The Prince of Tennis, Talent Replication

"Another Tiger Cannon!"

Will we get picked up this time?

"....."

Speculations abound like the wind, doubts fall like rain, a cacophony of voices, all blending together.

Sengoku Kiyosumi's entire body was taut and stretched, and his strength was clearly visible.

With exceptional dynamic vision, the eyes scan the opponent's court from all angles, instantly reflecting every possible point of impact deep within the mind.

"Hmph~"

With two cheerful hums, the explosive slam of his hair crashed down like a meteorite onto the court to Natsume Tsukiya's side.

With burning gazes and fiery anticipation, the faces of the Yamabuki crowd were eager to cheer.

"Ya ya ya ya ya ya!"

Sengoku Kiyosumi's attention was drawn to a shout from Kiyono.

It came from Natsume Tsukiya's mouth on the other side. He spread his arms and rushed towards the ball like an eagle catching a chick, his face full of excitement, as if the fierce battle just now had given him full confidence.

"Bang!"

The hair extensions were still a stretch, but at least we made contact.

Sengoku Kiyosumi was slightly taken aback. Looking up, he saw the returned ball gliding high across the sky, like a perfect parabola in a math book, moving straight and at a constant speed towards his baseline. This time, it was in bounds.

With this judgment, the pure and innocent Chigoro swept past like a gust of wind, his face beaming with a smile, and his pace as swift as a colt as he galloped away.

"Bang!"

The lucky Sengoku not only possesses the ability of luck, but his strength is also truly remarkable. His loss to Momoshiro Takeshi was definitely due to carelessness and underestimation of his opponent. However, this time it is different. His desire to show off surpasses his obsession with victory.

The ball was suddenly swung out, like a fire hydrant suddenly exploding, with considerable impact; you could tell from the sound that the ball had reached its maximum force.

A smile spread across Sengoku Kiyosumi's face; clearly, he was extremely satisfied with the return of the ball.

His gaze lifted slightly upwards, but his opponent, a second-year student from Hyotei High School, seemed to have anticipated this and had already positioned himself where the ball would land, his body tilted to the side, his racket at an angle of about thirty degrees to the ground.

"Snapped!"

The tennis ball hit the ground and bounced out at an angle, but was stopped in an instant by those hands. The whole process was like a red checkmark on a workbook.

The trajectory, like a red pen marking a score, abruptly ends at a certain point. The yellow tennis ball hisses against the angled surface of Natsume Tsukiya's racket, as if climbing a downward-moving elevator.

"Wow, it's still on the racket!"

"Is that guy performing magic?"

"..."

With the tennis ball lingering on his racket, even Sengoku Kiyosumi, with his exceptional dynamic vision, couldn't help but wonder.

He knew very well that the ball couldn't stay on the racket for too long after it was hit, and this scene was truly astonishing.

"Bang!"

It moved!

Sengoku Kiyosumi was able to clearly capture the scene in motion. The moment his eyes saw Natsume Tsukiya pull his racket back, his mind was already judging the trajectory of the ball, and his heels were slightly raised, ready to move.

but,

Sengoku Kiyosumi's actions were not limited to this; Natsume Tsukiya also noticed all of his subtle movements.

After Natsume Tsukiya took a backswing, he paused slightly, made a slight modification to the tennis ball, and swung it out with force from the bowl, like throwing a shot put. The whole process looked very strenuous, but he was extremely happy, secretly chuckling to himself.

The light in Sengoku Kiyosumi's eyes was like a short, sharp knife, and the trajectory of Natsume Tsukiya's tennis ball swing was like the moon from Monday to Wednesday, leaving afterimages across the sky, but that was enough.

Without sparing any effort, every step Sengoku Kiyosumi took caused fine dust particles, as small as cow hairs, to rise and fall vigorously on the clean ground.

"Bang!"

Sengoku Kiyosumi grew stronger with each fight.

They battled fiercely for dozens of points against Hyotei's substitutes.

All the onlookers saw was a dense network of yellow light moving back and forth in the arena, making the entire battle a truly evenly matched contest. No one would dare to disagree.

"oh!"

"Huh!"

"Wow!"

Various expressions of surprise and astonishment came from the bottom of their hearts.

"It was truly a thrilling and exhilarating match."

Hearing a loud gulping sound behind him, followed by a long burp, Banta Kanya glanced sideways, his facial muscles completely still. Echizen Nanjiro, holding a can of beverage, smiled faintly, his eyes shining as he looked at the scene and sighed.

"Hmm"

Banta Mikiya hummed in agreement, then asked:

"How does it compare to your son?"

"hey-hey!"

The light in Echizen Nanjiro's eyes was even brighter than that of Ultraman Tiga.

Banta Mikiya only heard one voice in his heart: his son was the best son in the world, the most amazing little devil, incomparable to any outsider.

Banda Mikiya thought to himself, "That makes sense. My father is a professional, and like father, like son." So his son is bound to be just as good.

but,

Based on decades of experience, Banta Mikiya has always had a feeling that the second-year student at Hyotei seems to be an extraordinary individual.

"That guy from Hyotei is really tenacious."

"Yes, they actually fought Sengoku to this extent."

"However, both of them seem quite tired."

"Why isn't Sengoku using his special move yet? He could score a point that way."

"Those from Hyotei are indeed not to be trifled with. The fact that they can appear in a singles match proves that they have considerable strength."

"So, how long is this match going to go?"

......

"Hey, Natsume, stop playing those tricks."

Atobe Keigo shouted:

"Get serious, you bastard."

"hey-hey!"

Natsume Tsuki retorted with a smile, replying:

"Atobe, shut up. I'll do whatever I want. You're a hundred years too early to tell me what to do."

"You bastard!"

Atobe Keigo was speechless.

Natsume Tsukiya's voice came again, shouting:

"Who says tennis has to be played like that? Who decided that? I'll play however I want!"

His voice was strong and powerful, and his breathing was steady.

Sengoku Kiyosumi's throat tightened, and a chill ran through him. His soul trembled. The guy opposite him should be exhausted, just like him. Why...?

A great doubt arose in her heart, and her movements and judgments slowed down. Suddenly realizing the slight difference, Sengoku Kiyosumi broke out in a cold sweat. She couldn't lose, absolutely not.

Immediately, they made adjustments, only to find that the opponent seemed unaware. Otherwise, why would they launch a full-scale attack? In a battle between masters, victory should be achieved over a tiny, insignificant detail.

After playing dozens more balls, I gradually relaxed.

It's likely that the second-year students at Hyotei must possess exceptional physical strength and rare skills; otherwise, they would have already used their ultimate techniques on themselves.

"That guy..."

A slight ache ran through his legs, instantly sending a jolt down his spine, making him feel as if he were about to collapse. A thousand questions swirled in Sengoku Kiyosumi's mind:

"How could this be? When did my stamina get so depleted?"

His eyes widened in surprise as he stared at Natsume Tsukiya, as if trying to see through what he had overlooked.

Natsume Tsukiya's face, however, seemed completely oblivious, his expression innocent and naive.

This only made Sengoku Kiyosumi more and more confused.

"Did you finally find it?"

Banta Mikiya squinted and said, his tone conveying a sense of detachment as if he had already seen through everything.

"Master, what have you discovered?"

Behind him, Yamabuki's little devil, Tan Taichi, hurriedly pulled his loose hair ribbon up to his head. Hearing Banta Miyato's voice, he couldn't help but speak up.

"You old geezer, what are you up to now?" Akutsu asked fiercely.

Yamabuki and his group all gathered around, and Banta Mikiya then spoke up:

"From the very beginning."

"From the very beginning?" Everyone looked bewildered.

"From the very beginning, Sengoku used a power that was not his own."

"A power that doesn't belong to me?"

Everyone was even more puzzled: how could the power they could use not belong to them?

"When a person is more excited than usual, the blood flow in the body will increase, and the physical strength consumed will only increase."

Banta Mikiya said calmly:

"Sengoku used too much force at the beginning. He couldn't break through the opponent's defense for a long time, so his stamina was naturally depleted. Moreover, the opponent's second-year students were not as simple as they seemed. He controlled the entire game."

"Ah, Banlao, really? Sengoku is acting a bit differently than usual, and he seems more excited. It's true that he couldn't break through the opponent's defense for a long time, but to say that the entire match was controlled by the second-year students, that's not necessarily true. To me, it seems like Sengoku was controlling the pace of the match."

The bespectacled Juji Muromachi from the tennis club was utterly astonished as he offered his unique perspective and insights.

"Really? Is that what you think?"

Banta Mikiya wasn't in a hurry. He first gave the Yamabuki group some time before uttering his profound words:

"When you think someone is inferior to you, you should be wary that their perceived inferiority is merely a subjective feeling, perhaps deliberately created by them. When you hold this feeling but discover that the reality is the opposite of your perception, it's like Sengoku. He appears to be in control, constantly attacking, but the truth is, no matter how much effort he uses, he cannot achieve the desired result. In this continuous tug-of-war, his stamina is constantly being depleted. He's only focused on the opponent's weaknesses, to the point that he himself has overlooked this problem..."

Sengoku Kiyosumi's legs were already trembling slightly, and Banta Mikiya's casual words were also subtly heard amidst the sound of the ball hitting the ground.

Only then did Sengoku Kiyosumi seriously examine the second-year students of Hyotei across from him.

in case,

If, as the old man said, he had fallen into the other party's trap from the beginning, then why didn't the other party attack?

Confused, like a sound coming from all directions in an empty room, making it impossible for him to determine the source of the sound.

Although Sengoku Kiyosumi had seriously considered the matter, every ball he played clearly told him that his opponent had also given it their all.

"It seems like that Sengoku from Yamabuki is about to collapse."

Guan Yuechu pinched his brow with his fingers, a sinister look on his face, and sneered as he did so:

"I could see the limits of his legs."

"Kanzuki, why is this happening?" Fuji Yuta asked hastily, temporarily putting aside his hatred.

"Sengoku Kiyosumi, like Shiraishi Kuranosuke of Shitenhoji, is a player who likes to conserve his energy. However, the degree of their efforts is different. In the match against Seigaku Momoshiro, he used up his opponent's energy to conserve his own. But now he's getting hot-blooded and is using up his energy with every step he takes. It looks like he can't hold on any longer."

"No way."

Fuji Yuta said regretfully:

"That Hyotei guy hasn't even used his ultimate technique yet..."

"But Yuuta, you keep talking about Hyotei's special techniques and stuff, does that guy actually have any special techniques or not?"

Guan Yuechu raised her eyebrows slightly, her tone full of doubt.

"Kanzuki, what do you mean by that?"

Fuji Yuuta recalled his fight with Natsume Tsukiya, whose opponent unleashed one powerful technique after another.

"According to my investigation, the moves he used when he fought you that day were all from other people, namely the moves of the Hyotei team," said Kanzuki.

Fuji Yuta looked blankly at the field.

"Oh no, I'm getting a muscle cramp!"

Sengoku Kiyosumi's body stiffened, a twisting pain gripped his mind, and he suddenly recalled the scene of his battle against Momoshiro Takeshi during the Metropolitan Tournament.

At that time, Momoshiro from Seigaku was also experiencing cramps...

He frowned slightly, wondering if he could unleash a powerful attack under these circumstances.

Thinking of Takeshi Momoshiro, the force in my leg increased to resist the cramping pain, and the pain lessened a bit.

"I can't let him know that I have a leg cramp."

Sengoku Kiyosumi tried his best not to look at his trembling feet, gripped his racket tightly, gritted his teeth, and stared solemnly at his opponent as he continued his counterattack.

"Why."

After the ball went past, the sounds from the other side swept over with the wind.

Are you really alright?

The brief delay in asking made Sengoku Kiyosumi's heart skip a beat. "So, I've been found out after all?"

That shot had the power of a sprinter's explosive burst at the sound of the starting gun.

If we don't strive hard, we will certainly find it difficult to meet the challenge.

Sengoku Kiyosumi suddenly stepped forward, but the tendons and bones in his legs felt like they were being pulled. He barely managed to receive the ball, but his attention had been largely diverted, leaving him unable to mount a proper counterattack.

"It can't fall yet, it can't fall yet!"

Sengoku Kiyosumi suppressed the convulsions that felt like pulling out a snake, staring intently at the person opposite him.

With forced visual focus, I saw the second-year student on the other side spin his racket around a few times, tilting the racket face, and then leisurely flicking it out.

"It's a short ball!"

Sengoku Kiyosumi immediately made a judgment, his steps faltering with pain as he ran towards the scene, his staggering and limping appearance immediately drawing gasps from the crowd:

"It seems that Sengoku of Yamabuki is in trouble."

"Oh, let me see, it really does look like a cramp."

"Really? You're getting muscle cramps?"

"Wow, how bad is that guy's stamina? He only played two balls and he already got cramps! It's hilarious!"

.....

The noise was annoying, and he actually said he had poor physical strength. What's wrong with him?

Sengoku Kiyosumi listened to those comments and in his heart, he was a million times against believing that he was physically weak.

As for why cramps occur?

He suddenly looked across at the other side.

The ball had already left the racket. "It's on the left!"

Sengoku Kiyosumi moved to the left.

"despair!"

A soft sound.

The ball bounced gently against the post, then to the right, and before everyone's eyes, it rolled along the net to the right, instantly eliciting a chorus of "Oh!"s!

"Tap tap tap!"

Sengoku Kiyosumi stared in shock as the ball swayed and hung precariously from the net, making a few soft thuds.