Prince of Tennis: The Emperor's Eye

Chapter 172: Chapter 172: Tezuka Completely Suppressed

”This is Rikkai’s strongest captain—Yukimura Seiichi!” On the Rikkai bench, the small kelp-headed Kirihara clenched his fists tightly like he was praying, voice full of awe. In that moment, Yukimura was like a god in his eyes.

”When did Yukimura develop a technique like that? I didn’t collect any data on it at all!” Yanagi Renji suddenly opened his eyes, speaking in shock.

”The winner of this match can only be you, Yukimura!” Sanada said firmly and without doubt.

”Huh... what did Yukimura just say? Stealing the future?” On the Fudomine bench, Tachibana Kippei looked puzzled, like he hadn’t clearly heard what Yukimura had said.

”With Tezuka’s strength, even with the sensory deprivation, those two points shouldn’t have been taken that easily,” Chitose Senri said, his expression turning serious.

”Who said Yukimura was only using sensory deprivation to interfere with Tezuka?” Akashi spoke up.

”What?!” At Akashi’s words, all eyes from the Fudomine side turned toward the composed figure seated on the coach’s bench.

”Didn’t you notice that during the first three games, when Yukimura and Tezuka were rallying, the return trajectories were a bit odd?” Akashi didn’t answer directly but threw out another question.

”He repeated the same shot patterns multiple times!” Krauser’s eyes gleamed as he spoke.

”Exactly. From the very start of this match, Yukimura was laying out a strategy. By repeating specific shot paths over and over, he was gradually identifying the slightest openings in Tezuka’s play. Then, using mental force, he implanted those gaps in Tezuka’s mind, reinforcing the image. Eventually, those imagined scenes became reality. That’s what Yukimura’s ’stealing the future’ is all about,” Akashi explained slowly.

”I see... but to reach that level, doesn’t he have to try every possible shot type and repeat them constantly?” Kite Eishirō looked genuinely shocked at Yukimura’s method.

”So sensory deprivation and sealing Tezuka’s Zone were just preparations for stealing his future?!” Tachibana stared at Yukimura in disbelief.

”Tch. This kind of match is no fun,” Akutsu muttered with disdain, but his eyes were serious.

”Why couldn’t I understand anything you guys just said?” Kintarō asked, totally confused. Yukimura’s stealing the future was clearly too complicated for him.

”It’s okay, Kintarō. Just enjoy playing tennis and having fun out there,” Chitose said with a warm smile.

By now, Yukimura had served his third shot. Just like before, he and Tezuka fell into a tug-of-war rally. As they battled, the ball moved faster and faster—most of the crowd couldn’t even see it anymore, only the sound of the shots filled the air.

Once again, images of mistakes floated into Tezuka’s mind. This time, he tried to block them out deliberately. As he prepared to return, he even altered his shot path mid-swing to break the flow of Yukimura’s future projection.

When the ball curved back under Zone’s spin, Tezuka instinctively wanted to reply with a Zero Shiki Drop. But just as he prepared to slice, the image of losing the point came up again. Tezuka changed his racket motion instantly and hit a forehand instead.

Yukimura wasn’t surprised at all. He flashed forward and tapped the ball upward right as it crossed the net. It rose with an eerie arc. Tezuka didn’t wait for Zone to activate—he lunged forward with a long stride, jumped high, and smashed it hard.

”A Zero Shiki Smash? Too bad, I’ve already stolen your future, Tezuka!” Yukimura’s voice had barely finished when a yellow beam of light exploded at Tezuka’s feet midair. The ball bounced out of bounds—exactly like the image in Tezuka’s mind.

”40-0!”

Tezuka stared silently at the ball behind him, said nothing, and returned to the baseline with a calm expression to receive again. Across the court, Yukimura didn’t hesitate—he tossed the ball and fired another high-speed serve.

The familiar tug-of-war resumed. Even though Tezuka tried everything to avoid the scenes in his head, the outcome was the same. Yukimura still took the point and claimed the future.

”GAME! Rikkai! 2-2!”

”Yes! Captain held his serve! That was awesome!” Kirihara yelled from the bench. This time, even Sanada didn’t scold him. In fact, his expression showed the same excitement as he watched Yukimura on the court.

”Looks like Yukimura’s future-stealing technique, Howling, is fully formed now. Escaping it won’t be easy. So what now, Tezuka?” Akashi murmured, watching from the coach’s bench.

”What?! Damn... is Tezuka going to lose this match?” Tachibana’s voice now carried a hint of panic.

”Tachibana! All we can do now is trust Tezuka,” Chitose said, trying to calm him.

The fifth game started quickly. This was Tezuka’s service game. Ever since Yukimura directly countered his Zero Shiki Serve in the first game, Tezuka hadn’t used it again. This time, he went with a standard high-speed serve.

Yukimura once again stepped up, and the two resumed fierce rallies. By this point, not only had Tezuka adapted to Yukimura’s sensory interference, but Yukimura had also grasped the basics of Tezuka’s Ultimate Zone and began trying to counter both layers of spin simultaneously.

As time passed, Tezuka slowly noticed his Zone starting to distort. He knew exactly what that meant—Yukimura was beginning to unravel the entire spin structure he had embedded into his shots.

But at this stage, Tezuka had no better plan. All he could do was face Yukimura head-on. With that thought, he stopped relying solely on the baseline and the Zone’s pull.

Yukimura kept trying to crack the Ultimate Zone, while Tezuka tried to resist the future being stolen from him. Compared to the previous game, the match now had grown clearly more intense. Still, despite Tezuka’s best efforts, he couldn’t escape the scenes forced into his mind in such a short time.

”0-15!”

”0-30!”

”15-30!”

”15-40!”

”GAME! Rikkai! 3-2!”

In the fifth game, aside from the one point Tezuka scored with a surprise Zero Shiki Drop, he was completely trapped by the future images. Combined with Yukimura’s style that struck directly at the core, Tezuka was left struggling to keep up.

”If that brat Tezuka doesn’t have another trump card, he might lose this match,” Mifune muttered in the stands with a tinge of regret.

”It’s still too soon to say, Head Coach. At least based on my data, Tezuka-kun has never lost a match in official play,” Mitsuya offered a different perspective.

Under the referee’s signal, the sixth game began quickly. It was Yukimura’s turn to serve again. While Tezuka’s face showed no emotion, the tight grip of his left hand around the racket betrayed his true state.

”You won’t win this match, no matter what, Tezuka!” Yukimura said firmly from the baseline as he got ready to serve.

”GAME! Rikkai! 4-2! Change court!”

The result of the sixth game matched Yukimura’s words—Tezuka still couldn’t crack his moves. Meanwhile, Yukimura had already broken down most of Tezuka’s techniques. At this point, Tezuka was barely hanging on thanks to Radiance of Love.

During the break, both players returned to their benches for water. Akashi looked at the sweat forming on Tezuka’s forehead but didn’t say a word. When facing Yukimura, the only way forward was through personal breakthrough—advice from others wouldn’t help much.

As Tezuka sat on the bench, his thoughts suddenly drifted to his first match against Akashi. Back then, while he hadn’t been arrogant, he had complete confidence in his own strength—only to be crushed by someone his own age.

Though he later joined Fudomine and hadn’t lost to any other school in matches, even in practice games and ranking matches, he had never beaten Akashi. That had always been a mental block for him. After encountering the upperclassmen from U-17, Tezuka had come to realize just how vast the world of tennis really was.

Now, he was about to lose to another player his age—aside from Akashi. It was something he had never even considered. Lost in thought, Tezuka murmured to himself:

”Did I really give it everything I had? Or is this where my limit ends?”

The break quickly ended, and the referee called for the players to return. Tezuka said nothing as he walked silently back onto the court. As he passed Yukimura, he didn’t say a word, and Yukimura didn’t seem to mind.

The seventh game was Tezuka’s service game again, but the situation hadn’t changed much. The images of lost points kept flashing through his mind, making his returns unconsciously falter.

”GAME! Rikkai! 5-2!”

”Great job, Yukimura! Go all out and take the win!” Sanada cheered from the bench.

”One more game! Just one more game!” The Rikkai students in the crowd shouted excitedly.

Yukimura slowly let out a breath. A faint smile rose on his face as he stood on the baseline. Looking at Tezuka across the court, the belief in his heart to win this match grew even stronger.

Tezuka’s face remained calm, but deep down, a wave of disappointment had crept in. He kept asking himself—is this really your limit?

Only Akashi, on the coach’s bench, noticed the change in Tezuka. As if recalling something, he smiled—the same faint smile Yukimura wore—showing no concern for the current score.

Just as Yukimura was about to serve to seal the match, a sudden ripple of blue light burst from around Tezuka. A formless pressure radiated outward, giving everyone an unshakable sense of unease.

”To think your second awakened Radiance would be the Radiance of Pain... that’s a surprise, Tezuka,” Akashi said softly, watching him.