Prince of Tennis: The Emperor's Eye

Chapter 54: Chapter 54: Banda’s Regret

After Mitsuya returned to the court, he stood at the baseline, looked at Akutsu, and said slowly:

”Akutsu-kun, that Light Strike just now really caught me off guard. I have to admit, you’ve been constantly overturning my data. But your chance of winning this match is 0%!”

”Don’t order me around! Try it if you think you can!” Akutsu replied, his tone full of menace.

Mitsuya shook his head with a slight smile and said nothing more. He tossed the ball high and served fast. Akutsu, without hesitation, dashed for the return. As he moved, he recalled the feeling from before, gripped his racket with both hands, and swung hard at the ball.

Instantly, the tennis ball lit up again with a golden glow—brighter than before. After crossing the net, it looked visibly larger as it blasted toward Mitsuya.

”Akutsu-kun, I guess you think Light Strike alone can beat me, huh?” Mitsuya said calmly as he stepped quickly to the strike point.

”Too bad. Compared to Byoudouin’s, your Light Strike is way off. At this level, it won’t have much effect on someone like me who also mastered the sweet spot technique. Keep working hard—I’m looking forward to seeing how far you’ll go!” While speaking, Mitsuya positioned his racket in the ball’s path again.

The ball slammed into his racket once more, but this time, no matter how it struck, it couldn’t break free from the frame’s hold. Mitsuya used the sweet spot technique to continuously reduce the ball’s power, keeping it from damaging the court. With a strong swing of his arm, he returned the ball smoothly.

As Akutsu stared in shock, realizing Mitsuya had returned the Light Strike with ease, a yellow blur flashed past him and exploded at his feet before flying out of bounds.

”GAME! 6-0! Winner, Yamabuki Middle School!”

With the umpire’s call, the Singles Three match between Fudomine and Yamabuki ended in Yamabuki’s favor. After the match, Mitsuya walked to the net, looked at the still-stunned Akutsu, and said:

”That was really close. If you’d hit a few more of those, I might not have been able to keep up~”

”Cut the crap! You damn bastard!” Akutsu snapped out of it, burning with anger at Mitsuya’s words. But as the loser, he could only growl before turning and stomping away.

”Not cute at all~” Mitsuya chuckled, unbothered by Akutsu’s attitude, and walked back to Yamabuki’s bench.

Back at Fudomine’s bench, Akutsu ignored his teammates’ concerned looks. He walked alone to the far end, sat down with a scowl, and lowered his head. No one could tell what he was thinking.

Akashi, watching from the sidelines, just smiled faintly. He knew Akutsu needed time alone to process. His attention shifted to Yamabuki’s side—more specifically, to the orange-haired figure.

He stood up, stretched, and took out his racket. Akashi no longer needed his cross-shaped racket—his mastery of the sweet spot technique was now complete. Just then, Banda’s voice echoed in his mind again.

”We’ve got a kid among this year’s freshmen with decent talent. He’s just kind of lazy and doesn’t take training seriously. So I wanted to ask you a favor, Akashi-kun—give him a proper lesson for me, won’t you? I’m sure it’s no trouble for someone like you.”

Looks like Sengoku Kiyosumi had been enjoying himself a little too much at Yamabuki—even Banda couldn’t stand it anymore and decided to ask an outsider like Akashi to help. Not that Akashi minded doing this small favor. Sengoku’s talent wasn’t top-tier, but he was good enough to qualify for the U-17 training camp.

Plus, in the anime’s original content, Sengoku had even been chosen as part of the Kanto regional team for a match against the West Coast Youth Team of America. While Akashi considered that match a joke, it did show that Sengoku had some level of skill.

”Next up is the Singles Two match between Fudomine Middle School and Yamabuki Middle School. Players, please enter the court!”

Soon, the umpire announced the next match. Akashi and Sengoku walked in from opposite sides, rackets in hand. At the net, Sengoku grinned as he greeted him.

”Didn’t expect my opponent to be the club president himself. Looks like Lady Luck’s not smiling on me today~”

”If you place your hopes on something as vague as luck, then your defeat is already certain,” Akashi replied coolly.

”Scary, scary! You’re something else, Akashi-kun!” Sengoku laughed, still unaware of what was coming.

”Honestly, you remind me of someone who always carries lucky charms around,” Akashi said as he looked at Sengoku’s carefree face, remembering Midorima Shintarō, who had similar beliefs.

”Oh? Really? I’d love to meet him someday!” Sengoku replied with curiosity.

Akashi didn’t answer. Maybe it was the increase in fusion rate, but lately, memories of the Generation of Miracles from Kuroko no Basket kept surfacing in his mind. Shaking the thought away, Akashi and Sengoku moved on to the coin toss.

”Lucky!” Sengoku shouted happily.

Sure enough, when it came to luck, there weren’t many who could beat Sengoku. He wasn’t called Lucky Sengoku for nothing. Unsurprisingly, he won the serve.

Standing at the baseline, Sengoku felt the pressure double. Even though he had just been acting cheerful, he was well aware that there was almost no chance of beating Fudomine’s captain across the court.

He also understood that if he lost this match, Yamabuki would be completely out of the running for the tournament championship. Honestly, after losing both doubles, their chances were already slim.

But there was no room for hesitation now. All he could do was play his hardest and leave the result to fate. With that in mind, Sengoku tossed the ball high—much higher than normal. At the same time, he exploded upward with a powerful jump, his short frame reaching impressive height.

Mid-air, Sengoku swung down hard on the ball like a smash serve, sending it flying over the net into Akashi’s court.

”Koho!”

Akashi watched the incoming serve without a hint of surprise, calmly moving to the drop point. In his mind, though, he mused: ’Didn’t expect first-year Sengoku to already know Koho. But in the original, he didn’t improve at all by third year. No wonder Banda asked me to help. Looks like no one ever forced Sengoku to face true despair in the original timeline.’

With a relaxed swing, Akashi returned the serve even faster. The ball slammed into Sengoku’s backcourt and shot out of bounds—Sengoku hadn’t even landed yet.

”0-15!”

The biggest weakness of the Koho was the high jump. If the opponent could return the smash serve, the server wouldn’t have time to land and counter—just like Sengoku now.

Sengoku stared at the ball that flew out. He was surprised, but ready. He knew scoring against Akashi wouldn’t be easy. Still, unwilling to give up, he used Koho again. This time, he jumped even higher, leaning forward mid-air to boost the smash’s power with inertia.

It was like Momoshiro Takeshi’s dunk-style smash. But to Akashi, it was completely ineffective. He easily returned the ball once again, leaving Sengoku stranded in mid-air.

”0-30!”

After landing, Sengoku finally understood—Koho wasn’t helping him score, it was just making him lose points faster. For the third serve, he gave up on it and went with a normal crosscourt serve, sending the ball toward Akashi’s backhand corner.

Akashi showed no reaction. Calm and composed, still wearing his jacket, he moved to the corner and fired back with a sharp forehand. This time, Sengoku used his excellent motion vision to spot the ball’s path and rushed toward the landing point. But the moment he made contact, the weight on the racket shocked him. He barely returned it.

But the return was weak. Akashi saw the high ball and didn’t hesitate. He rushed the net, leapt up, and smashed the ball hard to Sengoku’s left court. It turned into a yellow blur and bounced out of bounds after landing.

”0-40!”

Even with his motion vision, Sengoku couldn’t clearly follow that shot’s speed. At that moment, he finally realized the gap between them. Though both were first-years, their tennis ability wasn’t even close.

The final serve of the game was no surprise. Akashi returned it with ease. Even though Sengoku tried his best to read the shot, his body couldn’t keep up—like Sasuke being pummeled by Rock Lee.

”GAME! Fudomine! 1-0!”

Now it was Akashi’s serve. He didn’t use the Tannhauser Serve—there was no need. He just sent four high-speed serves across the court. But Sengoku looked frozen in place, unable to react at all. Not even his motion vision could track the ball’s movement.

”GAME! Fudomine! 2-0!”

Still, Sengoku hadn’t given up. At the start of the third game, he served and rushed the net, trying to close the gaps on his side of the court. Seeing Akashi also come up to the net, he couldn’t help but call out:

”This time, I won’t let you find an opening so easily!”

”Find an opening? I don’t need to. You’ll make one yourself,” Akashi replied coolly.

Then, using Sengoku’s motion vision against him, Akashi threw in a feint to shift Sengoku’s center of gravity. The moment his weight shifted to the right foot, Akashi shot the ball to the left. Sengoku tried to pivot left, but with his balance thrown off, he crashed to the ground.

”Anyone who defies me—no matter who you are—I won’t show mercy. You’re far too arrogant,” Akashi said coldly, eyes fixed on Sengoku lying on the court.

Watching from the sideline, Banda suddenly felt a pang of regret. Had he made the wrong call? Would this shatter Sengoku completely—make him give up tennis out of fear?

But the match was already in motion. He couldn’t stop it now. It’s not like he could forfeit on the spot. All he could do was pray Akashi wouldn’t go too far. Otherwise... he really wouldn’t be able to face Sengoku afterward.