Prince of Tennis: The Emperor's Eye

Chapter 45: Chapter 45: Guidance Match

”Didn’t expect your strength to reach this level, Akashi~” Atobe slowly got up from the ground, his expression complicated.

”Who do you think has been leading Fudomine to one win after another?” Akashi looked calmly at Atobe as he spoke.

”Hmph! Don’t get cocky. My evolution moves at lightning speed. By the Kanto Tournament, you won’t have the same luck again!” Atobe said proudly.

Hearing Atobe mention the Kanto Tournament, Akashi seemed to remember something and said, ”After the Tokyo Tournament ends, Fudomine will be doing a special training camp. Want Hyōtei to join us? I believe it would be beneficial to both sides~”

”A training camp, huh? Heh~ Since you’re so sincere in asking, I’ll do you the honor!” Atobe brushed his hair back and replied with self-indulgent flair.

After speaking, Atobe turned and walked back to the bench. The moment he turned, the confident and flamboyant expression on his face was replaced by frustration and anger. This was Atobe’s first complete and crushing defeat since returning to Japan.

Back in Britain, he’d often lose to local players his age and even got mocked that people from Japan didn’t belong on the tennis court—but he’d never felt the kind of despair he did today. And to make it worse, the opponent was his longtime rival. That made it hurt even more.

Seeing Atobe’s awful expression, none of the Hyōtei members said anything to comfort him. Even Shishido Ryō, who usually had a problem with Atobe, stayed silent. Atobe stopped in front of Sakaki Tarō, head down and quiet. Sakaki, calm as always, said, ”Now do you understand what you’re lacking? Double your training when we return. Take back the win at the Kanto Tournament.”

”Yes,” Atobe answered softly. Then he sat down on the bench, draped a towel over his head, while the Fudomine team quietly began packing up. The semifinals were over. It was time to prepare for the final match tomorrow.

On the other side, the match between Seigaku and Yamabuki was underway. For Doubles 2, Seigaku sent out their usual pair: Oishi Shūichirō and Kikumaru Eiji. Yamabuki, meanwhile, fielded the future ”Potato Battalion” duo, Minami Kentarō and Higashikata Masami. Although Oishi and Kikumaru had solid doubles talent, their time together had been too short. Against Yamabuki’s well-practiced and veteran pairing, they were soon overwhelmed.

Seigaku lost the Doubles 2 match 6-4. Oishi and Kikumaru were filled with regret. Since their opponents were also first-years, they had no excuse to fall back on—it all came down to their own lack of skill. Both of them silently vowed to train even harder.

For Doubles 1, Seigaku continued using the same lineup as before—Kawamura Takashi and Captain Yamato. Facing Yamabuki’s third-year, nationally ranked doubles team, they were immediately suppressed. Kawamura had no chance to leverage his power advantage at all, and the Yamabuki duo’s experience showed in every point.

When the score reached 4-0, Yamato suddenly unleashed an eerie technique. Balls meant to land on the left suddenly appeared on the right. Diagonal shots turned into net-front drops. This unexpected shift in style left Yamabuki’s pair struggling.

If Akashi had been watching, he’d have been stunned. Even after Tezuka transferred to Fudomine, Yamato still managed to develop Gen’u Yume Utsutsu. Thanks to this technique, Yamato and Kawamura began catching up. Yamabuki, too caught off guard by the trick shots, neglected to guard against Kawamura’s power hits, giving up several easy points.

Seigaku quickly took back three games, narrowing the gap to 4-3. During the break, Mitsuya Akuto, seated on the bench, explained the trick behind the technique to Yamabuki’s doubles team. He assured them that Yamato wouldn’t last much longer—his right arm had already reached its limit.

In truth, Gen’u Yume Utsutsu was just an optical trick. Once its mechanism was understood, it could be easily broken. Against players lacking strong tennis fundamentals, it might even backfire. The technique worked best on opponents with strong game sense and experience—designed specifically to beat higher-level players. In the original story, it was meant for Tezuka and even forced him to use Phantom during the U-17 arc.

The match resumed. Yamabuki’s doubles pair, showing their national-level skill, followed Mitsuya’s advice. They gave up trying to predict shots in advance and instead waited for the ball to cross the net before moving. While this made their rhythm less smooth, it neutralized Gen’u Yume Utsutsu’s effect.

Had Yamato refined the technique more, it wouldn’t have been broken so easily. After all, humans can’t just shut off their instincts overnight. In the U-17, Yamato pushed Tezuka hard enough to make him rely on Phantom.

Just as Yamabuki regained control of the match, Yamato’s racket suddenly dropped to the ground. Clutching his right arm, he collapsed to his knees, face twisted in pain. His entire arm was swollen and red, almost as if it were broken—bringing out the infamous Seigaku captain tradition: the ”shattered arm” legacy.

This was really Yamato’s own fault. His old injury hadn’t healed yet, and he still went ahead and developed Gen’u Yume Utsutsu, using it repeatedly in the match while ignoring the pain. That already overloaded arm finally gave out completely. Kawamura Takashi stood to the side like he was frozen in shock, just staring blankly.

At that moment, Ryūzaki Sumire stepped onto the court and signaled to the umpire that Seigaku would forfeit the match. She then brought Yamato to the sidelines and instructed a few tennis club members to escort him to the hospital. She would go after the match ended.

Since Yamato could no longer continue, the Doubles 1 match ended with a 4-3 score in favor of Yamabuki. That gave Yamabuki another point. If they won Singles 3, they would face Fudomine in the finals.

And Yamabuki had complete confidence in their Singles 3 player—for good reason. His name was Mitsuya Akuto. Right now, Mitsuya was the undisputed ace of Yamabuki.

Seigaku’s Singles 3 was still Inui Sadaharu, who had no idea that what he was about to experience would become a memory he would never forget for the rest of his life.

To be honest, Inui was extremely nervous. He’d never imagined that Seigaku’s fate would one day fall entirely on him. Originally, Ryūzaki Sumire had planned to place Fuji Shūsuke in Singles 3. But considering Yamabuki’s Doubles 2 were also first-years, she thought maybe they could steal a win there and save Fuji for the singles—still keeping a chance at victory.

You could say Ryūzaki made another fatal mistake. Deep down, she still assumed that first-years were easier to handle. For all her experience, she truly wasn’t suited to be a tennis coach.

As Inui walked onto the court, his nerves were so bad that his whole body was stiff, making him move like a robot—causing Yamabuki’s players to burst out laughing. Mitsuya quickly silenced them.

When both sides met at the net to salute, Mitsuya saw Inui’s nerves and gave him a gentle smile. He spoke warmly: ”Relax, kōhai. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself over one match. Your journey in tennis is still long. What you need to do now is believe in your game and give it your all, without regrets~”

Inui took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. He seemed to regain some composure and responded gratefully: ”Yes! Thank you very much for your guidance, senpai!”

”No need to thank me. Looks like my words helped a little. Then let’s give everyone a great match~” Mitsuya smiled.

Inui nodded and proceeded to the coin toss. Seigaku won serve. With the umpire’s announcement, the Singles 3 match officially began—Seigaku’s final shot at survival.

Inui stepped to the baseline, tossed the ball high, and struck it cleanly. The ball sailed over the net toward Mitsuya’s side. Mitsuya gracefully moved into position and even offered commentary mid-play: ”Nice serve. But your shoulder motion—lower it by 25 millimeters and it’d be more effective!”

Then he casually returned the serve. Inui reacted quickly, chasing the ball and hitting it before it bounced. Mitsuya called out again: ”Your timing’s a little off—0.07 seconds early. That’s affecting your spin just a bit~”

Just like that, Mitsuya commented on every one of Inui’s returns. It felt less like a semifinal match and more like a coaching session.

Of course, Mitsuya had a reason for this. First, he wanted the nervous kouhai to relax. Second, he was very intrigued by the way Inui had played pure data tennis against Ginka. It made him want to offer some guidance.

Little by little, under Mitsuya’s feedback, Inui’s nervousness faded. He even started adjusting his flaws on the fly. Sure enough, the quality of his shots improved, and his rhythm became much smoother.

Seeing Inui adapt so quickly, Mitsuya was pleased. He gradually increased the speed and power of his shots, knowing it was time—time to show the talented kouhai what real match pressure felt like.

As Mitsuya ramped up his intensity, Inui started to struggle. He was simply too outmatched in terms of attributes. But he didn’t panic. Instead, he kept collecting data with every lost point, mentally building a model of Mitsuya’s playstyle.

”GAME! Yamabuki Middle School! 1-0!”

”GAME! Yamabuki Middle School! 2-0!”

”GAME! Yamabuki Middle School! 3-0!”

Mitsuya easily won three games. Coach Banda sat on the bench with a serene smile, his eyes flicking toward Ryūzaki Sumire with an amused glint.

Ryūzaki noticed his gaze but couldn’t do anything. She was frustrated, but helpless. Fortunately, Fuji consoled her, reminding her that Inui had probably finished collecting data by now. That gave her a small measure of comfort.

After the side change, Mitsuya saw the change in Inui’s demeanor. His lips curled into a faint smile. ’Looks like you’ve finished gathering the data. But do you really understand data?’