"How arrogant!"
Feeling utterly disregarded, Atobe glared at Tezuka with irritation.
In the first singles match, Tezuka took the serve.
As he bounced the ball, he suddenly caught it and calmly met Atobe's gaze. "Next, I'll execute the Zero-Shiki Serve."
The crowd fell silent in shock. Even the members of Hyotei's tennis club swallowed hard.
"The Zero-Shiki Serve… He can use it too?"
Oshitari Yuushi stared at the court in disbelief.
Swish—!
Tezuka's arm swung smoothly, launching the ball into the air before it even reached its peak. In one fluid motion, he leaped and swung his racket with precision.
Tap!
A crisp strike echoed as the ball arced gracefully over the net.
Atobe's eyes narrowed at the familiar trajectory—a sinking feeling settling in his chest.
Could Tezuka really pull it off?
The moment the ball landed, the answer became clear. A sharp, spinning sound (shu-shu-shu!) erupted as the ball dug into the court.
"Tch—!"
Atobe lunged forward, racket poised—but the ball never bounced. Instead, it rolled backward before stopping dead at the base of the net.
"WHOA—!"
The spectators erupted in awe, their gazes locked onto Tezuka.
"No way… That really was the Zero-Shiki Serve!"
"Tezuka Kunimitsu… He's that good?!"
"Rumor has it he's Yoru's disciple—now I believe it! That serve is identical!"
"Unreal… Even seeing it again, it's terrifying."
"A serve that doesn't bounce—practically bending the rules. Is this Seigaku's signature move now?"
Thanks to last year's Nationals, the Zero-Shiki Serve had become infamous. Yet here it was again—executed flawlessly by a first-year.
The Hyotei team watched in stunned silence.
They knew Tezuka was Yoru's student—but they never expected him to master this.
An unreturnable serve.
Any interference would count as a foul, resulting in an automatic point loss.
There's no counterplay!
What they didn't know, however, was that this technique originated from Tezuka himself. Yoru had merely replicated and refined it, polishing the details to perfection.
"So this is the Zero-Shiki Serve… Seeing it live is something else."
Oshitari inhaled sharply.
As a self-proclaimed genius, he'd once tried dissecting the mechanics of the serve—only to conclude it was impossible for him at his current level.
The sheer arm strength, spin control, and precision required were beyond his reach.
"Still not quite there yet," Q.P murmured.
If Tezuka could match Yoru's level of execution, then it'd be a true top-tier technique. Even as the creator, Tezuka's version lacked the finesse and power Yoru had infused into it.
"…Impossible."
Atobe's expression darkened.
He never anticipated Tezuka wielding the exact same serve as Yoru.
"Game, Tezuka Kunimitsu! 15-0!"
As Tezuka moved to the opposite service box, Atobe's eyes burned into him—searching for weaknesses, any exploitable flaw.
He knew he couldn't counter the Zero-Shiki Serve yet—but if he could find a pattern, an opening…
Thud!
Another serve.
The ball traced the same elegant arc, spinning violently before rolling back—another effortless point.
"Game, Tezuka Kunimitsu! 30-0!"
"He's consistent!"
"Not as fast as Yoru's, but still deadly."
"Speed doesn't matter when it never bounces back!"
"Scary… A serve you can't return no matter what."
"This year's freshmen are monsters."
Murmurs of admiration spread through the crowd.
Thud!
Again—same arc, same spot.
Every spectator held their breath, watching to see if Tezuka could maintain perfection.
Shu-shu-shu…
The friction-filled spin echoed across the court.
Atobe dashed to the landing zone, racket raised—just in case it rebounded.
But as expected, the ball died at the net.
"Hmph. Arrogant as he is, at least he plays fair," Yamato adjusted his glasses.
Last year, some players had tried cheating—swiping at the ball illegally (though unsuccessfully). Atobe, for all his theatrics, respected the rules.
"Game, Tezuka Kunimitsu! 40-0!"
Applause erupted. Even without Yoru on the court, the legend of the Zero-Shiki Serve lived on.
Atobe clenched his fists, frustration boiling over.
Three serves.
That's all it took to shatter his confidence, dragging back that same helplessness he'd felt before.
Thud!
The fourth serve.
This time, Atobe didn't move—instead, his eyes locked onto Tezuka's form, analyzing every minute detail.
Then—his lips curled into a smirk.
Shu-shu-shu…
"Game, Tezuka Kunimitsu! 1-0!"
The referee's whistle blew. A flawless service game.
Yet instead of despair—
"Hahahaha!"
Atobe laughed, pointing his racket at Tezuka. "I see it now! You can't keep this up forever, can you? From the first serve to the fourth, your form shifted—that's the strain talking, isn't it?!"
He waited for a reaction—a flicker of doubt.
But Tezuka just turned away, walking off to hydrate.
"Tch. How boring."
Atobe's smirk vanished, replaced by irritation.
Change of sides.
Second game—Atobe's serve.
"Now, witness the magnificence of—"
"Just serve."
Tezuka cut him off mid-boast.
"You—!"
Suppressing his anger, Atobe tossed the ball high—exceptionally high—before leaping with full extension.
"Tezuka Kunimitsu! Prepare to be dazzled by my brilliance!"
His racket cracked against the ball.
"This serve…!" Q.P's eyes widened. "That's the super-high-speed vertical serve!"
Yoru smirked. "Wait, is this Hyotei's legacy now?"
Not surprising.
In the original timeline, Atobe had an arsenal of devastating serves—Tannhäuser, Ice Emperor, Absolute Zero World—all elite techniques.
But right now?
He's still got a long way to go.
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