On another court where Seigaku and Hyōtei were battling it out, the doubles matches had already concluded. The total score now stood at 1-1. In Doubles 2, Seigaku's Inui Sadaharu and Momoshiro Takeshi lost to Oshitari Yūshi and Mukahi Gakuto with a score of 6-4.
Meanwhile, in Doubles 1, Ōishi Shūichirō and Kikumaru Eiji won 6-2 against Shishido Ryō and Ōtori Chōtarō. It seemed that Hyōtei had strategically placed Oshitari and Mukahi in Doubles 2 just to secure a win in at least one of the doubles matches.
When it came to Singles 3, the players who stepped onto the court surprised the regulars of Fudomine watching from the sidelines. They had expected it to be a match between Fuji Shūsuke and Atobe Keigo.
"Next up, Singles 3! Seigaku's Echizen Ryōma versus Hyōtei's Atobe Keigo! Players, please take the court!"
Right after the umpire's announcement, a loud, synchronized cheer echoed from the crowd. Ryōma and the other first-years had heard it in the previous matches, but this time, with Atobe stepping onto the court, the volume surged to another level.
"Victory to Hyōtei! Winner: Atobe!"
"Victory to Hyōtei! Winner: Atobe!"
Atobe strolled leisurely onto the court, then snapped his fingers. Instantly, the cheering died down and was replaced by a shower of rose petals. Kabaji Munehiro and the others were on the sidelines, tossing petals with all their might, and a nearby fan was blowing them into the air.
Standing proudly on the court, Atobe felt the timing was just right. He threw his jacket high into the air and narcissistically declared, "Bask in the brilliance of my majestic tennis!"
Ryōma blinked at the scene, completely confused about what the guy was even doing. 'It's just a tennis match—why all the extra nonsense?' The trio watching from the sidelines looked equally stunned.
As the two approached the net for their handshake, Atobe glanced at Ryōma with a displeased look and spoke, "I thought I'd be playing Fuji in this match, but it turns out it's you—Echizen Ryōma, the samurai's son, huh? Fine then. Show me what you've got."
"Like we'd need our captain to beat you, you jungle monkey king," Ryōma shot back with a smirk.
Atobe's gaze turned icy. There seemed to be an endless frost lurking in his pupils, and Ryōma involuntarily shivered under his stare.
"Fuji, I hope you don't mind if I give your new teammate a little lesson," Atobe said, turning toward the sidelines.
Fuji merely smiled wryly, giving Ryōma a sympathetic glance but offering no response. Not that Atobe cared—he had only said it as a formality.
The umpire, sensing the tension between them, quickly urged them to get on with the coin toss. Ryōma got lucky and won the serve.
"One-set match! Seigaku to serve first!"
Ryōma stood at the baseline, testing the bounce of the ball. The upperclassmen had warned him about Hyōtei's strength before the match, but Ryōma didn't think anyone could be stronger than Akashi. After facing Akashi, he didn't feel afraid of anyone anymore.
Holding the racket in his right hand, Ryōma tossed the ball high into the air. His body tilted slightly to the left, then he jumped and arched his back. Using the power from his waist and abdomen, he swung upward, sending the ball spinning sharply toward the upper right. It dipped rapidly after crossing the net and slammed into Atobe's backcourt.
"Kick serve!"
Atobe had already reached the landing spot before the ball crossed the net. He watched the wildly spinning ball with a scornful expression. As it bounced up toward his face, Atobe casually tilted his head and returned it with ease.
The return had a nasty angle. Ryōma barely made it in time and just managed to send the ball back. It soared over the net, and Atobe had already rushed up to the front. Leaping high, he locked his eyes on Ryōma's racket grip and smashed the ball down.
The ball struck Ryōma's racket with such force that it flew out of his hand. As the ball ricocheted into the air, Atobe jumped again and finished with another smash. The ball zipped past Ryōma and landed out of bounds.
"Rondo Towards Destruction!"
"0-15!"
Thunderous cheers erupted from the crowd. Atobe pushed his hair back and, standing tall under the sunlight, looked down at Ryōma.
"My graceful brilliance outshines the sun! Right, Kabaji?"
"Usu!" Kabaji responded immediately from the sideline.
Ryōma quietly picked up his racket and returned to the baseline. His eyes, however, gleamed with defiance. Without hesitation, he launched another kick serve.
Atobe returned it just as effortlessly. This time, Ryōma chased the ball down and sent up a lob—clearly trying to regain his footing after the last point.
Atobe smirked coldly, jumped, and prepared to smash again. Ryōma gripped his racket tight, clearly waiting to intercept Atobe's "rondo" technique.
But Atobe didn't hesitate. He smashed the ball down hard—it hit near Ryōma's feet, only bouncing slightly before spinning violently forward and sliding straight out of bounds.
"Rondo Towards Destruction!"
"0-30!"
Landing smoothly, Atobe looked at the dumbfounded Ryōma and said with disdain, "You didn't think I came here to play house, did you, Echizen Ryōma?"
Ryōma snorted after snapping out of it, adjusted his cap, and walked back to the baseline without acknowledging Atobe. Seeing this, Atobe curved his lips into a meaningful smile and placed his left hand over his face, eyes locked on Ryōma's back.
This time, Ryōma switched his racket to his left hand, tossed the ball high, and served diagonally—no more kick serves. He knew by now that they didn't work on Atobe.
Left-handed kick serves were actually more effective against left-handed players. The change in hitting angle made the rebound direction different. That's also why in the original series, Ryōma rarely used left-handed kick serves—his opponents were almost all right-handed.
Atobe moved swiftly to the landing spot and smacked a powerful forehand return. The ball flew fast toward Ryōma. But Ryōma had already sprinted toward the net right after serving. As he reached the front court, he suddenly crouched down and let his momentum carry him forward, skidding a bit before leaping up.
He struck the ball midair with a topspin swing, sending it spinning violently. It shot upward, then abruptly dipped, slammed into the center line, bounced high again, and finally dropped on the baseline before flying out.
"Drive B!"
"15-30!"
Standing at the net, Ryōma tipped his cap with a smirk. "You've got a long way to go."
Atobe didn't look angry at the jab. Instead, he started laughing softly—then louder and louder—until he was clutching his forehead and laughing like a maniac.
"Hahahahahaha! Echizen Ryōma, you're full of surprises!" Atobe finally stopped, his voice oddly calm as he looked at Ryōma.
Ryōma served again and charged the net. But Atobe wasn't going to let him approach so easily—he sent a crosscourt backhand flying past. Ryōma had to stop short and respond with a forehand drive.
What happened next shocked everyone. Atobe sprinted to the front court, crouched down just like Ryōma had, skidded across the surface, and then sprang up to drive a topspin shot.
The ball zipped over the net, curved into a "B" shape in midair, and flew out of bounds past a stunned Ryōma.
"15-40!"
"Honestly, you really surprised me," Atobe said mockingly at the net. "But you didn't seriously think a trick like that would work on me, did you, Echizen?"
Without waiting for a response, Atobe turned away. Ryōma lowered his cap and headed back to the baseline, saying nothing. He didn't have the confidence to talk back now.
Ryōma served again, but Atobe didn't hold back anymore. He went full offense and, within just two rallies, found Ryōma's weak point. With a backhand drive, he took the first game.
"Game! Hyōtei Academy! 1-0!"
Game two was Atobe's serve. From the baseline, he tossed the ball with strong wrist action, then sliced down with his racket. The ball shot forward with intense spin, bounced low after crossing the net, and slid out of bounds.
"Tannhauser Serve!"
"Ace! 15-0!"
Ryōma had run to the landing spot but could only watch as the ball zipped away. He was completely baffled—how was that even a legal serve?
If Ryōma had seen Tezuka's Zero Shiki Serve, he would've been even more frustrated. This was far beyond what he could understand at this stage.
"Ace! 30-0!"
"Ace! 40-0!"
"Game! Hyōtei Academy! 2-0!"
Atobe used Tannhauser Serve for all three remaining points. Ryōma had no answer. He tried to return one, but the moment the ball touched his racket, it just popped straight up—he had no chance at all.
As Ryōma returned to the baseline for game three, he noticed Atobe's stare. That icy coldness in his eyes had grown even sharper, like it could freeze Ryōma in place at any moment.
"Looks like Atobe has completely read Echizen!" Fuji said with a serious expression.
"Yeah, he's about to drag Echizen into the World of Ice," Inui Sadaharu added, adjusting his glasses.
The trio watching had no idea what the captain and Inui meant, but they could tell it wasn't good. All they could do was watch Ryōma with worried eyes.
Ryōma fired off a strong serve. It went wide toward Atobe's left baseline. Atobe sidestepped into position but kept his eyes locked on Ryōma. Suddenly, from his gaze, a dozen icicles shot forth, piercing the air around Ryōma.
"Freeze—World of Ice!"
Atobe aimed for one of the icicles and hit a diagonal drive. Ryōma saw it and tried to move—but he couldn't. His body wouldn't respond. Not even a step. The ball flew past, shattered the ice spike, and went out of bounds.
"0-15!"
"Too many gaps and blind spots, Echizen~" Atobe chuckled lightly after scoring.
Even though Ryōma had no idea what just happened, he still looked across at Atobe. But Atobe didn't plan on explaining—he simply bent forward with a cold smirk, waiting for Ryōma's serve.
With no answers coming, Ryōma had to push his confusion aside. He served again. As the ball cleared the net, Atobe's eyes released another burst of ice spears that pierced the space around Ryōma. From Atobe's perspective, Ryōma's court was now littered with them.
As Atobe returned the shot, another ice spear shattered into fragments. Ryōma, once again frozen like someone under a paralysis spell, couldn't move at all. He just watched the ball sail past and bounce out.
"0-30!"
Ryōma now knew for sure—the one responsible for this strange situation had to be the guy across from him. But what exactly was he doing? How could he make Ryōma unable to move when returning the ball?
"0-40!"
"Game! Hyōtei Academy! 3-0! Change sides!"
In the next two rallies, Ryōma remained trapped within Atobe's World of Ice, unable to move. All he could do was stand there and watch the ball fly out again and again.
Walking off the court, Ryōma's mind was spinning, trying to figure it out. As he reached the team bench, Fuji turned to him and said, "So, how is it, Echizen? Atobe's not easy to deal with, huh?"
"Do you know what just happened, Captain? Why did it feel like I couldn't move for a second there?" Ryōma asked Fuji directly.
"That's Atobe's special move—World of Ice," Inui explained from the side. "It lets him read all of your blind spots at the moment of return. If he targets those blind spots, your movement naturally gets shut down."
Ryūzaki Sumire was lounging comfortably nearby. She liked how things were going. The tennis club no longer needed her constant attention—Fuji and the others had matured fully. Even Ryōma was coming along nicely under their guidance.
"World of Ice… I can't believe a move like that actually exists," Ryōma muttered in disbelief.
But then something seemed to click in his head. He began to think more deeply, but the break ended quickly as the umpire called the players back onto the court.
After changing sides, Ryōma crouched low, watching Atobe carefully. This time, he was determined to break Atobe's Tannhauser Serve. He knew his chances were slim, but Ryōma wasn't the kind to give up.
Just like Ryōma expected, Atobe unleashed another Tannhauser Serve. As soon as the ball crossed the net, Ryōma used small split steps to reach the landing spot.
The moment the ball hit the ground, Ryōma swung. But the ball barely bounced and crashed into his racket with intense spin. Ryōma couldn't control it at all—let alone return it. The ball shot straight into the air.
"Ace! 15-0!"
Ryōma kept trying to return the Tannhauser Serve, again and again. But each attempt ended in failure. With his current skill level, there was no way he could grasp the fleeting moment needed to counter it.
"Ace! 30-0!"
"Ace! 40-0!"
"Game! Hyōtei Academy! 4-0!"
Once again, Atobe held his service game with four Tannhauser Serves. Watching Ryōma struggle to break his serve, Atobe's expression turned a bit complicated.
In the fifth game, after Ryōma served, Atobe activated the World of Ice again. Ice spears surrounded Ryōma's side. But as Atobe's return flew over the net, Ryōma suddenly switched his racket from his left to his right hand.
He was trying to use Nitōryū to counter the World of Ice. But unless it was something like Yukimura's Mirage Mirror, basic dual-wielding couldn't eliminate or shift blind spots.
The ball struck an ice spear, exploded into shards, and flew out of bounds. Ryōma, holding the racket in his right hand, remained frozen in place.
"0-15!"
"Oh? Trying to change your blind spots with Nitōryū? How naive. My evolution moves at lightning speed. World of Ice isn't something that simple!" Atobe chuckled, amused.
Truth was, ever since his match against Yukimura back in his first year, Atobe had known the limitations of World of Ice. If this was the original version, Ryōma's dual-wielding might've worked. But after gaining stronger techniques, Atobe had also refined the World of Ice.
When Ryōma served again, Atobe activated World of Ice once more, exposing every blind spot on Ryōma's body. Ryōma stubbornly switched to his right hand again, but the result didn't change—he stayed frozen.
"0-30!"
"Stop struggling, Echizen Ryōma! Against my beautiful technique, you don't stand a chance!" Atobe said with arrogant flair.
"Hmph! I haven't lost yet. I'll definitely break your World of Ice!" Ryōma raised his head, refusing to admit defeat.
Atobe just scoffed and walked back to the baseline without replying. Ryōma lowered his head and returned to the baseline too.
Standing at the line, Ryōma's brain was spinning. How could he break through the World of Ice? Slowly, scenes of matches with his dad came to mind. His thoughts began to drift.
Just as the umpire was about to prompt him to serve, a milky white aura suddenly rose from Ryōma's body. At the sideline, Fuji's eyes snapped open in surprise.
A white aura swirled around Ryōma as he raised his left hand with the racket and pointed it at Atobe.
"You still have lots more to work on!"