Let us set aside Yang Jian's celestial adventures for now and return our attention to the Bamboo Staff, where the culmination of an extraordinary training camp was about to unfold.
The month and a half of intensive preparation had transformed the Yamabuki Junior High tennis team beyond recognition. Under the combined guidance of Coach Banji and the supernatural training methods available through the Gate of All Worlds, each player had pushed their limits far beyond what conventional coaching could achieve. Most remarkably, Tom's cartoon-logic medical treatment had completely restored Tezuka's injured left hand—meaning the tennis world was about to face the full, unrestrained power of Tezuka Kunimitsu for the first time.
As the team prepared for their return to the regular world, one final matter remained unresolved.
"Tezuka." Fuji's voice carried an unusual weight as he approached his captain. For once, the perpetually serene expression had vanished from his face, replaced by an intensity that made even seasoned observers take notice. "I want to play you. A real match, with everything we have."
The transformation was startling. Gone was Fuji's characteristic squint and gentle smile. His eyes were fully open, blazing with competitive fire that had been carefully hidden beneath layers of casual indifference. This was the true Fuji Shusuke—the genius who had been holding back his entire tennis career.
Tezuka studied his teammate's face for a long moment, recognizing the significance of what he was seeing. "Are you certain about this, Fuji?"
"Show me your true strength, Tezuka!" Fuji's voice rang with conviction. "I need to know how far I still have to go."
It was perhaps the first time in their long friendship that Tezuka had witnessed such naked determination from the usually composed prodigy. The serious expression, the direct challenge, the complete absence of his trademark laid-back demeanor—this was a side of Fuji that few had ever glimpsed.
"Very well," Tezuka replied simply, turning toward their improvised court. "As you wish."
The news spread through the ship like wildfire.
"Everyone, come quickly!" Eiji's voice echoed through the corridors. "Tezuka and Fuji are going to have a serious match!"
Within minutes, the makeshift tennis court that the Yamabuki team had constructed during their stay became the center of intense attention. The entire crew of the Bamboo Staff gathered alongside the tennis players, while Conan and Ai—who had been visiting out of boredom—hurried to secure good viewing positions.
"Since you two are determined to settle this," Coach Banji said with his characteristic gentle smile, "allow this old man to serve as referee. I'm quite curious about the outcome myself."
He settled onto the umpire's chair they had fashioned from ship materials, his experienced eyes taking in both players' postures and mental states.
"This should be interesting," Conan murmured to Ai as they found spots along the sideline. "Which one do you think is stronger?"
Their opinion of the Yamabuki team had undergone a dramatic revision during their visit. Initially dismissing them as ordinary middle school athletes—after all, Teitan Junior High had a tennis club too—they'd been forced to reassess after witnessing a casual practice match between Sengoku and Kawamura.
What had started as normal tennis had quickly escalated into something that defied conventional physics. When Sengoku launched himself into the air and delivered his "Tiger Cannon" serve with enough force to smash clean through Kawamura's racket, both young detectives realized they were dealing with something far beyond ordinary sports.
"I think Tezuka has the edge," Ai replied thoughtfully. "There's something about his presence... like he's holding back tremendous power."
"Don't underestimate Fuji," Conan countered, his experience with various criminals having taught him to recognize dangerous individuals. "The quiet, seemingly harmless types are often the most frightening when they get serious."
On the court, the two players met at the net for the traditional handshake.
"Use everything you have, Tezuka," Fuji said quietly, his grip firm and steady.
"Don't hold back, Fuji," Tezuka replied, his standard phrase carrying extra weight in this context.
They separated to their respective baselines, rackets at the ready. The coin toss had favored Tezuka, giving him the first serve.
"Are you ready, Fuji?" Tezuka called across the net, tennis ball poised in his left hand.
The response was a subtle nod and a shift in stance that radiated focused intensity.
Tezuka tossed the ball high into the air, his left arm—now completely healed—drawing back with perfect mechanical precision. The racket made contact with a sound like thunder.
The serve blazed across the net with tremendous speed, but what happened next defied all expectations. Instead of bouncing normally upon hitting the court surface, the ball struck the ground and immediately began rolling backward toward the net, hugging the surface like it was magnetized.
"Tezuka wins the point, 15-0!" Coach Banji announced with professional composure, though his eyebrows had risen slightly.
"What the hell was that?!" Conan exploded, his detective's mind struggling to process what he'd just witnessed. "The ball didn't bounce—it rolled backward! That's physically impossible!"
"That would be Tezuka's signature technique," Gustave explained from his position near the sideline, having appointed himself as commentator for their confused guests. "The Zero-Shiki Serve. By applying a specific type of spin at the moment of contact, he creates a ball that cannot bounce normally upon landing. Instead, it rolls back toward the net, making it essentially unreturnable."
"Spin can do that?" Ai asked skeptically.
"Apparently so," Gustave replied with a shrug. "Though the level of precision required would be... considerable."
Conan stared at the court, his analytical mind racing. The physics were sound in theory—extreme backspin could theoretically create such an effect—but the degree of control necessary was beyond human capability. Or so he'd thought.
Tezuka proceeded to demonstrate the serve three more times, each delivery identical in its impossible perfection. Fuji could only watch as each ball rolled uselessly back toward the net, completely unable to mount any defense.
"Tezuka wins the first game, 1-0," Coach Banji announced.
Despite being completely shut out, Fuji showed no signs of frustration or panic. If anything, his expression had become even more focused, as if he was analyzing every detail of what he'd just experienced.
"My turn," he said simply, moving to the service line.
Fuji's serve was the complete opposite of Tezuka's supernatural display—a straightforward, textbook delivery that any competent player could have executed. Yet there was something subtly menacing about its very normalcy, as if he was deliberately concealing his true capabilities.
Tezuka returned the serve easily, and the two began what appeared to be a standard rally. But Conan's sharp eyes quickly noticed something unusual.
"Wait a minute," he said, pointing at the court. "Tezuka isn't moving at all, but Fuji is running all over the place!"
Indeed, despite Fuji's best efforts to place his shots in different locations, each ball seemed to mysteriously curve back toward Tezuka's stationary position, allowing him to return everything with minimal movement.
"Another special technique," Gustave explained. "Tezuka Domain. By adding subtle spin to each return, he creates a gravitational effect that draws all subsequent shots back to his position. It's like having the entire court revolve around him."
The explanation only made Conan's eye twitch more violently. These weren't tennis players—they were physics-defying monsters disguised as middle school students.
But Fuji was far from helpless. After several rallies of being completely controlled by Tezuka's domain, something changed in his approach. On his next return, the mysterious gravitational effect suddenly vanished, and his shot screamed past Tezuka toward an impossible angle.
"15-0, Fuji," Coach Banji called, his smile widening with approval.
"Impressive, Tezuka," Fuji said as they reset for the next point. "That's a technique I developed specifically to counter your Domain—Mayfly Shroud. It intercepts and neutralizes whatever spin you're applying to the ball."
"Well done, Fuji," Tezuka replied, his grip tightening on his racket. For the first time since the match began, his opponent had found a way to break through his absolute control.