanagi’s second serve, Matsubara didn’t take any chances. Upon receiving the ball, he imbued it with repulsion force and swung, transforming it into another heavy cannonball shot at Yanagi.

“Bang!” Yanagi managed to return the serve with difficulty. Though his momentum faltered, his tenacious spirit made him roar defiantly, driving the ball into Matsubara’s open space.

Using Universal Pull to draw the ball back into his control, Matsubara executed a no-spin return. The blurred streak of light zipped right between Yanagi’s legs as he waited with his racket.

“15-15!” After scoring, Matsubara exhaled gently. So Yanagi was still forcing himself to play. Even with his will propping up his body, his movements were sluggish—his muscles had reached their limit.

To prevent Yanagi from injuring his arms further by forcing returns, Matsubara stopped conserving his energy. He attached even stronger traction force to the ball, sending streaks of yellow-green light flashing like lightning across the sky.

“30-15!”

“40-15!”

“5-1!”

Every shot Matsubara played flew out of Yanagi’s reach before he could react. As the referee shouted loudly, the match finally came to a close!

“Match over! Matsubara wins! 6-1!”