With the crowd cheering, the second game began quickly. This time it was Tezuka Kunimitsu serving. He bounced the ball twice, then tossed it up. With a loud crack, the tennis ball flew straight toward the far corner of Sanada's court. After landing, it veered sharply left and shot out of bounds.
But Sanada wasn't just any ordinary player. He chased it down and returned the shot. The rally began again. Unlike the first game though, as the match progressed, Tezuka slowly moved to the center of the baseline. He didn't take a single step. He just adjusted his swing based on the incoming ball's direction. A circle began to form beneath his feet.
Sanada couldn't believe what he was seeing. He intentionally hit toward both corners, but each time the ball passed the net, it curved back toward Tezuka. Centered around Tezuka, a swirling white wind vortex began to form. No matter where Sanada aimed, the ball was drawn back toward Tezuka.
In the stands, some experienced scouts stood up in disbelief. The average spectator only thought it looked magical. But for them, they had the eyes to understand what was happening. Even so, they couldn't believe that a 12-year-old was displaying a technique that many pro players couldn't master—the Tezuka Zone.
Seeing Tezuka activate the Tezuka Zone, Akashi's lips curled slightly. His eyes lit up with excitement. This was exactly what he wanted to see. Tezuka might still be just a 12-year-old boy, but he was intact—uninjured. Not the worn-down version from his memories.
Maybe his experience and technique weren't at the level of the national tournament Tezuka. But mentally, he was clearly stronger.
At that moment, Yukimura slowly walked up beside Akashi. His face was serious, but there was a trace of anticipation in his voice.
"Before coming here, I never thought a peer could push Sanada this far. Seems Sanada and I got a little too proud. That technique must involve spin, right? But seeing how calm Akashi-kun is, I'm guessing your strength isn't below Tezuka-kun's?"
Akashi gave Yukimura a cold look and answered with a sharp voice:
"That's right. It's the Tezuka Zone. It controls the opponent's return by using the spin and angle of the shots he plays. From wide swings at first, he slowly narrows the arc until the ball is forced to return into a confined space. That spin and centripetal pull drag every return back into Tezuka's zone."
"But this match—no one can beat me. Whether it's Tezuka Kunimitsu or you, Yukimura Seiichi. Victory is everything. The one who wins is always right. I won't allow the word 'defeat' to exist in my life."
Hearing Akashi's cold and unwavering words, Yukimura felt a powerful confidence and overwhelming aura radiating from him. His own fighting spirit surged instantly. He smiled slightly, then turned his gaze back to Tezuka and Sanada on the court.
At that moment, the score was already 30-0. Sanada had been desperately trying to find a way to break Tezuka's Tezuka Zone. But just relying on Itsu ka kaze no gotoku wasn't enough to shake it.
As Tezuka's Tezuka Zone activated again, Sanada's return once more curved toward Tezuka. That made Sanada fully commit. He couldn't afford to hold back any longer. If he didn't go all out now, he wouldn't just lose to Tezuka. He'd lose without ever reaching Yukimura in the final—and possibly be crushed completely.
Thinking this, Sanada dashed toward the sharp-angled return from Tezuka. And at that moment, behind him, it was as if a towering mountain rose—blocking the path of the ball. This was the strongest defensive stance of Fūrinkazan—Immovable as a Mountain!
"Itsu yuru koto hayashi no gotoku!
Sanada blocked the shot with his racket and fiercely sliced downward. The spin and power on the ball weakened sharply. It floated slowly toward Tezuka's side.
Tezuka noticed the spin had been neutralized and was surprised. But he didn't panic. He rushed to the net, raised his racket behind him, and gently sliced. He launched a Zero Shiki Drop Shot.
The ball carried spin as it slowly drifted over the net and fell toward the court. Sanada, having seen this move once already, didn't hesitate. He rushed to the landing point and scooped the ball up before it touched the ground.
But Tezuka had already predicted Sanada's move. He jumped high at the net and slammed the ball straight down. The ball flew past Sanada and out the baseline.
"40-0"
The score echoed. Sanada's expression turned grim. He hadn't expected that even after using Wind, Forest, and Mountain from Fūrinkazan, he still couldn't gain a single point. He had only one card left—Fire.
Tezuka gave him no time to think. He served again, sending the ball into Sanada's side. After just a few rallies, Tezuka activated the Tezuka Zone once more and began targeting both corners. He forced Sanada to run nonstop, draining his stamina.
Sanada didn't hesitate. He once again used Immovable as a Mountain, blocking every return like a solid wall. His defense was airtight. Still, the physical toll was real. As he struggled to decide whether to use his last trump card, Aggressive as Fire, a brief lapse in focus gave Tezuka an opening—and he scored again.
"Game, Tezuka Kunimitsu! 2-0!"
At this point, the crowd's excitement hit a peak. Many tennis fans were thrilled. They had seen plenty of junior matches, but never had they witnessed two 12-year-old boys play like this.
Tezuka's Zero Shiki Drop Shot and Tezuka Zone, and Sanada's Wind, Forest, and Mountain—all exceeded the expected level of middle school play.
"My god! Are those two kids really just 12 years old? Aren't they basically elementary schoolers? Their tennis looks like high school level!"
"That Tezuka Kunimitsu kid… he's incredible. Whether it's that drop shot or that so-called Tezuka Zone, that's pro-level tennis. I can't believe he's only 12!"
"That Sanada kid is pretty great too. His movements look like he's trained in kendo. Looks like this year's middle school tennis scene is in for a revival. I already can't wait for the national tournament!"
"Don't forget, this is just the first semifinal. Who knows how strong the other two boys are? If they're at this level too, this year's nationals are gonna be wild—hahaha!"
Back on the court, the match continued. This time it was Sanada's serve. His already dark expression had turned even stormier. For the first time, he was feeling crushing pressure from a peer—someone other than Yukimura.
In both technique and overall strength, he was completely outmatched. Though he still had one last trump card, who could guarantee that what Tezuka had shown so far was his full strength?