After returning from Kanagawa, the atmosphere in Hyotei Academy's Tennis Club had subtly changed. The somewhat lazy, flamboyant confidence that Atobe Keigo usually exuded was replaced by a sense of urgency bordering on burning intensity. On the practice court, he was exceptionally demanding of himself. Each shot was heavier than the last, his sprints faster, as if he were trying to squeeze every ounce of energy from his body.
"Bang!" Another powerful serve, an ace. Yet, Atobe's brow remained furrowed. He was not satisfied, far from it. In his mind, he kept replaying Yukimura Seiichi's gentle yet unfathomably deep smile, and Sanada Genichirou's steady, mountain-like presence. Rikkai Dai's strength weighed on his heart like an invisible boulder. He was the King of Hyotei, and he had to become stronger—strong enough to lead Hyotei to crush all opponents, including that mountain called Rikkai Dai.
However, haste makes waste. The more anxious he became, the more he felt that invisible barrier. His "Jack Knife" was still sharp, his insight still keen, but he craved a more decisive weapon, one that could shatter an opponent's confidence. He tried to push his power, angle, and spin to the absolute limit, attempting to create a finishing move, but it always felt like something was missing. Either the ball went out, it was anticipated, or it was cleverly neutralized by familiar teammates like Líng Yǔzhēn and Oshitari during practice.
Frustration began to build in the proud King's heart. After a mistake in a practice match, he uncharacterently slammed his racket to the ground, letting out a suppressed growl.
Training ended, and everyone gradually left. Only Líng Yǔzhēn stayed behind. He silently picked up the racket Atobe had thrown on the ground and walked over to Atobe, who sat on the bench, head covered with a towel, saying nothing. He gently placed the racket beside him.
"Atobe," Líng Yǔzhēn's voice was calm and unruffled.
Atobe didn't move. A muffled sound came from under the towel, "Yeah? Come to laugh at this great me?"
"Your direction is wrong," Líng Yǔzhēn said directly, his deep purple eyes gazing at the empty court ahead.
Atobe abruptly pulled off the towel, a hint of annoyance and confusion in his ice-grey eyes. "What did you say?"
Líng Yǔzhēn turned around and met his gaze. "You're too focused on a one-hit kill, wanting to crush with pure power, like Sanada's 'Swift as the Wind.' But that isn't your tennis."
Atobe raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Then tell this great me, what is this great me's tennis?"
"Flamboyant, precise, controlled," Líng Yǔzhēn said, enunciating each word. "What you excel at is discerning weaknesses, using impeccable technique and Tactics to make opponents lose in despair. What you're pursuing now is just a simple accumulation of power, abandoning your greatest advantage."
Atobe froze. Líng Yǔzhēn's words were like a bucket of cold water, waking his mind, which had been clouded by anxiety. He recalled his own matches; indeed, the moments he enjoyed the most were often when he cornered an opponent, saw through their every intention, and then scored with the most appropriate method. That feeling of controlling the entire game was the core of his tennis.
"Rikkai Dai is strong," Líng Yǔzhēn continued. "Yukimura's unfathomability, Sanada's solid strength. But Hyotei has its own path. What you need is to combine your insight and technique to create a true 'King's Technique' that can end matches, one that belongs to Atobe Keigo, not to imitate the strength of others."
He paused and pointed at the court. "Your new move shouldn't just be powerful. It should be the climax of a 'script.' For example, the first shot aims for the opponent's most uncomfortable spot, forcing them to return a high ball; the second shot is the truly flamboyant finisher. The focus should be on 'foreshadowing' and 'inevitability.'"
The annoyance in Atobe's eyes gradually dissipated, replaced by contemplation and a growing light. Líng Yǔzhēn was right! What he needed was a combination, a death dance precisely directed by him, with a predetermined ending!
He stood up abruptly, picked up his racket, and strode towards the court. "Ling, practice with this great me!"
Líng Yǔzhēn said nothing, silently picked up his own racket, and returned to the baseline.
For the next period, Atobe stopped blindly applying force. He began to try the "foreshadowing" Líng Yǔzhēn had mentioned. Using his excellent insight, he specifically targeted the area near the opponent's wrist where they held their racket, or blind spots where their footwork was difficult, forcing a drop in the quality of their return.
"Here it is!" Atobe saw an opening. Due to the previous setup, Líng Yǔzhēn's return was indeed high and floating, landing right in the mid-court.
Atobe's eyes sharpened like an eagle's. His body leaped elegantly, his arm tracing a perfect arc. The full force and weight of his body converged on the racket head. With unparalleled momentum and precision, he smashed down!
"Bang—!"
The tennis ball fell like a meteor at Líng Yǔzhēn's feet, bouncing up with a strong spin and flying towards his face, forcing Líng Yǔzhēn to dodge sideways.
There was a brief silence on the court.
Atobe landed slowly, his chest rising and falling slightly, but his face broke into a radiant, confident smile, brighter than ever before. He touched his tear mole, his voice echoing across the court, "Yeah! This is it! This great me's—Rondo of Ruin (Prelude to Despair)!"
Líng Yǔzhēn looked at the still-spinning ball on the ground, then at the radiant Atobe. A barely perceptible look of relief flashed in his deep purple eyes. He nodded. "It's successful."
This move, with its first shot targeting a weakness and its second shot being a flamboyant finish, perfectly matched Atobe's style. It was not just a display of power, but a crystallization of wisdom, insight, and absolute confidence.
Atobe walked to the net and looked at Líng Yǔzhēn, his expression complex. Finally, it turned into a sincere, "Ah, thanks, Ling."
Líng Yǔzhēn responded calmly, "You are the King of Hyotei. This is the weapon you deserve."
In the night, Hyotei's King had finally broken through his bottleneck, wielding a newly forged sharp blade. And all of this was inseparable from his calm, observant, and always insightful close friend beside him. Their friendship and tacit understanding grew even stronger through their shared dreams and challenges. The path to the summit of the nation seemed to have become a bit clearer.