A scoring shot?
Before anyone could process what happened, the moment the ball crossed the net, a vortex reappeared.
Unlike the previous bluish-white one, this vortex was black and red, and instead of pulling things in, it pushed outwards.
The ball, which was supposed to land inbounds, was forcefully deflected at a sharp angle by the swirling wind.
After a brief flight, it landed out of bounds.
"How\... how is that possible?"
Schneider stood there, stunned.
The deviation was far too extreme—it was clear to anyone watching that this wasn't a mishit by Schneider.
Combined with what Yoru had said earlier, it wasn't hard to figure out that this was another form of a domain.
From pulling to pushing.
It sounds simple, but... is that even humanly possible?
Anyone could tell that a reverse domain was significantly harder to pull off than a standard domain. Yet Yoru executed it with ease.
And judging by the effect, it wasn't just a fluke—he was clearly experienced with it.
"So this is... another application of the domain." Tezuka's pupils narrowed.
He had never even considered that a domain could be used like this.
At his current level, just mastering a regular domain was already a monumental task—let alone developing new variations.
In the original manga, Tezuka only came up with the idea of a reverse domain in his third year, and it wasn't until his later matches with Ryoma that he actually managed to develop and use it in practice.
"Did you see that clearly?"
Yoru looked toward Tezuka.
Tezuka gave a slight nod, but the shock in his eyes couldn't be hidden.
"I scored. 15–0!"
"Keep serving, Schneider."
Like a puppet on strings, Schneider seemed to have lost the ability to think for himself. Instinctively, he served the next ball.
And it wasn't just Tezuka and the others.
Even Schneider himself wanted to witness that reverse domain again.
The emergence of the reverse domain was undoubtedly a revolutionary upgrade—it elevated the domain technique to an entirely new level.
Wham!
Yoru flicked his wrist and returned the serve.
Once again, the ball spun with an unusual and powerful rotation.
Schneider didn't dare underestimate it. He swung his racquet with the force of a tornado, trying to counter the spin.
He was hoping to shatter the spin using a full-power counterattack.
But if he couldn't even break the spin of a normal domain, how could he possibly neutralize the even stronger spin of a reverse domain? Predictably, the ball got pushed out of bounds.
"Point, Yoru. Score: 30–0!"
"The reverse domain pushes the opponent's shots out of bounds. If both players are similar in their base five attributes, both domain and reverse domain can forcefully control the ball."
"But if your stats are lower, you'll need to rely on prediction and guidance."
Yoru explained while returning the ball.
After mastering his own domain, he came to understand just how terrifying the reverse domain could be.
As long as the difference in base attributes wasn't too huge, the reverse domain could control the ball almost unconditionally.
In the original series, during Tezuka's match against Sanada, he had to rely on preemptive predictions to pull off "Tezuka Phantom." A big reason was that he had just developed it and lacked proficiency.
Otherwise, Sanada would've lost much sooner.
Later in the World Cup, a more polished "Tezuka Phantom" absolutely crushed Atobe and Irie, treating them like rookies.
As for Yoru, with his level 8 reverse domain, this wasn't even a problem.
The higher your overall technique level, the better you can manipulate the match even if your five base stats are a bit lower. The reverse domain is a ridiculously broken technique.
Just goes to show—Tezuka really was the series' golden boy.
All the coolest and strongest stuff ended up with him.
"Point, Yoru. Score: 40–0!"
"Game, Yoru. 6–0!"
Match over. Yoru shuts out Schneider!
Schneider stared blankly at the tennis ball outside the court.
It had been a long, long time since he'd experienced such a crushing defeat. In fact, this might have been the worst loss of his entire career.
Even against Bjorn Borg, he had managed to score a few points.
But this match? Six games. Twenty-four points. Not a single one was his.
The pride he held in becoming a professional player was shattered completely.
Smack!
Just as Schneider was spiraling into self-doubt, Adler walked up and patted his shoulder.
Schneider turned to him, looking hollow: "Coach... I'm sorry."
"It's fine."
Harold Adler shook his head.
He wasn't an idiot—anyone could see how vast the gap between the two players was.
"Take a good rest."
Then, Adler turned to Yoru and pulled out a business card: "Mr. Yoru, your skill is truly exceptional. If you're interested, we'd love to invite you to return with us to Germany next week. There are some great players there waiting to meet you."
"If you're willing, the door to the German Elite Club will always be open to you."
He didn't offer a formal invitation letter.
The pre-match atmosphere had been tense, and Yoru didn't seem particularly fond of the Elite Club anyway, so Adler tried a different approach.
By inviting him to Germany first, he was betting on the country's world-class training environment to do the persuading. The official invitation could wait.
"I..."
Just as Yoru was about to respond, Adler quickly cut in: "Please don't reject us outright. Exploring the world a bit never hurts. We'll cover all your travel expenses."
A free trip, huh?
No need for that.
Yoru took the card. "Thank you."
Seeing Yoru accept the card, Adler let out a sigh of relief. Then he turned to Tezuka: "I hope you'll consider it seriously too. We've got many excellent players in the club who could help you improve."
"Alright."
Tezuka nodded, though his expression remained calm.
After watching this match, he had already made up his mind to stay in Japan and grow by following in Yoru's footsteps.
"Alright then, I won't disturb you any further."
"Let's go, Schneider."
---
---
---
At the JR Tournament Finals venue
The referee checked his watch and frowned slightly before announcing into the mic: "The 10-minute grace period has passed. Tezuka Kunimitsu has failed to appear. This match goes to Yukimura Seiichi by default!"
A wave of disappointment rippled through the crowd.
"What happened? Is he not playing?"
"Where is he?"
"Maybe he's too exhausted. Honestly, this schedule is kinda messed up—semi-finals and finals so close together? No one gets enough rest."
"Such a shame. Both Tezuka and Yukimura were incredible in the semis. I really thought we were going to witness a match for the ages."
"Well, that's life. Sometimes things just don't go the way you want."
---
Yukimura sat expressionlessly on the bench.
He had mentally and physically prepared for this match more than ever—even his pre-match warm-up had gone longer than usual.
And yet, Tezuka never showed.
After a long pause, Yukimura slowly stood up and draped his jacket over his shoulders.
"Let's go, Sanada."
His voice was calm.
But Sanada, more than anyone, could sense Yukimura's disappointment.
Yukimura had always longed for a true rival—someone who could stand on equal footing with him. Unfortunately, Sanada never quite fit that mold.
Which was exactly why Sanada had been working so hard all this time.
Tezuka's dominant performance had clearly met Yukimura's expectations.
"Isn't that Tezuka over there?"
Sanada suddenly raised his hand, pointing toward a group of figures approaching in the distance.