Prince of Tennis: The Emperor's Eye

Chapter 42: Chapter 42: Doubles Showdown

Tachibana Kippei and Kite Eishirō had already noticed that Mukahi’s stamina was shot, but they had no intention of holding back. If you’re exhausted in a match, that just means your training wasn’t enough.

Facing a net attack from Tachibana, Mukahi wanted to jump and block, but his body didn’t cooperate. He barely managed to run into position, and his return was weak—a high lob right into Tachibana’s wheelhouse. Seeing the perfect chance, Tachibana didn’t hesitate. He leapt up and smashed the ball.

But just before the ball hit the ground, Oshitari rushed in, rotated mid-motion, and intercepted from below. Using centrifugal force and precise control, he neutralized the smash and redirected Tachibana’s power into his own return. The ball flew high toward the far baseline while Oshitari landed on one knee, back facing the net.

”Higuma Otoshi!”

Tachibana had just landed, and Kite was caught off guard. The ball struck the baseline and bounced out of bounds.

”15-0!”

”Didn’t expect him to pull off Higuma Otoshi as a first-year... Though it’s not that polished yet. Probably won’t work on Kite again,” Akashi Seijurō commented softly after seeing the technique.

In the original story, Oshitari was known as Hyōtei’s genius—not only mastering a wide range of techniques but also developing a smash return like Fuji’s Higuma Otoshi. Still, his natural talent didn’t quite match Fuji’s.

Even though he caught them off guard for one point, Oshitari didn’t look happy. He knew it wasn’t enough to change the outcome. Sure enough, the rest of the match went badly for them.

”15-15!”

”15-30!”

Suddenly, Mukahi went wild. He leapt and twisted at the net nonstop, cutting off every return and using his flexibility to shoot at bizarre angles.

”30-30!”

”40-30!”

”40-40! Deuce!”

”Game! Hyōtei Gakuen! 3-1!”

With everything they had, Mukahi and Oshitari held their serve. But really, the match was already over. Mukahi was completely drained. Just standing up took effort. Sweat poured from his face, soaking his red hair. He looked like he could collapse any moment.

From there, it was no contest. Even with Oshitari defending for both of them and pulling out another Higuma Otoshi, Kite broke it easily with Shukuchihō. When Mukahi still had stamina, they couldn’t stop Tachibana and Kite’s offense—now, it was just Oshitari trying to survive.

”Game! Fudomine! 4-1!”

”Game! Fudomine! 5-1!”

”Game! 6-1! Match over! Winner, Fudomine!”

As the umpire announced the result, Mukahi finally collapsed backward. Oshitari reacted fast and caught him just in time.

With Oshitari’s help, they staggered off the court toward Sakaki Tarō. Oshitari spoke quietly, clearly upset.

”We’re sorry, coach. We lost.”

”Mukahi’s stamina is a serious problem. His training will be doubled. And Oshitari, you didn’t support him well enough during the match. That sped up his fatigue. You two need more work on coordination. That’s all. Go rest,” Sakaki said, keeping it brief. He’d already seen how wide the skill gap was.

”Understood. Thank you, coach.” With that, Oshitari guided the worn-out Mukahi back to the bench. Passing by Atobe, Oshitari kept his head down and said nothing. After helping Mukahi sit down, he silently started drinking water.

”That was pathetic. Oshitari, Mukahi—get ready. I’m personally supervising your training after this,” Atobe said sharply, not letting Oshitari’s silence slide.

Over on Fudomine’s side, Akashi smiled as Tachibana and Kite returned.

”First time playing doubles together—how’d it feel?”

”Pretty great! Kite’s defense in the back is even better than Chitose’s. I could go wild at the net without worry!” Tachibana said while wiping his sweat.

”Now that hurts, Tachibana,” Chitose Senri joked nearby.

”Tachibana overhyped me. I made several mistakes today. I still need to improve,” Kite replied calmly, adjusting his glasses.

”That’s enough. You both did well. Even though we dropped one game, Hyōtei isn’t some trash school. A win is all that matters. Krauser, Akutsu—your turn next.” Akashi looked toward Krauser and Akutsu Jin.

Krauser gave a small nod without saying anything. He grabbed his racket, face cold as ever, and headed for the court with a scowling Akutsu by his side.

Hyōtei’s next doubles pair were two third-years: Honjū Yūji and Kurokawa Masao. They were among the few third-years still in the regular lineup. While their individual skills weren’t anything special, their coordination and match experience far exceeded Mukahi and Oshitari. They were the last real force left behind by Ochi Tsukimitsu.

Sakaki Tarō didn’t give much instruction to Honjū and Kurokawa—just told them to be careful, since both their opponents had injured players in past matches.

Once the match started, even though Krauser and Akutsu clearly had far superior individual strength, Akutsu’s wild, self-centered style made it hard for Krauser to sync up. They didn’t make rookie mistakes, but there was zero coordination, making Akashi Seijurō shake his head on the sidelines.

Meanwhile, Honjū and Kurokawa quickly noticed something was off. Their doubles experience told them this was likely the first time Krauser and Akutsu were playing together. Akutsu, especially—despite his unorthodox movement, showed no intention of teamwork and just kept charging the net alone.

Seizing on that, the Hyōtei duo scored repeatedly by targeting the gaps in their opponents’ poor coordination. Still, Krauser and Akutsu’s overwhelming strength meant the match didn’t spiral into a one-sided rout. The score kept seesawing back and forth.

”15-0!”

”15-15!”

”30-15!”

”40-30!”

”Game! Hyōtei Gakuen! 1-0!”

”Game! Fudomine! 1-1!”

”Game! Hyōtei Gakuen! 3-2!”

Honjū and Kurokawa capitalized on the lack of teamwork to take three games. Of course, they still dropped two—Akutsu’s offense wasn’t something ordinary players could handle.

Just as they were starting to think the match was winnable, Akutsu—after a harsh scolding from Akashi—finally began to begrudgingly cooperate with Krauser. He stopped going solo and began playing more in sync.

Krauser, too, stopped holding back and began hitting body-target shots at nasty angles—though he still avoided hitting the Hyōtei pair directly.

With Akutsu cooperating and Krauser turning up the heat, Honjū and Kurokawa slowly lost their grip. The lead slipped away and they found themselves completely overwhelmed.

”Game! Fudomine! 3-3!”

”Game! Fudomine! 4-3!”

”Game! 6-3! Match over! Winner, Fudomine!”

In the end, Krauser and Akutsu still took the win. They didn’t suffer a humiliating loss, but the early stages of the match had been messy—especially during the break, when Akashi’s icy lecture left both of them rattled.

Akashi knew it wasn’t entirely their fault. Akutsu simply wasn’t suited for doubles—or maybe the concept of cooperation didn’t exist in his world. But that didn’t excuse his recklessness. Right now, things were still just domestic warmups. Once they hit the World Cup stage, doubles matchups would be inevitable. Even Oni Juujirou had played doubles before.

With both doubles matches over, Hyōtei had already dropped two in a row. Even their signature cheer squad had gone quiet. If they lost Singles Three, they’d be eliminated. Sure, they’d already qualified for the Kanto Regional Tournament, but as last year’s national top four, failing to make the finals here would be a major embarrassment.

Fortunately, Singles Three was their ace—Atobe Keigo. As Hyōtei’s tennis captain and its newly crowned King, his popularity was unmatched.

Seeing the two third-years lose made Atobe even more annoyed, but he also knew they’d done all they could. The skill gap had sealed the outcome. Now, all he could do was hope Shishido Ryō and Akutagawa Jirō could carry their matches. As for his own? He had zero doubts—that was the confidence he had in himself.

”Atobe! Win this match. That’s the only thing your role as captain requires,” Sakaki said simply. He knew Atobe didn’t need a pep talk.

As Atobe stepped onto the court, the crowd of Hyōtei supporters erupted in a thunderous roar, completely drowning out Fudomine’s cheers.

”Victory to Hyōtei! Winner: Atobe!”

”Victory to Hyōtei! Winner: Atobe!”

”Fudomine will lose! The win belongs to Atobe!”

”Fudomine will lose! The win belongs to Atobe!”

Atobe strutted to the center of the court, tossed his jacket high into the air, and snapped his fingers. The crowd immediately fell silent as he declared dramatically:

”Be dazzled by the brilliance of my majestic tennis!”

Akashi, also in a jacket, walked silently to the net, expression blank. Watching Atobe show off like that made him want to smack him. But to everyone else watching, the two of them were cut from the same cloth—both top-tier show-offs. Atobe just happened to be louder about it.

After finishing his theatrics, Atobe finally saw Akashi standing at the net. He was a bit surprised—he hadn’t expected Fudomine to field Akashi at Singles Three. That meant they were aiming to settle the match in the first three rounds—same as Hyōtei. But Atobe was no coward.

”Didn’t expect you to play Singles Three. Fine by me. Let’s have a proper showdown. On the court, I won’t lose to you—Akashi Seijurō!” Atobe said confidently.

”You know full well, Atobe. I’ve never lost at anything—and I never will,” Akashi replied calmly.