Prince of Tennis: Shocking! Hyotei's Demon King is a Yukimura fangirl!

Atobe stood behind the baseline, twirling a yellow tennis ball between his fingers. A few strands of his short, purplish-gray hair were damp with sweat and stuck to his forehead, and his beauty mark under his eye shone brightly in the sunlight.

He glanced up at Tezuka on the other side of the net. Tezuka stood ramrod straight, racket in hand, his glasses reflecting the light, obscuring his eyes. Atobe's lips curled into a cold smile, and he let out a soft snort. The last trace of nonchalance vanished from his icy blue eyes, leaving only a sharp, icy edge.

The fingers tightened their grip on the tennis ball.

"snort."

The ball in his hand had already been tossed into the air.

The little yellow ball rolled over, tracing a straight arc overhead. The afternoon sun shone on its surface, casting a small, dazzling patch of light.

Atobe's knees were slightly bent, his back was arched, and his right arm was pulled back only slightly. The entire process took a very short time to build up power, so short that the audience in the stands didn't even have time to breathe before the racket touched the lower edge of the ball.

"Bang!"

The sound of the string striking the ball exploded in the air above the plastic field, so clear that it felt like something had gently patted your eardrums.

The ball flew like a lightning bolt close to the ground, extremely low as it crossed the net, almost skimming the top edge of the net, landing precisely about 30 centimeters in front of Tezuka's backhand baseline.

Tezuka's left foot had already taken half a step in that direction.

His prediction was correct, his positioning was correct, and the angle at which he sent the racket out was just right.

But the ball did not go in the normal direction.

The ball barely bounced after landing, instead sliding sideways along the ground. With a sidespin angle almost imperceptible to the naked eye, it traced a sharp arc across the ground, grazing the right side of Tezuka's racket and heading towards the outer sideline.

It felt like being pulled off the field by an invisible thread, sliding for almost a meter before slowly slowing down and coming to a stop.

Tezuka's racket stopped in mid-air.

The area under the clapper was empty.

The referee's voice came through the loudspeaker, with a slightly trembling tone.

"ACE. 15-0."

On the other side of the net, Atobe had already stood up straight. He held the racket handle in his right hand, gently turned it around, and the handle fell back into his palm with a soft "snap".

Tezuka's wrist remained in the finishing position of his swing, his knuckles slightly clenched and then relaxed. He glanced down at the ball, his gaze lingering for a moment on its gliding trajectory.

Then he straightened up, without looking at Atobe, and walked back to his hair-attaching position.

There was a moment of silence in the stands for about half a second.

The Hyotei cheering squad was the first to react, their golden support fans swirling and churning like wheat fields swaying in the wind. The crisp sound of the fans colliding mingled with the unified chants of the team as they crashed down from the east side of the stands.

"Atobe! Atobe! Atobe!"

Then, a series of gasps rose like waves from the front row of the stands, spreading backwards with a hissing sound. Some of the front-row spectators leaned forward, afraid of missing something.

"Holy crap? Am I seeing things? The ball is flying low to the ground? What kind of serve is that?!"

"It didn't bounce after landing? It just glided across?"

"It slid almost a meter close to the ground... It was so fast, I couldn't even see the trajectory. How do you catch a ball like that?"

"I heard my cousin, a soon-to-be regular from Rikkai, mention this serve! During the training camp between Rikkai and Hyotei, the Hyotei captain practiced a new serve, I think it's called... the Tannhäuser serve."

"Hearing about it and seeing it are two different things. Look at that spin, it's practically floating sideways! And he used a special technique on the very first ball, Atobe is planning to finish this quickly!"

……

Whispers arose from every corner, buzzing together in a cacophony.

On the right side of the stands, in the Fudomine section, Kamio's shoes tapped against the steps, his brows furrowed deeply: "What's going on? Such a fierce serve."

"What an amazing opening!" Tachibana Kichihei crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on the ball's trajectory, his brow slightly furrowed. The furrow wasn't from worry, but rather from reassessing something; his voice was low and deep: "That was a slice serve, extremely spinny. If Tezuka can't find the right hitting point, it'll be very difficult to return."

"...His serve is several levels stronger than it was at last year's national tournament."

Kamio watched Atobe walk back to the baseline on the court, his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but Ibu Shinji next to him spoke first.

"No, no, even a normal slice shot bounces a little, this one is almost sliding along the ground... How strong is the spin... It's normal that Tezuka didn't react to the first shot... But if he can't keep up... No, no, I should say, how can a middle school student hit a serve like that... And there's even lateral deviation... This is beyond the scope of a normal serve... How long has he been practicing...?"

"Shinji." Kamio turned around and manually shut him up.

Ibu's lips were still moving slightly.

In the stands of Shonan Stadium, Hanamura Aoi smiled, her chin resting on her hand, as her pen traced half a page in her sketchbook. She wasn't drawing a map of the match, but rather recording the deduction process of a certain tactical logic.

She paused after writing a few lines, glanced at the Hyotei coaching bench, and said, "Wow, that was a pretty good shot... Even in professional matches, I bet more than half the players wouldn't be able to touch it. It looks like a modified version by Mochizuki Ryo."

If someone was holding a straw, they almost spat out their drink: "No way, Coach Huacun, a junior high school student can hit a shot like that? It looks better than average to me, I just can't see the trajectory."

"The coach is right. That opening serve was indeed beautiful." Kajimoto stood to the side, his eyes fixed on Atobe's swing. "The power was very complete, the coordination between his waist, abdomen, and wrist was perfect. Even in a professional match, that serve would give many players a run for their money."

Hanamura Aoi tapped her chin with her fingertip, glancing sideways at Kajimoto beside her. "You guys are too young and inexperienced to understand. The spin axis of this serve is completely different from a regular serve."

"The lateral shift after landing is the key to this serve."

"It can not only score directly, but also force the receiver into a lateral movement. Tezuka's last shot required a large step to the side from the starting position, disrupting his balance from the very first shot. A few more shots like that would be even better."

"Then what?"

"And then..." Hanamura Aoi paused, "and then Atobe just waited for that high ball. It's inevitable that the quality of his return will drop after being pressured on the serve; he just needed to wait at the net. He had a 'Dance of Destruction' smash."

After hearing this, Kajimoto's smile deepened, and he subconsciously touched the earring on his earlobe: "I specifically practiced a whole set of targeted techniques. From serving to smashing to follow-up shots, it's all a complete closed loop."

"And he only took two months." Hanamura Aoi looked towards the Hyotei coaching bench, her eyes almost overflowing with admiration: "He's honed Atobe to this level. But... a talent like Atobe, I should be able to develop him into something similar."

In the St. Rudolph district, Mizuki stopped twirling her fingers around her bangs. "Tanhäuser's serve... it's 60% more powerful than any of his other serves I've collected."

Akazawa's eyes widened: "Sixty percent? How are we supposed to fight then?"

"What's the panic?" Mizuki glanced at him sideways. "Tezuka's ball control isn't that bad, he just didn't get used to the first ball."

Yuta clung to the railing, his fingertips turning white from gripping it, staring at Tezuka's back without saying a word.

In the Yamabuki Ward, Sengoku sat beside him, resting his chin on his hand, unusually refraining from using the word "Lucky."

He watched for a while before speaking: "This serve... I've seen a similar one in a video before, but the accuracy is completely different. In the video, the ball bounces at least once after landing."

"That was probably the first version." The old man started fanning himself again, his movements slower than before. "This one is an improved version. He eliminated that bounce."

"It's all crushed?"

"Using stronger backspin and sidespin, he converts all the ball's kinetic energy after landing into lateral displacement." The old man's voice wasn't loud, but every word carried weight. "He not only changed the axis of spin, but also reworked the power generation structure. Notice the angle of his knee bend when he jumps; it's almost fifteen degrees smaller than a normal serve. He's saving space in his power generation, concentrating all the power in the instantaneous burst of his wrist."

After listening, Sengoku was silent for two seconds, then smirked and said, "That's incredibly unlucky. Just hearing it gives me the creeps."

"You feel a chill run down your spine because you know how difficult that kind of shot is to master," the old man continued seriously. "But what you don't know is... how long he practiced to achieve a flawless first shot in an official match."

Sengoku did not respond.

He looked at the greyish-white figure walking back behind the service line and recalled the rumors he had heard before the match.

After the new coach from Hyotei arrived, Atobe Keigo's training volume increased nearly twentyfold. At the time, he thought that was just an exaggeration, but now, looking at that serve, he thinks that "nearly twentyfold" is probably a conservative estimate.

Tan Taichi clutched the green hairband, his little face tense: "Coach, can Tezuka-senpai catch it?"

The old man fanned himself with a palm leaf fan, increasing the speed of his hand movements. "I can catch it, but it takes some effort. The serve has tricky spin and a lot of power; if you don't catch it well, you can easily hurt your hand."

Akutsu leaned against the back railing, raised an eyebrow, glanced at Atobe, and then looked at the blond figure in the coaching bench. His Adam's apple bobbed.

Kentaro Aoi from Rokkaku Junior High jumped high, clinging to the railing: "Wow! The ball runs close to the ground! That's amazing!"

Saeki quickly reached out and pressed down on his shoulder: "Jump slowly, the railing is unstable."

Tiangen, standing to the side, suddenly spoke up: "Flying close to the ground saves you from jumping. Pfft."

Kuroba slapped him on the back: "Don't tell lame jokes."

In the press box, Saori Shiba's hand holding the camera froze in mid-air; the ball had been too fast, and she hadn't even managed to press the shutter button in time.

"How is that possible..." She put down her camera, her brows furrowed, her tone somewhat unconvinced. "How could Tezuka not catch it? No, he must have misjudged the first ball! Atobe's shot was clearly just brute force, with absolutely no technique!"

Inoue paused, his fingers flipping through the notebook, and his brows furrowed.

He knew more about tennis than Shiba Saori, and could clearly see the spin and power of that serve. He didn't agree with her, saying, "Saori, don't talk nonsense. The spin, landing point, and speed of that serve were all perfectly timed; it's at a professional level."

"Professional level?" Shiba Saori immediately glared at him. "Inoue-senpai, you're giving him too much credit. He's just a middle school student. Oh dear... Senpai, why are you taking the side of an outsider! Captain Tezuka is a pillar of Seigaku!"

Inoue didn't reply, his gaze fixed on Atobe's back on the field, and his heart sank.

This level is far beyond what a top junior high school student can achieve.

The stands at Hyotei Stadium instantly became lively.

Shishido stood up and gave a low, deep cheer, "Good shot!"

Feng stood to the side, her eyes wide open, her fingers gripping a towel, her voice also excited: "Let's use Tannhäuser serve for the first point..."

Taki turned to a new page in his tactics notebook, his pen quickly writing down numbers: "Rotation speed 200 revolutions per second, landing point error no more than 3 centimeters. Consistent with the data from training."

Jiro yawned, clinging to the railing; the ball had instantly banished his drowsiness. He rubbed his eyes and leaned forward, saying, "Wow... Atobe's really fierce today."

As Oshitari, clutching his coat, walked from the sidelines to near the stands, he turned back and looked at Atobe on the field through his glasses. His eyes crinkled into a smile. "He's really serious right from the start. Looks like he's genuinely angry."

In the Rikkai University area, several people leaned forward as well.

Kirihara squatted on the steps, forgetting to chew the potato chips in his mouth, his eyes wide: "Wow... even faster than during the training camp!"

Sanada's eyes, hidden beneath his hat brim, darkened. His fingers gripped the railing firmly. "Indeed, Atobe's serve is even more complete than during the training camp."

Marui popped his chewing gum, which stuck to the corner of his mouth, and nodded so hard that a tuft of hair stuck up on top of his head. He leaned forward halfway along the railing: "Atobe's serve is even tighter than during the training camp! When he played a practice match with Sanada last time, his sidespin wasn't this strong, was it? It hasn't even been that long."

"More than that." Liu glanced down at the raw data he had recorded during the training camp in his notebook. The pen hovered above the paper, hesitating for two seconds before finally dropping it. "Landing bounce height 0-1 cm, lateral offset angle 38-42 degrees, ball speed approximately 195-200 km/h. Landing point, offset angle, calculating speed, it should also include power..."

He paused for a moment, crossed out the old data, and wrote a new one, his voice a beat slower than usual, "Compared to the training camp, everything has improved by at least 30%. Serve power increased by 30%, spin control increased by 41%, and the offset angle increased by nearly ten degrees."

"This training efficiency exceeds the growth curve of any junior high school student in my database."

"How much more?" Sanada's voice came from the side. His hat brim was pulled low, but you could see that his fingers were gripping the railing tightly.

"Exceeding the peak value of the sample by 51%."

After saying the number, Liu paused for a moment. He looked down at the line of data he had just written on the paper, his fingertips lightly tracing the edge of the paper.

This figure is quite high when placed within the training and growth curve of a professional tennis player.

Niou adjusted his sun hat, whistled, and his silver braid swayed: "Puri~ That was an amazing shot. Tezuka was probably a little surprised too."

Yagyu held his water glass, his gaze fixed on the field, and said calmly, "Going all out on the first point, Atobe isn't going for a long game today; he's planning a quick victory."

"Even more frightening than Sanada's serve... no, it's a different kind of frightening." Marui finally wiped the chewing gum from the corner of his mouth, chewing the rest as he mumbled, "Speaking of which, last time during the training camp I could still see the trajectory, but just now I couldn't even see where it landed..."

"Because Atobe-senpai increased the downward angle." Kirihara squatted in front of the railing, the bag of potato chips in his hand long since abandoned, rustling loudly as he gripped it tightly. His eyes were wide as he stared at the court. "I saw it, when senpai swung the racket, the racket face was about this much lower than during the training camp..."

He gestured with his hand to indicate an angle, "So the ball's trajectory is flatter, and it doesn't bounce up at all after landing."

Kuwabara gently patted his head from the side: "Akaya, when did you start looking at things so carefully?"

"I've been watching very carefully!" Kirihara protested, turning back to stare at the field.

Yukimura leaned back in his chair, holding Luna in his arms. He held a small fan to cool the kitten, his gaze fixed on Atobe, a hint of approval in his eyes.

He turned his head to look in the direction of the coach's bench, where Mochizuki Ryo was leaning back in his chair, twirling a bottle of tea in his hand, looking relaxed.

The moment their eyes met, Wang Yueling raised an eyebrow and a very faint smile appeared on her lips.

Yukimura smiled and turned back to watch the game.

The kitten in his arms, dressed in a mini Hyotei team uniform, was pawing at his wrist, peeking out, its tail tip swaying gently. Startled by the sharp snap of the bowstring, it pressed its ears back and shrank closer to him, the whole ball of black fur snuggling into his arms.

He lowered his head and gently rubbed the kitten's ear with his fingertip, whispering, "Don't be afraid, it's just your team captain playing ball."

The kitten's ears twitched, then slowly perked up, peeking half its head out from Yukimura's arms to peer onto the field. Its heterochromatic eyes shone brightly in the sunlight, fixed on the yellow ball that had come to rest on the ground, and its little tail twitched slightly.

The clear "Zero" graffiti on the Hyotei team uniform is quite eye-catching.

Yukimura raised his head and his gaze fell on Atobe on the field.

The boy with purplish-gray hair was standing behind the service line, his head slightly lowered as he adjusted his racket strings. His posture was relaxed, but he exuded a sense of pressure that he had just brought from the training field.

"From the end of the training camp until now, it's only been less than a month for him." Yukimura's voice was soft, as if he were talking to a kitten in his arms, or as if he were talking to someone next to him, with a hint of a smile, "He honed a serve from 'being able to hit it' to 'completely consistent'."

"It seems you've put in a lot of effort lately."

"That's right." Oshitari walked over carrying Atobe's jacket, just in time to hear this, and chuckled. "When our captain gets tough on himself, no one can compare. After returning from the training camp, Ryo was watching over his movements and correcting them, and Atobe practiced until the lights went out every day. Brilliance isn't just talk."

"As for that ball just now, it was hit with a lot of force, so it naturally had a lot of power."