Atobe stood at the back of the court, staring at Ryōma, who had returned to his cocky self. After a moment of silence, he muttered in disbelief, "Muga no Kyōchi? Don't be ridiculous. That thing just drains stamina faster—what else is it good for?"
To Atobe, the ordinary Muga no Kyōchi was pointless. Even Kabaji's mimicry was more useful, not to mention Niō's illusions. And the side effects? Definitely more harm than help.
That's also why Yukimura and Sanada had abandoned Muga. They preferred to explore their own tennis paths rather than waste energy chasing after it. Only players like Tezuka, who could grasp its secrets easily, or Chitose, who was obsessed with its power, would stick with it.
The best example was Tōyama Kintarō—he never even unlocked Muga in the original series. He jumped straight to Ten'i Muhō, the Light of Pride. He completely skipped the path Nanjirō had paved for Japanese players.
With his Muga activated, Ryōma tossed the ball high and shouted each word with force:
"Icchi! Kyū! Nyū! Kon!"
("One! Shot! Enter! Soul!")
The moment the racket struck, the ball rocketed toward Atobe's side at over 190 kilometers per hour. Atobe was briefly surprised Ryōma had copied Ōtori Chōtarō's serve. But he quickly moved to the landing spot and returned it with ease.
That brief hesitation meant he didn't activate World of Ice. But Atobe didn't mind—he was curious to see just how far Ryōma's Muga could go.
Ryōma chased the return and hit back, adding a complicated spin as he made contact. The ball curved oddly after crossing the net, weaving like a snake.
"Habu!"
Atobe ignored the shifting path. "Compared to Kite, your Habu is pathetic." He casually returned it with a backhand.
Just as the ball crossed the net, Ryōma suddenly crouched and leapt up from under the net, hitting a diagonal shot with an awkward motion aimed at Atobe's backhand corner.
On the sidelines, Akutsu and Kite looked visibly annoyed. 'If you're going to copy someone, at least do it properly. What is this half-baked mess?'
Even Chitose, who pursued Muga obsessively, looked awkward. 'What's the point of using Muga at this level? It's just embarrassing.'
"This time it's Akutsu, huh? What a joke!" Atobe flashed to the corner and blasted a fast-paced passing shot.
Ryōma was still at the net and missed it. But he turned and sprinted to the backcourt. Just before the ball hit the baseline, he barely intercepted it—but with his back to the net.
He jumped, legs spread, and hit the ball back from between his legs. The ball arced high toward Atobe's side.
"Kikumaru, huh? Tch. How boring. Game over, Echizen Ryōma. Let me show you—despair lies beyond disappointment." Atobe had clearly lost patience. He jumped high and smashed down hard.
The ball vibrated fiercely midair and blasted toward Ryōma with intense force. Ryōma dashed to the landing spot, trying to intercept—but the next second, a red racket flew through the air. The ball hit the ground and kicked up a cloud of dust.
"Rondo Towards Destruction!"
"0-40!"
Ryōma clutched his numb left hand, walked over, picked up his racket, and returned to the baseline. In the state of Muga, a player focuses purely on the match, shutting out irrelevant emotions.
Atobe, fully aware of Muga's traits, turned and walked back to the baseline, preparing to receive. Ryōma tossed the ball and waited for the right moment. His left arm tensed slightly, and he swung with full force.
The ball surged like a waterfall, streaking toward Atobe's side at high speed.
"Waterfall!"
Inui Sadaharu, watching from the side, looked awkward. Ryōma's Waterfall was too slow. With his current attributes, he couldn't pull off Inui's version of the serve.
Atobe intercepted easily. His eyes flared with dozens of ice spears again, instantly identifying Ryōma's blind spots. He locked onto one and returned the ball.
Even in Muga, Ryōma couldn't move—completely frozen. Muga might change playing styles, but it couldn't erase blind spots.
"Game! Hyōtei Academy! 5-0!"
Game six was Atobe's service game. Everyone from Seigaku figured he'd finish things with four Tannhauser Serves—even Ryōma thought so.
But Atobe had no such plan. He hadn't forgotten what he promised Fuji before the match—to teach Ryōma a lesson. Ending things with the Tannhauser wouldn't match his style.
Atobe stood on the baseline, tossed the ball, and served a high-speed rocket. The ball flew toward Ryōma's side at over 200 kilometers per hour.
Powered by Muga, Ryōma caught up. At the landing spot, he spun a few times in place, building up centrifugal force before unleashing a powerful drive—copying Tōyama Kintarō's style again.
But to Atobe, this meant nothing. Even the real Kintarō probably wasn't a match for him now. Atobe flashed to the ball and blasted a high-speed passing shot.
Ryōma barely reacted, instinctively blocking with his racket. The ball popped straight up. Atobe jumped and slammed it down.
Ryōma gripped the racket with both hands and swung upward to block—but the racket flew from his grip again. The ball bounced back into the air.
Atobe jumped a second time and smashed once more. The ball slammed down near Ryōma's feet and flew out of bounds.
"Rondo Towards Destruction!"
"15-0!"
Ryōma calmly picked up his racket. Right now, he felt nothing extra—his entire focus was locked on the match. He turned and walked to the baseline, waiting for Atobe to serve again.
Atobe didn't hesitate. He fired off another high-speed serve. Using the power of Muga, Ryōma chased it down and launched Abare Jishi, originally from Tachibana Kippei. But the ball only split into three weak illusions as it flew toward Atobe.
Tachibana, watching from the sideline, twitched slightly. He didn't expect Ryōma to mimic his technique too—but the effect was just... awkward.
Atobe gave the three phantoms a quick glance and casually ran toward one. He arrived at the landing point and hit it cleanly. The real ball zipped back to Ryōma's court. The other two vanished instantly.
Apparently, Atobe didn't plan to use World of Ice. Instead, he relied solely on pressure shots to wear Ryōma down. No matter how many techniques or styles Ryōma tried, Atobe broke through each one with ease. After Ryōma tossed up another lob—
Atobe jumped high again and smashed down at Ryōma. This time, Ryōma raised his left hand for the block, and just as the racket was knocked loose, he caught it midair with his right. He clearly meant to use Nitōryū against Atobe's Rondo.
But before the ball could drop far, Atobe leapt again and smashed it back. Ryōma raised the racket in his right hand, ready to counter, but the ball skimmed the ground and zipped out before he could react.
"Rhapsody of Regret!"
"30-0!"
As Atobe prepared for another serve, everyone—Seigaku, Fudomine, even spectators—could see what he was doing. He wanted to show Ryōma: no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you break through, you're still destined to lose this match.
On court, Ryōma cycled through every technique he'd ever seen—Seigaku's, Fudomine's, even Hyōtei's—but none worked. Atobe shattered each one effortlessly, never even flinching.
During another smash, Ryōma spun and sliced toward the incoming ball, hoping centrifugal force would boost his power. It was unmistakably Grizzly Net Trap, a move Otori had used earlier. But again, the result was the same—the racket went flying.
"Rondo Towards Destruction!"
"40-0!"
This final game, Atobe clearly wanted to finish things with his Rondo series and drive the lesson home. He tossed the ball and launched another high-speed serve. Ryōma's stamina was fading fast, but muscle memory still pushed him to chase.
As he intercepted the serve, Ryōma stumbled. He lost control of the angle, and the ball soared high above Atobe's court. Atobe didn't hesitate—he jumped and smashed it hard.
Ryōma quickly adjusted his posture, ready to return. But when the ball hit the ground, it barely bounced and slid sideways. Just as Ryōma tried one last time to scoop it up, the sliding ball suddenly split into two—one to the left, one to the right—both zipped past and out of bounds.
"Game! 6-0! Match over! Winner: Hyōtei Academy!"
As the umpire called the match, the aura of Muga completely faded from Ryōma's body. He wobbled, barely able to stand. Momoshiro Takeshi rushed in to catch him before he collapsed.
Atobe glanced at Ryōma being helped off the court, and his interest instantly dropped. Ryōma was far too weak. Honestly, Atobe had hoped to fight Fuji Shūsuke instead, but Seigaku had clearly maneuvered to avoid that matchup.
He couldn't blame them, though. That kind of tactic increased Seigaku's odds of winning. It had Inui Sadaharu written all over it, Atobe mused silently, then walked off the court and returned to the bench.
Next up was Singles Two. If Hyōtei won again, Seigaku could be eliminated from the Tokyo District Tournament and forced into the loser's bracket. Luckily for Seigaku, their next player gave everyone a sense of relief.
"Next is Singles Two! Representing Seigaku: Fuji Shūsuke. Representing Hyōtei: Akutagawa Jirō! Players, please take the court!"
Ever since Jirō first came back from the U-17 training camp, Atobe had been inspired by Mifune-sensei. Though he didn't train Jirō with hawks like Mifune, he did have someone design a special wristband for him. If Jirō fell asleep during training, the band would deliver a mild electric shock.
Of course, the voltage was low—just enough to sting, not harm. Thanks to this device, Jirō had leveled up to national level. Still, he was probably a few steps behind Fuji.
As the two players bowed at the net, Jirō still looked half-asleep. Atobe never let him wear the wristband during matches—after all, napping was one of Jirō's hidden weapons.
Fuji, fully aware of Jirō's habits, didn't mind at all. He calmly took part in the coin toss. In the end, Fuji won the serve.
"One-set match! Seigaku to serve first!"
As the match officially began, Jirō finally looked a bit more awake. Standing at the baseline, his expression was serious with a hint of excitement. He knew exactly how strong Fuji was.
Right at that moment, Akashi Seijūrō arrived outside the court with Fudomine's second-string players. They'd come late because Kintarō had gotten hungry after his match, and Akashi took him to buy takoyaki.
"Looks like Seigaku and Hyōtei are going all the way to five matches~ Who played Singles Three just now?" Akashi asked with a smile.
"Echizen Ryōma and Atobe!" Chitose said from the side.
Akashi blinked when he heard that. 'Poor Ryōma,' he thought. No wonder the score was 6-0. Against Atobe, even using hacks wouldn't help. Right now, Atobe was a top-tier national-level player, and probably close to breaking through. He might catch up to Tezuka and Akutsu any day now.
Fuji stood at the baseline. He twisted the ball counterclockwise with his left hand before letting it go. His racket came up from below, launching an underhand serve. The ball shot across the net and suddenly vanished in front of Jirō's eyes.
"Disappearing serve!"
But Jirō was ready. He stepped back and swung toward empty air. The ball instantly appeared on his racket and was returned.
Fuji rushed forward, his racket slicing down on the ball. The moment it cleared the net, it dipped sharply and skimmed across the ground. Jirō didn't react in time, and the ball zipped out of bounds.
"Hoo Gaeshi!"
"15-0!"
"Wow! Every time I see your shots, Fuji-san, I think they're amazing! You're really talented!" Jirō said excitedly.
"You're too kind, Akutagawa-san. You're strong too. Let's have a fun match," Fuji replied with a smile.
For the next serve, Fuji didn't use the disappearing shot again. It wouldn't work against top-tier players. He instead aimed a deep baseline shot to keep Jirō from charging the net.
Jirō swung near his feet and sent the ball to Fuji's backhand corner, then sprinted forward. But Fuji's returns were quick and always forced him to stop and backpedal.
Just as Jirō almost reached the net, Fuji held his racket sideways. Jirō's expression changed—he knew what was coming.
As expected, the ball rolled fast along Fuji's racket face, then flipped to increase the spin. The ultra-rotating shot flew at Jirō.
"Hecatoncheires no Monban!"
Jirō dashed to intercept and lobbed the ball, applying reverse spin. But as it reached the net, it dipped hard and struck the upper edge.
"30-0!"
"Aww~ Still failed. Fuji-san, that move's just too hard to break!" Jirō said in frustration.
"You're doing well! Maybe next one you'll crack it~" Fuji answered with his usual smile.
The next two points were both won with Hecatoncheires no Monban. But each time, Jirō's returns were higher—he was clearly adapting.
"40-0!"
"Game! Seishun Academy! 1-0!"
Ryōma, now mostly recovered, watched with confusion. The guy across the net seemed strong, so why did all his shots keep hitting the net?
"Inui-senpai, what's going on? Did Captain do something? I've never seen that swing before," Ryōma asked.
"That's one of Fuji's Six Counter Techniques—Hecatoncheires no Monban. The ball spins rapidly across both sides of the racket face, creating hyper-square rotation. Unless the opponent adds several times more reverse spin, it won't make it over the net," Inui explained calmly.
"And that first shot, the one kinda like Atobe's serve—was that one of the Six Counters too?" Ryōma asked.
"Yes, that was Hoo Gaeshi. It looks similar to Atobe's Tannhauser Serve in effect, but the mechanics are quite different," Inui answered, giving Ryōma a brief rundown.
That was the moment Ryōma started to truly realize how strong their captain was. Meanwhile, game two had begun, with Jirō serving.
Jirō served and charged the net immediately—his style was serve-and-volley, pressing at the front.
After a few rallies at the net, Fuji pulled out Hecatoncheires no Monban again. Jirō tried to counter, and though the ball still hit the net, this time its top edge actually cleared over.
"0-15!"
"Alright! I'm starting to get the hang of it. Time to get serious, Fuji!" Jirō said as he closed his eyes and slipped into sleep mode.
Jirō's hypersomnia made him even more prone to sleep than Mōri. Most of his effort went into staying awake, not playing tennis.
In his sleep state, Jirō moved purely by instinct. He served fast and charged forward—faster than before.
Fuji got more serious too. The two clashed in a heated net rally. When Fuji launched Hecatoncheires no Monban again, the sleeping Jirō actually returned it.
Even though Fuji was prepared, he froze for a second. He misread the trajectory, and the ball bounced and shot out of bounds.
"15-15!"
"Oh? Looks fun~ Maybe I'll try playing with my eyes closed too," Fuji said with a grin, then actually shut his eyes—completely, not just his usual squint.
"Closed Eye!"