The second game was Atobe's service game. He tossed the ball high and twisted his wrist as he struck it, giving the ball intense spin. Once it crossed the net and landed, the tennis ball began spinning at high speed and practically skidded forward along the ground.
"Tannhauser Serve!"
"Ace! 15-0!"
"My brilliance improves by leaps and bounds every day!" Atobe said arrogantly after scoring.
Over on Seigaku's bench, Fuji opened his eyes and remarked with a touch of awe, "Atobe's Tannhauser spin is far beyond what it used to be. In terms of effect, it's not any weaker than Tezuka's Zero Shiki. Even Akashi-kun's version didn't feel this strong."
"This is bad. With Ryōma's current ability, the chance of breaking Atobe's Tannhauser head-on is only 13%," Inui Sadaharu added worriedly.
"Ace! 30-0!"
"Ace! 40-0!"
Sure enough, Ryōma couldn't do anything against the next two completely ground-hugging serves. The only real difference now between Atobe's Tannhauser and Tezuka's Zero Shiki was the direction—forward vs backward. But in terms of outcome, there was barely any distinction.
Sweat formed on Ryōma's forehead. He hadn't expected Atobe's serves to be just as tricky as Tezuka's. Back during the Nationals, at least the ball had bounced a bit, however slightly.
"What's wrong? That's all you've got? Ryōma! Where's that fire you had when you said you were going to beat ore-sama?" Atobe taunted from across the court.
"Tch—You're still way off!" Ryōma shot back without backing down.
Atobe just gave a slight smirk, then straightened his face and tossed the ball again, launching another power-amped Tannhauser serve. But Ryōma showed no signs of giving up. He exploded with the force of Hyaku Ren Jitoku no Kiwami, flashing forward to the landing spot.
The moment the ball hit the ground, a racket cloaked in rainbow light swung through. But as soon as the ball touched the strings, it spun violently and bounced high into the air. Ryōma's return had clearly failed.
"Game! Hyōtei Academy! 2-0!"
Even after dropping two straight games, Ryōma's expression didn't change much. He adjusted his cap and walked back to the baseline while checking his racket strings.
"Well now, unlucky, aren't you, kid? Running into this kind of opponent right off the bat. But whether or not you can take that final step depends on you. Honestly though, what's up with this generation of kids? They're all monsters. I'm starting to wonder if bringing that blockhead son of mine back to Japan was a mistake," said a monk-like middle-aged man in the stands with a nonchalant tone.
No matter what move Ryōma tried, he couldn't escape being frozen in place by Atobe. With Atobe's current near-world-class five-dimension strength, just Hyaku Ren Jitoku and Saiki Kanpatsu alone weren't enough.
Ever since Ryōma predicted his blind spot in the first game using Saiki Kanpatsu, he hadn't landed another successful hit. It was as if Saiki Kanpatsu itself had stopped working. The gap in strength was simply too great—even with Muga-enhanced brainpower, Ryōma couldn't simulate the match properly.
In the original story, Ryōma managed to simulate against Yukimura using Saiki Kanpatsu because Yukimura had just recovered from a major illness and likely wasn't at full national-level strength. Back then, Ryōma had barely entered the national tier, so the gap between them wasn't huge. That allowed Saiki Kanpatsu to work.
But now, even if Ryōma was slightly stronger than in the original, having entered the national level, Atobe had already surpassed it. He was no longer confined to that bracket. So a transitional state like Saiki Kanpatsu simply didn't cut it anymore.
"Game! Hyōtei Academy! 3-0! Switch sides!"
"Game! Hyōtei Academy! 4-0!"
"Game! Hyōtei Academy! 5-0!"
In the blink of an eye, Ryōma was completely suppressed by Atobe's overwhelming power. Realistically speaking, Atobe's tennis style countered most players, especially with World of Ice. Without something special, there was no way to deal with it—let alone the even more terrifying Atobe Kingdom.
But conversely, Atobe could be countered by players with similar styles. The most representative examples would be Akashi and Irie—one had sharper vision than Atobe, and the other had almost freakish insight capable of reading the human heart.
Now facing a match point situation, even Ryōma couldn't help but feel a twinge of despair. He had no way out. And the sixth game was Atobe's serve again. The situation was practically hopeless.
"I heard they call you a prince. What a shame. Ore-sama… is the emperor! Time to accept your defeat, Echizen!" Atobe called from the baseline to the now-desperate Ryōma.
"Ace! 15-0!"
"Ace! 30-0!"
Atobe showed no mercy, firing off two more Tannhauser Serves and scoring easily. But after the second serve, he subtly twisted his wrist. No one noticed—except Echizen Nanjirō, watching quietly from the stands.
"That last serve bounced a little… Did Atobe just go easy on him?" Fuji narrowed his eyes at Atobe on the court, muttering quietly.
"Come on, chibi! Don't give up!" Kikumaru shouted, waving his arms to cheer Ryōma on.
"You'll figure something out, Ryōma! I believe in you!" Momoshiro, usually loud and brash, murmured softly this time.
'Am I really going to lose? Why does it always end like this? I've trained so hard…' Negative thoughts began to swell within Ryōma's heart.
"Hey, kid! Tell me—do you think tennis is fun?" Just as he was about to be swallowed by those thoughts, his dad's voice suddenly echoed in his mind.
"Is tennis… fun?" Ryōma unconsciously repeated the question aloud.
"Ace! 40-0!"
While Ryōma pondered Nanjirō's words, Atobe fired off his third Tannhauser Serve. But this time, Fuji clearly saw the ball bounce a little. He was now certain—either Atobe was holding back, or his control over the serve was starting to slip.
'Didn't expect the improved Tannhauser to put this much strain on the wrist. But only one more point left—it should be fine,' Atobe thought to himself while subtly rotating his wrist.
"One more point!"
"One more point!"
"One more point!"
The Hyōtei members on the sidelines chanted loudly.
It was match point. Ryōma stood at the back of the court, head lowered, lost in thought. He looked like he had given up. Atobe didn't bother taunting this time. He simply tossed the ball, ready to land the final blow.
But just as Atobe struck the ball, a dazzling blue light exploded from the opposite end of the court. Atobe's lips twitched at the sight, a weird sense of comedy rising in his heart.
Ryōma had awakened the radiance of Ten'i.
'No way… He really broke through at the last second?!' That was the only thought in Atobe's mind.
The ball crossed the net and hit the ground, spinning rapidly. Just as it was about to skid forward, a racket cut through it in a flash. Atobe's vision blurred, and the next thing he knew, he heard the ball bounce behind him.
"40-15!"
"Ten'i Muhō no Kiwami," Atobe growled through clenched teeth.
If Akashi were here, he'd definitely marvel at the protagonist aura—no matter how far the plot veered from the original, Ryōma still managed to awaken in the direst moment. Maybe it was thanks to Nanjirō's solid foundation; all Ryōma needed was the right push to trigger a power surge.
"Now let's enjoy the fun of playing tennis!" said Ryōma, his hair flowing, his whole body glowing with blue particles. He pointed his racket straight at Atobe.
Ryōma in Ten'i state.
"He awakened Ten'i Muhō no Kiwami at such a crucial moment?! Don't joke with me!" Shishido lost it from the Hyōtei stands.
"So this is the talent of Nanjirō-san's son? A second-generation samurai…" Sakaki Tarō murmured from the coach's bench.
"Even if he awakened Ten'i Muhō, there's no way he can beat Atobe!" Hiyoshi said calmly.
Meanwhile, over on Seigaku's bench, Kikumaru and Momoshiro were already cheering. Even Fuji showed his signature smile again, tinged with satisfaction. Kawamura waved a giant Seigaku flag with both hands.
"Ten'i, huh? But over at Fudomine, plenty of those guys know this move. If you think that's enough to beat ore-sama, then you're too naive, Ryōma!" Atobe was surprised Ryōma awakened Ten'i at this moment, but he wasn't worried. With his current strength, he had no reason to be.
"Is that so? Talking big is easy—how about showing it?" Ryōma replied, completely confident.
Atobe let out a cold chuckle, tossed the ball, and launched another Tannhauser Serve. But just as it crossed the net and landed, Ryōma scooped it up cleanly, followed with a straight-line strike. The ball rocketed toward Atobe with immense force.
Atobe moved to return it, but the next second, his racket was knocked clean out of his hand. The ball blasted past him and struck the wall behind, leaving a charred black mark.
"40-30!"
"Looks like you don't have much of an answer for me right now. You're still far from enough," Ryōma said with a proud smirk, flipping the taunt back at Atobe.
Confident Ryōma.
"40-40! Deuce!"
"Seigaku takes the lead!"
"Game! Seigaku! 5-1!"
Ryōma broke serve using Ten'i. In the rallies that followed, Atobe's movements clearly slowed slightly—he was feeling the effects of Ryōma's radiance. His five dimensions had been partially weakened.
"Game! Seigaku! 5-2!"
"So this is the power of Ten'i? Unbelievable… But that kind of strength doesn't suit ore-sama. It's about time I gave you a lesson from your senpai, Ryōma," Atobe said softly, glancing at his hands.
"Game! 6-2! Match over! Winner: Hyōtei Academy!"
Moments later, still glowing in his Ten'i state, Ryōma stared blankly at Atobe's retreating back. His eyes were filled with disbelief. The shattered glass scattered across the court seemed to tell the rest of the story.