Prince of Tennis: The Emperor's Eye

Chapter 438: Chapter 117: Spain’s Regulars Make Their Debut

”So it really ended 6–4 in the first set, huh? I still don’t get why you’re so obsessed with that score, Kiko~” Ryōga chuckled from the stands. He had already predicted the outcome—after all, every match Kiko won always ended 6–4.

While the United States and Greece began their break between sets, another doubles match was taking place on a nearby court—Spain versus China. Earlier that day, China had barely managed to edge out Russia thanks to a surprising lineup choice, earning a spot in the quarterfinals. But against Spain, the match was one-sided from the very start.

Chen Guang watched helplessly as his opponent seemed to float midair. That kind of motion wasn’t something any normal human could pull off. The instant the sound of the strike echoed, the ball flashed past his vision and was already behind him.

Fortunately, his partner Bian Kai had rushed to the backcourt in time, intercepting the ball and returning it with a sharp backhand slice that spun low toward Spain’s right baseline. But by then, Rodrigo Roca Rodrigo was already waiting there.

”Distance: 21.87 meters. Wind direction: southeast by south. Wind speed: 2.6 meters per second. Target locked—sniping!” Rodrigo’s eyes locked onto Bian Kai, and he swung his racket with lightning speed.

The ball blurred into a streak of light and struck Bian Kai’s right wrist dead-on. With a hiss of pain, his racket flew from his hand, and the ball zipped past the baseline.

”Game! Spain! 5–0! Change ends!”

”You okay, Kai?” his teammates asked as the two China players came off the court.

”I’m fine, just sore. No muscle damage—it looks like he went easy on me,” Bian Kai said, shaking his head.

”I knew Spain would be strong since they’re part of the Big Four, but this is ridiculous!” Team leader Director Liu wiped the sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief, grumbling.

”This was expected before the match even started,” Coach Wang Linhua sighed. ”Those four nations are no joke. All we can do now is play our best and let fate decide.”

”Coach Wang, that’s not the attitude you should have! How can you undermine your own team before the match is even over?” Director Liu shot back sharply, clearly displeased.

”What do you know, you outsider! Always shouting ’keep it positive, keep it positive’—this is a match, not one of your banquets or PR events!” Wang snapped immediately, glaring at him.

The China players on the bench stayed calm—clearly, they were used to this. The two men argued almost every day. Ever since the team had been formed, they hadn’t stopped bickering once.

”Outsider? Don’t forget, Coach Wang, I was the one who went through the strict selection process and gave you the perfect team roster! But what did you say back then, huh? That these players just look good on paper and are useless in real matches!” Director Liu started dragging up old arguments.

”And was I wrong? You know better than anyone how those ’perfect’ résumés were made!” Wang’s anger flared again, his tone sharp.

”So now you’re blaming me? Listen, Wang Linhua—if China doesn’t make the semifinals this year, it’s all on you!” Director Liu shot back, his voice rising.

Just as it looked like they might actually come to blows, the break ended. Chen Guang and Bian Kai grabbed their rackets and hurried back onto the court, eager to escape the brewing storm.

But under the relentless assault of Bianbori and Rodrigo, they had no chance to fight back. No matter how hard they tried, every rally was just futile resistance.

After returning one of Rodrigo’s baseline drives, the ball sailed toward the center line. The next instant, Bianbori took a running leap—using the iron post by the net as support, he vaulted high into the air. Flipping midair, he swung his racket down in a blinding arc.

The spinning ball traced a sharp curve through the air, threading precisely between Chen Guang and Bian Kai before slamming onto the center of the baseline and bouncing out of bounds.

”Game! 6–0! First set complete! Winner: Spain! Overall score, 1–0!”

”17 minutes and 0 seconds! Bambieri, you really don’t miss by a single second!” Julio laughed as Bambieri walked off the court.

”Of course. Punctuality’s my thing. But hey, are you guys really not playing today?” Bambieri asked, glancing at Medanoré and the others.

”Whether it’s the U.S. or Greece who wins next, neither will be easy opponents,” Medanoré replied with a calm smile. ”Saving our energy is part of the plan. Besides, I don’t believe Adrian’s team will lose anyway. And more importantly—what really matters is Love and Peace.”

”Fine, whatever makes you happy,” Bambieri shrugged indifferently.

”Rodrigo, your sniping power’s still a bit weak~ Want me to give you a special training course?” Mares de Colón said with a teasing wink.

Rodrigo stayed silent, unsure how to respond. Truth be told, when it came to long-range precision, Mares was indeed the superior one.

”News just came in,” Romeo suddenly said. ”The U.S. lost their second doubles match—and it looks like they forfeited on purpose.”

”Not surprising,” Medanoré replied, his tone calm but laced with disdain. ”The Greek team isn’t as simple as they look.”

”Game! 6–4! First set complete! Winner: Switzerland! Overall score, 1–0!”

At the Japan versus Switzerland match, Danji and Ishida stood in the center of the court—one clutching his right hand, the other holding his left. Both looked pale and grim. They had fought with everything they had, yet still lost in the end.

Worse still, their condition was clearly bad. Whether they could even continue into the second set was uncertain. The faces of the Japan team around them were equally heavy—no one wanted to see their representatives lose like this.

As soon as Danji and Ishida returned to the bench, the medical staff rushed over with ice packs. A pair of professional sports masseurs began working on their arms to relax the muscles.

Normally, there wouldn’t be masseurs at all—but ever since Akashi joined U-17, this fine tradition from Fudomine had been brought into the program, and not even the World Cup was an exception.

”You two brats, listen up!” Mifune barked with a sharp tone. ”Winning or losing matters, but I don’t want injuries on my watch! Do your best, but don’t push beyond your limit, and definitely don’t wreck yourselves, got it?”

Everyone who heard Mifune’s words instinctively glanced at Byoudouin and Duke. They still remembered the last World Cup—Byoudouin had forced himself to play Duke in singles despite a serious injury, only to suffer a crushing defeat.

”Hmph, pointless talk,” Byoudouin muttered, clearly not interested in joining the conversation.

”Coach Mifune! I understand what you mean, but if we just give up like this, I can’t accept it!” Danji gritted his teeth, refusing to back down.

”I feel the same,” Ishida said firmly. ”Since I’ve stepped onto the court, I won’t quit until the very end.”

”You damn brats!” Mifune snapped, clearly furious at their stubbornness. ”Fine, if you’re that eager to die, I won’t stop you!” he growled, but as he said it, he threw Akashi a look.

Akashi gave a slow nod in return. He had been monitoring their arms closely the whole time. The strain was heavy, but not yet at its limit.

Under the worried eyes of the Japan team, the time for the second set arrived. Danji and Ishida walked back onto the court with steady, determined steps, while the Swiss ”Twin Walls” followed right behind.

The first game began with Pugu’s serve. He launched the ball with explosive power, clearly holding nothing back. After the previous set, they had fully gauged Japan’s strength.

Ishida dashed across the baseline, reaching the ball’s landing point. His racket whipped forward as the ball bounced up—and the instant the strings met, all movement in the ball vanished. Then, with a fierce shout, a massive yellow shockwave burst from his racket.

”Two Hundred and Sixteenth Hadoukyu!”

”That nullification technique makes it hard to generate full power... so he can’t hit the Final Hadoukyu?” Mitsuya murmured from the bench, jotting notes on his tablet.

Federer stepped in just as the ball cleared the net, already in perfect position—he’d predicted the path. His muscles tensed as he swung, his racket striking down with explosive force.

”Heavy Artillery Bombardment!”

A violent shockwave erupted from the racket face, blasting the ball across the court at terrifying speed. Danji gritted his teeth and charged forward.

”Face-to-face battle—that’s what makes a man! Finishing Move—Man’s Winter!”

With a roar, Danji swung hard. A deafening impact rang out, and the next moment his body was sent flying backward through the air.