Despite knowing his Disappearing Serve had been decoded, Fuji prepared to use it once more. As Shiraishi moved early to intercept, a subtle smile crossed the genius's face.
"This serve isn't quite the same as before. I call it - the Invisible Serve."
During his grueling training matches with Tezuka, Fuji had realized he couldn't rely solely on defensive counter-attacking tennis. Strengthening his offensive arsenal had become essential. Thus, he'd developed this variation based on his original technique.
Where the Disappearing Serve vanished at the moment of the opponent's swing, the Invisible Serve made the ball's trajectory completely imperceptible after it bounced off the court.
As expected, Shiraishi's racket found only empty air.
Using the power of his Invisible Serve, Fuji secured the opening game, though it was far from the quick victory he'd envisioned. Even before the first game concluded, a thin sheen of perspiration had appeared on his brow.
In contrast, Shiraishi appeared completely unaffected, casually gripping the net cord as if he'd been taking a leisurely stroll. Not a drop of sweat was visible on his composed features.
The second game belonged to Shiraishi's serve.
Compared to Fuji's arsenal of spectacular techniques, Shiraishi's serve appeared utterly ordinary - so basic that Fuji could read its trajectory at a glance.
But what followed was anything but ordinary. Using nothing more than fundamental slices, cuts, and placement, Shiraishi accomplished what Fuji had failed to achieve in the opening game. He completely shut out his opponent, winning 4-0 without allowing Fuji a single point.
"How is this possible? How can Fuji look so helpless? Is this still the genius we know?" Eiji's dismayed words sent ripples of concern through the Yamabuki contingent. The Fuji they were witnessing bore little resemblance to the player they'd grown accustomed to supporting.
"Stay calm. Trust in Fuji - he'll find his rhythm," Tezuka said firmly, his folded arms serving as an anchor point for his rattled teammates.
In the third game, Fuji served again, naturally deploying his Invisible Serve.
But this time, Shiraishi's positioning was noticeably different.
"He's already seen through my technique," Fuji realized with growing alarm. Shiraishi was operating on an entirely different level - it had taken him only one ball to crack the Disappearing Serve and just one game to decode the Invisible Serve. The offensive weapons Fuji prided himself on were being dismantled with terrifying efficiency.
Shiraishi swung at what appeared to be empty space and missed completely.
"Yes!" Fuji felt a surge of relief. While Shiraishi had identified the correct ball path, he seemed just short of fully neutralizing the Invisible Serve. Even if the next attempt succeeded, this point still belonged to Fuji.
But before celebration could take hold, Shiraishi executed a fluid 360-degree spin and swung his racket again with extraordinary reflexes. The Invisible Serve was decisively broken on the return stroke.
Fuji could only stand frozen, watching the tennis ball land at his feet and bounce mockingly upward.
From that moment, Shiraishi unleashed a relentless offensive campaign. Within minutes, he had claimed three consecutive games, turning Fuji's early 1-0 lead into a 3-1 deficit.
"Their opponent is incredible! Fuji's being completely dominated!"
"Getting led around like this - is this really our genius?"
The mounting pressure on court was causing visible agitation among Yamabuki's supporters.
In the fifth game, with Fuji serving again, he made a strategic decision to abandon offensive tennis and return to his most familiar defensive counter-attacking style.
After a standard serve was returned, Fuji sliced the ball with a delicate upward trajectory.
"Perfect! Flying Swallow Returns to the Nest!" Conan leaped from his seat with excitement, instantly recognizing one of Fuji's signature techniques.
"Conan, is that move really powerful? Why are you so excited?" Uta asked with genuine curiosity. As her first tennis match, particularly her first time watching Fuji play, she couldn't distinguish between his slice and Shiraishi's. What made this shot special?
"Let me explain, Uta! This technique of Fuji's, the Flying Swallow Returns to the Nest..." Conan's explanation caught in his throat as he watched Shiraishi effortlessly neutralize the supposedly unstoppable shot.
"Conan? Conan?" Uta waved her hand in front of his stunned face.
"The Flying Swallow Returns to the Nest was broken that easily?" Conan's voice carried pure disbelief. At least Shiraishi had needed one ball to crack the Disappearing Serve, but Fuji's famous technique had been neutralized even faster?
Fortunately, Fuji himself hadn't celebrated prematurely like Conan in the stands. Seeing his signature move countered, he took several steps back and delivered a powerful backhand slice with significantly more force than a typical shot.
"The White Whale - one of genius Shusuke Fuji's triple counters. A ball that rises skyward through powerful backhand rotation," Shiraishi murmured to himself before leaping high and delivering a crushing overhead smash aimed directly at Fuji's position.
Fuji had expected his basic triple counter arsenal to prove ineffective against Shiraishi - he'd used the White Whale purely to confirm his tactical assessment.
With his theory proven correct, Fuji deployed the evolved version of his Brown Bear Trap - the Kirin Trap - using a powerful defensive lob to neutralize Shiraishi's smash and claim the point.
"Fuji, your techniques are undeniably spectacular, but unnecessary movements only waste precious energy," Shiraishi observed calmly, despite losing the point. Fuji was now perspiring heavily, his stamina draining rapidly, while Shiraishi's fundamental approach had preserved his physical reserves completely.
As if confirming Shiraishi's analysis, Fuji's racket hand had developed a subtle tremor. The triple counters and their evolved variations might be gorgeous and effective, but they demanded far more energy than conventional tennis.
"You're absolutely right, Shiraishi. But as long as I defeat you quickly, energy conservation won't matter," Fuji replied with characteristic determination.
Shiraishi's silent smile acknowledged the validity of this response. While he could easily handle Fuji's basic triple attacks, the evolved versions were creating genuine pressure even for his comprehensive skills.
Shiraishi's greatest strength lay in his versatility, but well-rounded ability sometimes meant lacking the decisive finishing blow that could end matches instantly. Compared to other complete players like Tezuka and Yukimura, Shiraishi lacked that one overwhelming technique that could determine victory with a single strike.
Relying on his evolved triple counter system, Fuji quickly leveled the score at 3-3.
But from that point forward, his energy expenditure weakness became increasingly apparent. Though he wanted to continue using evolved techniques, his trembling hands refused to cooperate. Even when he managed to execute the shots, they emerged deformed and vulnerable, giving Shiraishi openings for decisive returns.
Both players settled into a grinding war of attrition, trading games and testing each other's endurance limits. After each held serve through multiple extended rallies, the set reached a 6-6 deadlock.
During his training at the Bamboo Staff, Fuji's abilities had leaped from regional Kanto level to national tournament standard. Through various competitions and intensive sparring sessions with Tezuka, he'd developed into a legitimate national-class competitor.
While lacking a training partner of Tezuka's caliber, Shiraishi had reached national level earlier than Fuji, and their current abilities could be considered roughly equivalent - setting the stage for what promised to be an epic tiebreaker to determine the opening match.