Fuji felt the wind blowing against him as he watched Shishido Ryō dash desperately toward the falling ball. He quietly thought, 'Time to end this match~'
Shishido Ryō heard Fuji's words, but paid them no mind—he didn't understand anyway. All he could do now was give it everything he had, even though the odds were hopeless.
He once again struck a half volley toward Fuji's side. His eyes locked onto Fuji, not daring to relax. Fuji responded to the incoming shot with a swift backhand slice. The ball flew across the net, and Shishido Ryō sprinted forward to intercept.
But suddenly, the flying ball shot upward into a steep arc, forming a towering parabola above the court. Just when everyone thought it was going out of bounds, the ball landed right on the baseline with fierce spin. After landing, it kept spinning violently and then—without warning—bounced backward at high speed, zooming past Shishido Ryō and heading straight toward Fuji.
At that moment, a hand reached out and caught the ball.
"Third Counter—Hakugei!"
"Game! 6-0! Winner, Seishun Academy!"
At the umpire's call, Shishido Ryō's knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the court. Just now, he'd felt something rush past his ear, and never in his life would he have guessed it was the tennis ball. 'How is it possible for someone to hit a ball that comes back to their own hand!?'
Even Atobe couldn't keep his composure after seeing Hakugei. An overwhelming sense of pressure surged inside him. The confidence he'd brought back from the UK was instantly shattered. So many peers with strength not below his—and then that infuriating Akashi, who outright surpassed him.
"That backhand slice even used the headwind to its advantage. Nice creativity, but a bit flashy for its own good~" Mitsuya commented from the sideline.
"For Fuji-kun to pull off a move like that shows his talent. His technique can be refined later." Akashi spoke calmly, clearly approving of Fuji.
Although Hakugei was already part of Fuji's arsenal in the original timeline, for him to develop it in his first year proved he was evolving rapidly. If he kept improving like this, by the time the main story kicked off, Ryōma might end up questioning his life choices. Akashi chuckled inwardly at the thought.
Through the Emperor Eye, Akashi had clearly seen Fuji's performance. Fuji was now firmly at Kanto-level—on par with Kite, and maybe even catching up to Akutsu. With just a little more, he might break into the national level.
Shishido Ryō staggered off the court and stood before Sakaki Tarō, ready for a harsh scolding. But to his surprise, Sakaki said nothing harsh—only calmly told him to increase training, then told him to rest.
Sakaki understood perfectly. This match wasn't lost because of Shishido Ryō's mistakes or carelessness. Quite the opposite—he'd given it everything. The reason for his defeat was simple: the gap in strength was too big.
Even though Seigaku now led 2-1 after Fuji's win, Atobe and Sakaki felt no pressure. Aside from a few first-year regulars added this year, they knew all too well what kind of players Seigaku still had. Atobe had done his research well before the match—unlike in the original timeline when he sent a second-string team against Fudomine without knowing a thing about them.
As the second singles match was about to begin, Akashi stood up and turned to leave. To him, there was no suspense left. Those two third-years from Seigaku had zero chance against Akutagawa Jirō and Atobe.
"Leaving already? Not planning to watch the rest?" Mitsuya asked curiously, seeing Akashi turn to go.
"No point. Hyōtei already has this in the bag. I should start preparing for your school instead, senpai." Akashi said indifferently and walked away.
Mitsuya shrugged at Akashi's retreating figure and stayed behind to watch. He knew Seigaku had no hope left, but as someone who handled intelligence, he wouldn't miss any chance to gather data.
Hyōtei's second singles player was Akutagawa Jirō. His natural talent was excellent—especially his hyper-flexible wrists. Unfortunately, he had narcolepsy, which meant he often couldn't train regularly, and sometimes even had to be woken up to play matches. Still, when facing an exciting opponent, he could sometimes enter a hyperactive state.
Although Akashi had already left, he still had thoughts about Jirō. He vaguely recalled that in the original series, Mōri Juuzaburō had a technique that would suit Jirō perfectly. He just didn't know the exact principle yet. Akashi planned to figure that out eventually—wasting a player with that much talent would be a real shame.
It was worth noting that although Kabaji hadn't yet entered junior high, under Atobe's instruction, Jirō—still sound asleep—was being carried out by Honjū and Kurokawa, one on each side, forcefully waking him up for the match.
Before the singles two match began, the third-year player hastily filling in for Seigaku was still feeling confident. His opponent was just a first-year—he didn't believe every first-year could be as strong as Fuji.
But reality hit hard. The entire match, the opponent looked half-asleep. Even so, he couldn't put up any resistance. In the end, the score was 6-1, with Hyōtei winning. The only game he won was early on, when Jirō literally fell asleep mid-match and forfeited that round.
And as for the final singles one match, there was even less to say. In front of Atobe, Seigaku's other third-year player didn't even get to touch the ball after his serve. It was a complete and utter wipeout. The score: 6-0.
With that, Hyōtei won the Tokyo District Tournament third-place match 3-2, and the journey for both schools in the tournament came to an end—for now. The Kanto Regional Tournament still awaited them.
Time flew by in the blink of an eye. Lunch break ended, and the highly anticipated finals were about to begin. Fudomine and Yamabuki were already preparing inside the stadium. Both teams' doubles two pairs had finished warming up.
Yamabuki's doubles two lineup remained unchanged: the "Potato Bear" duo—Minami Kentarō and Higashikata Masami. Honestly, aside from their third-year national-level doubles pair, this was Yamabuki's strongest remaining duo. Banda wasn't foolish enough to waste Mitsuya on doubles; if they wanted any shot at winning singles against Fudomine, Mitsuya had to be saved.
"The Tokyo District Tournament Finals are officially starting! Fudomine Middle School vs. Yamabuki Middle School!"
"First up is the doubles two match. Players, please enter the court!" The referee's voice rang out loudly.
Tachibana Kippei and Krauser calmly stepped onto the court with their rackets. On the opposite side, Minami and Higashikata walked up brimming with confidence.
At the net, there was no trash talk. They shook hands and then began the coin toss. Yamabuki won the serve.
"Match begins! Yamabuki Middle School to serve!"
With Minami serving, the doubles two match officially kicked off. Krauser dropped back to the baseline to support Tachibana's aggressive play at the net. Both sides had strengths—Minami and Higashikata's coordination and signals gave them an edge in chemistry, but they fell short in individual strength.
From the start, Minami and Higashikata went all out, using concealed hand signals for tight coordination and surprising shot placements. Their tactic caught Tachibana and Krauser off guard, nearly costing them points—until their raw strength kicked in and stabilized the situation.
In doubles, coordination is key, but when the skill gap is wide enough, no amount of teamwork can cover for it. Facing two national-level players—especially one with a highly aggressive style—Minami and Higashikata started falling behind.
"0-15!"
"Game! Fudomine! 1-0!"
"Game! Fudomine! 2-0!"
"Game! Fudomine! 3-0!"
Krauser and Tachibana quickly took three games. During the changeover, Akashi looked at Krauser and calmly said, "Liliadent, try using that move this match. Even if it's not fully mastered yet, it should be enough."
Krauser paused at the words, then nodded silently in acknowledgment. Tachibana and the other regulars nearby were full of curiosity.
They'd all heard Krauser was developing some mysterious technique, but he'd never demonstrated it—not even once during regular practice. He always trained alone. From the way Akashi said it, it looked like today was finally the day they'd get to see it.
Even Mitsuya, seated on the opposite bench, looked curious. The benches weren't far apart, so he'd also overheard Akashi.
After switching courts, the fourth game began. This time it was Fudomine's serve. Krauser stood at the baseline, took a deep breath, and focused. He pulled out a tennis ball from his pocket, tossed it high, and struck it with a loud snap. The ball shot cleanly over the net toward Yamabuki's side.
Minami and Higashikata were curious about what sort of secret move was coming, but didn't have time to ponder. They exchanged hand signals, then Minami moved to intercept and returned the ball toward Tachibana. Clearly, he didn't want to taste whatever Krauser was planning.
But Tachibana was cunning. Instead of going on the offensive, he returned a simple shot—clearly to bait Krauser's hidden move.
In the backcourt, Krauser saw through it immediately. He didn't mind—this match was all about testing that move.
When Higashikata returned the ball toward Tachibana again, Tachibana suddenly dodged, letting it pass. Krauser was already in position, sprinting forward. He swung his racket in a wide arc and struck the incoming ball with force. The ball spun violently and screamed across the court toward Yamabuki's side.
Minami tensed up and sprinted to intercept. He positioned his racket for a return, but the moment the ball made contact, it began spinning furiously on a vertical axis. In that instant, Minami lost control of his racket—it was yanked upward violently, flung high into the air and crashed outside the court with a spin.
"Wirbel Taufe!"