"What… Atobe's actually being *overpowered*?"
Seeing Atobe lose a point as Shiraishi broke his serve, Shiba's face was full of disbelief.
"Shiraishi's incredible!"
Inoue took a deep breath and nodded. "Kansai's top player—his reputation's well-earned."
Shiraishi's style wasn't as flashy or aggressive as other national-level players.
But that was exactly what made it so brilliant. His adherence to fundamental tennis was, in its own way, the ultimate sophistication.
"Atobe's a master at spotting his opponent's weaknesses," Inoue said with a hint of awe. "But against Shitenhoji's captain, he's met his match."
Even in professional matches, certain styles naturally counter others.
Shiraishi's approach was the perfect counter to Atobe's. In a way, it was a style Hyotei's team was familiar with.
Back in the day, Ishikawa had played a similar defensive-counter game.
With an ironclad defense, he'd wear down his opponent's stamina while meticulously gathering data on their habits. The moment he spotted a chance to win, he'd strike with pinpoint precision.
It was a methodical, almost dull style—but undeniably perfect. Without overwhelming strength, breaking through was nearly impossible.
"But…"
On Hyotei's side, Chotaro tilted his head, confused. "If I remember right, Rikkai Dai's Yanagi-senpai is a national-level player too, isn't he? Didn't Atobe-buchou beat him pretty easily back then?"
"It's not the same," Oshitari said, shaking his head. "Shiraishi and Yanagi's styles might seem similar, but they're fundamentally different. Yanagi relies on data analysis, while Shiraishi's game is rooted in flawless fundamental tennis."
"By mastering perfect fundamentals, he brings out his full potential. Guys like that? They're almost impossible to crack."
The word *perfect* said it all.
Atobe's *Ice World* wasn't invincible. It couldn't just X-ray an opponent and instantly reveal their flaws.
"Ugh," Shishido grumbled, frowning. "So you're saying until Atobe figures out Shiraishi's style, he can't use *Ice World*?"
"That's exactly it," Ishikawa said, nodding. "Every tennis style, no matter how unique, is built on fundamental rules. Unless there's a massive skill gap, even Atobe-buchou can't break that."
Plus, there was another problem.
The enemy was in the shadows, while Atobe was in the light.
If Atobe kept up his relentless aggression, he'd never truly pinpoint Shiraishi's weaknesses.
Seeming to realize this, Atobe shifted to a more cautious, defensive approach in the second game.
"So this is Hyotei's captain?"
Watching Atobe switch to defense, Kenya Oshitari smirked. "And here I thought Yushi was hyping him up, saying Atobe's got some unreal strength and convincing me to join Hyotei."
"Not impressed," second-year Koichi Zaizen said, crossing his arms and shaking his head. "Where's that ferocious momentum from the first game? And if he thinks he can just take his time to read Shiraishi, he's dead wrong!"
The other Shitenhoji players nodded in agreement.
To them, a match was like a duel—a clash of spirit, skill, and stamina.
In other words, the classic trifecta of *heart*, *technique*, and *body*!
Compared to Shiraishi, Atobe was too cocky, already losing ground in the mental game.
As for technique, Atobe's ball control was undeniably strong. But no matter how dazzling his skills, they couldn't overpower Shiraishi's simple, unadorned tennis.
Finally, stamina.
Rumor had it Atobe was Hyotei's stamina king. If the match dragged into a war of attrition, it could shake things up.
But, as Coach Watanabe had said before the match:
For Shitenhoji, every game from here on out was to be treated like the finals.
So, Shiraishi would never give Atobe a chance to turn the tables!
*Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!*
The duel raged on.
With Atobe on defense, Shiraishi didn't press the attack. He stuck to his fundamental tennis—no flashy moves, just hitting the ball exactly where he intended, pure and simple.
Shot after shot.
Shiraishi was patient, and having studied Atobe's personality and style beforehand, he quickly spotted a crack in his defense.
*Thwack!*
A clean shot scored.
"15-0!"
"Nice one!!!"
Kenya Oshitari and Zaizen pumped their fists in excitement.
"Shiten-ho-ji!"
"Shiten-ho-ji!"
"Shiten-ho-ji!"
Shitenhoji's regular members chanted, their momentum overpowering Hyotei's massive 200-strong cheering squad.
Shiraishi kept racking up points.
It was as if he had Atobe completely under his thumb.
*Thwack!*
"30-0!"
*Thwack!*
"40-0!"
In no time, Shiraishi had game point.
Yet he remained calm, rhythmically bouncing the ball.
"Keigo Atobe," Shiraishi thought.
Unlike Kenya or Zaizen, he knew just how formidable Atobe was. He'd never underestimated him for a second.
"Maybe you'll figure out my weakness eventually. But by then, the score gap will be too wide for you to close!"
Kuranosuke Shiraishi.
A player who lived by fundamental tennis.
To him, the essence of a tennis match was simple: hit the ball where your opponent couldn't return it. His job was to make that process as straightforward as possible.
No need for flashy techniques or intimidating theatrics. Just execute the fundamentals perfectly—that was the ultimate tennis!
By contrast, players like Atobe, who obsessed over finding an opponent's "weakness" and overanalyzed their every move, would never do something as foolish as sacrificing points for it. Shiraishi wouldn't either.
*Whoosh!*
His eyes sharpened.
He tossed the ball up, aiming for the left-front corner of Atobe's side and fired.
*Thwack!*
The ball hit the ground.
With a wicked sidespin, it rocketed outward.
"Great shot!" Inoue shouted from the sidelines. "Using his left-handed advantage to deliver a vicious sidespin. That serve's practically flawless!"
*Thwack!*
But Atobe had anticipated it. The moment Shiraishi served, he moved, returning the ball with precision.
*Tap, tap!*
Across the net, Shiraishi sprinted.
His rhythm was fast. To seal this game, he did something rare—he went on the offensive.
*Thwack!*
This shot targeted Atobe's right side.
*Thwack!*
When Atobe countered, Shiraishi attacked the left.
Back-and-forth shots kept Atobe on his toes. Only someone with Atobe's reflexes could keep up—slower players would've already lost the point.
But seeing Shiraishi and Atobe switch roles, Shitenhoji's team grinned confidently.
"It's pointless," Zaizen said with a smirk. "Just a futile struggle. Once Shiraishi goes on the attack, he *always* scores!"
*Thwack!*
At that moment, Shiraishi aimed for Atobe's backhand, expecting to clinch the point. But out of nowhere, Atobe sped up, returning the shot.
"Not bad, Atobe!" Shiraishi thought, impressed.
Even with all his effort, he couldn't fully suppress him. Atobe's resilience was something else.
"But…"
A glint of determination flashed in Shiraishi's eyes. He suddenly accelerated, charging toward the ball. "This point's mine!"
*Thwack!*
He smashed the ball back.
"Flawless fundamental tennis," Atobe thought, nodding in approval as the ball screamed toward him. But then, to the shock of Shitenhoji's team, he sped up again, catching the ball.
"You're the second toughest opponent I've ever faced," Atobe said, locking eyes with Shiraishi. "But you're not *him*. Your fundamental tennis isn't quite there yet—your weaknesses can't stay hidden."
*Whoosh!*
A cold light flickered in Atobe's eyes.
*Swish, swish, swish!*
In his vision, crystalline ice pillars rained down, embedding themselves around Shiraishi's body.
"Your blind spots are wide open to me now!"
*Thwack!*
Atobe swung.
The ball rocketed toward one of the ice pillars.
*Crack!*
The pillar shattered.
The ball slipped through the gap between Shiraishi's raised racket and his body.
*Thwack!*
"40-15!"
"What…?"
Shitenhoji's team froze in shock.
"He… he couldn't move?"
Shiraishi's pupils trembled. Even with his composure, a wave of disbelief surged within him.
"It's normal," Atobe said from across the net. "No one can react to their blind spots."
*Snap!*
He snapped his fingers, smirking. "This is *ore-sama*'s *Ice World*!"
"WOOO!!!"
Hyotei's cheering squad exploded.
"Hyotei wins! Atobe's the victor!"
"Hyotei wins! Atobe's the victor!"
"Hyotei wins! Atobe's the victor!"
The thunderous chants made some of Shitenhoji's less seasoned members go pale.
"So this is Hyotei's legendary momentum?"
Coach Watanabe raised an eyebrow from the sidelines but relaxed when he glanced at Shiraishi. "That guy? He won't be shaken."
As Shitenhoji's captain, Shiraishi's mental fortitude was beyond ordinary.
To Watanabe, Shiraishi had only exposed a weakness because he'd gotten too aggressive. If he returned to his earlier style, even Atobe wouldn't be able to flip this game.
*Thwack!*
But then, as Shiraishi served, Atobe's instant counter left Shitenhoji's captain stunned once more.
"40-30!"
"What's going on?!"
Zaizen stared at Shiraishi, panic creeping into his voice. He couldn't fathom why their captain wasn't reacting.
"It's his blind spots!" Chitose said gravely. "Atobe's seen through Shiraishi's blind spots!"
His face was deadly serious.
"Blind spots" might sound like a simple term, but with Atobe, it was no exaggeration—it was literal.
"This match… Shiraishi's in trouble."
*Thwack!*
"Deuce (40-40)!"
*Thwack!*
"Advantage Hyotei!"
*Thwack!*
After losing points in a row, Shiraishi served again.
He stayed calm, recognizing his mistake and that Atobe had caught him out.
So, he moved cautiously, reverting to his defensive-counter style.
"Pointless," Atobe said, returning the ball with a sharp glint in his eyes. "Your fundamental tennis is solid, but the disconnect between your upper and lower body is too obvious."
*Thwack!*
He fired a shot, shattering another ice pillar beside Shiraishi.
"Game!"
"Hyotei's Atobe, 1-1!"
The score was tied.
Hyotei's morale surged.
Atobe held nothing back, relentlessly targeting Shiraishi's blind spots.
*Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!*
As time passed, Atobe kept scoring, tipping the scales toward Hyotei.
*Thwack!*
"Game!"
"Hyotei's Atobe, 2-1!"
*Thwack!*
"Game!"
"Hyotei's Atobe, 3-1!"
*Thwack!*
"Game!"
"Hyotei's Atobe, 4-1!"
*Thwack!*
"Game!"
"Hyotei's Atobe, 5-1!"
In the blink of an eye, Atobe had stormed to five games.
He'd completely dominated Shiraishi, now just one step away from clinching Singles 3!
"Hyotei!"
"Hyotei!"
"Hyotei!"
Hyotei's team roared, their chants piling mental pressure on Shiraishi.
"It's over," Inoue said, shaking his head. "At this point, Shitenhoji's chances of turning this around are basically zero."
Truthfully, he hadn't underestimated Shiraishi—in fact, he admired him more now.
Few players could stay so composed under this kind of pressure.
Since the tide turned, Shiraishi had handled every ball with near-perfection. But Atobe's insight was just a cut above, completely suppressing him.
"So this is the strength of Kanto's top school captain?"
On the court, feeling Atobe's overwhelming presence, Shiraishi took a deep breath. To everyone's surprise, he turned to the coach's bench. "Coach, please let me use *it*."
"Huh?"
Watanabe blinked, then grinned, tipping his hat slightly. "Go for it."
"Wait, what?!"
Shitenhoji's players, including Chitose, gasped in shock.
Shiraishi had another secret up his sleeve?
"Look at Buchou…"
One Shitenhoji member, wide-eyed with shock, pointed at Shiraishi on the court.
"Hm?"
Everyone turned.
As Shiraishi raised his left hand and began unwrapping his bandage, their faces paled.
"No, don't!"
Kintaro, reacting on instinct, dove behind Gin Ishida. "Sh-Shiraishi, stop! I… I don't wanna die!"
"What's that?"
On Hyotei's side, Oshitari, Shishido, and the others watched Shiraishi's movements.
They couldn't help but recall what Ishikawa had mentioned yesterday in the tennis club cafeteria.
"The *Poison Hand*?"
Atobe raised an eyebrow.
He didn't buy into that kind of nonsense, but his eyes stayed locked on Shiraishi's left wrist.
*Swish!*
The bandage came off completely.
Kintaro let out a terrified yelp, hiding fully behind his teammates.
But then… nothing scary happened.
Instead, a golden gleam flashed in everyone's eyes.
"That's…"
Atobe's gaze sharpened, zeroing in on Shiraishi's wrist.
There, snug against his skin, was a *golden wristband*!
(*End of Chapter*)