Prince of Tennis: The Emperor's Eye

Chapter 272: Chapter 82: The Final Outcome of the Match

The seventh game was Atobe’s serve. Even though he was nearly half-crippled, he still gritted his teeth and walked to the baseline, took a deep breath, steadied himself, and tossed the ball high into the air. He couldn’t pull off Koori no Emperor or Absolute Zero anymore, but he figured a regular high-speed serve should still be fine.

”Service fault! Second serve!”

”Double fault! 0-15!”

Atobe’s face darkened. He hadn’t even cleared the net with either of those serves. Forcing himself to stand straight, he wiped the sweat off his face with his uniform and launched another high-speed serve. This time, it finally cleared the net.

But even so, it didn’t change their current predicament. Dragging his aching body, Atobe slowly tried to cover for Sanada, but all it did was delay their inevitable loss of points.

”0-30!”

After another high-speed serve, Atobe pushed himself to serve-and-volley. His body hadn’t fully recovered yet, but compared to before, the pain was at least bearable. Still, another power burst was impossible.

Ochi flashed to the ball’s landing spot and instantly smashed the return. Atobe tried to intercept at the net, attempting to pressure them into a lob with a smash, but that was beyond him now.

Luckily, Sanada exploded with everything he had left. Ignoring his stamina, he unleashed one technique after another, giving Mōri and Ochi no room to dominate—for the moment.

”Ability Synchronization, huh? So they’d been hiding that deep,” Byoudouin sneered coldly, watching Mōri and Ochi.

”Just one last struggle, right? Didn’t think those two would show no mercy to their underclassmen,” Tanegashima shook his head and smiled at the match.

”Maybe that’s exactly why—they want to force the full potential out of them,” Irie offered another perspective.

”0-40!”

While the high schoolers talked, Atobe and Sanada dropped the point. Both looked terrible. Sanada was hunched over, panting with hands on his knees, while Atobe, though still holding up physically, was sweating heavily—his face pale.

On the fourth point, Atobe gritted through the pain and attempted Koori no Emperor, but its power had dropped several levels. Ochi, gripping his racket with both hands, easily absorbed the force and returned the ball with a diagonal drive.

Atobe gave a bitter chuckle in his heart, though he kept a straight face and refused to give up. He rushed toward the net again. Sanada intercepted the return and unleashed the Black Dragon Quadruple Slash, but that move no longer posed much threat to the current Mōri.

This time, though, Mōri didn’t return the shot directly. Instead, he pointed out a position to Ochi, and the two worked together to unravel the sequence of triple reflections. On the fourth and final reflection, Ochi caught the ball squarely with his racket.

Ochi’s eyes locked on, and his right hand swung fast. In the blink of an eye, the ball landed on the baseline behind Atobe and Sanada—they couldn’t even react.

”Ability Synchronization—Teleport!”

”Game! Japan Team! 4-3!”

After scoring the point, Ochi subconsciously rotated his shoulder. Even with Ability Synchronization, pulling off teleport-level shots clearly put a strain on the body.

”Didn’t think Atobe and Sanada would end up this wrecked. The difference between the top ten and bottom ten of the First String really is another level,” Shiraishi said grimly.

”Don’t forget, those two have fought on the world stage. We won’t catch up to them in just a short time,” Oshitari responded with a sigh.

At that moment, the ones feeling the most complicated emotions were the members of Rikkai and Hyōtei. Their earlier matches against the lower-ranked First Stringers had made them think, ’These high schoolers aren’t that special.’ But now, seeing their captains and vice-captains this battered, they had to swallow their arrogance.

Now it was Mōri’s turn to serve. His feelings were mixed too. Honestly, he admired Atobe and Sanada. Two long-time singles players managing to hold out this long against him and Ochi was impressive.

But this was still a match. Even if it was an internal shuffle match, it was an official match. When they stood together to represent Japan on the world stage, they’d face even tougher and crueler opponents. So neither Mōri nor Ochi would hold back.

The eighth game played out just like the previous one—Atobe and Sanada were completely on the back foot. Atobe was in slightly better shape than before, but still nowhere near what he needed to be. He probably couldn’t even use Atobe Dimension anymore and could only focus on supporting Sanada.

Sanada, meanwhile, kept trying to disrupt them with Black Dragon Quadruple Slash, hoping to find a scoring chance with Abare Jishi. But the end result was still disappointing. Mōri’s full-court interception and control shut down all their attacks completely.

”Game! Japan Team! 5-3!”

Even though Atobe and Sanada had dragged the game out for a long time, they still couldn’t hold this one. Their situation was dire—standing right on the cliff’s edge. Lose one more game, and it was over.

”You alright, Ochi-san?” Mōri asked worriedly, seeing the sweat pouring off Ochi.

”I’m fine! Let’s just end this quickly!” Ochi gasped for breath and replied.

Ochi’s stamina wasn’t great—in fact, it was one of his weaknesses. His huge frame gave him reach and power, but it also burned energy faster. The only reason he’d lasted this long was because Mōri had taken on most of the intercepts this match, giving him chances to recover a little.

As for Mōri, his stamina wasn’t exceptional either, but he had one cheat-like ability—his sleep state. In that state, not only could he boost his power, but he could also reduce unnecessary energy drain.

This game was Sanada’s serve. His stamina was nearly gone. If not for his sheer willpower, he’d already be down. Standing at the baseline, he took a few deep breaths, trying to recover a little, then tossed the ball high.

A simple high-speed serve flew across the net. Ochi quickly reached the spot and returned. Mōri instantly moved to the net, locking his eyes on Atobe.

The rally began again. But everyone watching could tell—each player’s movements and shots were slowing down.

”0-15!”

”15-15!”

”15-30!”

”15-40!”

Even though Atobe managed to scrape a point with Atobe Kingdom, it wasn’t enough. They were at match point now—cornered with no way out.

Sanada was filled with despair and frustration. This was their first match as representatives of the middle schoolers against the First String’s top ten, and it looked like they were going to lose.

But no matter how unwilling he was, reality wouldn’t change. As Sanada served again, Ochi reached the spot quickly. His steps looked heavy though, like he was nearing his own limit.

Seeing the return, Sanada poured every last bit of strength into one final effort. Black aura surged around him, covering half the court. In that moment, a huge phantom appeared faintly from the black mist—an elegant man with white hair and golden eyes, clad in ornate armor, holding a long sword shaped like a katana, lightning sparking around him. Then the vision faded.

Sanada didn’t notice. He only felt power rushing through him, along with a sudden clarity. Without hesitation, he swung.

”Black Dragon Quintuple Slash!”

Mōri’s eyes flashed purple as he ran toward the right baseline. Ochi locked his eyes on the ball. The tennis ball refracted in midair, bouncing direction after direction. After the fourth, it curved straight toward Mōri’s position. Just as he extended his racket, the ball refracted a fifth time. His steps broke, and he couldn’t adjust in time.

The ball was about to smash the baseline and fly out when Ochi dove with everything he had. He hit the ground hard, but his long arm stretched the racket in front of the ball at the very last instant.

The ball hit his strings and ricocheted back in the opposite direction. Everyone’s eyes followed as it struck the top of the net cord. Instead of dropping, it bounced up slightly, then slowly rolled over to the other side.

Atobe sprinted desperately for the net. Sanada was already down on one knee, completely drained. But Atobe’s stabbing pains slowed him down, and in the end, he couldn’t reach it in time. He could only watch in despair as the ball bounced a few times, then stilled.

”Game! 6-3! Match over! Final score 2-1! Winner: Japan Team!”