Prince of Tennis: The Emperor's Eye

Chapter 137: Chapter 137: Demon Kirihara

After the match ended, Kintarō walked off the court panting. He had unleashed nearly all of his strength during the match, and with the burst of Light of Love just now, even with his stamina, he was feeling tired.

”Sorry~ I still lost in the end~” Kintarō scratched his head and said to Akashi.

”You did really well, Kintarō! Go rest for now. Leave the next match to me~” Akashi gave a small smile without a hint of blame. Considering how close the match was against Yukimura, Kintarō had clearly outdone himself.

After speaking, Akashi stood and walked to the court for the second singles match. On the other side, Yukimura closed his eyes in resignation—Rikkai Daigaku Fuzoku no longer had any hope of victory.

Originally, Yukimura planned for them to snatch a win in doubles, then he’d take singles three, leaving singles one to be anchored by Sanada. As long as they didn’t face Tezuka, there was still a chance.

But now it seemed he had underestimated Fudomine’s strength—or perhaps Rikkai was simply too weak. They could only train harder. This year’s National Tournament was their last shot.

”Next up is the second singles match! Fudomine’s Akashi Seijūrō versus Rikkai Daigaku Fuzoku’s Kirihara Akaya. Players, please enter the court!”

As the umpire announced, Akashi walked slowly to the court with his jacket draped over his shoulders. On the other side, Kirihara stepped onto the court without hesitation, his eyes full of fighting spirit.

After greeting at the net, Kirihara looked at the calm and relaxed Akashi and couldn’t help but speak.

”I’ve always heard from my senpai that you’re strong. Today, let me—Rikkai’s second-year ace—test that strength properly!”

”Oh? You’ve got guts. Then I’ll reward you with a crushing defeat~” Akashi replied casually.

”Hmph! Today your undefeated legend ends at my hands!” Kirihara growled.

Seeing the rising tension, the umpire quickly stepped in and asked them to guess for serve. But Akashi spoke up:

”Umpire, let him serve. It’ll be a good warm-up for me.”

The umpire blinked in surprise, then looked toward Kirihara. If both players agreed, there was no reason to intervene.

”You... damn bastard, just wait and see!” Kirihara gritted his teeth.

The umpire didn’t insist. Once both players were in position, he announced the start of the match.

”One-game match! Rikkai Daigaku Fuzoku to serve first!”

Kirihara stood at the baseline, glaring at the casually stretching Akashi. Then he clenched his left fist, pressing his knuckles inward until the tennis ball began to deform. He tossed it up and swung his racket with his right hand, the ball spinning irregularly toward Akashi’s side.

”Knuckle Serve!”

Akashi gave the ball a single glance and completely grasped its spin. With one quick step, he appeared at the bounce spot, his body leaning slightly backward.

As the ball landed, it suddenly sprang toward Akashi’s abdomen. A smirk formed on Kirihara’s face—but it froze instantly. Akashi simply flicked his racket with a backhand, and the next sound was the ball landing behind Kirihara.

”0-15!”

Kirihara couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t even seen how Akashi returned the shot. Before he could react, the ball had already flown out of bounds.

”Tch! I’m not giving up that easy. I’m going to beat you today!” Kirihara muttered as he backed up to the baseline.

He served another Knuckle Serve. This unpredictable bounce was his signature move and had troubled many top players.

But before the Emperor Eye, there was no such thing as unpredictability. Even before the ball crossed the net, Akashi had already read the spin and predicted the bounce. This move was completely ineffective.

Akashi appeared at the bounce spot again, took one step to the left, and cleanly returned the ball.

Kirihara, laser-focused, saw the ball’s trajectory this time and ran to intercept it. Just as it was about to fly out, he barely managed to block it.

After stopping the ball, Kirihara glanced at Akashi’s position and hit a diagonal shot with a slight curve aimed at the back right corner.

Akashi quickly reached the corner and returned the shot, this time with increased speed. The ball zipped past the net and exploded at Kirihara’s feet before flying out.

”0-30!”

Still unwilling to give in, Kirihara kept using his Knuckle Serve, but Akashi returned it just as easily. However, this time Akashi lowered the ball’s speed, allowing Kirihara to catch up and enter into a rally.

After just four or five shots, Akashi’s Emperor Eye spotted a weakness. With a swift backhand, he sent the ball flying past Kirihara before he could react.

”0-40!”

But this rally gave Kirihara some confidence. He believed that with a bit more caution, he could still defeat this so-called legendary captain of Fudomine.

Even though he now knew his Knuckle Serve was useless, he used it again anyway. There was no harm in trying—it might work.

The reality was, it didn’t. Akashi effortlessly returned the serve, and the two began another seemingly intense rally. This time, Kirihara held on longer.

Finally, after more than ten shots, Akashi caught a minor error and hit a fast, straight shot, winning the first game.

”GAME! Fudomine! 1-0!”

Kirihara lost his service game, but he wore a gleeful expression. To him, Akashi’s strength didn’t seem that great—nowhere near his own captains’. But what Akashi said next nearly made him snap.

”Hm! Warm-up’s just about done. Guess it’s time to get a little serious.” Akashi’s tone was calm as ever.

”Don’t joke around! Stop bluffing, Akashi!” Kirihara shouted, rage burning in his voice, and a faint red glow flickered in his eyes.

But Akashi didn’t respond. With a cold expression, he walked to the baseline. This was his service game—since warm-up was over, might as well finish the match quickly.

Kirihara, seeing himself completely ignored, grew even more furious. But the match wasn’t over yet, so all he could do was grit his teeth and head to the backcourt, eyes locked on Akashi like he wanted to tear him apart.

Standing at the baseline, Akashi glanced at the faint red in Kirihara’s eyes and murmured to himself, ”Already slipping into red-eye mode from just a bit of pressure? Looks like Kirihara’s condition really is serious. Is it the result of long-term suppression causing a rebound in his inner power?”

He didn’t dwell on it. For now, he needed to wrap this match up. Akashi tossed the ball up and swung with speed—his serve slammed into Kirihara’s backcourt.

Before Kirihara could even move, the ball had already flown out of bounds. The boy who just moments ago thought Akashi wasn’t that strong was now frozen in disbelief.

”ACE! 15-0!”

The umpire’s call snapped Kirihara out of it. He finally realized Akashi hadn’t been serious in the first game. Instead of backing off, it only made him angrier.

Akashi didn’t care what Kirihara was thinking. He served again—another blazing fast ball. It wasn’t quite a Mach Serve, but it still topped 250 kilometers per hour, far beyond what Kirihara could handle.

”ACE! 30-0!”

”ACE! 40-0!”

”GAME! Fudomine! 2-0!”

Four consecutive high-speed serves. Akashi cleanly took the second game, leaving Kirihara frustrated and seething.

Game three was Kirihara’s service game. Standing at the baseline, a milky-white aura rose from his body, and his pupils became vacant.

”Muga no Kyōchi!”

From the sideline, Yukimura frowned. Kirihara’s stamina was never his strong suit, and to enter Muga this early... he probably wouldn’t last the match.

”Hmph! Still slacking off! How many times have I told him—Muga is nothing but a burden against a real opponent! It only wastes stamina!” Sanada grumbled from the spectator seats, clearly disappointed.

”There was no other way. If he plays normally, his win rate is 0%. All he can do is use Muga and take a gamble,” Yanagi Renji said with a frown.

”You think Muga will make him win, Renji?” Sanada didn’t agree at all.

Renji fell silent. He knew the truth—even with Muga, Kirihara’s win rate was still 0%.

Sanada wasn’t angry that Kirihara might lose to Akashi. He had mentally prepared for that. What really irritated him was that despite knowing the gap in strength, Kirihara still used Muga. It showed he never truly listened to his advice.

Kirihara, now in Muga no Kyōchi, tossed the ball up and swung. His right arm moved so fast it left afterimages. The ball warped on impact with the racket and blasted toward Akashi’s court.

”Its speed—like the wind!”

Akashi watched the attack and shook his head. Compared to Sanada’s version, it was way off. He flashed to the bounce spot and, after the ball landed, countered with a backhand return even faster than Sanada’s.

The speed was too much. Kirihara only saw a flash of yellow before the ball was out of bounds.

”0-15!”

Unfazed, Kirihara served a Tannhauser Serve next. With Muga enhancing him, the serve at least looked decent.

But Akashi casually stepped forward, sliced downward with his racket, and the ball zipped straight into Kirihara’s court. Kirihara rushed to intercept it, but he was a second too late.

”0-30!”

Back at the baseline, Kirihara launched a Big Bang Serve. It still didn’t faze Akashi, who returned it with ease.

Kirihara burst forward, pushing himself to the limit. He finally reached the returning shot just before it bounced out and countered with a Kamaitachi.

The ball spun viciously toward Akashi’s abdomen, but he simply blocked it and tapped a drop shot in return. The ball floated gently over the net and dropped toward the ground.

Kirihara lunged forward, diving for the ball—but even sprawled out on the court, he couldn’t save it. The ball rolled a short distance and stopped.

”0-40!”

Kirihara lay on the ground, unmoving. Spectators started to murmur. Was he injured? Just as the umpire was about to check on him, a strange laugh echoed from Kirihara, and the aura of Muga quickly vanished.

”Hehehehehehehe! Akashi Seijūrō! I’m gonna crush you completely!” Kirihara suddenly leapt to his feet, eyes bloodshot as he stared at Akashi.

”Kirihara! Calm down!” Yukimura shouted from the sidelines.

But his voice didn’t reach him. Kirihara’s face was twisted, his gaze full of bloodlust as he locked onto Akashi. Entering red-eye mode, he felt a surge of endless strength.

Red-Eyed Kirihara.

Akashi looked at him silently. He had been right—Kirihara could no longer suppress the force inside him. After this match, Yukimura had better take him to see Ojii as soon as possible.

Kirihara stood at the baseline and once again made the motion for a knuckle serve. He stuck out his tongue and licked his lips, speaking in a cruel tone:

”I’ll show you the true power of the knuckle serve! Hope you can hang on! Don’t go down too fast, Akashi!”

As soon as he finished, he tossed up the deformed ball and swung hard. In his red-eye state, the speed, power, and spin of the serve were all far stronger than before.

Akashi instantly read that the ball would bounce toward his knee—specifically the vulnerable inner side. If he wasn’t careful, it could lead to serious injury.

His gaze turned cold. He knew Kirihara wasn’t in his right mind, but that didn’t give him a free pass to attack recklessly.

Just as predicted, the ball shot toward Akashi’s knee after landing, but he calmly lowered his racket and intercepted it. His eyes narrowed as he struck with a backhand.

Kirihara suddenly felt a wrenching pain in his abdomen, falling to his knees clutching his stomach and coughing up a mouthful of bitter bile.

”GAME! Fudomine! 3-0! Change court!”

”You’re not qualified to play violent tennis.” Akashi stared coldly at the kneeling Kirihara.

That shot had looked intense, but Akashi had used the Emperor Eye to avoid Kirihara’s vital points. It wouldn’t cause lasting damage, but it would inflict serious pain.

Just as Kirihara was about to lunge at Akashi, a sharp voice cut through from the sideline.

”Kirihara Akaya! Get off the court now!”

Yukimura’s icy voice snapped him back to his senses—just barely. Reluctantly, Kirihara left the court, though his eyes burned with even more malice. The bloodlust in his gaze looked like it could pierce through Akashi.

Back at the bench, Kirihara ignored Yukimura’s cold glare. His head was filled only with one thought: how to crush Akashi. Nothing else mattered.

”Calm down, Kirihara! Did you forget what Sanada always tells you?” Yukimura’s voice was stern.

”I got it, captain! Don’t worry—I’ll destroy him!” Kirihara replied with a twisted smile.

Yukimura could only sigh inwardly. He realized he probably couldn’t stop Kirihara anymore. He just hoped Akashi wouldn’t hurt him too badly.

”Going after Akashi like that? Kirihara’s got guts, I’ll give him that. But there are better ways to throw your life away,” Tachibana Kippei commented, half-admiring.

”That shot earlier was precise. If it were anyone else, they’d be down for good,” said Kite Eishirō, eyes glinting.

”Something about Kirihara seemed off just now...” Tezuka muttered quietly with a concerned expression.

The break ended quickly. Both players returned to court. After switching sides, Kirihara remained in red-eye mode, his face twisted in a grin as he stared down Akashi.

Akashi coldly walked to the baseline, ignoring Kirihara completely. He tossed the ball and served. The ball rocketed across the net with blinding speed.

But in his red-eye state, Kirihara had gotten stronger. He barely caught up to the ball and smashed it back, aiming straight for Akashi’s right shoulder.

Akashi sidestepped easily and flicked his racket upward. The ball spun violently and darted toward Kirihara’s right hand. The next moment, Kirihara’s racket clattered to the ground, and he clutched his hand, glaring daggers at Akashi.

”15-0!”

”You bastard! I’ll never forgive you!” Kirihara roared.

As he shouted, his body began to change. His skin turned red, and his hair bleached white—his whole form transformed into something out of a nightmare.

”Kyahahaha! I’ll drown you in blood, Akashi!” Kirihara cackled madly in his demon form.

Demon Kirihara.

”A demon, huh? Too bad. Even demons can only lose before my Emperor Eye,” Akashi replied flatly.

He served again—another blazing fast shot. Kirihara, in full demon mode, had massive boosts in speed, strength, and mental force. But in exchange, his stamina burned out fast, and his technique suffered due to his obsession with violence.

He rushed to meet the serve, twisted grin on his face. Locking eyes with Akashi, he aimed his return straight at his body and shouted:

”Die! I’ll paint you in blood! Hahahahaha!”

But to Akashi, this was child’s play. Even someone like Tōno Atsukyou would laugh at such crude, brutal tennis.

Akashi showed no mercy. He smashed the ball back—it struck Kirihara square in the chest and sent him flying.

”30-0!”

Kirihara kept attacking wildly, fighting like a cornered beast. Akashi didn’t indulge him. He returned every shot with sharp precision, making Kirihara look more and more pathetic.

”40-0!”

”GAME! Fudomine! 4-0!”

Just like that, Akashi took the fourth game unharmed. Meanwhile, demonized Kirihara was constantly on the defensive, unable to land anything meaningful. But he no longer had any sanity left. All he wanted was to crush Akashi.

Game five—Kirihara’s serve. His eyes glowed with bloodlust, scanning Akashi’s body for weak points. But suddenly, a terrifying pair of eyes appeared in his mind. Even in demon form, Kirihara froze in place.

Terrified Demon Kirihara.

Akashi had unleashed his Mental Pressure. With the power of the Emperor Eye, he crushed Kirihara with overwhelming presence. Even Yukimura on the sidelines felt a chill at the sheer weight of Akashi’s mental force.

”If you’re a demon... then I’ll personally send you to hell.” Akashi’s voice was like ice.