As the matches on each court ended, the eight schools advancing to the quarterfinals of this year's national tournament were finally decided: Fudomine, Rikkai, Nagoya Seitoku, Hyōtei, Shishigaku, Makinofuji, Seigaku, and Shitenhōji.
Fudomine's next opponent would be Nagoya Seitoku, while Shishigaku was set to face Rikkai—it looked like Shishigaku's national journey would end here. Hyōtei was paired against Makinofuji. Akashi thought that if Makinofuji couldn't even make the semifinals this year, Byoudouin would probably go berserk when he found out. Lastly, Seigaku was matched with Shitenhōji; even though Seigaku had grown much stronger, Akashi estimated they still stood little chance of beating Shitenhōji.
However, the current Shiraishi would be completely crushed if he ran into Fuji—Akashi just didn't know whether they'd get the chance to meet in these matches.
The quarterfinals were scheduled for the next day, so everyone took buses to the hotel. Since the group was so large, Akashi directly arranged for a hotel owned by his family's corporation to accommodate everyone. The Rikkai team also stayed in the same hotel.
Not far away, in another hotel owned by the Atobe Group, Hyōtei's team was settled in, and Atobe had even pulled Seigaku's team there as well—no way would Atobe-kun lose to Akashi in something like this.
Shitenhōji's coach, Watanabe Osamu, and his regulars could only look on enviously as the four schools departed. News of Fudomine and Hyōtei booking entire hotels had already spread, making everyone sigh at how nice it was to have money.
Just then, a middle-aged man in a butler's uniform approached Shitenhōji's group, bowed politely to Watanabe Osamu, and informed him that their hotel rooms were prepared and that he would guide them there.
This butler was, of course, Tanaka, arranged by Akashi. After the nationals, Akashi planned to invite Shitenhōji for joint training; this was the first step to build a relationship between them.
Shitenhōji's regulars cheered when they heard the news. Taira even exclaimed, "We finally don't have to stay in that crappy hostel anymore! Osamu is so stingy, doesn't care about our lives at all!"
"Don't talk nonsense, you brats! It's not that bad! You guys go on ahead to the hotel, I'll check us out of the hostel. I just hope they don't withhold our deposit," Watanabe Osamu grumbled helplessly.
Although he didn't know why Fudomine had arranged hotel rooms for them, he knew there was no reason to refuse a good thing. Fudomine was the new Kanto champion, and they wouldn't resort to shady tactics.
When Watanabe Osamu arrived at the hotel, he saw Rikkai's team there as well, which put him completely at ease. He made sure to personally visit Akashi's room to express his thanks. Akashi simply smiled and told him it was nothing, just a small favor.
The next day, at Osaka Prefectural Gymnasium, the eight quarterfinalist schools gathered again. Today would determine the national tournament's top four. Unlike the Kanto or Tokyo tournaments, nationals had no third-place match; only the champion and runner-up were officially ranked. The semifinal losers were simply considered part of the national top four.
That meant today's matches were bound to be fierce—especially for schools like Seigaku, who hadn't reached this stage in years.
When Akashi and his team arrived at their court, they saw the Nagoya players already waiting. Akashi glanced at the lineup of foreign faces on the other side and understood instantly: Nagoya had always relied on foreign exchange students to compete, which explained why they were perennial contenders for the national top four.
Thinking of this, Akashi glanced at Krauser beside him. If not for his intervention, Krauser would have joined Nagoya in two years and then been utterly crushed by Echizen Ryōma. But now, everything had changed: Krauser's strength had already far surpassed his original trajectory, and his talent had been fully developed—he was destined to become one of Japan U-17's main forces.
Meanwhile, the Nagoya exchange students looked over at Fudomine's team with sneers, their faces full of mockery. Some even whistled provocatively.
It wasn't surprising—they looked down on Japanese tennis, which had fallen behind internationally. Since the days of Nanjirō, there hadn't been any standout Japanese players, so it was natural for these Western players to underestimate Fudomine.
But they were in for a rude awakening. The Fudomine members watching from the sidelines glared back at them with eyes like knives. They knew exactly how terrifying their regulars were, and these foreigners would soon learn the price of their arrogance.
Akashi and his team remained calm in the face of Nagoya's provocation. They knew the exchange students would pay for it soon enough—no need to waste words.
The Nagoya players thought Fudomine's lack of reaction meant they were scared, and their laughter grew louder. It only stopped when the referee sternly told them to quiet down.
Not long after, Akutsu returned from his warm-up with a violent glint in his eyes, glaring menacingly at the opponent's bench. While Akashi had helped Akutsu control his temper in daily life, that didn't mean Akutsu had become gentle—far from it.
Soon, the referee announced the start of the match and signaled the players to enter the court. Because one side consisted of foreign students, the referee specifically stated their nationalities.
Nagoya's Singles Three player was Miguel Hernandez from Mexico. Though he was said to be a third-year middle schooler, his actual age was uncertain—foreign students often enrolled late for various reasons.
As they met at the net for the coin toss, Hernandez laughed loudly at Akutsu and said, "Hey! Buddy! Tennis doesn't suit you Asians. I suggest you just give up!"
Seeing Akutsu remain silent, only giving him a cruel grin, Hernandez seemed to realize something and said, "Oh! Sorry! I forgot you probably don't understand English. Poor little guy!"
Unfortunately for him, Akutsu was a straight-A student in all subjects; basic English was no problem at all. He simply wasn't in the mood to reply.
Hernandez won the serve. With a smug, victorious look, he walked to the baseline. The referee then officially announced the start of the match.
"First game! Nagoya to serve!"
Standing at the baseline, Hernandez took out a tennis ball, tested its bounce, then tossed it high and smashed it over the net, sending it flying deep into Akutsu's court.
Akutsu appeared in front of the ball the moment it hit the ground. As it bounced up, he lashed out with a sharp swing, sending the ball screaming to Hernandez's left baseline corner before it shot out of bounds.
"0-15!"
"What! God! This is impossible!" Hernandez shouted in disbelief.
Akutsu's face retained its cruel expression as he stared at Hernandez. This was only the beginning—he had no intention of letting this foreign trash off easy.
Hernandez served again from the baseline, this time with full force. The ball was noticeably faster, but it still made no difference to Akutsu.
Akutsu saw Hernandez moving to his right while he prepared to return the ball. With a cold grin, he struck a straight shot from an awkward stance, the ball zooming past Hernandez's side and hitting the baseline before flying out.
"0-30!"
"No! How can you hit a shot like that!" Hernandez yelled in frustration.
In the next two points, Akutsu kept using odd stances to hit shots in the opposite direction of Hernandez's predictions, leaving him flailing helplessly and watching the points slip away.
"0-40!"
"Game! Fudomine! 1-0!"
In the second game, it was Akutsu's turn to serve. Standing at the baseline, he looked across at Hernandez and finally spoke, using perfect English.
"The game ends now! Time to send you to meet your god!"
Before Hernandez could comprehend the words, he saw Akutsu's ball glowing gold in his hand, and an overwhelming sense of danger rose inside him. But it was too late to dodge—Akutsu had already served.
"Glowing Shot!"
Since this was only the first match, Akutsu kept the power of the Glowing Shot under control so it wouldn't destroy the court. The ball glowed brilliantly as it flew over the net, expanding several times larger before smashing into Hernandez's body, who looked on in despair.
Hernandez's body flew backward and slammed into the wall behind him, cracks spiderwebbing out from the impact point as dust and smoke billowed up.
"Match paused! Checking player's condition!" the referee responded quickly. Before the tournament began, referees had been warned about possible extreme incidents in Fudomine's matches.
When medical staff checked Hernandez and shook their heads at the referee, he immediately declared, "As the Nagoya player cannot continue, the match is over! Score 1-0! Fudomine wins!"
The Fudomine members in the stands simply clapped lightly, showing no surprise—they'd seen Akutsu's Glowing Shot many times during training camp.
Currently, Akutsu ranked No. 4 in the Fudomine tennis club. Not long ago, even Chitose had been completely defeated by him. Facing an average foreign player like Hernandez was child's play.
Then, a burly Black player stood up in rage and stomped over to Fudomine's bench, roaring at Akutsu, who had just returned, "Fuck! You bastard! How dare you hurt our teammate!"
Kite, who had just finished warming up, narrowed his eyes dangerously and slowly crouched, ready to move at any moment. A glint of killing intent flashed across Akutsu's face as well, but just then, several referees rushed over to stop the situation from escalating, sternly scolding the Black player and ordering him back.
The man had no choice but to retreat, still muttering vile curses under his breath. But his true anger wasn't because his teammate was hurt—it was because Akutsu had humiliated them.
After things calmed down, the referee announced the start of the Doubles Two match. Coincidentally, that Black player was one of the Doubles Two participants. He stepped onto the court with a fierce expression, glaring daggers at Krauser and Kite as they walked up. He even made a throat-slitting gesture, but was immediately warned by the referee. Still, Krauser's Western appearance surprised him for a moment.
Nagoya's two doubles players were both from America. The Black player was Bob Jones, and his white partner was Steve Miller. Unlike Jones, Miller didn't shout but just sneered coldly at Krauser and Kite.
When Krauser and Kite went up, Akashi told them not to hold back and to completely crush their opponents. Both nodded firmly, indicating they understood.
As the match started, the referee realized things were spiraling out of control. Both sides were aiming shots directly at each other's bodies, playing violent tennis. But with the tension high, the referee couldn't interfere lightly—he could only pray nothing serious happened.
Though both pairs were attacking fiercely, Krauser and Kite's strength far surpassed their opponents'. As a result, they remained unharmed while Jones and Miller started accumulating injuries.
Krauser's fierce body shots left Jones and Miller floundering in embarrassment. They never expected their opponents to play even more violently than they did—and with greater skill.
"Game! Fudomine! 1-0!"
"Game! Fudomine! 2-0!"
"Damn monkey! I'll crush you!" Jones shouted furiously.
"Shit! What's with these two? Weren't Japanese supposed to suck at tennis?" Miller raged as well.
Krauser and Kite ignored their curses and kept launching ruthless attacks. The wire fence behind Jones and Miller was soon dented into a cross-shaped depression.
After Miller barely returned another aggressive shot, Krauser's eyes gleamed coldly. He smashed the ball fiercely, and it transformed into a cross-shaped blur, slamming straight into Jones's body.
"Southern Cross!"
Jones's body flew backward, embedding into the wire fence with a crack. He let out a blood-curdling scream as the ball rebounded off him.
Just as the referee was about to call a pause, Kite used Shukuchihō to instantly appear at the net, swinging at the rebounding ball. It vanished instantly, reappearing a moment later in front of Miller as a massive ball shrouded in a dark aura.
"Dark Side!"
Miller couldn't react in time and took the ball squarely in the gut. Blood spewed from his mouth as he clutched his stomach and collapsed to the ground, unable to even scream.
"Pause! Match paused!" the referee shouted frantically. Things had turned into a worst-case scenario, reminding him of a certain long-haired figure with dark purple hair from last year.
Medical staff rushed in once again, grumbling as they ran. Normally their job was easy, but today they hadn't had a moment to rest. 'What's wrong with these foreigners? Why provoke Fudomine's monsters?' they thought.
After Jones and Miller were carried off, the referee finally declared the result.
"As both Nagoya players are unable to continue, the match is over! Score 2-0! Fudomine wins!"
Now, none of the foreign players dared to stand up again. Fear had set in completely; they were classic bullies afraid of the strong. Even Nagoya's Singles Two player didn't want to go on court.
Unfortunately, he couldn't withdraw—if he forfeited, he'd lose the generous benefits Nagoya provided. Left with no choice, he headed to the court to face Tezuka.
Tezuka didn't attack violently. Instead, he simply kept his Tezuka Zone active, refusing to score outright, and pulled his opponent side to side like walking a dog.
With August's scorching heat already intense before noon, Luis Juan from Argentina soon ran out of stamina.
"Game! Fudomine! 4-0!"
As the referee's announcement echoed, Juan collapsed on the court, unconscious. The referee was speechless. 'He didn't even get hit—how did he faint?' But he had no choice but to call a timeout.
The medical staff rushed in yet again. Some of them silently vowed never to work Fudomine's matches again—it was too exhausting.
In the end, they found Juan had simply fainted from heatstroke, which was actually a relief: finally, something normal. They signaled the referee.
The referee nodded grimly, then announced the result with a helpless tone.
"As the Nagoya player is unable to continue, the match is over! Score 4-0! Fudomine wins!"