Prince of Tennis: The Emperor's Eye

Chapter 430: Chapter 109: Murderous Tennis

The match quickly resumed. The second game was Cape’s serve, but judging by his current state, it was clear he wouldn’t be delivering anything impressive. Sure enough, when he tossed the ball and swung his racket, it slammed straight into the net.

”Fault! Second serve!”

Fighting the dizziness clouding his head, Cape steadied his breathing and tossed the ball again. This time, it barely cleared the net, landing in the open left corner of the court.

Kimijima darted forward, reaching the landing spot in a flash. His right arm swung decisively, striking the ball with a low slice. The spinning shot curved sharply toward the right sideline. Seeing it coming, Campbell rushed several steps across the baseline and stretched his racket to intercept.

The instant the ball made contact, it spun wildly, ricocheting back upward before Campbell could react. The ball shot high into the air—only for Kimijima, already at the net, to leap up and meet it midair.

”Burning... like a volcano’s eruption!” Kimijima intoned poetically as he brought his racket down with a fierce smash.

The ball streaked past Campbell’s shoulder like a blur of light and slammed into the center line. Cape stumbled forward, trying to intercept, but his blurred vision betrayed him. The ball skimmed past the edge of his racket.

”0–15!”

”How are you feeling? Still not recovered?” Campbell asked with visible concern as he glanced toward his partner.

Cape didn’t answer. He only shook his head slightly, signaling that he could continue, and took his position at the baseline once more. He tossed the ball again, forcing his focus back into the match.

The serve flew toward Kimijima’s right baseline corner. His rhythm seemed steadier now, but to Kimijima, this was nothing more than a simple warm-up.

With an effortless swing, Kimijima launched a high lob that soared across the entire court, arcing above both opponents before dropping neatly toward the back line. Cape sprinted forward, determined to meet it before it hit the ground, and swung.

”Reflect... like a mirror’s surface!” he muttered. But before the ball even crossed the net, a racket blocked it cleanly. Kimijima had already appeared at the net, tilting his wrist slightly—sending the ball off at a sharp angle, just barely clipping the line before bouncing out.

”0–30!”

Campbell clenched his jaw, frustrated. He had instinctively stepped back a few paces when he saw the lob, worried for Cape’s condition, and that hesitation had cost them the point.

”Kimijima-senpai’s control over people’s emotions is terrifying. Good thing he’s on our side,” Chitose murmured from the Japan bench, half in awe.

”I was wondering why he lobbed earlier,” Tachibana said with a nod. ”So he used the opponent’s concern for his partner as bait.”

”They’re not in sync anymore,” Akashi said quietly, his tone grave.

”Hmph! Fooling around at a time like this? If they lose because of that, I’ll crush them myself,” Byoudouin growled, clearly irritated as he folded his arms.

The rest of the Japan players exchanged confused glances, not fully understanding what was happening. Only Irie and Oni frowned deeply, their eyes flicking between Kimijima and Toono with quiet intensity.

When Cape served the third time, Toono’s expression twisted into something almost gleeful. He sprinted toward the ball’s path, eyes narrowing like a predator locking onto prey.

”Break’s over! Execution Method Number Five—Columbian Neck Tie!” His voice trembled with mania as he swung. Kimijima’s gut tightened with unease.

The ball flew across the court like a bolt of lightning, slamming directly into Campbell’s throat. A choked scream tore from his lips as blood sprayed from his mouth. The sheer force of impact sent him flying backward before collapsing onto the ground. Cape rushed forward and caught him just in time.

”0–40!”

”Don’t get carried away, Toono! Control yourself!” Kimijima snapped, his tone harsh as he glared across the net.

”Shut up! Once the blood ritual begins, no one can stop it!” Toono’s eyes gleamed faintly red, his voice filled with deranged energy.

”Damn it... that brat! He’s entered Tennis High mode at a time like this!” Mifune’s face darkened at the bench. He hadn’t expected Toono’s condition to surface now, of all times.

When Toono had first joined the U-17 camp, Saitō Itaru had already noticed signs of his unstable mental state. After several psychological tests, they finally confirmed it—Toono was born with a latent mental disorder.

They called it Tennis High—a condition in which his cruelty and aggression spiked dramatically, while his rationality plummeted. At his worst, Toono would lose all sense of restraint... even attacking the umpire if provoked.

Toono losing control mid-game. Byoudouin had already warned him more than once to get a grip on his emotions.

Unfortunately, this hidden mental condition wasn’t something Toono could completely control himself. Though Mifune’s specialized training had greatly reduced the frequency of his outbursts, it still couldn’t eliminate the problem entirely.

Now, the signs of another episode were obvious. Kimijima noticed the referee’s uneasy expression; if not for the fact that Toono hadn’t done anything explicitly illegal yet, the match would likely have been stopped already.

But Kimijima knew—if the referee ever decided to penalize Toono, in his current state, the official would become the first target of Toono’s rage. If that happened, Japan would immediately lose the doubles match by default.

Even so, no matter how worried Kimijima was, the match had to continue. Once Campbell managed to recover, Cape’s eyes burned with fury as he launched a powerful serve, the ball’s trajectory clearly aimed straight at Toono’s body.

The young Swiss player had finally had enough of Toono’s cruelty. He wanted to retaliate. But to Toono, a body shot like that was nothing more than child’s play. His lips twisted into a deranged grin, his sharp gaze locking instead onto Campbell.

”How could I let you get away so easily? Execution Method Number Four—Pear of Anguish!” Toono shouted, swinging his racket with savage force.

The ball flew with an unnatural curve, rocketing toward Campbell. The Swiss player took a deep breath, trying to stabilize himself, but just as he braced to swing, the ball struck the ground in front of him and bounced upward at a strange angle.

To his shock, it came straight for his face. In that split second of hesitation, Campbell suddenly felt something slam into his mouth—followed by a ripping, unbearable pain that sent him collapsing to his knees.

”Game! Japan! 2–0!”

The referee announced the score, but his voice carried a trace of anger and warning. Everyone in the stadium could hear it.

The referee wasn’t angry because Toono had injured another Swiss player—he was furious at Toono’s brazen, mocking attitude. The boy’s expression made it clear he didn’t even acknowledge the official’s authority.

Meanwhile, the Swiss team glared at Toono with murderous intent. If it weren’t for the ongoing match, several of them would’ve rushed the court already. Even Amadeus and Tastat’s eyes darkened with hostility, a dangerous gleam flashing within them.

——————

While Japan and Switzerland’s brutal match continued, another bloody scene was unfolding on a different court. The American player Max Will lay sprawled on the ground, his body covered in blood and dirt.

His partner, Dodo, looked equally battered but was still standing. His eyes blazed with fury as he stared at their opponents—two middle schoolers from the Greek team.

”I thought the American team would be strong,” Orion sneered mockingly, glancing at the fallen Max before turning lazily to his brother. ”But it turns out they’re just a bunch of weaklings, right, brother?”

”We shouldn’t underestimate them completely,” Apollon replied coolly. ”After all, they are the American team... though at this level, they’re hardly worth our time.” Despite his words, the same disdain colored his tone.

”Hey—so this is what you call tennis, huh? Greek-style?”

A sharp voice cut in. Echizen Ryōma had appeared by the Greek bench, his eyes cold and piercing as he glared at Zeus.

”I don’t deny those two boys are... special,” Zeus said calmly. ”I’ve been trying to correct their way of playing, but sadly, I haven’t found the right opportunity yet.”

Ryōma’s expression darkened. He didn’t care for the excuses.

”I’ll defeat your Greek team fair and square,” he declared, his tone low but filled with conviction.

Zeus didn’t reply—but before he could, Hermes spoke up from beside him, his voice cold and dismissive.

”Save that talk until you actually win today’s match, Echizen Ryōma.”