Prince of Tennis: Shocking! Hyotei's Demon King is a Yukimura fangirl!

Chapter 201 The junior high school sports field is full of hot-blooded, impulsive youngsters.

Everyone turned to look.

Two people walked down the steps.

The person walking in front was dressed very fashionably. Their light gray sun-protective jacket was open, revealing a white V-neck top underneath. Their trousers were neatly tailored, and the laces of their limited-edition sneakers were tied meticulously.

His honey-brown curly hair was clearly well-groomed, he had a smile on his face, wore a pair of black sunglasses on his nose, and walked slowly, exuding a relaxed yet approachable aura.

He was accompanied by a boy, who walked half a step behind him.

The man's black sports jacket was zipped up to the top and buttoned up tightly. He was tall with a cold and stern look in his eyes and fair skin. His steps were small but steady, and he exuded an aura that kept strangers at bay.

"Yo, Ling, Seiichi."

The boy in front took off his sunglasses, revealing a pair of smiling eyes. He waved to them and said in a clear and pleasant voice, "I've been listening to you two for a while now. Your competitive philosophy is so insightful that it almost brought tears to my eyes."

"I originally thought that junior high school competitions were just a bunch of hot-blooded idiots. I underestimated them."

He took two steps forward, glanced at the arena, then looked at Wang Yueling, his tone carrying a familiar teasing tone, "We're a little late, didn't we miss any good shows?"

When Mochizuki Ryou saw them, she wasn't surprised at all. Instead, she smiled and stood up to make room for them, her demeanor composed and her tone natural as if she had known them for a long time, "Irie-senpai, Tokugawa-senpai, what brings you here?"

"Didn't I say I wanted to come and watch the last art exhibition?" Irie frowned slightly, feigning annoyance, then his smile deepened. He tucked his sunglasses into his collar, stepped aside, revealing the black-haired boy behind him. "Oh, right, Tokugawa also said he wanted to see the results of your training."

Tokugawa was exposed, his hands in the pockets of his sports jacket. His gaze swept over Mochizuki Ryo's face, then over Yukimura, and finally settled back on Mochizuki Ryo.

His gaze fell on the other person's expressionless face, his brow twitched slightly, and his voice was clear and cold, with a hint of inquiry: "You know me."

Ryo Mochizuki didn't deny it: "Tokugawa Kazuya-senpai, a second-year high school student, is the orderkeeper at the training camp. He's left-handed, a ball-control type of player, and adept at using spin to control the rhythm of the game. Am I right?"

Tokugawa's expression remained unchanged, but his right hand, which was in his pocket, clenched slightly.

Taneshima had mentioned this acting coach of Hyotei many times; he was young, highly capable, and knew the athletes in the training camp very well. But he never expected that the other party could not only accurately call out his name after just one glance, but also know some inside information without the slightest error.

This is information that an ordinary junior high school student should not have.

Unlike Byodoin and Taneshima, he had never competed in international tournaments and was virtually unknown within the junior high school community.

How did they know about him?!

Irie chuckled beside him, tapping his chin lightly with the arm of his sunglasses: "What did I tell you? He really does know everything."

"...Where did you know that?" Tokugawa finally couldn't resist his curiosity and asked.

"Well..." Wang Yueling tilted her head slightly, a slight smile playing on her lips, "Senior might find out later."

Tokugawa was puzzled, but he didn't show it on his face. He just nodded slightly, neither asking any further questions nor looking away.

Mochizuki Ryo turned to the Hyotei and Rikkai students beside her and gave them a brief introduction: "Let me introduce you all. This is Irie Kanata-senpai, and that's Tokugawa Kazuya-senpai over there. Both of you are very strong tennis seniors."

When he mentioned the "tennis veterans," he drew out the last syllable slightly, his azure eyes gleaming with a meaningful light, and he added mysteriously, "You guys play well, you might have a lot of interaction in the future."

Several people from Hyotei looked over, their eyes filled with curiosity. Niou raised an eyebrow, glanced at Irie and Tokugawa up and down, then looked away without saying anything.

When Irie heard Mochizuki Ryo say, "We might see each other often in the future," his smile remained unchanged, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes as he looked at Mochizuki Ryo.

He knew what Mochizuki Ryo meant by "frequent contact". Although the expansion of junior high school students into the U17 training camp had not yet been publicly announced, the Japan Tennis Association was already pushing for it internally.

These kids, especially the regulars from Rikkai and Hyotei, will most likely receive invitations.

This kid knows it all.

"That's true." Irie smiled and twirled his sunglasses in his hand. "Who can say for sure what the future holds?"

Upon hearing this, the students from Hyotei and Rikkai all showed great respect. Although Mochizuki Ryo didn't specify the exact identities of these two individuals, he personally stated that their strength was exceptional, indicating they were definitely top-tier.

Everyone nodded and greeted them respectfully.

Irie walked over with a smile and sat down in the empty seat next to him. Tokugawa followed behind him, nodded slightly in acknowledgment, and sat down as well.

Irie glanced at the scoreboard and clicked his tongue. Raising an eyebrow, he turned to Mochizuki Ryo, his tone slightly mischievous, "5 to 3, Hyotei's situation isn't looking good. The overall score is tied 1 to 1. If you lose this game, the pressure will be immense."

Ryo Mochizuki also leaned towards the railing and glanced at the field. Kawamura had just conceded a point and was panting, his right hand hanging at his side, trembling slightly.

"What's the rush?" He casually flicked Luna's ear tip, and the kitten shook her head in dissatisfaction. "The competition isn't over yet, there will be plenty of opportunities to win back. Besides, even if we lose, it's okay, we can win back later."

"Hyotei will definitely advance."

Irie was stunned by his confidence and certainty for a moment, then couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"You're quite open-minded."

"That's true." Mochizuki Ryo shrugged, glancing sideways at Yukimura, who was also looking at him with a hint of a smile in his eyes. "There are plenty of matches to play, you only have one pair of hands. It makes sense."

Irie nodded seriously.

"That makes sense. Many people have played for ten or twenty years and still can't figure this out, but you see it clearly at such a young age."

Renou, standing nearby, whistled: "That's right, when has our Coach Ling ever made a mistake? Puppina~"

Tokugawa's gaze lingered on Mochizuki Ryo's face for two seconds before quickly shifting to Kabaji on the sidelines. He had previously heard many strange tales about this acting coach of Hyotei from Irie.

Today was the first time I met him in person. He looked younger and more composed than the rumors suggested.

He watched Kabaji steadily return the ball on the field, lost in thought.

-

In the later points of the ninth inning, Kabaji clearly slowed down the pace.

His returns no longer aimed for direct points, but instead consistently sent the ball to Kawamura's forehand, forcing his opponent to return it directly. Every time a rally exceeded five shots, Kawamura's arm movement would slow down by a fraction of a second, revealing an opening in the ball's trajectory.

Birch didn't rush to break through the other side; it was like slowly grinding down a wall, hammering it one strike at a time.

In the third point, Kawamura finally forced Kabaji to retreat with a high-bouncing smash. He took a step forward to try and finish the point at the net, but his right arm suddenly twitched when he exerted force, and his racket flew out of his hand.

The ball landed on the net, bounced twice, and rolled back to Seigaku's half of the court.

"30-0."

Kawamura looked down at the racket on the ground, then bent down to pick it up. He used his left hand to pick it up, his right hand hanging at his side, not daring to exert any force.

From the stands behind him, Momoshiro finally couldn't hold back any longer and shouted, "Kawamura-senpai! Don't push yourself!"

Kawamura didn't turn around. He gripped his racket again and returned to the baseline.

Fuji stood at the very front of the stands, his brown eyes reflecting Kawamura's retreating figure, and said softly, "He's not planning to stop."

Tezuka paused for two seconds, then said in a very low voice, "...Yes."

In the fourth point, Kawamura used a fast-paced slice shot that landed right on the baseline. Kabaji rushed to return it, but his racket bounced a shallow shot. Kawamura seized the opportunity to move to the net and smashed the ball into the open space in Hyotei's half of the court.

The ball landed and bounced twice.

"15-30."

A shout erupted from the Seigaku rest area. Momoshiro slammed his hand on the fence, and Kikumaru yelled "Good shot!" The three first-year students from Horio jumped high with excitement, waving their support flags and shouting, "Well done, Kawamura-senpai!"

But the shouts quickly subsided.

Only Kawamura himself knew how much force he had used to hit that ball and how sharp the pain in his arm was.

He simply walked back to the baseline as if nothing had happened, his right arm hanging limply, his left hand gripping the racket handle, and bent down to pick up a ball, his movements so slow it was as if he were checking something.

He turned his head and glanced at his right hand.

The muscles on the outside of his forearm were twitching, visibly spasming, like a string stretched too tight and about to snap.

He gritted his teeth, gripped the handle with his right hand again, pressed his fingertips against the racket face, and pressed down hard, as if telling his hand, "Hold on."

"Wave Ball!!!"

Kawamura gritted his teeth and hit another powerful shot. As he swung his arm out, he could hear the faint sound of his tendons tearing, and the pain made his vision go black.

The power of this shot was noticeably weaker than at the start; the speed and power were significantly slower, and the trajectory wasn't as sharp as before.

Kabaji barely moved his feet, raising his hand to return the ball. The return shot went straight to the deep baseline, with plenty of power, forcing Kawamura to take two steps back to barely catch it.

He exerted force with his right arm again and swung the racket.

The moment the racket touched the ball, a tremendous force traveled through the handle, causing Kawamura's brow to furrow sharply. His entire right arm, from wrist to shoulder, tensed into a rigid line, and his teeth clenched so tightly they cracked.

The ball flew past.

But the racket slipped from my hand again.

The handle of the new racket slid out of his palm, tumbled twice in the air, and bounced once on the ground.

Kawamura himself was thrown back two large steps by the rebound force, his right hand trembled uncontrollably, and the grip strap on his palm scraped his skin, causing it to bleed.

He steadied himself, stood there bent over, his right hand hanging down, completely unable to be raised, his fingers slightly open and then closed, as if checking if he still had any feeling.

"Go, Kawamura-senpai!!!" Horio shouted from the stands, clutching his support flag, but his voice lacked confidence.

Katsuro Kato and Katsuo Mizuno, who were standing nearby, also shouted, but their shouts were sparse and were quickly drowned out by the surrounding chatter.

The stands erupted in chaos.

"It slipped off my racket? That ball was too heavy..."

"Is Kawamura's hand already too weak?"

"We can't fight anymore, we can't fight anymore, how can we fight like this?"

……

In the press box, Saori Shiba held her camera, her fingertips red and purple from gripping it so tightly. Frowning, her voice was filled with anxiety, "What's going on... Kawamura-kun's Hadouken isn't working anymore? It was perfectly fine just now! If this keeps up, he's going to get broken!"

Inoue flipped through the match records, his brow furrowing slightly: "My arm injury is starting to affect my power. I used the wave shot too frequently in the previous games, and my stamina and strength are almost depleted, so my power is definitely affected. Kabaji's form is still very stable, if this continues..."

"Hey, don't say such discouraging things!" Shiba Saori pursed her lips, her gaze fixed on Seigaku's half of the court. "It's 5-3 already, just one more game and we'll win! Kawamura-kun will definitely pull through! He's playing so hard, he has to hold on!"

Inoue sighed and said nothing more. He turned to Kawamura's profile page, which read "Power type, limited technique," the handwriting a little blurry.

The back-and-forth action on the field continued.

Kawamura straightened up and looked down at the racket on the ground. He bent down to pick it up, using his left hand while his right hand remained hanging down. He switched the racket to his right hand and tried to grip it, but frowned as soon as he tightened his grip. He then switched back to his left hand and walked back to the baseline.

He stood behind the service line, switched the racket from his left hand to his right, and gripped the handle tightly as if he were competing with himself.

The racket hung at his side, its surface brushing the ground, his fingertips trembling slightly.

The referee noticed his movement and took a step forward: "Athlete, do you need a medical timeout?"

Kawamura shook his head.

"Need not."

He returned to the receiving position.

The pace of this game completely changed.

Kawamura's arm movements became increasingly stiff, and the power of each of his wavy shots diminished. Kabaji, on the other hand, became increasingly steady, returning the ball precisely to the positions where Kawamura needed to move. Kawamura moved and swung his racket, his arm nearing its limit.

The score went up from 30-15.

On the final point, Kawamura gritted his teeth, turned sideways, and swung his racket, unleashing another wave shot. The yellow ball slammed powerfully towards the opposite baseline, its trajectory flatter and its speed far too slow to be impressive.

After Kabaji reached the baseline, he adjusted his grip. He glanced at Kawamura across from him; Kawamura was rubbing his right arm with his left hand, and his complexion looked worse than in the previous game.

He looked away, tossed the ball, bent his knees, and swung his racket, the whole movement as steady as if he were nailed to the ground.

The ball moves faster and is more powerful.

With a muffled "bang," the ball slammed into Kawamura's forehand side with heavy force.

Kawamura hastily swung his racket to return the ball, but the racket barely made contact with the ball. Even so, the enormous impact still sent a jolt through the racket handle. He gritted his teeth and hit the ball back.

My right hand started to spasm violently, and it was difficult to even hold the racket.

The ball bounced high and flew out of bounds.

Kikumaru leaned against the fence, stamping his feet in frustration. His eyes were red, and his voice was noticeably nasal: "Aron! Stop hitting him! You've already done so well..."

Daishi pressed down on his shoulder, saying nothing, but his brows furrowed even more deeply.

Fuji opened his eyes, his brown pupils reflecting the figures of the two on the field, and said softly, "Kabachi's imitations are getting better and better."

Tezuka stood still, his left hand hanging at his side, his fingertips slightly clenched.

The murmurs from the stands grew louder and louder.

"That was too fast! The game was over in no time. Kawamura is almost at his limit. He's playing with his last breath."

"Kabaji's playing too steadily; he uses the Wave Ball even better than Kawamura. And they're clearly stalling for time, waiting for Kawamura to collapse."

"Isn't this just slow suicide...?"

"Sigh, he can't lift his right hand anymore; I guess he's nearing the end."

"This is insane..."

……