*Bang!*
Right as Hyotei clinched their victory...
In another corner of the National Tournament, on a court where Singles 1 was being played, a red-haired teenager with a leopard-print headband smashed a shot so hard it sent his opponent's racket flying.
"Game over!"
The referee checked the situation and nodded. "Shitenhoji Middle School's Kintaro Toyama wins, 6-0!"
"That concludes the match."
"Shitenhoji Middle School sweeps all five matches and advances to the next round!"
"This Shitenhoji… they're on a whole different level!"
Watching the ecstatic, bouncing teenager on the court, the representatives from Hokkaido's top school, Tsubakikawa Middle School, were floored with shock.
Five matches.
They didn't stand a chance in any of them.
Even though they were regional champions, the Kansai tournament's prestige was leagues above Hokkaido's.
"Maybe…"
Gazing at the spirited Shitenhoji team, a Tsubakikawa representative couldn't help but sigh. "This year, they might actually claim *that* spot!"
"Nice work, Kin-chan!"
After the win, Shitenhoji's captain, a handsome silver-haired boy named Kuranosuke Shiraishi, grinned. "That was their captain, and he didn't even score a single point!"
"Huh?"
The redhead, Kintaro Toyama, blinked in surprise. "Wait, you mean that guy was their strongest player?"
"Yup."
A young man lounging on a bench, wearing a bucket hat and chewing on a blade of grass, chuckled. "Their captain's got near-national-level skills, you know!"
"Didn't feel like it," Kintaro said, scratching his head with a blank look. "I barely even tried, and he was done. That match was no fun at all."
He shrugged, looking downright disappointed.
"Well, yeah, that tracks," a tall brunette, Kenya Oshitari, chimed in with a laugh. "Hokkaido's best is only about Kansai's average. For Kin-chan, it's gotta be a national-level opponent to get him serious."
"Exactly, exactly!" Kintaro nodded eagerly, like a chick pecking at rice.
To him, this match was just a warm-up. His racket hadn't even gotten hot before it was over.
For Kintaro, who saw tennis matches as nothing more than a game, this was far from satisfying.
"Don't worry," Shiraishi said with a reassuring smile, noticing Kintaro's frustration. "In the next match against Hyotei, you'll face *that* guy—the nation's strongest first-year."
"That guy?" Kintaro's eyes lit up. "You mean Ishikawa, right, Shiraishi? I heard he's got three eyes, five legs, and six arms, like some kinda ferocious *Asura*!"
As he spoke, the boy flailed his arms, wildly mimicking his mental image of Ishikawa.
"Alright, enough," Coach Watanabe said with a helpless sigh, watching Kintaro's animated performance. "Time to head back to the hotel. Also, start thinking about what you want for dinner."
As a team from Kansai's Osaka, with a match scheduled for tomorrow morning, Shitenhoji couldn't just commute back and forth.
In fact, after the national tournament brackets were drawn and their schedule confirmed, Shitenhoji had booked a hotel for three days.
"Dinner?" Kintaro's face lit up at the mention of food. "I want beef hotpot, grilled squid, and—"
"Takoyaki, we know," Kenya teased with a grin.
"Heh heh!" Kintaro chuckled, practically drooling. "Let's go, Coach, Shiraishi! I'm starving—I could eat a whole cow right now!"
"Alright, alright," Watanabe and Shiraishi said, nodding as they led the team off the court.
---
Meanwhile, matches for other teams wrapped up one by one.
The second round of the National Tournament concluded, and the quarterfinalists were set: Hyotei, Shitenhoji, Rikkai Dai, Makinofuji, Seigaku, Fudomine, Nagoya Seitoku, and Yamabuki.
The list sparked a wave of heated discussion.
Out of the eight teams, four were from Tokyo. If you counted the Kanto region, including Rikkai Dai, that made over half.
It was clear to everyone: the balance of power in the National Tournament was shifting eastward, and the west was falling behind.
---
At the platform outside the tennis venue...
The Shitenhoji team, ready to dig into some beef hotpot, waited for the bus to their hotel.
But with the first day of the tournament over, the crowds were at their peak.
The Shitenhoji players, about to board, got swept apart in the chaos. Coach Watanabe, Captain Shiraishi, and Chitose made it onto the first bus.
In the end, only second-year player Koichi Zaizen and the ever-optimistic Kintaro Toyama were left behind.
"Kintaro!" Zaizen called, spotting another wave of people rushing toward them. "Stick close to me, don't get lost!"
"No worries, no worries!" Kintaro said with a cheerful nod.
*Click. Screech!*
The bus pulled up.
The moment the doors opened, the crowd surged forward. Caught off guard, Zaizen reached for Kintaro's arm, yanking him through the mob and onto the bus.
"Hey…"
Before Zaizen could catch his breath, an elderly voice piped up. "Young man, thank you so much!"
"Huh?"
Zaizen turned and froze. Instead of Kintaro, he'd grabbed a white-haired grandma with a mouth full of dentures.
"Oh no…" His heart sank.
Of all the Shitenhoji players, Kintaro was hands-down the least worldly. If he got left behind at the station, he might actually get lost.
"But… he'll probably be fine, right?" Zaizen muttered, frowning. "If I remember correctly, Kintaro *ran* all the way here from Shizuoka."
For this National Tournament, the Shitenhoji team had taken a train from Osaka to Tokyo. But Kintaro, thinking he'd see Mount Fuji in Tokyo, got off early in Shizuoka—about 36 kilometers away—and *ran* the rest of the way.
Someone like that wouldn't get into too much trouble… probably.
Still, after a moment's hesitation, Zaizen shouted for the driver to stop. But the bus was so noisy, the driver didn't hear him.
"Whatever," Zaizen sighed, resigned. He'd just have to look for Kintaro after getting off.
---
Meanwhile, back at the bus stop…
Kintaro, with his bright red hair, stared blankly at the spot where Zaizen had vanished. In the blink of an eye, his teammate was gone.
He was stunned.
Now what?
"I missed dinner… They'll save some meat for me, right? And takoyaki… *slurp*!" Kintaro mumbled, swallowing hard as he imagined the food.
*Gurgle…*
His stomach growled. Kintaro patted his flat belly, looking glum.
"Hey, kid," a voice called from behind. "Yo, redhead!"
"Hm?" Kintaro turned to see a middle-aged man with sunglasses and a fake mustache. "Did you get separated from your team?"
"Yeah…" Kintaro nodded slowly.
"No problem! You know where they're at? I can take you there." The man pointed to a nearby van. "I'll drive you straight to 'em."
"Really?" Kintaro's eyes narrowed slightly.
He might be naive, but something felt off.
"Of course!" the man said, sensing Kintaro's wariness. "Don't worry, this is my job—I shuttle people around here all the time. If you don't have cash, your teammates can pay when we get there."
"Alright then," Kintaro said with a nod.
He was hungry, and Tokyo was way bigger than Shizuoka. He couldn't tell north from south here.
"Let's go!" The man grinned, leading him to the van.
*Click!*
The door locked as soon as Kintaro got in.
The van peeled out, making a U-turn at the intersection and heading in the opposite direction of Shitenhoji's team.
About ten minutes later, the van pulled into a quiet alley and stopped in front of a rundown apartment building.
"We're here," the man said, opening the door.
"Here? This is it?" Kintaro looked around, skeptical. This didn't look anything like the place where his team had stashed their luggage.
As evening fell, neon signs flickered in the distance.
On the street, women in flashy outfits—making Kintaro blush—lingered about.
"Of course it's here. What, you thought I was taking you to a hotel?" The man's friendly facade dropped, replaced by a cold sneer. "Listen up, kid. Behave, and you'll get hurt less."
"You're a bad guy!" Kintaro's eyes flashed with realization.
"Pfft," the man scoffed, moving to grab him.
Nearby, the women and a few tattooed punks passing by acted like they saw nothing.
*Boom!*
But in the next instant, a figure went flying, crashing hard into a wall with a *thud*.
"You… damn brat…"
The man's sunglasses were half-shattered, his fake mustache dangling. Clutching his stomach, he glared at Kintaro with a mix of rage and fear.
"Hmph!" Kintaro's eyes glinted with a fierce edge.
He might be simple, but he wasn't clueless. Back at Shitenhoji, his fighting skills had earned him a crew of followers.
Once he realized this guy was trouble, Kintaro unleashed his most ferocious side.
His life motto was simple: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth!
*Boom!*
Another vicious swing, like a tennis serve, sent the man—who'd just lunged again—flying back. The impact knocked him out cold.
"Time to go," Kintaro said, slinging his racket over his shoulder. He picked up the tennis ball, tucked it into his bag, and bolted out of the alley.
As he ran, the tattooed delinquents on the street shot him looks of fear and awe.
*Huff, huff, huff…*
After about twenty minutes of running in circles through the alleys, Kintaro finally emerged onto a proper street.
He let out a relieved sigh.
But then, he froze.
He had *no idea* where he was. And with the sun setting, once it got dark, finding his Shitenhoji teammates would be even harder.
"Hm?"
Suddenly, something caught his eye.
Kintaro's sharp vision locked onto a massive walled-off complex nearby. He could clearly make out the four large characters on the sign.
"That's… *Hyotei Gakuen*?"
Realizing it was the home turf of their opponents for tomorrow's match, Kintaro broke into a grin.
Without hesitation, he sprinted toward Hyotei's school gates.
*Thwack! Thwack!*
Moments later, the familiar sound of tennis balls echoed in his ears.
"Found it!"
Rounding a corner and passing through the iron gates, Kintaro spotted figures practicing inside. He shouted, "Excuse me… is Ishikawa here?"
(*End of Chapter*)