"The same technique won't work on me twice." "If it fails the first time, there's no reason to try it again."
Wham!
Yukimura spoke calmly while returning the ball.
"That Yukimura kid sure talks a lot," someone remarked.
"It's not just that," Yoru said.
"Huh?" Kirigaya looked at him, confused.
Yoru explained in a composed tone, "Imagine you were on the court. If someone not only returned your shot but also explained the principle and the flaw behind it, how would that make you feel?"
Kirigaya frowned and thought for a moment. "I guess... it would create a lot of psychological pressure."
"Exactly. He's setting a trap for Tezuka. Pay attention to Yukimura's returns—they're practically copy-paste, repeating the same shots like a replication machine."
"Now that you mention it... you're right."
He had spoken casually, but Sanada, who was sitting not far away, was deeply shaken.
He had known Yukimura for a long time and was very familiar with his playing style.
Yet this guy, who was seeing Yukimura play for the first time, could read that much?
Sanada couldn't help but look at Yoru with newfound awe.
Just like Yoru said—Yukimura's verbal remarks were meant to chip away at Tezuka's mental state.
At first, it wasn't much.
But as the match dragged on, those constant little comments would weigh on Tezuka like boulders—stress would keep piling up.
What shocked Sanada even more was that Yoru had noticed Yukimura's replication-style returns.
That kind of repeated play, combined with psychological warfare, would snowball into more severe effects.
All of which were meant to lay the groundwork for that move.
Wham!
Tezuka seized an opening and slammed a clean winner.
"Point, Tezuka Kunimitsu! Score: 30–0!"
Actually, Yukimura could've returned it.
But he didn't even try, letting the ball fly past him and out of bounds.
"Wow, he's got nerves of steel," Kirigaya said, surprised.
Yoru shook his head. "It's not that. He's just very clear about his objective. He knows what he needs to do. Choosing not to chase some shots is his way of conserving energy."
The match had only just begun. Losing a few points now wasn't a big deal.
Yukimura's goal was to lengthen each rally, but that didn't mean he'd chase every shot. That would just wear him down faster.
Wham! Wham! Wham!
The two continued exchanging shots.
After about ten rallies, a vortex of energy began forming around Tezuka, expanding to cover his half of the court.
"His Domain," Sanada muttered, grabbing the railing, veins bulging on his forehead.
That technique was what had broken him.
"Ha... Looks like Yukimura's trap isn't ready yet, but Tezuka's Domain activated first," Kirigaya smirked as he looked at Yukimura.
When facing a player with Domain, dragging out the match would eventually bring it out.
Even if Tezuka hadn't planned on using it, his habitual training would kick in and guide his returns until it formed naturally.
"Domain guides your opponent's returns using prediction and spin," Yukimura murmured, unbothered. "It's precise and hard to break... but it also forces you to respond to every shot in the exact same way."
Everyone blinked, confused.
"What does he mean by that?"
Not just Yamato—even Kirigaya looked puzzled.
"Just keep watching," Yoru said casually.
Wham!
"Point, Tezuka Kunimitsu! Score: 40–0!"
"Game, Tezuka! 1–0!"
Once Domain was activated, Yukimura barely lasted a few rallies before losing his service game.
After all, Domain gave Tezuka complete control of the court.
Being constantly moved around, even someone as precise as Yukimura was bound to make mistakes eventually.
"Yukimura lost a game?" Sanada murmured, unable to believe it.
He'd known Yukimura for years.
In every match—including against Sanada himself—Yukimura had never lost a single game.
So, yes, he was worried.
But seeing Yukimura so calm and composed made him feel like maybe Yukimura had expected this all along.
"Could it be... that stripping away Tezuka's five senses is actually harder than I thought?"
The thought sent a chill down Sanada's spine.
The first game ended.
Without a word, both players changed ends.
Second game. Tezuka to serve.
He tapped the ball with his racket, adjusting his stance.
"…Huh?" Kirigaya frowned. "Something feels off."
Tezuka was clearly the one in control.
But he was sweating. His breathing was heavier than Yukimura's.
Even his usual pre-serve routine was taking longer, which meant… he needed more rest time.
"Is it… pressure?" Kirigaya turned to Yoru.
Yoru nodded. "The Domain reduced his physical exertion, but it also restricted how he can return each ball."
"To most players, Domain is a nightmare. But for someone like Yukimura, it's practically a catalyst."
Then Yoru suddenly turned to Sanada.
"Hey, kid… your friend's trying to induce Yips through tennis, isn't he?"
"Y-You…!"
Sanada's skin crawled.
"How… how do you know that?!"
Who was this guy?
With just a few words, he had seen right through the true nature of Yukimura's five senses loss.
"What's Yips?" Kirigaya asked, still confused.
Yoru explained calmly, "Yips is a neuromuscular condition where athletes suffer involuntary muscle contractions—a physiological disorder."
"It was first discovered in golfers, but it's been seen in baseball players, tennis players, billiards players, dart throwers... lots of sports."
"Yukimura prolongs rallies and creates intense pressure, using it to induce a temporary form of the Yips."
It was a real medical condition.
But in the New Prince of Tennis universe, under the "High School Tennis of the World" setting, it had evolved into something more extreme—what they called "Loss of the Five Senses."
"Tennis can do that?" Kirigaya's eyes widened in disbelief.
Using tennis to trigger a medical disorder?
He'd never heard anything like it.
Sanada, on the other hand, was already too shocked to speak.
His mind was spinning with thoughts like Who is this guy? and How did he figure that out in one glance?!
Even Sanada hadn't understood the true nature of the five senses loss until Yukimura explained it to him directly.
This kind of insight blew his mind.
Wham!
Just as they were deep in discussion—
The match shifted.
After the Domain pulled the ball into Tezuka's return zone, Tezuka's shot unexpectedly went out of bounds.
"Point, Yukimura Seiichi! Score: 15–0!"
Tezuka frowned and flexed his hand, but didn't feel anything wrong physically.
Meanwhile, across the court, Yukimura lowered his head slightly and smiled faintly.
"Let's begin, Tezuka-kun~"