Prince of Tennis: The Emperor's Eye

Chapter 112: Chapter 112: Fudomine’s Successors

Losing the first match had thrown Mizuki Hajime off his game. But right now, he had no other options—he could only hope for better results in the upcoming matches.

For the Doubles One match, Fudomine sent Ibu Shinji and Kamio Akira. Along with Kin-chan for Singles Three, it was clear Akashi planned to take down St. Rudolph in one sweep.

St. Rudolph sent their captain, Akazawa Yoshiro, along with second-year regular Kaneda Ichirō. This pair had even appeared in the original work, once beating Seigaku’s Golden Pair 7-6. But now, they’d probably just get stomped by Ōishi and Kikumaru.

”The Doubles One match will now begin! Representing Fudomine: Ibu Shinji and Kamio Akira! Representing St. Rudolph: Akazawa Yoshiro and Kaneda Ichirō! All players, please enter the court!”

The four stepped up and bowed at the net, then moved on to the coin toss. No one talked trash this time—not even Ibu, who usually kept quiet at the start of matches anyway, acting like a cool, aloof kid.

This time Kamio Akira won the toss and took the serve. Fudomine had good luck today—both matches so far had given them the serve. It looked like the second-string didn’t inherit the coin-toss curse of Akashi or Tezuka.

Kamio stood at the baseline, took a deep breath, and tossed the ball high. Leaning into the swing, he slammed a high-speed serve, then immediately rushed forward with incredible speed—clearly aiming for a serve-and-volley.

Even though it was just a standard power serve, the speed wasn’t slow—over 180 kilometers per hour. It hit the baseline on the opposite court after crossing the net.

”Keep up with the rhythm!” Kamio shouted, a little excited.

Akazawa reacted instantly, moving quickly to the bounce point and returning the serve. Just from that, you could tell he wasn’t called a national-level talent for nothing.

National-level and region-level were a bit different. The former was usually based on past performance recognized by the tennis association, while the latter was more of an internal consensus among players. Still, Akazawa’s level was definitely at the top of the Kantō region—maybe even halfway to national level. Unfortunately, this was a doubles match, and his partner Kaneda was clearly not on the same level.

Kamio intercepted Akazawa’s return with a quick sidestep and sent it back fast. Kaneda, a little nervous facing Fudomine’s reputation, didn’t react in time. The ball flew right past him and out of bounds.

”15-0!”

”Kaneda, stay calm. Don’t let outside pressure get to you!” Akazawa called out immediately.

”Yes, Captain! I’ll do my best!” Kaneda stood straight and responded.

Kamio served again. This time, Ibu noticed something—the other team seemed to understand him and Kamio quite well. Akazawa’s return had clearly aimed at Kamio’s most uncomfortable spot.

When Akazawa returned the serve again, Ibu was certain. He stepped up and hit a topspin shot. Kaneda, as if anticipating it, used both hands for a strong return—choosing that over the easier single-handed shot.

Clearly, they were wary of his temporary paralysis. Ibu narrowed his eyes. ’This match might be tricky.’ Kamio, on the other hand, didn’t overthink it. He chased the ball down with a burst of speed and smashed it back with serious momentum.

But right as it crossed the net, Akazawa intercepted it. His arm made a big twist on contact. The ball started vibrating, creating overlapping afterimages as it flew toward Kamio.

”Blur Ball!”

Kamio was momentarily dazzled. By the time he reacted, the ball had already slipped past his feet. With Ibu up at the net earlier, he wasn’t in position to cover either.

”15-15!”

After the point, Ibu and Kamio exchanged a look. They both knew—Akazawa’s level wasn’t beneath theirs. Their expressions turned serious.

On Kamio’s third serve, he’d already shaken off his earlier carelessness and was watching Akazawa closely. Akazawa didn’t hesitate, chased down the ball, and used the Blur Ball again.

But this time, Kamio was ready. He didn’t stare straight at the flying ball and instead exploded off the line with raw power, leaving afterimages behind. As his racket struck the ball, the force from his sprint transferred directly into the shot.

”Super Sonic Bullet!”

The ball seemed to vanish, smashing into the far left corner by Kaneda, then flying out of bounds. It was way beyond Kaneda’s reaction speed.

”30-15!”

Kamio followed with two more Super Sonic Bullets and closed out the game fast. Kaneda couldn’t even track the ball, and Akazawa couldn’t get there in time—Kamio kept targeting the opposite side.

”40-15!”

”Game! Fudomine leads, 1-0!”

Although the Super Sonic Bullet was powerful, it drained Kamio’s stamina heavily. If he used it too much, he might not last the entire match.

”Mm... Blur Ball, huh? Not a bad technique. Unlike Kamio Akira’s Super Sonic Bullet—run a few more times and he’s out of gas. But speaking of that, this shot is just a visual trick. Still, it works great against players with good eyesight. It’s not like there’s no way to counter it... Why did Kamio pick the most troublesome one?” Ibu Shinji started his usual muttering.

”Quit rambling and get ready to receive!” Kamio turned and yelled at him.

”Seriously, I was just saying. Why so cranky? Speaking of cranky, how did that guy Kaneda calm down so fast? Is that what you get from playing doubles with the captain? Maybe I should try that someday. No, on second thought, forget it. Hm... Akashi-Captain probably wouldn’t agree...” Ibu kept mumbling on.

Kamio had a pounding headache. Ibu was great at everything—except for that nonstop babbling. It was like a monk chanting scripture. Endlessly. Fortunately, Kaneda finally served the ball, and Ibu’s mouth shut at last.

Ibu met the serve with another topspin shot, aiming at Akazawa this time. Though Akazawa knew Ibu was trying to activate his temporary paralysis, he didn’t take it seriously. He was confident he wouldn’t get caught that easily, and according to Mizuki, it took at least 6 or 7 balls to trigger the effect anyway.

Akazawa answered with a Blur Ball, but Ibu didn’t look directly at the ball—he watched its shadow on the ground. Then he returned it with a backspin shot, once again targeting Akazawa.

Seeing his signature move neutralized so easily annoyed Akazawa. He added more power to his next return, and Ibu responded in kind with another topspin.

Akazawa looked aggressive, but in reality, he was counting the shots carefully. He wasn’t reckless. After his next return, he was ready to hit the ball toward Kamio, aiming for a surprise move.

But just as he swung for Kamio following Ibu’s backspin, his arm suddenly went numb. His stroke froze mid-air. Kaneda at the back was caught off guard and didn’t react in time. The ball flew out.

”0-15!”

”What the hell? That was only 4 shots! How did the paralysis work so fast?!” Akazawa shouted in disbelief.

”Mm... So you really did study our techniques. You guys did your homework, huh? Too bad my temporary paralysis has already been improved. Sometimes being studied isn’t so bad... but why were we being studied anyway? We’re just the second string...” Ibu mumbled on, half-answering Akazawa.

Akazawa stared at him with twitching eyebrows. Now he understood what Mizuki meant by ”weird personality.” This was just... too much.

From there, both sides adjusted and the match grew more intense. They clashed back and forth without giving an inch, trading games.

”0-30!”

”15-30!”

”15-40!”

”30-40!”

”Game! Fudomine! 2-0!”

”Game! St. Rudolph! 2-1! Change court!”

”Game! Fudomine! 3-1!”

”Game! Fudomine! 4-1!”

”Game! St. Rudolph! 4-2! Change court!”

After six games, Kamio was visibly out of breath. He’d used the Super Sonic Bullet a few more times, and Ibu’s temporary paralysis had been completely shut down.

”Shinji! We can’t go on like this. Let’s use that!” Kamio called out.

Ibu thought for a second, then gave a serious nod. Suddenly, both players were surrounded by a deep red aura—the aura of beasts passed down from Tachibana Kippei and Chitose Senri.

They couldn’t do full Ability Synchronization yet, but it was clear Tachibana and Chitose were grooming successors. After all, once they graduated this year, Fudomine would be in these guys’ hands.

Game seven was Ibu’s serve. He opened with a sidespin serve. It wasn’t unbreakable, but it still forced Akazawa into awkward footwork.

With the beast aura activated, Ibu and Kamio moved much faster and with more fluidity. That shift threw Akazawa and Kaneda off their rhythm.

”Game! Fudomine! 5-2!”

Boosted by the beast aura, they took the seventh game. One more win would seal the match—but Kamio was running on fumes.

Game eight. Akazawa to serve. He looked a lot fresher than Kamio, showing no signs of fatigue. He served a flat shot, sharp and clean, straight at Kamio’s feet.

Even with the beast aura, difficult shots stayed difficult. Kamio barely got the ball back, stumbling a bit, then kept moving. Ibu followed up in sync with him.

The exchange turned fierce again. Ibu’s temporary paralysis had been sealed off, but his tricky spins gave Kaneda a rough time. Kamio’s speed made it hard for Akazawa to hit weak spots.

”15-0!”

”15-15!”

”15-30!”

”15-40!”

Kamio used the last of his strength to fire off two Super Sonic Bullets, bringing the match to game point. He was so drained now that even speaking was hard. Ibu, at least, was still holding up.

Akazawa served. Ibu stepped up to receive in Kamio’s place. Seeing this, Akazawa and Kaneda exchanged looks of glee. Kamio must’ve been spent. Ibu alone couldn’t possibly win the match—at least, that’s what they thought.

Akazawa met the incoming ball with another Blur Ball. Ibu read the shadow on the ground again and returned it with a lob—an extremely high one. Akazawa gave up the idea of a smash and started retreating to back up Kaneda.

But Kaneda had already anticipated the lob when he saw Ibu’s motion. He moved to the drop point as the ball descended and struck it with a forehand drive.

Ibu, having lobbed the ball, rushed to the net. As the ball came his way, he raised his racket behind his head and gently sliced down on the ball from above. It floated slowly over the net and began to fall.

Akazawa scoffed when he saw the soft touch. Tricks like that weren’t going to fool him. He rushed to the spot, ready to return the ball as it bounced.

But the moment the ball landed, it spun fiercely in place, then rolled backward into the net without bouncing up at all.

”Zero Shiki Drop Shot!”

”Game! 6-2! Match over! Winner, Fudomine!”

As the umpire announced the result, Kamio fell straight backward, lying on the court panting hard. He had been holding out by sheer willpower.

Akashi was fairly satisfied with their performance. The only flaw was Kamio’s stamina—it clearly wasn’t enough. He’d need more training when they got back.

Mizuki Hajime, who had just returned from warmups, was already losing it. Again—it was always like this in their first year too. Why did Fudomine players always hide a trump card? There was no sign of those techniques or strength in the data he had.

Luckily, the next match was Singles 3—and he himself would play. Fudomine had sent out one of their regulars, but he was just a first-year. His only win was against a fellow first-year regular from Seigaku. No matter how talented, he couldn’t be that strong.

As for the rumors that followed that match—volcanoes erupting and tornadoes? Mizuki didn’t believe any of it. Obviously fake news Seigaku put out to save face.

Before Kintarō stepped onto the court, Akashi once again reminded him to hold back to 60% of his strength. Mizuki was annoying and overly confident, but at least he hadn’t done anything truly outrageous. More importantly, Kintarō had no control over how hard he hit.

”Next up is Singles 3! Fudomine’s Tōyama Kintarō versus St. Rudolph’s Mizuki Hajime! Players, take your positions!”

As they met at the net to bow, Mizuki glanced at the bouncing, energetic boy across from him and smirked. Still, he smiled politely and said, ”Tōyama-kun, I look forward to a good match.”

”Yeah yeah! Let’s get started—I’ve been itching to play!” Kintarō beamed.

They moved on to the coin toss. Kintarō won, which meant Fudomine had gotten serve in all three matches. Their luck today was off the charts.

”Best of one set! Fudomine to serve!”

Kintarō stood on the baseline, holding a tennis ball. He looked at Mizuki and said, ”Alright! I’m serving now!”

He tossed the ball incredibly high, then jumped after it, flipping multiple times in the air. Using the momentum, he smashed the ball down with immense force.

The ball whooshed past Mizuki, slamming into the court with a heavy thud and bouncing out of bounds.

”Ace! 15-0!”

Mizuki hadn’t even moved from his ready stance. Kintarō’s serve had completely blindsided him—the speed and unorthodox motion were beyond anything he had anticipated.

’What the hell? He’s just a first-year! Is he another freak like Akashi? Damn it! What’s going on with this school?!’ Mizuki screamed internally.

Kintarō was already on his second serve, same setup—another slam serve at Mizuki. This time, Mizuki did move, but he couldn’t catch up to the ball. It flew out of bounds again.

”Ace! 30-0!”

”Ace! 40-0!”

”Game! Fudomine! 1-0!”

Kintarō took the game easily, though he didn’t seem pleased. He looked a bit annoyed that Mizuki hadn’t returned a single ball. That kind of match wasn’t any fun.

He’d gotten used to playing against regulars in Fudomine—guys who could return his shots even when he wasn’t holding back. So he just assumed every official match would be the same.

Ryōma had given him a good fight back in the regional tournament. But it never crossed Kintarō’s mind that his strength was already overkill for most schools. Not everyone had protagonist-level plot armor like Ryōma.

Mizuki now understood why a first-year could make Fudomine’s regular lineup. This guy was no joke. He’d clearly underestimated him. Still, Mizuki wasn’t some random nobody. Beating him wasn’t going to be easy.

But the following games shattered whatever confidence Mizuki had. Even when he managed to return a ball, the raw power behind it was insane. After just a few exchanges, both his arms started aching from the impact.

”Game! Fudomine! 2-0!”

”Game! Fudomine! 4-0!”

”Game! 6-0! Match over! Winner, Fudomine!”

And just like that, Singles 3 ended even faster than the doubles matches. Mizuki was completely helpless against Kintarō. By the end, he couldn’t even hold up his racket—beaten into total silence.