In the third game, Fuji stood at the baseline. He didn't activate Light Wind right away—instead, he raised his left hand and gave the ball a counterclockwise spin before letting it fall from his fingers.
His right hand swung the racket upward in a chipping motion, sending the ball toward Yamato's court with a strange spin. It zipped over the net and struck the forecourt.
"Disappearing Serve!"
"Did I see that right? He just used an underhand serve? Is he mocking Yamato-senpai?" a first-year player on the sideline muttered in confusion.
"Shut up! Just keep watching! If your eye for the game is this bad, I don't even know how you made it this far!" a third-year beside him scolded harshly.
Of course Yamato knew how dangerous Fuji's serve was. But he didn't panic. He understood Fuji too well. Just a Disappearing Serve wasn't enough to trip him up. Yamato glanced at the bouncing ball, spun to the left, and swung his racket toward thin air.
"This kind of illusion shot is my specialty, Fuji!" As Yamato spoke, a tennis ball appeared right at his racket's sweet spot.
He hit it back with force. Fuji didn't say a word, just smiled calmly and chased it down. He swung his racket to intercept, but oddly, the ball passed through his strings again. Less than a centimeter in front of his racket, a ball suddenly appeared and flew toward the baseline, bouncing out of bounds.
"0-15!"
'Gen'u Yume Utsutsu? But Captain Yamato shouldn't have activated it just now…' Fuji's pupils contracted slightly as he stared at the ball that had flown out of bounds.
"What's wrong, Fuji? Don't tell me you thought this was all I had, just because I'm your senpai?" Yamato rested the racket on his shoulder, smiling gently.
"Looks like I underestimated you, Captain Yamato. Anyone who can hold their place here clearly has some real skill," Fuji's eyes grew sharper.
On the next point, Fuji didn't use the Disappearing Serve again. It might work on ordinary players, but probably only those ranked 10 and below here.
Instead, he served a high-speed ball. As for Light Wind, he had no plans to use it again. It drained too much energy, and Yamato wasn't the kind of opponent that required that level of effort.
Yamato chased the ball and gave a slight smirk. He countered with a backhand that sent the ball flying back into Fuji's court at a decent speed. Fuji focused hard, noticed nothing abnormal, and swung his racket to return it.
Yet again, the ball vanished straight through the middle of the court and slowly faded away. But just a centimeter in front of his racket, another ball flashed by and hit the baseline behind him, bouncing out.
"0-30!"
"Fuji, sometimes your habits can betray your senses," Yamato said calmly after scoring.
"So Captain Yamato has improved Gen'u Yume Utsutsu too. That's really impressive," Fuji replied sincerely, no trace of sarcasm in his tone.
"I see... exploiting Fuji's hitting habits to deceive his senses within such a short distance—that's your U-17 upgrade, Captain Yamato!" Inui Sadaharu muttered while scribbling in his notebook.
"Using Fuji's Super Sweet Spot against him? Yamato didn't happen to develop that move just for you, did he, Oni?" Akashi asked, intrigued.
"Who knows? But with Yamato's talent, pulling this off is already quite an achievement," Oni replied with a touch of admiration.
"Reality is cruel. In competition, weakness itself is a sin," Akashi said flatly, his tone cold again.
At that moment, Fuji launched his third serve—another sharp, high-speed shot. Yamato struggled to respond but barely managed to reach it. As he hit back, his eyes flicked toward Fuji's racket.
Fuji held his breath, eyes locked on the incoming ball. He had a rough idea now, but still needed confirmation. Just like before, he swung to intercept.
As expected, the result was the same—the ball passed through the center of the racket and slowly faded away. The real ball appeared just ahead of the racket. At that moment, Fuji fully understood how the technique worked.
"0-40!"
"I see now. Captain Yamato must have noticed my habit of always hitting with the sweet spot and intentionally offset the ball by a tiny distance. Even if I'm on guard for your Gen'u Yume Utsutsu, I'd still fall for it without realizing," Fuji said with a calm smile.
"Already figured it out? I was hoping to at least take a game… You really are something, Fuji," Yamato sighed.
"Then that move won't work on me anymore, Captain Yamato!" Fuji returned to the baseline and called out.
Yamato didn't reply. He just spread his hands helplessly, signaling Fuji to hurry up and serve. Fuji didn't hesitate—he served the ball immediately. Yamato caught up to it and smacked it back with a powerful forehand, sending it whistling toward the opposite court.
Fuji's eyes narrowed. He ignored the incoming ball and instead ran to the opposite sideline. Once there, he raised his racket and sliced downward in an arc. A tennis ball suddenly materialized in the air and was immediately sent flying into Yamato's frontcourt.
The ball carried a fierce underspin. The moment it cleared the net, it dropped sharply. Yamato rushed forward, but he was still one step too late. The ball hit the ground, spun violently, bounced up slightly, and then slid forward.
"First Counter—Hoo Gaeshi!"
"15-40!"
"Wait, isn't that Byōdōin-san's Bullfighting of Spain shot? That kid knows it too?!" a high school player shouted in shock.
"It looks similar, but there's still a bit of a power difference," another third-year calmly explained.
"The drop speed's a lot faster than when you were a first-year, Fuji," Yamato said with a laugh as he stood up, brushing dust off his clothes.
"Well, it's been nearly two years. A bit of improvement is only natural, right?" Fuji replied with a smile.
The match resumed quickly. Without the pressure of Gen'u Yume Utsutsu, Yamato couldn't stop Fuji's offense and could only watch the points slip away.
"30-40!"
"40-40, deuce!"
"40-40, Fuji Shūsuke leads!"
As Fuji served his eighth ball, a light breeze blew across the court. Fuji smiled faintly. Yamato also felt the wind and frowned—he already knew what Fuji was about to do.
Sure enough, after Yamato returned Fuji's serve, Fuji stepped in and hit a backhand slice. The ball soared straight up into the sky. Yamato quickly dashed to the baseline.
The ball drew a huge arc in the air. When it reached the backcourt, it plummeted sharply and landed right on the baseline. Yamato arrived just in time—but he couldn't tell which direction to swing his racket.
In that split-second of hesitation, the ball kicked left and shot out of bounds, hitting the fence. Yamato could only shake his head and laugh bitterly. Just as he'd expected—knowing how the move worked didn't mean he could counter it.
"Third Counter—Hakuryuu!" Fuji's voice drifted across the court.
"Game, Fuji Shūsuke! 3-0!"
"This one's the Phoenix of Egypt! Is Fuji Shūsuke connected to Byōdōin-san somehow?!" the same high schooler blurted out again in disbelief.
His voice drew Tokugawa's attention. Tokugawa stared sharply at Fuji on the court. Gradually, Fuji's figure overlapped with Byōdōin's in his mind, making his breathing grow erratic.
"Relax, Tokugawa. Don't let obsession cloud your mind," came Mitsuya's gentle voice from behind.