Prince of Tennis: The Emperor's Eye

Chapter 79: Chapter 79: Yanagi Renji’s Hard-Fought Battle

Right after the umpire announced the end of the match, the organizers suddenly declared a pause to the tournament because the court had been damaged and needed to be replaced.

To be honest, the tournament organizers and the youth tennis association staff were incredibly frustrated. They had specially built a high-standard court in Midorimori Tennis Park just for the Kanto Regional Tournament finals.

But who could have expected this? The court was directly destroyed by Glowing Shot. As staff connected to the U-17, they immediately recognized the technique and knew there had once been a terrifying player at U-17 who used a devastating Glowing Shot to wreak havoc throughout the entire training camp.

However, they hadn’t heard anything about that person recently and wondered what might have happened. Yet here, among middle schoolers, another Glowing Shot had appeared. This was already the second time—in last week’s match, another court was destroyed during a Fudomine match, so it was clear this Akutsu was the culprit.

Fortunately, the event organizers were by no means short on funds, and they were aware of Akashi’s background. Since this was Akashi’s player, no one would pursue Akutsu for damages.

Everyone followed the staff’s directions and moved to the court where Hyōtei and Seigaku had played earlier that morning. The players from Fudomine and Rikkai Daigaku Fuzoku also entered the court’s player seats.

Right now, Yukimura was deeply annoyed. He hadn’t expected his move in Doubles 2 to backfire on Fudomine, nor that Akashi would return the favor in Doubles 1.

By the time Krauser and Yanagi Renji finished warming up, they were guided into the court by the staff. Krauser showed no reaction, heading straight to the sideline to get ready.

On the other side, Yanagi Renji frowned tightly and walked up to Yukimura, speaking in a low voice:

”Sorry, Yukimura! This miscalculation is my fault for putting us in this situation!”

”No, Renji, I bear part of the responsibility too. But now’s not the time to argue. The outcome of this final rests on you!” Yukimura said solemnly.

”I understand! I’ll give it everything I’ve got!” Yanagi Renji responded with equal gravity.

Actually, when Rikkai was finalizing their strategy yesterday, Yukimura had originally planned to play Singles 2 himself. But Yanagi Renji predicted there was a high chance Akashi would appear in this position. If Yukimura faced Akashi, the result would be too uncertain—and if Yukimura lost, it would be a huge blow to Rikkai.

So Yanagi Renji decided to take Singles 2 himself. If he ended up facing Akashi, then Yukimura could secure victory in Singles 1. If Akashi appeared in Singles 1 instead, it would still mirror their original plan—leaving Yukimura to determine the final outcome.

In their expectations, Mōri should have been able to defeat Akutsu in Singles 3, so even if Renji lost, Yukimura’s chances against either Krauser or Kite were nearly 100%.

Unfortunately, the destructive power of Glowing Shot was far beyond what they’d anticipated. Mōri was helpless before it, and even Yukimura might not have been able to block it. Back during their training camp match, Akutsu hadn’t even used Glowing Shot—he’d lost when Yukimura stripped him of his senses.

Now the umpire was in place and announced the start of the Singles 2 match, calling both players to the net for the pre-match handshake.

Krauser and Yanagi Renji approached the net. Both were cool-headed types, so they said nothing extra, simply shaking hands calmly before moving on to the coin toss.

This time, Yanagi Renji won the serve. Krauser remained expressionless, silently turning to the backcourt to receive, while Yanagi Renji took his place on the baseline, waiting for the umpire’s announcement.

”We will now begin the Singles 2 match, one game only! Serve by Rikkai Daigaku Fuzoku!”

Standing on the baseline, Yanagi Renji gazed at Krauser’s cold face across the net. There was no denying he felt pressure, but the current situation left no room for him to fail.

He quickly served the ball, starting to collect data on Krauser at full speed to supplement the data model he’d constructed before the match. Krauser immediately countered with a decisive return.

Facing the returns from Krauser, who was now at the peak of national-level strength, even Yanagi Renji struggled desperately to keep up. But he still did everything he could to stall for time and gather data at every opportunity.

The pre-match data analysis helped Yanagi Renji a lot, keeping him from being overwhelmed by Krauser right from the start. Krauser quickly realized Yanagi Renji’s intention and immediately increased the intensity of his attacks.

”0-15!”

Because of Akashi’s earlier words, Krauser had no intention of holding back or giving Yanagi Renji time to collect data. If he wanted to gather data, he’d have to pay for it in points.

”0-30!”

”0-40!”

”GAME! Fudomine! 1-0!”

Facing Krauser’s all-out assault, even with his strength already at the national level, Yanagi Renji found it hard to cope. Especially since Krauser kept using his specialty—body shots—forcing Yanagi Renji into a constant scramble to dodge and protect vital spots.

But Krauser wasn’t aiming to injure intentionally; his real style was simply like this—forcing the opponent to hesitate with relentless body shots. Only those with strength equal to or beyond his could truly handle Krauser.

Yanagi Renji adjusted his ragged breathing. The last few exchanges had piled immense pressure on him, both from the responsibility of Rikkai’s honor and from his opponent’s overwhelming power.

Krauser stood expressionless on the baseline, unaware of Yanagi Renji’s thoughts—and even if he knew, he wouldn’t care. All he intended was to crush his opponent completely and secure the Kanto Championship for Fudomine.

He immediately unleashed a high-speed serve, the ball speed easily surpassing 180 kilometers per hour. Although Krauser had made rapid progress thanks to Akashi’s guidance, the elite mentality ingrained in him from his upbringing in Germany meant he wouldn’t allow himself any weaknesses.

Yanagi Renji hurried to the return point, sending the ball back while desperately gathering data on Krauser. His mind whirred at full speed, calculating every detail and probability—his brain was practically running beyond its limits.

This was one of the biggest weaknesses of data tennis: it needed time to gather relevant information, and the data collected before a match could only serve as reference. That’s why doubles were better suited to data tennis.

Of course, this weakness wasn’t insurmountable. Someone like Mitsuya could update his data within just a few rallies based on pre-match intel. Even more terrifying were players who could render opponents’ movements transparent right from the start—like Germany’s QP.

A player who used extraordinary mental processing power as a foundation, fused with the brilliance of Muga no Kyochi, evolving into the ultimate form—and someone determined to become Yukimura’s father figure. (Tennis no Kami)

Unfortunately, no matter how hard Yanagi Renji tried to stall, the gap in strength was clear. Krauser’s fierce attacks only grew sharper, leaving no opportunity to buy time.

”GAME! Fudomine! 2-0!”

In the third game, Yanagi Renji’s service game, he realized Krauser hadn’t given him much time to gather data, but he’d still collected a few useful pieces. Now he could only start using his data to counterattack earlier than planned.

Yanagi Renji quickly served the ball, then began moving to his right side, muttering to himself: ”Straight shot probability 34%, crosscourt probability 58%, diagonal shot probability 8%!”

This was the first time Yanagi Renji had tried to fight back with incomplete data—but he had no choice. If he kept stalling, Krauser’s advantage would only grow, and even if he completed the data, his chances of turning the match around wouldn’t exceed 30%.

Luckily, this time his prediction was right. Krauser played a crosscourt shot that went straight to Yanagi Renji’s right. Yanagi Renji was already there, sending the ball back while continuing to gather more data on Krauser.

He was simultaneously collecting data, calculating the probabilities of Krauser’s return directions, and continuously updating his data—all of which began straining even Yanagi Renji’s mind.

”Diagonal shot probability 17%, drop shot probability 16%, passing shot probability 67%!”

Yanagi Renji called out as he ran toward the backcourt. The ball flew just as he anticipated, heading deep into the court. Seeing Yanagi Renji’s movement, Krauser frowned slightly. ’Has he already completed his data collection in this short time?’

As Yanagi Renji prepared his return, he lowered the tip of his racket to suggest he was about to hit a topspin shot. Krauser tensed up in anticipation, but Yanagi Renji instead sliced a fast flat shot straight to the baseline.

”Chance of chasing the ball 84%. Based on data analysis, probability of approaching the net after the return 71%!” Yanagi Renji kept murmuring, crunching the numbers.

Krauser had been briefly fooled by Yanagi Renji’s feint, but not enough to lose the point. He spun around and dashed to the baseline, firing back a straight backhand shot before charging toward the net without hesitation.

Yanagi Renji seized the moment Krauser advanced, slashing a fierce backhand at the ball. The tennis ball, spinning violently, shot past the net, smashed into the ground, and zipped straight toward Krauser’s abdomen.

”Kamaitachi!”

Krauser was startled but reacted quickly, placing his racket in front of his stomach. The ball struck the racket and spun wildly for a moment before dropping to the court.

”15-0!”

Krauser looked down at the ball by his feet without much change in expression, just shot a cold glance at Yanagi Renji before turning to walk back to the baseline.

Yanagi Renji knew that last Kama Itachi was just a surprise attack; it wouldn’t catch Krauser off guard again. But he hadn’t expected to rely on it for multiple points anyway.

Yanagi Renji reached the baseline and served, immediately starting to predict Krauser’s return shots. Supported by his growing data, Yanagi Renji gradually caught up with Krauser’s rhythm, and the match became evenly matched.

Seizing another chance, Yanagi Renji dropped a short ball deep in the backcourt. Krauser dashed forward to the net. Just as he prepared to intercept the ball after it bounced, the ball unexpectedly rolled forward a short distance and stopped dead without any bounce.

”Utsusemi!”

”30-0!”

Krauser looked up at Yanagi Renji after seeing this ball with an effect similar to Zero Shiki Drop, and for the first time, he spoke with an icy tone: ”Such surprise techniques only work once. You won’t last long. Rikkai’s defeat in this match is inevitable.”

”There’s nothing inevitable. Not even the most precise data can decide everything!” Yanagi Renji narrowed his eyes and replied.

The two then resumed their rapid rallies. Thanks to more complete data, Yanagi Renji’s predictions grew more accurate, and for a time, he fought Krauser to a standstill.

”30-15!”

”40-15!”

”40-30!”

”GAME! Rikkai Daigaku Fuzoku! 2-1! Change court!”

Finally, relying on his data, Yanagi Renji took a hard-earned game. Krauser’s face turned completely dark, and he clearly wasn’t planning to hold anything back anymore. He walked coldly to his bench for water.

On the other side, Yanagi Renji also returned to Rikkai’s bench, taking a brief rest to recover stamina. Yukimura looked at Yanagi Renji and asked, ”Renji, do you have a chance?”

”The probability of victory is 32%,” Yanagi Renji replied calmly.

”I see... But be careful—your opponent still has one more technique they haven’t shown yet,” Yukimura reminded him.

”I know, Yukimura. I have a way to deal with that move,” Yanagi Renji said seriously, opening his eyes.

The break ended quickly, and the match resumed. As the two crossed paths to switch sides, Krauser said coolly, ”Your data tennis is impressive, but if I hit shots you can’t return, all your data is useless.”

”As long as the intel and data are sufficient, there’s no shot that can’t be returned,” Yanagi Renji shot back, though inwardly he felt uneasy—especially remembering the Light Strike; he knew there was no way he could return it.

They passed by each other without another word, each heading to their side of the court to start the fourth game.

Krauser stepped to the baseline, wasting no time as he fired off a high-speed serve. Yanagi Renji had already begun moving before Krauser even served.

”Based on calculations, probability of a serve to the back left corner is 81%!” Yanagi Renji’s data had become increasingly complete, and his predictions more accurate.

As expected, Krauser’s serve blasted toward the back left corner. Yanagi Renji was already there and intercepted it as the ball bounced, immediately starting to predict the next shot.

Krauser, in his return, made a subtle swing motion. The ball spun fiercely with a strong vertical rotation, speeding straight for Yanagi Renji’s half of the court.

Yanagi Renji again predicted it correctly, rushing to the drop point and raising his racket. But the moment the ball hit his racket face, an intense vertical spin sent a powerful shock up through the handle into his wrist, making him instinctively loosen his grip as his racket was knocked from his hand.

”Wirbel Taufe!”

”15-0!”

Krauser looked at Yanagi Renji clutching his wrist, his icy face completely devoid of warmth. He said flatly, ”I told you—if I hit shots you can’t return, your data tennis is worthless.”