Prince of Tennis: The Emperor's Eye

Chapter 242: Chapter 52: Shadow Emperor and Assassin

This set started with Hakamada serving. By now, Hakamada no longer expected to defeat Krauser. He had already acknowledged Krauser’s strength and mindset. Even if he lost his spot on the representative team, he no longer worried about the World Tournament.

Still, Hakamada unleashed his signature Vanish. As the smoke spread across the court, Krauser let out a small sigh, then swung his racket. The ball was intercepted the instant it shot out of the haze, his racket forcing an intense spin onto it.

Hakamada rushed forward to the landing spot and struck after the bounce, but in the next second, a terrifying twisting force surged through his wrist from the racket. Even though he tried to hold on, his wrist joint screamed a dangerous warning, as if it would snap if he resisted.

At last, Hakamada’s racket was flung high, spinning end over end through the air before crashing out of bounds alongside the ball. Hakamada clutched his left wrist, his expression dark and pained.

”0-15!”

”Wirbel Taufe?!” Byoudouin could no longer keep calm. He shot to his feet, eyes locked tightly on Krauser.

”No way~ That’s the technique of Volk, the current world number one professional player!” Irie exclaimed in shock.

”Mōri! You knew, didn’t you? And you didn’t tell us?!” Tanegashima suddenly turned toward Mōri with suspicion.

”Eh... you guys never asked me~” Mōri replied casually, as if it had nothing to do with him.

”Oni! You must have known about this! No wonder you’re always mixed up with these kids!” Byoudouin tore his eyes away from Krauser and glared at Oni.

”Hmph! What I do is none of your business, Byoudouin! But this time, I didn’t know either. Krauser’s never used that move in front of us. All I know is that he’s always been with Akashi-kun,” Oni answered calmly, unfazed by the glare.

”I suppose only you knew this kid could use Volk’s move, right? Mitsuya?” Kimijima suddenly looked at Mitsuya.

”Of course~ Aside from Akashi-kun, I’ve already collected data on every middle schooler!” Mitsuya admitted openly, without hesitation.

”Game! Second String Selection! 1-0!”

While the First Unit was busy discussing Krauser’s Wirbel Taufe, he had already broken Hakamada’s serve cleanly with it. Hakamada had no complaints. He hadn’t played in the World Tournament himself, but he knew enough about Volk to understand.

Because of Akashi’s words, Krauser held nothing back this time. He fought with full strength, though he didn’t enter Shura’s Path, since Hakamada’s level was still too low. Hakamada’s place in the First Unit had been entirely thanks to his Vanish.

”Game! Second String Selection! 5-0!”

In no time, Krauser racked up five straight games. Even Mifune could only shake his head. The gap was purely one of hard strength.

In the original story, Hakamada had once faced Kintarō and even tried ramming his forehead into Kintarō’s. The result—his own face covered in blood while Kintarō remained completely fine. After his Vanish was broken, Hakamada had been beaten so badly he could hardly move, and in the end, Kintarō had carried him off.

And that Kintarō back then hadn’t even awakened Ten’i Muhō yet. He’d only just returned from training at the Cliff of Heart, still within national-level strength. Even so, Hakamada had been utterly crushed.

From the way Hakamada had collapsed, he must have already released the sixty-percent restriction at that time. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have ended up in that state. Putting all factors together, Hakamada’s ability was among the lowest in the First Unit. As for why he had ranked 14th, just look at those behind him.

Mitsuya didn’t care about his own ranking. The Mutsu brothers were focused on doubles. Shitenhōji’s pair probably suppressed their ranks intentionally to form their comedy duo. And Akiba... well, his issue was plain lack of ability.

”Hey! Foreign kid! You’re not using your full power, are you?! Even if you’re stronger than me, you’d better attack me with everything you’ve got, damn it!!!” Hakamada suddenly roared at Krauser.

Hakamada’s skill might have been ordinary, but his guts were undeniable. Whether from enduring the cruel baptism of the world or simply by nature, he wasn’t satisfied with Krauser holding back.

”Since you’re asking for death yourself, I’ll grant your wish!” Krauser’s cold voice cut across as he stared at Hakamada.

In the next instant, a deep blue aura flared around him, a hellish presence spreading outward. Even Oni and Byoudouin twitched their brows at the sight.

”Path of Asura!”

”I was planning to save this for the World Tournament, but since you asked for it, don’t die here!” With those chilling words, Krauser tossed the ball up after opening Shura’s Path.

As the ball rose, a massive phantom tsunami loomed behind him. His right arm twisted like a violent vortex, dragging the wave into a crushing strike at the falling ball.

The tennis ball vanished inside the massive surge. Hakamada felt as though he were facing a real tsunami, paralyzed, unable to decide what to do. In the next second, a tearing pain ripped across his chest. His whole body was launched into the air, spinning end over end as he was blown backward.

”Alternate Dimension Technique—Spiral Strangle!”

Blood poured from Hakamada’s mouth. He felt as though his organs had been twisted together. The agony broke through even his hardened will, forcing a scream out of him.

A loud crash followed as Hakamada slammed into the back wall. His uniform was shredded from chest to stomach, his eyes rolled white, and blood spilled at his lips. He had lost consciousness completely.

”Game! 6-0! Match over! Total score 2-0! Winner, Second String Selection!”

Krauser walked calmly to the fallen Hakamada, leaned down, and plucked the No. 14 badge from his collar. His voice was flat.

”Was my full strength enough for you, senpai? Though I doubt you can hear me anymore.”

”What are you standing around for?! Get Hakamada off the court!” Mifune barked at the nearby high schoolers when Krauser had already rejoined the middle schoolers.

Two high schoolers hurried over and hauled Hakamada away. The medical staff quickly rushed in as well, carrying him off to join Habu.

”Oh my~ looks like it’s my turn. I feel a bit nervous... hopefully my opponent isn’t too strong~” Irie stood up, stretching his joints before walking slowly to the court with his racket.

On the other side, Kite rose from the bench with a cold smile. As he approached, he pulled his short sleeves up over his shoulders, baring both muscular arms.

”Now we begin the second singles match! For Japan Team, No. 20 Irie Kanata, against Second String Selection, Kite Eishirō!”

The two met at the net for the handshake. A glint flashed in Kite’s eyes as he smirked.

”How much strength do you plan to use this time, Irie-senpai? You might as well stick with your little performance—then I’ll have an easy match.”

”Ara~ Kite-kun, your expression looks scary. Almost like you’re thinking something dangerous~” Irie’s smile stayed on his lips, but a dangerous light flickered in his eyes.

”Is that so? Maybe you’re just mistaken, senpai. But surely you still remember your match with Yukimura~” Kite narrowed his eyes, the words cutting deep.

”Yukimura-kun’s strength is indeed above mine. Losing that match, I have no complaints. But I wonder, Kite-kun... how does your ability compare to Yukimura-kun’s?” Irie’s gaze sharpened for an instant before his smile returned, his voice faint but steady.

Around the court, the onlookers suddenly felt the suffocating pressure between the two. The air was heavy, prickling their skin with goosebumps.

At the referee’s signal, the two finally ended their ”friendly” conversation and moved on to the toss. Irie won and claimed the serve. Kite showed no reaction, his cold eyes sliding past Irie as he walked straight to the back court.

”Best of three sets! Japan Team to serve first!”

Irie stepped to the baseline, picking up a ball. Kite’s earlier words had stirred memories. Images of his match with Yukimura replayed in his mind—the first true mistake of his career.

”Performance, huh? The world is a stage, and we are all actors.” Irie quoted Shakespeare softly, then his eyes hardened with resolve.