Prince of Tennis: The Emperor's Eye

Chapter 38: Chapter 38: Script? Doesn’t Exist

As Yanagisawa served the ball, the match officially began. Honestly, any character who had some screen time in the original work has decent strength—at least they’re not so weak that they can’t return a ball. But that’s about it. Yanagisawa and Kisarazu just didn’t have the skill to last long; soon, they started dropping points one after another.

”0-15!”

”0-30!”

”0-40!”

Very quickly, it was match point for this game. Even though Yanagisawa and Kisarazu kept losing points, neither of them looked worried, because this was part of their plan—or rather, just what Mizuki Hajime’s ”script” called for.

Right then, Krauser also noticed something strange. Almost every ball from the other side was aimed at Kite, as if they were deliberately avoiding him, and their shots were all really tricky, making Kite move awkwardly to receive.

Kite himself was surprised. The other side kept attacking his weak spots, always sending balls to places he wasn’t used to. Did they really think they’d found his weakness?

Thinking this, a trace of mockery flashed through Kite’s eyes—though no one could see it thanks to the glare from his glasses.

When Yanagisawa served again, the two sides clashed once more. Krauser was now sure—their opponents were intentionally targeting Kite and making him run side to side to drain his stamina. Krauser didn’t care, though, since he trusted Kite’s abilities.

Kite figured out their plan too: they wanted to tire him out. But he nearly laughed out loud. Growing up on the Ryūkyū Islands, he had absolute confidence in his stamina.

”GAME! Fudomine! 1-0!”

Not long after, Fudomine broke serve and took the first game. Now it was Kite’s turn to serve. Staring at his two opponents, Kite thought for a second on the baseline, tossed the ball high, then with a shout, smashed it over the net. The ball hit the ground hard and shot straight out of bounds.

”Big Bang!”

”ACE! 15-0!”

Kite had just used his Big Bang Serve. The other side saw the clear mark left on the court and swallowed hard. They’d heard Kite had a powerful serve, but didn’t expect it to be this intense.

”Whoa! Are you kidding? That power is unreal!” Kisarazu said, voice trembling.

”If that hit a person, they’d die for sure! Mizuki never said it was this strong!” Yanagisawa was freaking out too.

But no matter how shocked they were, the match kept going. Kite kept hitting Big Bang Serves with zero mercy, and the two just stood there, not daring to try and return it.

”ACE! 30-0!”

”ACE! 40-0!”

”GAME! Fudomine! 2-0!”

Just like that, four simple Big Bang Serves and Kite and Krauser took the second game. Yanagisawa kept trying to comfort himself.

’It’s fine, this is doubles, he can’t serve that many times anyway.’

The third game started quickly. Kisarazu and Yanagisawa calmed themselves and kept using the same strategy—focusing all their attacks on Kite, trying to run him left and right and wear him out.

”0-15!”

”0-30!”

Kite kept scoring but was starting to lose patience. He still had plenty of stamina, but that didn’t mean he liked being on the defensive all the time. When the other side sent the ball toward his left baseline again, Kite, who’d been on the right, suddenly appeared in the ball’s path as if he’d teleported.

”What!” Kisarazu and Yanagisawa were shocked. This was way beyond anything they’d expected. Even Mizuki Hajime, watching from the sidelines, was stunned—this didn’t match his intel at all.

Kite countered and Kisarazu snapped back to reality, quickly reaching the drop point to return the ball. But he was still so surprised he messed up the return, sending the ball toward Krauser instead of back to Kite. Krauser, who had just been enjoying the show, was surprised to see the ball coming his way.

He casually sent it back with a lob, still wanting to keep watching the ”drama.” Seems like hanging around Akashi for so long had made Krauser a bit of a troll too. Kisarazu saw a chance and rushed to the net, jumping up for what looked like a smash.

But as Kisarazu saw Kite still waiting at the baseline, he let the ball fly over his racket, and in that instant, he spun his body in the air, switching his smash motion into a sudden drop shot.

”Time Lag Hell!”

Just as Kisarazu was pleased with his own flair, Kite, who had just been at the baseline, appeared right at the net as if he’d teleported, sending the ball to their open side.

”0-40!”

”How is that possible! Weren’t you just at the baseline?” Kisarazu looked like he’d seen a ghost.

”No way! You guys are cheating, that’s magic!” Yanagisawa started yelling.

Many spectators rubbed their eyes, thinking they must’ve seen wrong—how could someone just move that fast? Only the Fudomine members looked proud, since they all knew about Kite’s signature move.

In the crowd, Inui Sadaharu’s eyes shone even behind his glasses, and his pencil scratched madly in his notebook as he wrote all sorts of strange formulas. Though he was now a regular for Seigaku, since his own match hadn’t started yet, he came to Fudomine’s court to collect data.

”His upper body stays still, but his footwork moves incredibly fast, causing a visual trick—it’s a kind of misdirection. This must be some sort of martial arts step. Interesting~” On the other side of the crowd, Mitsuya watched Kite’s technique and immediately figured out how it worked, showing real interest.

”Damn it! My intel can’t be wrong. Kite never showed moves like this before. Have they been hiding their real strength this whole time? Too sneaky!” Mizuki Hajime gritted his teeth, clearly unable to accept being wrong.

’Looks like Kite’s skill hit you hard, huh? But this is just the beginning—can you handle the rest, Mizuki?’ Akashi glanced at the frustrated Mizuki, whispering with a playful tone.

With Kite’s shukuchi fully unleashed, Kisarazu and Yanagisawa lost the will to fight back, completely thrown off by how far the match had moved beyond Mizuki’s script. They were totally rattled.

”GAME! Fudomine! 3-0!”

”GAME! Fudomine! 4-0!”

”GAME! 6-0! Match over—Fudomine wins!”

After their opponents lost all hope, Krauser stopped sitting back and stepped in, and the rest of the match became totally one-sided. In no time, Fudomine’s pair shut out St. Rudolph with a clean sweep.

Kisarazu and Yanagisawa left the court, heads hanging, and went up to Mizuki Hajime. Kisarazu spoke with guilt, ”Sorry, Mizuki! We couldn’t win the match!”

”It’s fine! I made mistakes too. I didn’t think they’d been holding back in all their previous matches. You guys go rest,” Mizuki Hajime said, keeping up his gentle image on the surface, even if he was frustrated inside.

For doubles one, Fudomine still sent out Tachibana Kippei and Chitose, while St. Rudolph fielded two third-year senpai, the school’s best doubles pair right now.

But Mizuki Hajime knew they had no real chance. In his plan, if doubles two had won, doubles one might’ve had a shot, but would probably lose. Then the overall score would be one-one, and with Akazawa Yoshiro set for singles three, his special technique could suppress the instinctual play of Akutsu Jin.

He’d also researched the so-called domain, and after lots of practice, felt he could break it head-on. With that, he figured he had a seventy percent chance of beating Tezuka Kunimitsu. In the end, St. Rudolph would win three-one, with Akashi Seijurō never even getting to play.

But now everything was in chaos. Mizuki Hajime could only pray the senpai would pull off a miracle. You could say his plan was nice in theory, but reality was about to strike him down hard.

The doubles one match started fast. Just like Mizuki Hajime expected, against Tachibana Kippei and Chitose, the third-year duo had zero resistance—they were overwhelmed from the very start, only able to run in vain.

”GAME! 6-0! Match over—Fudomine wins!”

Watching his senpai come off court, Mizuki Hajime didn’t say a word. He’d stopped expecting victory, but he still hadn’t given up. He called Akazawa Yoshiro over for a last bit of advice.

”Yoshiro! We have no way out now. Fudomine’s singles three will definitely be Akutsu Jin. His playstyle is unpredictable, but you’ve trained hard for this. Use your specialty and beat him. I’ll give everything to defeat Tezuka, and as for singles one... well, let fate decide.”

Akazawa Yoshiro nodded with a serious look, ”Don’t worry, Mizuki! I’ve memorized everything about Akutsu Jin. I’ll do my best to win—then it’s up to you!”

He walked to the court, racket in hand, while Akutsu Jin just slung his racket over his shoulders, hands in his pockets, looking totally bored.

With the ref’s call, the match started. Facing Akutsu Jin’s wild onslaught, Akazawa had mentally prepared, but being there in person was a whole different story. He barely kept up with the pace and couldn’t produce quality returns.

The original work called Akazawa ”national level” in singles, but right now, as a first-year, he was still a level below Akutsu Jin. The points started piling up fast.

”GAME! Fudomine! 1-0!”

”GAME! Fudomine! 2-0!”

Seeing things go downhill, Akazawa stopped holding back. During his return, he used the front of the racket, making the ball vibrate wildly, looking like a cluster of two or three balls speeding toward Akutsu Jin.

”Blur Ball!”

Akutsu Jin sneered at the wobbly ball—seriously? Way worse than Tachibana Kippei’s shots. He instantly stepped up and sent it right back, no hesitation at all.

Seeing his special move so easily countered, Akazawa’s heart went cold. He realized Mizuki’s script was worthless—he had zero chance of winning.

”GAME! 6-0! Match over—Fudomine wins!”