Since the serve remained with Fuji after his successful point, he prepared for his next delivery with renewed determination. He understood perfectly well that his strength lay primarily in defensive returns, but against an opponent like Tezuka, a purely reactive approach would eventually lead to defeat. This time, he intended to seize the initiative from the very beginning.
Fuji bounced the tennis ball several times, then suddenly gripped it firmly and gave it a sharp twist. The sphere began spinning at tremendous velocity before he tossed it high and struck it cleanly toward Tezuka's side of the court.
To everyone watching, the serve appeared completely normal as it crossed the net and bounced once in the service box. Tezuka moved into position and drew back his racket for what should have been a routine return—only to swing through empty air as the ball simply vanished.
"The tennis ball disappeared!" Conan exclaimed, voicing what everyone had witnessed.
Both Tezuka on the court and the spectators around it had seen the same impossible sight: at the exact moment Tezuka's racket should have made contact, the tennis ball had simply ceased to exist.
"I'm not limited to defensive play, Tezuka," Fuji said, his eyes now blazing with competitive fire. "I have offensive weapons as well."
"Excellent, Fuji," Tezuka replied, genuine satisfaction evident in his voice. "Show me more."
The months of training on the Bamboo Staff had finally awakened something that had been dormant within Fuji for too long—the killer instinct that separated true champions from merely talented players.
"Then witness my resolve!" Fuji declared, launching another disappearing serve.
This time, Tezuka seemed to sense something and quickly moved toward his right rear corner. Despite his adjustment, however, the ball still eluded his racket, earning Fuji another point.
"30-0!" Coach Banji announced from his umpire's chair.
"Just one more point and Fuji will take this game!" Conan said excitedly, his earlier prediction seeming more prophetic by the minute.
"Don't celebrate too early, Kudo," Ai cautioned with a knowing glance. "Something tells me Tezuka is just getting started."
For his third attempt at the disappearing serve, Fuji prepared to unleash the technique once more—but this time, something had changed. As the ball approached its vanishing point, Tezuka suddenly swung his racket through what appeared to be empty air, yet somehow made solid contact and returned the shot cleanly.
"He cracked the disappearing serve already?!" Conan stared in disbelief at Tezuka's impossible adaptation speed.
But Fuji had anticipated this development. Having known Tezuka for years, he understood that his opponent's analytical mind would eventually solve any puzzle—it was simply a matter of time. That's why, even as Tezuka was making his "impossible" return, Fuji had already positioned himself at the net.
With a delicate touch, Fuji executed a perfect drop shot that barely cleared the net before dying on the court surface. Tezuka, caught at the baseline by his own return, couldn't reach the ball in time.
"Game to Fuji, 1-1," Coach Banji announced.
The score was now tied, with both players having demonstrated remarkable abilities that defied conventional tennis understanding.
The third game belonged to Tezuka's serve, and he prepared to deploy his devastating Zero-Shiki technique once again. However, Fuji had no intention of passively accepting defeat. The moment Tezuka's serve left his racket, Fuji charged toward the net with desperate determination.
When the ball struck the court and began its characteristic backward roll, Fuji dove low, sliding his racket along the ground in a last-ditch attempt to make contact. Against all odds, he managed to scoop the ball up and send it limping back over the net—though the return was weak and poorly positioned.
Tezuka pounced on the opportunity, leaping high to deliver a crushing overhead smash. Fuji scrambled desperately toward the projected landing point, even switching his racket from right hand to left in his frantic efforts to extend his reach. But the power behind Tezuka's attack was simply overwhelming, and the racket was torn from his grip upon impact.
Tezuka waited patiently as Fuji retrieved his equipment and returned to position, then served another Zero-Shiki delivery.
Once again, Fuji charged the net. This time, he managed to not only return the initial serve but engage in a genuine rally with Tezuka. However, as the exchange continued, Fuji noticed something new and disturbing—his carefully aimed shots were behaving in contradictory ways, sometimes being drawn toward Tezuka and other times flying wildly out of bounds.
"What kind of technique is this?" Conan asked, bewildered by the chaotic ball movement.
Even the Yamabuki team members looked confused—they had never seen Tezuka employ such a move before.
This time, Gustave remained silent. The complexity of what he was witnessing exceeded his ability to explain in simple terms.
What Tezuka had deployed was his most advanced technique: the Supreme Domain. This ultimate evolution combined his original Tezuka Domain with its inverse application, the Tezuka Phantom. The result was a nearly unsolvable paradox—if an opponent attempted to counter the Domain's drawing effect, the Phantom would repel their shot out of bounds. If they tried to compensate for the Phantom, the Domain would pull the ball back into Tezuka's reach.
By skipping past the intermediate stages of his development, Tezuka had jumped directly to his most sophisticated weapon.
Sure enough, when Fuji applied his Mayfly Shroud technique to neutralize the spin effects, the ball sailed far beyond the court boundaries.
"Out of bounds, point to Tezuka, 30-0!" Coach Banji called.
Using the Supreme Domain, Tezuka claimed the next two games decisively, bringing the score to 3-1 in his favor.
"Is Fuji really going to lose?" Even the eternally optimistic Eiji Kikumaru couldn't hide his pessimism as he watched his teammate struggle against Tezuka's overwhelming technical superiority.
"I believe in Fuji," Sengoku countered firmly. "Anyone who can give Tezuka this much trouble won't go down without a real fight."
His faith proved justified in the fifth game. Faced with another Zero-Shiki serve, Fuji demonstrated a level of aggressive determination that surprised everyone. Not only did he continue charging the net to pick up the impossible serves, but he unveiled a new technique of his own—the Guard of the Hundred-Armed Giant.
This was a counter-spinning technique that doubled the rotational force applied to the ball, creating an effect powerful enough to overwhelm even complex spin combinations. When Fuji deployed this new weapon, its impact was immediate and devastating—even the seemingly impregnable Supreme Domain was forcibly broken.
"Well done, Fuji!" Tezuka's approval was genuine and enthusiastic.
"Tezuka," Fuji called across the net, his voice carrying both respect and challenge, "I know you're still holding back. Use everything you have! I want to see your absolute peak, even if it means my defeat!"
Tezuka studied his opponent's determined expression for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "As you wish, Fuji. From this point forward, I'll give you everything I possess."
The change was immediate and visible. A faint aura of light began emanating from Tezuka's entire body, as if he had somehow transcended the normal limitations of physical existence.
"Am I hallucinating?" Conan rubbed his eyes frantically. "Why is Tezuka glowing like some kind of supernatural being?"
The various impossible techniques they had witnessed could at least be theoretically explained through advanced physics, but this luminous transformation challenged the very foundations of reality.
Not just Conan—everyone watching the match was baffled by this development, with the notable exception of Coach Banji, whose experienced eye recognized exactly what he was witnessing.
"Gustave, do you have any idea what's happening to Tezuka right now?" Conan pleaded with his usual commentator.
"I only know that Tezuka has entered something called the 'State of Self,'" Gustave replied uncertainly. "But there are supposed to be multiple levels to this condition, and I can't determine which one he's achieved."
The explanation they needed came from an unexpected source.
"Brother Gustave is correct," Coach Banji interjected, his voice carrying the authority of deep understanding. "Tezuka has indeed entered the State of Self, specifically a combination of two advanced gates: the Limit of Tempered Understanding and the Limit of Brilliance."
He paused to let this information sink in before continuing his explanation.
"The Limit of Tempered Understanding eliminates physical fatigue while doubling the spin, power, and speed of returned shots. The technique consumes tremendous amounts of stamina under normal circumstances, but when combined with moves like the Tezuka Domain that minimize movement requirements, it becomes perfectly sustainable."
"The Limit of Brilliance activates dormant brain cells, allowing the user to instantly simulate multiple game scenarios and issue 'absolute predictions'—determining the optimal path to victory with mathematical precision."
From his position along the sideline, Chu Zihang's eyes widened with recognition. "That second ability sounds remarkably similar to advanced applications of Observation Haki," he murmured to himself.
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