Kunimitsu had awakened the *Unselfish State*!
The sudden shift left Seishun Academy's team stunned.
"Kunimitsu, he actually…" Inui trailed off, his glasses fogging with disbelief.
Even Fuji, usually calm, widened his eyes. He'd seen Kunimitsu's bloodthirsty "devil mode" before—but this? A serene aura swirling with milky-white energy? Unthinkable.
"So…" Momoshiro broke the silence, voice tense. "What *was* that return shot he just pulled off?"
All eyes turned to Inui, who hesitated. The Unselfish State's sudden burst had thrown him off, and the shot's speed left even *him* scrambling.
"*Wind Speed*," Tezuka answered coolly. "One of Sanada's signature moves from Rikkai Dai. The swing's rooted in kendo—brutally fast."
"Right, *Wind Speed*!" Inui nodded, recovering. "Sanada's kendo training makes his shots lethal. The racket's like a sword."
"Sanada?!" The name sent a ripple of tension through the group.
The Unselfish State allowed users to mimic *any* technique they'd witnessed. And Kunimitsu, as Rikkai's star, had seen *all* his teammates' tricks. That made him…
On the court, the score glared: **6-5, Kunimitsu leading.**
Ryoma, though down, still had two serves. But one misstep meant losing everything. Pressure? Crushing. Yet the first-year's face stayed ice-cold.
He fired a serve, unfazed.
Kunimitsu lunged, movements sharp—a carbon copy of Rikkai's Jackal.
"He's mixing styles now?!" Inui muttered.
Kunimitsu replicated *Wind Speed* again, but Ryoma's sharp reflexes tracked the ball. Without Sanada's kendo mastery, the shot lacked its usual edge.
The rally intensified. Kunimitsu cycled through Rikkai's arsenal, overwhelming Ryoma with unpredictable shifts.
Kunimitsu's racket whipped forward, flames *roaring* off the strings as he smashed the ball.
"*Fire Attack*?!" Inui paled.
The shot scorched the court, heat wafting to the sidelines. Ryoma froze, seemingly beaten.
"No way…" Momoshiro gripped the fence.
The ball curved mid-air, spiraling back to Ryoma's side.
"*Tezuka Zone*?!" the crowd gasped.
"Since when could he do that?!" Momoshiro yelped.
"No," Fuji said softly, eyes narrowing. "That's… the *Unselfish State*."
A milky aura enveloped Ryoma.
"Unselfish vs. Unselfish?!" Kaido blurted.
Ryoma's return streaked past Kunimitsu.
Wind shattered fire. Ryoma surged, stealing the next point: **7-6**. But Kunimitsu roared back, **8-7**.
*Thud! Crack! Smash!*
Aces collided, auras flickering as stamina drained. Sweat-drenched and gasping, neither yielded.
This wasn't skill anymore—it was *war*.
At **1 hour, 23 minutes**, Ryoma's shot clipped the net, dribbling onto Kunimitsu's side.
"Hah… I… won…" Kunimitsu rasped—before face-planting.
"…Carry them to the benches," Tezuka ordered. "Let Kunimitsu leave when he wakes. No disturbances."
Momoshiro and Kaido nodded, grudging respect replacing hostility. Maybe Kunimitsu wasn't the monster they'd feared.
"This changes everything for the Finals," Inui muttered, adjusting his glasses. "He didn't 'accidentally' come here twice. His target was *Hyotei*."
Fuji's eyes snapped open. "Even Rikkai's wary of them now?"
If so… the upcoming finals just got *complicated*.
At a riverside estate near Tokyo, Hyotei's Oshitari and Mukahi trudged with fishing gear.
"*This* is the grand finale of Ishikawa's 'training'?" Mukahi groaned. "What's fishing got to do with tennis?!"
"Patience, maybe?" Oshitari shrugged.
They spotted Ishikawa meditating nearby—birds perched on his shoulders, butterflies on his hair, squirrels playing at his feet.
"No. Freaking. Way," Mukahi whispered.
As they approached, the animals scattered.
Ishikawa opened his eyes, a notification flashing in his mind:
**[Yoga Level Up: Lv3]**
**Name:** Ishikawa Shin
**Five Dimensions:** Speed 3.8 | Power 3.8 | Stamina 3.9 | Technique 5.6 | Mental 4.7
*Finally,* his stamina weakness was gone.
He reeled in a massive carp, grinning at his teammates. "Dinner's on me tonight."
Hyotei's exhausted but sharp-eyed squad returned to campus that evening. Coach Sakaki nodded, satisfied.
*Bring it on, Rikkai.*