The evening before the Metropolitan Tournament's official start, Yamabuki faced an unexpected crisis—their roster submission deadline was approaching, but Tezuka had still not returned from his mysterious training journey.
"Where could Tezuka have gone?" Oishi fretted, his maternal instincts in overdrive. "Tomorrow is our first match, and he's been missing ever since we got back from the Bamboo Staff. Coach Banji won't tell us anything either."
"Relax, Oishi," Eiji said with his usual cheerful optimism. "Tezuka will be fine. He's probably just training really hard somewhere."
"That's right," Sengoku added confidently, leaning back in his chair. "Even if Tezuka doesn't make it back in time, our current lineup is strong enough to reach the Metropolitan finals. Last year we made it that far with a weaker team, and now? After that incredible month and a half at the Bamboo Staff? We're stronger than ever before."
"I hope you're right," Oishi sighed, his worry lines deepening despite his teammates' reassurances.
"If Tezuka really can't make it, who should take his spot?" Vice-Captain Minami Kentaro asked, his mind already working through tactical considerations.
"Let Inui play," Kawamura suggested with his characteristic selfless smile. "I'm happy to stay as a substitute. His analytical abilities give us a better advantage than my power alone."
"Me?" Inui pointed to himself in surprise, clearly caught off-guard by the prospect of moving from support staff to frontline competitor.
Before anyone could continue the discussion, footsteps echoed in the corridor. Coach Banji entered the clubroom, and behind him walked the familiar figure they'd all been waiting for.
"Thank you all for your patience during my absence," Tezuka said immediately, offering a formal bow to his teammates. His voice carried the same measured tone as always, but something subtle had changed—an aura of deeper confidence, perhaps, or simply the satisfaction of goals achieved.
"Geez, Tezuka, you're back!" Eiji exclaimed with mock indignation. "Poor Inui finally got his chance to be a starter, and now it's gone just like that!"
The entire team burst into laughter at Eiji's theatrical complaint, the tension of the previous moments dissolving instantly.
"Welcome back, Tezuka," Fuji said warmly, his gentle smile carrying genuine relief and affection.
"Coach, now that Tezuka has returned, should we stick with our original lineup?" Minami Kentaro inquired. He had tremendous respect for Coach Banji's tactical acumen—the old man's ability to deploy players strategically had been crucial to Yamabuki's success in previous years when their individual talent couldn't match the powerhouse schools.
"Just use the standard formation," Banji replied with his characteristic gentle smile. "No special arrangements necessary."
The response spoke volumes about how much the team had evolved. In the past, Banji had needed to employ complex tactical maneuvers to compensate for weaknesses in their lineup. But the current Yamabuki roster was so well-rounded that straightforward deployment would suffice—at least until they potentially faced Rikkaidai in the Kanto Tournament.
With Tezuka's return confirmed, Minami Kentaro submitted their registration according to the established batting order. Since the tournament would begin the following morning, Coach Banji dismissed the team early, instructing them to rest well and prepare mentally for the challenges ahead.
As the players dispersed, Fuji approached Tezuka privately.
"Did you achieve it?" he asked quietly. "The final realm?"
"Yes," Tezuka confirmed with a slight nod. "I've successfully entered the Limit of Perfect Selflessness."
The training period with Ojii at Rokkaku Middle School had elevated Tezuka's understanding of tennis to entirely new heights. The legendary coach's unconventional methods had unlocked the deepest level of the selfless state—a transcendent condition that few players ever experienced.
"Congratulations, Tezuka."
"Thank you, Fuji."
As Tezuka departed, Fuji felt the competitive fire burning even brighter within his chest. Though the gap between their abilities had widened further, this only intensified his determination to push his own limits. The greater the mountain to climb, the more thrilling the ascent.
The next morning arrived with crisp air and brilliant sunshine—perfect conditions for the tournament's opening day. Led by their captain, the Yamabuki team made their way to the competition venue, spirits high and confidence radiating from every member.
Fate had other plans for their journey, however. Halfway to their destination, they encountered another group of students in distinctive uniforms.
"Well, well," came a familiar theatrical voice. "If it isn't the new captain of Yamabuki Junior High—Kunimitsu Tezuka, I presume?"
Atobe Keigo stood at the center of the Hyōtei delegation, his presence commanding attention even in casual conversation. His perfectly styled hair caught the morning light, and his expensive warm-up jacket bore the school crest with obvious pride.
"Atobe Keigo," Tezuka replied formally, stepping forward and extending his hand in greeting. Unlike their previous encounters through intermediaries, this was their first direct meeting—a moment both teams recognized as significant.
"Hyōtei will be waiting for you in the Metropolitan finals," Atobe declared as they shook hands, his grip firm and his gaze unwavering. "And just so you know—I'll be playing singles three. I hope you'll do me the honor of facing me personally."
"We'll see if both our schools can make it that far," Tezuka responded with characteristic humility, though his own grip conveyed quiet confidence.
After the brief but meaningful exchange, the two teams separated and continued toward their respective venues. Neither captain looked back, but both knew they had just participated in the opening moves of what promised to be an epic rivalry.
From a nearby vantage point, a middle-aged man with a professional camera captured the entire encounter, his shutter clicking rapidly to document this historic first meeting.
"Inoue-senpai," asked the attractive young woman beside him, her red lips vibrant against her pale complexion, "are these the same two schools that reached last year's Metropolitan finals?"
"Exactly right, Saori," Mamoru Inoue confirmed, lowering his camera with satisfaction. "Hyōtei took the championship while Yamabuki finished as runners-up. They represent the absolute peak of Tokyo middle school tennis."
As a devoted follower of tennis legend Echizen Nanjiro, Inoue had maintained his interest in Seigaku despite their declining fortunes over recent years. This dedication had led him to investigate the unprecedented transfer situation that other journalists had largely ignored.
"However," he continued, "this year brings a major wild card. Yamabuki has completely rebuilt their starting roster, incorporating all six transfer students from Seigaku. The dynamics could be completely different."
"How strong are these transfer players, Inoue-senpai?"
"Unknown, but they must be exceptional to displace Yamabuki's original starters. That alone suggests tremendous ability."
Unlike the stubborn Coach Ryuzaki, Inoue possessed both objectivity and investigative skills. Though official news about Seigaku's internal upheaval had been suppressed, he had managed to piece together enough information to understand the magnitude of what had occurred. The situation saddened him deeply—to see such a historically significant program fall so far due to poor leadership.
"Come along, Saori. Today we focus entirely on documenting this new Yamabuki team."
According to tournament regulations, even after securing a 3-0 victory, all five matches had to be completed. This presented the perfect opportunity to evaluate the full strength of Yamabuki's transformed roster against live competition.
At the venue where Yamabuki would face Fudomine, Inoue and Saori weren't the only observers with special interest in the proceedings. Standing apart from Fudomine's modest cheering section was a solitary student whose presence immediately caught Inoue's attention.
"That person looks familiar," the journalist murmured, searching his memory while studying the young man's profile.
"He's probably just here to support his school, Inoue-senpai," Saori suggested casually.
"No, this is someone significant. I've definitely seen him before, but where?"
Suddenly, recognition struck like lightning. "Of course! That's Tachibana Yoshihei—one half of the legendary Kyushu Duo from Shitenhouji Middle School! He and Chitose Senri formed the most dominant doubles partnership in last year's national tournament!"
Despite the dramatic changes—the shaved head, the black hair dye replacing his former golden locks—the distinctive mole between his eyebrows had given him away.
"Shitenhouji? But he's wearing a Fudomine jacket," Saori observed with confusion.
"After their spectacular debut, something happened within that team," Inoue explained gravely. "Chitose transferred to Shitenhouji Temple, while Tachibana simply vanished from competitive tennis. I never imagined he'd resurface at an obscure school like Fudomine."
The journalist's experienced eye noted additional details. "More importantly, judging by his position in the stands rather than on the court, he clearly hasn't joined their tennis club. There's a story here, but..."
Inoue's professional instincts warred with his personal ethics. Whatever had driven one of Japan's most promising young players into self-imposed exile was obviously painful and private. Respecting that boundary would be more important than satisfying curiosity.
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