108. Shusuke Fuji vs. Kojiro Saeki (Part Two)

“Every shot targeted the areas I’m weak at, and he even used the no-spin ball that counters the Swallow’s Return...” Fuji’s deep blue eyes fixed intently on Saeki across the court.

“Saeki from Rokukaku Junior High wins! 5-0! Change sides!”

As the referee announced this, thunderous cheers erupted from the crowd outside. Many rejoiced at how Saeki had cornered Fuji into an impossible position. It seemed the outcome of the match was sealed. Even a dark horse team like Seisei struggled to withstand another dark horse contender, Rokukaku Junior High.

In their recent clashes, the gap between Fuji and Saeki needed little elaboration. The so-called genius was merely a fleeting bloom.

“As expected of Saeki. Fuji Shusuke across from him is known as the ‘Genius’ and also Seisei’s vice-captain, yet he couldn’t score a single point!”

“I thought this crucial singles match would be intense, but it turned out so effortless!”

Seisei’s main players watched Fuji’s retreating figure with a twinge of sorrow. Shishido Ryo’s clenched fists trembled. “Are we... really going to lose just like this...?”

Tezuka, arms crossed, observed Fuji’s face partially hidden beneath chestnut bangs, his gaze calm and unreadable.

“Saeki!”

“Saeki!”

“Saeki!”

Hearing the chants from outside, Tezuka remained unmoved, simply looking at Fuji and thinking to himself: “Fuji...”

“Though it’s been quite draining... this is the natural outcome.”

Walking toward Fuji, Saeki covered his left eye with one hand briefly, then raised his head, smiling inwardly.

“If I hadn’t carefully observed every move of Fuji’s to find the right moment to counterattack, I’d be in trouble. But I’ve held on this far. Just one more game... one more game and I win.”

Feeling the heaviness of his eyelids, Saeki encouraged himself silently.

“Saeki...”

Just as they were about to pass each other, Fuji suddenly called out. Saeki froze, glanced at him, and instinctively replied, “Hmm?”

“You’ve been so focused on restraining my signature moves that your body must be at its limit now.”

Fuji’s expression remained hidden beneath his bangs. Hearing the understated words, Saeki’s face changed drastically but quickly returned to normal.

“Heh, so what? You only have one game left. Do you really think you can turn the tables relying on this last game? Even if you succeed, how many games can you flip? Don’t forget, you only have three chances to make mistakes, but I... have five times as many.”

Saeki grinned, full of confidence.

“They’re still talking...”

Shishido Ryo, seeing the two chatting at midcourt during the changeover, was stunned.

“Watch closely, Shishido. Our vice-captain Fuji is a genius. For a genius, it’s never too late to counterattack.”

Matsubara Nari placed a hand on his shoulder with a smile.

Shishido and several others, including Akutsu, looked at the boy with puzzled surprise, clearly astonished by his words.

A breeze stirred.

Feeling the cool wind brush over him, Saeki shuddered. Fuji, however, opened his sapphire-blue eyes and lifted his head. His bangs fluttered gently as he squinted and smiled faintly.

“Perhaps there’s no longer an opportunity for you to make a mistake.”

After saying this, Fuji strode off. Saeki paused, glanced back at him, then closed his eyes and returned to his side of the court.

“It’s too late to say anything now, Fuji. The winner of this match can only be me.”

Saeki stared at Fuji with resolve.

Meanwhile, Inui Sadaharu adjusted his reflective glasses and spoke softly, “Renji, have you ever obtained complete data on Fuji?”

“What do you mean, Sadaharu?” Renji Yanagi was caught off guard by the sudden question.

“I mean... have we really gathered accurate information on Fuji?”

Looking up at a patch of fluffy white clouds drifting lazily across the blue sky, Sadaharu raised a finger and murmured.

Listening to Sadaharu’s words, Shishido and the others exchanged glances. Akutsu asked in a low voice, “What do you mean?”

“Fuji seems to be losing 5-0 and should be close to defeat, right?” Sadaharu regarded them.

“So what?” Akutsu replied coldly.

“Like you said, those balls you couldn’t reach felt like you were just running past them. Maybe it wasn’t your illusion. Perhaps from the very beginning... Fuji was acting.”

“Acting?!”

Everyone exchanged bewildered looks. Sadaharu’s words left them in a haze.

“To be honest, aside from Fuji’s triple counterattack, I haven’t grasped his usual playing style correctly. Whether in practice or official matches, his style keeps changing—subtly, but it does.”

Sadaharu adjusted his glasses again.

“I felt that too. It’s subtle, but indeed so.”

Renji nodded.

“Isn’t playing style a habit formed by a person? How can it be different every time?”

Shishido couldn’t believe it.

“That’s why I say Vice-Captain Fuji is truly a genius. For a genius, nothing is impossible. Saeki won 5-0 because his dynamic vision only saw what Fuji wanted him to see. But from now on, Fuji Shusuke will no longer be the same Fuji from before.”

Matsubara Nari chuckled. He had suspected that Fuji’s terrible score earlier was unrealistic—perhaps he had been holding back from the start.

“No use, Fuji. I’ve clearly seen your weaknesses with these eyes. You won’t be able to return this shot!”

Watching Fuji’s blue eyes open wide, preparing to counterattack, Saeki thought.

When Fuji was still three or four paces away from the ball Saeki struck, suddenly, his movements accelerated sharply. Within moments, he caught up. Before the ball could drop, Fuji was already ready to swing!

“Ah?!”

Saeki’s pupils contracted sharply, his mouth agape.

*Clack!*

Fuji crossed his feet and stretched out his arms as the tennis ball struck the opposite court where Saeki could not reach, bouncing away!

“!”

Kurohane, the Kisarazu brothers, and others were stunned. Even the old man on the bench holding orange juice froze, his hand stiff mid-air.

“How... how is this possible? That ball was the same one he couldn’t return before. How did he catch up...?”

Saeki’s mind replayed Fuji’s performance in the third game, turmoil raging within.

“You possess extraordinary dynamic vision, but that also hinders your judgment because you easily trust what your eyes see. Actually, that last ball was my specialty.”

The wind grew stronger, Fuji’s chestnut hair fluttered. His sapphire eyes were calm as a still deep well. Holding the racket loosely, he spoke softly.

“No wonder you’re the Wind Mage. Even the wind aids you in your counterattack.”

Hearing the rustle of leaves, Matsubara chuckled.

At those words, Saeki stared dumbfounded at Fuji, momentarily speechless.

“Wow!”

Seisei erupted with mixed cheers. Rarely seen, Tezuka smiled from the bench. “Show them your strength, Fuji!”

“Vice-Captain... really holding back...” Shishido’s mouth was wide open, as if it could fit two apples.

“As expected of Fuji. Make this counterattack count!”

Shibayama Kumakiri felt his blood boil.

“Knock that guy down.”

Akutsu said coldly.

Cold sweat streamed down Saeki’s face. He couldn’t believe Fuji had truly counterattacked. How could this be? Was everything he saw just an illusion?

“Since that’s the case, try this spot!”

Just when Saeki aimed for Fuji’s supposed weak point, Fuji still returned the ball with ease as before. Gritting his teeth, Saeki shouted, “Not there either?!”

As Saeki’s shots were continuously returned, he stood rooted like a wooden statue. Even balls he could reach went untouched.

“How can this be? What’s going on? I clearly saw those as his weakest spots...”

Saeki doubted himself. Meanwhile, Fuji gripped his racket, squinted, and smiled faintly.

“Weak spots? Actually, those are my strongest areas. Don’t worry, I haven’t even used my triple counterattack yet.”

“!”

Hearing this, Saeki felt as though a boulder pressed on his chest, choking him. “Impossible... how could my insight fail? Seeing is believing—I clearly saw his weak shot paths...”

Fuji didn’t use his vanishing serve but continued with ordinary serves, smiling as he explained:

“I prepared for you from the start. After all, your outstanding dynamic vision means you can’t just expose your weaknesses. Plus, you used no-spin balls against me in the second game, which made me more determined to lose the first five games so you’d be ahead.”

“So... you deliberately showed me those seemingly weak spots?”

Saeki asked while returning the ball.

“Yes. To deceive someone, you first have to deceive yourself. Only when you’re fooled will others see a false image.”

Fuji smiled as he returned the shot.

“Terrifying, Fuji. You can even fool yourself when you’re serious...”

Matsubara clicked his tongue, but this approach fit Fuji’s personality perfectly—unattached to winning or losing, simply enjoying the thrill of pushing and being pushed beyond limits. A truly cunning, genuine bear!

“It sounds illogical, but perhaps only Fuji himself can pull this off.”

Sadaharu stroked his chin, feverishly taking notes.

“So... everything I saw from the start was false...”

Saeki thought.

Breathless, hands on his knees, Saeki was at his physical limit. Sadaharu gently tapped his notebook against his head.

“Fuji won’t let anyone easily discover his weaknesses. Whatever Saeki’s eyes saw from the beginning was fake.”

“Vice-Captain Fuji is actually an all-rounder like Captain Tezuka. He’s just too gentle and has always played defensively, but he’s essentially a baseline attacker.”

Matsubara crossed his arms and smiled lightly.

“As expected of the genius Fuji Shusuke!”

Shibayashi’s eyes sparkled as she snapped photos.

“So cool... Vice-Captain Fuji...”

Oda Fuyuka blushed, then screamed in cheer.

“Fuyuka...”

Iwama Yuna pushed her playfully with a helpless look.

“To fool someone with such extraordinary dynamic vision like Saeki Torajiro, genius Fuji Shusuke is incredible!”

Inoue Mamoru touched his head in awe.

“All the weaknesses Saeki observed earlier no longer apply. Exhausted physically and mentally, he can’t turn this match around.”

Sadaharu said.

As Saeki lost yet another point and the ball rolled down the net’s wire, the referee called out:

“Match over! Seisei’s Fuji wins! 7-5!”

Saeki’s trembling hands dropped his racket to the ground. Staring blankly at Fuji, he murmured:

“You... you didn’t even use the triple counterattack.”

Stunned by Fuji’s comeback, Saeki had no time to use his no-spin balls. Now he realized that even without restricting Fuji with no-spin shots, Fuji could still defeat him with precise, delicate, yet powerful control.

Purple Pen Literature