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*Chapter 228: Tannhäuser vs. Zero-Shiki, A Serving Showdown? (Update 2)*
🕑 Added 2025-05-08 02:43:01 +0000 UTC“15-0!”
From the high chair, the referee announced the score with a serious tone.
After speaking, he gave Atobe a long look, as if he, too, couldn’t believe a junior high student could unleash such an elite-level serve.
“Hm.”
In the stands, Inoue took a deep breath and said, “I didn’t expect Atobe to pull out that serve right from the start!”
“It’s a decent serve,” Nanjiro, no longer hiding his identity, said with a nod and a smile. “You can tell he’s pretty wary of his opponent.”
“Tannhäuser…” Saito raised an eyebrow, his gaze locked on Atobe. “If it’s named after that opera, it’s like a ‘miraculous’ serve, right?”
The picky U-17 coach now looked at Atobe with none of his earlier dismissiveness. In his eyes, that serve alone proved Atobe had the skill to hold his own on the U-17’s Court 3.
At the same time, Saito was genuinely shocked. He hadn’t expected a singles 3 match in a junior high tournament to feature such a player.
It was hard to imagine how much stronger the singles 2 and singles 1 players would be!
“No,” Saito quickly dismissed the thought.
From Inoue and Shiba’s conversation, it was clear these two were likely the strongest players on their respective teams. This year’s national tournament had a last-minute rule change, and while others might not know why, Saito did. It was to test junior high players in the U-17 World Cup format and identify those who could adapt.
“Maybe both teams are fighting for the first win to gain the upper hand!” Saito realized, relaxing a bit.
But then, a new concern crept in. If the strongest junior high players were only at the level of a Court 3 player, Japan’s chances at this year’s World Cup might be even worse than he feared.
Thwack!
At that moment, Atobe unleashed another Tannhäuser Serve.
With his improved technique and deeper understanding of the game, his mastery of the serve was even more refined, making it nearly impossible to counter.
“30-0!”
On the other side of the court, Tezuka eyed the trail left by the ball, his brow slightly raised. This serve was almost on par with his own Zero-Shiki.
Thwack!
“40-0!”
Thwack!
“Game!”
“Hyotei’s Atobe, 1-0! Change sides!”
With four Tannhäuser Serves landing perfectly, Atobe effortlessly claimed the first game.
“Atobe’s gotten even stronger,” Shitenhoji’s Shiraishi said from the stands, his expression serious. “It’s only been a few days, but his understanding of the Tannhäuser Serve is deeper now.”
“Yeah,” Kintarou nodded firmly.
Atobe’s standing at Hyotei seemed to be slipping. Even his spot as the team’s number two was starting to feel shaky. But that was only in comparison to monsters like Ishikawa and Akutsu. On his own, Atobe’s growth compared to the rest of Hyotei was undeniable.
“Still,” Chitose added gravely, “Atobe’s serve is impressive, but Tezuka’s not going to hold back either.”
During the three-day training camp, Chitose had faced Tezuka multiple times. Each time, he was completely overwhelmed by Tezuka’s sheer dominance. Having witnessed Tezuka’s visible improvement, Chitose had full confidence in Seigaku’s captain.
“Second game,” the referee announced, looking at one side of the court. “Seigaku’s Tezuka to serve. One game to none.”
“Kunimitsu Tezuka, huh?” Saito’s gaze shifted to Tezuka. “His reputation seems just as big as that Atobe kid’s. Let’s see what kind of serve you’ve got.”
Despite his words, Saito wasn’t expecting much from Tezuka’s serve. Atobe’s performance had been too dazzling. It was hard to imagine another junior high student topping the Tannhäuser Serve.
Tap!
Tap!
Tap!
On the court, Tezuka lightly bounced the ball. With each bounce, his presence grew more intense.
Whoosh!
Suddenly, Tezuka tossed the ball up, stretched his body, and swung his racket with precision, striking the ball mid-air.
Thwack!
A sharp sound rang out as the ball shot forward like a bullet.
“Nice one!” Saito thought, impressed. The serve’s form, timing, and tricky placement were all top-notch.
“But,” he added to himself, shaking his head, “compared to that Tannhäuser Serve, it’s still a step behind…”
Thwack!
The ball hit the ground.
Swish!
Then, to everyone’s disbelief, the ball spun rapidly and rolled back toward the net, defying the usual bounce trajectory.
“What the—?!”
Saito’s expression froze.
The seasoned U-17 coach, who’d seen his share of big matches, stared at the ball rolling backward in complete violation of physics. His mouth twitched. “Are these two really junior high kids?”
“Zero-Shiki Serve!” Shiba shouted excitedly from the stands.
Inoue nodded in approval, and Nanjiro couldn’t help but chime in. “That’s a solid serve. Who would’ve thought this year’s Seigaku had a player like this?”
He was genuinely impressed with Seigaku’s captain. He’d heard from Inoue, Ryuzaki, and Echizen about a standout player at Seigaku. He’d thought it was just Ryuzaki hyping things up, but now he saw the truth.
Still, both Nanjiro and Inoue remained calm, which left Saito feeling a bit out of place. Was he the one who hadn’t seen enough of the world?
“Zero-Shiki… Serve?” Saito took a deep breath, his gaze sharpening.
He quickly adjusted his mindset, setting aside his preconceptions and focusing intently on the match.
Thwack!
Tezuka fired another Zero-Shiki Serve.
“30-0!”
Thwack!
“40-0!”
Thwack!
“Game!”
“Seigaku’s Tezuka, 1-1!”
In no time, with four Zero-Shiki Serves landing perfectly, Tezuka tied the score.
“Not bad, Tezuka,” Atobe muttered, nodding as he studied the near-identical serve marks. “Your technique and control are flawless. It’s practically an unbreakable serve!”
“No way…” someone in the crowd gasped. “Tannhäuser versus Zero-Shiki? Is this match turning into a serving showdown?”
“Could be,” another chimed in. “Neither of them is going to give up their serving advantage to score any other way, right?”
“So, it’ll come down to who can keep landing these perfect serves until one of them cracks!”
The crowd buzzed with speculation. After recovering from the awe of the two incredible serves, some quick thinkers began predicting how the match might unfold.
To them, this singles 3 match was destined to become a serving battle, lasting until one player faltered. Even Saito shared the same thought.
Thwack!
But then, in the second game, when Atobe hit his serve, the crowd was stunned to see the ball bounce normally.
“What?!”
“The ball bounced normally?”
“Is Atobe an idiot? Why not stick to his serving advantage?”
The audience was dumbfounded.
Thwack!
Tezuka returned the ball, and Atobe quickly slid across the court, hitting it back and charging forward.
Thwack!
Thwack!
Thwack!
His pace picked up, adopting an all-out aggressive approach.
“He’s giving up his serving advantage?” Saito watched Atobe’s relentless offense, a glint of surprise in his eyes.
Most people would call Atobe foolish. If this strategy failed, it was like handing the match to Tezuka on a silver platter.
But Saito saw something else in Atobe’s movements—unshakable confidence in his own abilities.
“Interesting,” the U-17 coach said, a spark of curiosity in his eyes. “I didn’t expect a junior high player to ditch their serving advantage like this. Wait… if I remember right, Ochi’s from Hyotei too, isn’t he?”
A playful smile crept onto Saito’s face.
He was eager to see what kind of tennis this Hyotei junior, a successor to Ochi, would bring to the court!
