Fudomine's starting lineup consisted entirely of third-year students—not because seniority equated to superior skill, but because their school's culture of upperclassman bullying made merit-based selection impossible. While progressive schools had embraced talent-based rosters, Fudomine remained trapped in outdated hierarchical thinking.
Facing Yamabuki, a national tournament regular with genuine championship aspirations, the third-year starters had already mentally conceded defeat before stepping onto the court. Their body language screamed resignation as they went through the motions of preparation.
The doubles match began with the Golden Pair of Eiji and Oishi taking the court against Fudomine's hapless second doubles team. During their intensive training at the Bamboo Staff, Coach Banji had devoted special attention to perfecting their partnership, recognizing that Yamabuki's traditional strength lay in doubles play.
The results were immediately apparent. Under their mentor's guidance, both players had reached the pinnacle of Kanto-level doubles, standing just one step away from true national caliber. Their synchronization had become virtually telepathic.
As they took their positions for the opening serve, Eiji and Oishi arranged themselves in an unusual formation—one behind the other along the center line rather than the conventional side-by-side positioning.
"Inoue-senpai, what kind of formation is that?" Saori asked, her confusion evident as she watched the unexpected setup.
"That's the Australian formation," Mamoru Inoue explained, his professional admiration clear in his voice. "It's an extremely effective doubles strategy, but it requires perfect communication and timing between partners. You rarely see it at the middle school level because most teams lack the necessary coordination. If Yamabuki's second doubles can execute this flawlessly..."
His words trailed off as the implications became clear. This wasn't just tactical innovation—it was a demonstration of how far these players had evolved.
Since Sengoku's supernatural luck didn't extend to his teammates, the opening serve belonged to Fudomine. However, gaining first service proved meaningless against such a skill gap. Within minutes, Eiji and Oishi had established a commanding 4-0 lead.
"Hah... hah... hah..."
Fudomine's doubles team was already gasping for breath despite failing to win a single point. Eiji's acrobatic shots had left them scrambling desperately around the court like amateur comedians rather than competitive athletes.
"Hey, first-year brats!" one of the exhausted players barked toward the sideline. "Can't you see your seniors need water? Move it!"
"Y-yes, senpai! Right away!" Two younger students—Shinji Ibu and Akira Kamio—immediately rushed forward with water bottles, their subservient postures speaking volumes about the school's toxic culture.
The upperclassmen grabbed the bottles and drained them partially before deliberately hurling the containers at their underclassmen's feet. Water exploded across Ibu and Kamio's uniforms, but neither dared protest. They simply bowed apologetically while cleaning up the mess.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Eiji's voice cracked with outrage as he witnessed the casual cruelty. The scene struck too close to home, reminding him of his own suppression under Seigaku's rigid hierarchy. "It's bad enough you didn't thank them for helping, but now you're bullying them?!"
"Mind your own business, red-head!" the Fudomine player snarled back. "They're our underclassmen, not yours!"
Eiji started toward the net with fury blazing in his eyes, only to be intercepted by Oishi's restraining hand.
"Eiji Kikumaru, return to your position!" the match referee called out sharply.
Oishi pulled his partner back while Eiji glared daggers at their opponents. Then something passed between the Golden Pair—a whispered conversation that carried ominous undertones.
What followed was a masterclass in psychological warfare disguised as tennis. Rather than ending the match quickly as their skills allowed, Eiji and Oishi began toying with their opponents like cats with injured mice. Every shot was designed to maximize physical exhaustion while providing just enough hope to prevent immediate surrender.
Neither Coach Banji nor Captain Tezuka intervened from the sideline. The image of those first-year students being humiliated remained fresh in everyone's minds, and sometimes justice required unconventional methods.
Finally, when Fudomine's doubles team could barely stand, they collapsed to the court surface with raised hands.
"Referee... we forfeit!"
As the Golden Pair walked off court, Tezuka intercepted them with a stern expression. "This kind of behavior won't happen again."
"We understand, Tezuka," Eiji replied with an innocent smile that fooled no one.
The first doubles match transitioned to Yamabuki's signature partnership: Higashikata Masami and Minami Kentaro, known throughout Tokyo as the "Potato and Soldier" combination. Unlike the relatively inexperienced Golden Pair, these two had proven themselves through national tournament competition and represented genuine championship-level doubles.
Perhaps learning from their predecessors' fate, Fudomine's second doubles team avoided any provocative behavior. This merciful approach earned them a quick, painless defeat—6-0 in under twenty minutes.
"The skill gap is just too enormous," Mamoru Inoue muttered, lowering his camera with a shake of his head. "Fudomine can't offer any meaningful resistance whatsoever."
"But Yamabuki has always been strong in doubles, Inoue-senpai," Saori observed hopefully. "Maybe Fudomine can create some pressure in the singles matches?"
Her optimism proved tragically misplaced.
Sengoku's appearance for the third singles match provided Inoue and Saori with their first glimpse of Yamabuki's true championship ambitions. The lucky player won the coin toss with his characteristic "Lucky!" celebration, initially appearing to be nothing more than an enthusiastic amateur.
That illusion shattered with his opening serve.
The ball exploded off Sengoku's racket with such devastating power that it tore the racket clean from his opponent's grip, sending the equipment spinning through the air like debris from an explosion. Both journalists stared in shock as they realized this "cute" player possessed monstrous physical capabilities.
Another 6-0 victory. Yamabuki had already secured advancement, but tournament regulations required all five matches to be completed.
Fudomine's remaining players watched in growing dread as Fuji Shusuke stepped onto the court for the second singles match. His gentle smile and warm demeanor initially suggested an approachable opponent—someone who might finally show them mercy.
That hope died with his first serve.
The tennis ball simply vanished at the moment of contact, reappearing behind Fudomine's stunned player as if it had teleported. Another 6-0 shutout followed with surgical precision.
Finally, Captain Tezuka took the court.
Fudomine's captain had watched his entire team suffer humiliating defeats. Even normally patient individuals would have reached their breaking point, and the bullying-prone upperclassmen of Fudomine were hardly known for emotional restraint. He approached the baseline with murder in his eyes, determined to salvage some dignity through sheer aggression.
His first shot flew toward the corner with satisfying power and placement—only to curve inexplicably back toward Tezuka's stationary position. Every subsequent attempt met the same fate, as if the court itself had developed gravitational fields that pulled tennis balls toward Yamabuki's captain.
"Inoue-senpai, what kind of technique is that?!" Saori stammered, her composure completely shattered. "He's just standing there without moving!"
"I have no idea," Inoue admitted with professional humility. "But today's match has convinced me of one thing—Yamabuki isn't just aiming for another strong showing in nationals. They're going for the championship itself."
He raised his camera once more, capturing individual portraits of each Yamabuki player. Tonight he would write a feature column that might change how the tennis world viewed this transformed team.
Meanwhile, in the stands, Tachibana Yoshihei watched the systematic demolition with complex emotions. He had come simply to observe his new school's team, having sworn off competitive tennis entirely. But witnessing Fudomine's third-year players take out their frustrations on helpless underclassmen stirred something deep within him.
For the first time since his self-imposed exile began, Tachibana felt the call of competition beckoning once again. Perhaps it was time to consider whether his tennis career was truly finished after all.