One thing worth noting—Akashi wasn't using his cross-shaped racket for this match. It was unclear whether that was good news or bad news for Atobe.
"You're still as annoying as ever. This time, I'm going to crush you completely and show you what defeat really feels like!" Atobe scowled at Akashi's cold expression, even more irritated.
Akashi didn't reply. He just stared calmly ahead, waiting for the umpire to announce the coin toss. Soon, Atobe won serve and turned smugly toward his baseline.
"Now starting Singles Three between Hyōtei Gakuen and Fudomine. One-set match. Hyōtei to serve first!" As the umpire's voice rang out, the highly anticipated match officially began.
Standing at the baseline, ready to serve, Atobe suddenly noticed Akashi still wearing his jacket, casually standing there. That flicker of pride vanished. His eyes sharpened into a cold glare. Tossing the ball high, he slammed it across the net. The shot landed sharply in the left corner.
"Oh? That serve's solid. At least 180 km/h, with great placement. Seems this Hyōtei captain's got some real skill," Chitose Senri remarked from the bench.
"Yeah, but it's still not enough to beat Akashi," Tachibana Kippei replied casually.
Sure enough, just as the ball was about to bounce out of bounds, a racket blocked its path. Akashi had somehow appeared at the perfect spot, his coat flapping behind him in the breeze.
With a smooth return, Akashi sent the ball back. Atobe's eyes narrowed, rushing forward to return it. And just like that, the rally began. No probing, no warm-up—both sides attacked at full force from the start.
At least, that's what it felt like to Atobe. Akashi was simply matching his pace, letting him unleash his attacks. He wanted to see how strong Atobe really was in his first year. During this exchange, Akashi's Emperor Eye was steadily analyzing and storing all of Atobe's data. Sometimes he even wondered—if he really took up data tennis, he might be stronger than Mitsuya.
But it was just a passing thought. He lacked that kind of instant-calculation ability and didn't intend to rely on the system for match analysis. Soon, he spotted a small flaw in Atobe's movement and claimed the first point.
"0-15!"
Atobe stared at the ball near his feet in disbelief. He knew Akashi was strong, but he hadn't expected this level of precision. Catching even the slightest lapse. He knew, just like himself, Akashi possessed incredible visual acuity. But he refused to believe he'd lose in a contest of eyes.
With that thought, Atobe raised his left hand and brought it to his face—index and middle fingers lining either side of his nose, eyes locked onto Akashi, trying to read him.
Seeing the gesture, Akashi was slightly surprised. 'Already trying to analyze my weaknesses?' he thought. 'Too bad. If he had Ice World already, maybe. But now…'
After observing for a bit, Atobe returned to the baseline to serve again. As the rally resumed, he kept trying to use his insight to find Akashi's weak points. At the same time, he subtly slowed the tempo, trying to extend the match—one of his specialties.
Akashi quickly picked up on his tactic but didn't counter it. Instead, he played along. Just the second point dragged on for nearly five minutes. In the end, Akashi claimed it with another clean shot.
"0-30!"
Atobe frowned. Even with all his efforts to read Akashi, he couldn't find a single weakness. On the other hand, Akashi saw through one of his own habits and exploited it instantly.
The rest of the game followed the same pattern. Atobe kept stalling and probing for weak spots. Akashi simply responded calmly, neither attacking nor retreating. The rally turned sluggish and dull—so much so that some spectators actually started yawning.
"0-40!"
"Game! Fudomine! 1-0!"
Finally, after 20 minutes, the first game ended. But Atobe realized he hadn't discovered a single flaw in Akashi's play. Worse, Akashi didn't even seem tired. No sweat, steady breath. That meant his stamina might be far better than expected.
Now it was Akashi's serve. With all the data collected, he was done playing around. He gripped the ball tightly, tossed it high, and with a sharp, downward cut of his racket, struck it with massive spin. The ball cleared the net, hit the ground fast, then spun wildly and skidded low along the court, almost without bouncing.
"Tannhauser Serve!"
"Ace! 15-0!"
Atobe's pupils shrank in shock, disbelief on his face. Even from Hyōtei's bench, Sakaki Tarō flinched slightly. A serve like that at this age? That Akashi kid's talent might not just rival Atobe's—it could exceed it.
Forget Hyōtei—even the Fudomine team was stunned. Except for Tezuka and Krauser, most of them didn't even know Akashi had that kind of serve.
"Tannhauser, huh? Since when did your naming style get so dramatic?" Atobe asked after recovering from the shock.
"Hehe~ Maybe I thought of you when I created it~ So, Atobe, want to learn it? I'll teach you for free," Akashi said with a teasing glint in his eyes.
In truth, that move was Atobe's own creation. But back then, for the sake of fusion rate, Akashi thought the serve fit his aesthetic and recreated it from memory. He had always planned to eventually teach it to Atobe ahead of time.
"I don't need your lessons. My evolution is lightning fast. That kind of serve is nothing to me!" Atobe declared proudly.
"Oh? Is that so? Then go ahead and try breaking it." With that, Akashi returned to the baseline to serve again.
He followed with three more consecutive Tannhauser Serves. Atobe kept claiming it was nothing special, but even after trying three times, he still couldn't return one. However, with his sharp observational skills, he gradually started to spot the move's weaknesses.
"Ace! 30-0!"
"Game! Fudomine! 2-0!"
In the blink of an eye, Akashi had held his serve. When it was Atobe's turn again, he suddenly changed tactics—charging the net aggressively, launching attack after attack with sharp angles.
"That doesn't look like Atobe at all!" Oshitari commented from the bench, surprised.
"No, Oshitari, you're wrong. This is Atobe's true form—his ultra-aggressive stance. Didn't think Fudomine's captain could push him to this state," Sakaki Tarō said gravely.
On court, Atobe's eyes narrowed. A confident smirk spread across his face. He sounded almost excited.
"I finally see it! Your weakness, Akashi Seijurō!"
He slammed the ball toward Akashi's right heel. Just when Atobe was sure he had scored, Akashi smoothly shifted his weight and scooped the ball up, returning it to the exact same spot at Atobe's foot. The ball zipped past him and out of bounds.
"0-15!"
"No way! I saw your weakness with my own eyes!" Atobe shouted in disbelief.
"Atobe, did you forget? When it comes to vision, I'm far above you. At what point did you start thinking you could see through me?" Akashi replied calmly.
"Don't get cocky, Akashi! I've never lost when it comes to eyesight. Next time, you won't be so lucky!" Atobe barked back, refusing to accept that he was inferior in insight. To him, that last point was just a fluke.
As the match resumed, Atobe kept up his aggressive stance, pushing his observational ability to the max. His piercing gaze felt like it could stab right through Akashi. But Akashi stayed relaxed, returning shots with ease—his jacket still hadn't even slipped off.
"0-30!"
"0-40!"
They'd reached game point again. Atobe's eyes were bloodshot from overuse, but he didn't care. What rattled him more was the fact that, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find a single weakness in Akashi.
Still, Atobe never gave up. That word didn't exist in his vocabulary. He served again, charged the net, and kept hammering away with overhead smashes. But this time, every shot was a smash—Akashi noticed that and smirked. 'So that technique, huh?'
Anticipating it, Akashi positioned his racket directly in the ball's path without softening the impact. The ball struck the strings and popped high toward Atobe's side.
Atobe immediately jumped, eyes locked on Akashi's racket grip. Through the Emperor Eye, Akashi saw this and slightly loosened his grip, curious to see what would happen.
With a crushing smash, Atobe knocked the racket right out of Akashi's hand. The ball shot back up again, and Atobe leapt for a second time, slamming it toward Akashi's baseline. The ball whipped past Akashi and struck the line, then flew out.
"Rondo Towards Destruction!"
"15-40!"
"How's that, Akashi? Pretty dazzling tennis, don't you think?" Atobe gloated after scoring the point.
Akashi calmly picked up his racket. His face didn't change in the slightest as he replied evenly:
"Not bad. Seems you haven't been slacking all these years. But… don't tell me you really think you can win this match?"
"Of course! There's no way I'd lose to you!" Atobe snapped and strode back to the baseline.
"Guess I haven't put enough pressure on you yet, Atobe. Hurry up and evolve… just like you said—lightning fast," Akashi murmured under his breath.
As the game resumed, Atobe once again tried his strategy from the previous round, launching more high smashes. But this time, Akashi was done playing nice. He intercepted the ball and sent it high into the air again. Atobe instantly jumped, aiming another smash at Akashi's racket.
Just before impact, Akashi pulled his racket hand sharply downward. The ball struck the sweetspot instead of the grip. Akashi immediately countered with a backhand flick, sending the ball zipping past Atobe's baseline and out of bounds—Atobe hadn't even landed yet.
"Game! Fudomine! 3-0!"