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

After finishing her reflection, Wang Yueling took out her phone, tapped the screen a few times, and sent a message to the butler of the wilderness.

[Medical team, prepare ice packs and tendon examination equipment, and have two orthopedic surgeons on standby. Bring the stretcher to the sidelines. Kabaji from Hyotei's side, and Kawamura Takashi from Seigaku's side, both have suffered serious right arm tendon injuries.]

After sending the message and putting away her phone, Mochizuki Ryo leaned back in her chair and sighed softly in French, "Dommage. (What a pity.)"

She had a perfectly good constitution; with proper care, she might have been able to recover. But now she's forced herself to do this, and it'll affect her ability to hold a sushi knife for the rest of her life.

His sigh was very soft, carried by the wind, and only Yukimura beside him could hear it.

Yukimura turned to look at him, a knowing glint in his eyes. "You knew he'd pull this move?"

"Hmm. I guessed it to some extent." Mochizuki Ryo nodded, a nonchalant smile playing on his lips. "The Seigaku people always like to pull off this kind of last-minute overexertion act. It's like they haven't really given it their all unless they've completely exhausted themselves."

He raised his phone and waved it, then sighed, "Kawamura's hand... it's not a regular sprain; it needs professional equipment for testing. The medical building is right next door, and it's fully equipped; it's more reliable than the temporary medical room at the stadium."

Yukimura didn't say anything, but simply reached out and straightened the kitten that had climbed onto his lap, seemingly lost in thought.

Luna was happily munching on a small fish bone, completely unaware of the commotion unfolding on the field.

Yukimura gently stroked its fur, his gaze softening slightly before returning to its usual gentleness. Looking at Mochizuki Ryo, a warmth welled in his eyes. "You always think things through so well."

"Maybe it's just my professional habit kicking in after becoming a coach." Wang Yueling shrugged, her tone tinged with helplessness. "Seeing someone crippled on the field, I always feel the urge to help! Anyway, I've given them all the necessary reminders and made all the necessary arrangements. I've done my best, and I have a clear conscience."

As he spoke, his gaze intentionally or unintentionally swept over Tezuka Kunimitsu in the Seigaku rest area. The boy, whose back was always taut, was staring intently at his teammates on the field, his left hand hidden in his sleeve.

It must have been clenched into a fist by now.

Wang Yueling felt a furry paw on his wrist, looked away, and tapped Luna's paw pad: "Luna, you also think this is pretty frustrating, right?"

Luna lay on Yukimura's lap, tilting her little head back and meowing in response.

Mochizuki Ryo leaned back in his chair, looking at Kawamura who was adjusting his state on the field, without saying a word.

Irie stood to the side, glanced at him, then at Yukimura, and smiled: "You two are quite in sync."

"Understanding?" Yukimura turned to look at him, a slight smile playing on his lips. "How so?"

"What you two were saying just now, about the athletes' health and the risk predictions," Irie said, twirling his sunglasses in his hand. "To be honest, there were quite a few hotheads when I was in junior high, especially on the tennis court."

Mochizuki Ryou glanced at him: "The way you're saying that, Irie-senpai, makes it sound like all middle school students are brutes."

"Look, there's a perfect example right here," Irie chuckled, "but you two aren't."

Yukimura didn't reply, instead playing with the kitten in his arms. Luna stood up from his lap, her two little front paws resting on his arm, her little head tilting back and forth as she looked at Tokugawa.

Tokugawa noticed it, looked down at it, and showed no expression.

Luna stared at him for a few seconds, then thought that this person, like that "dark two-legged beast," had terrible taste and was super unfunny. She shrank back into Yukimura's arms, burying her little head in the crook of his arm, leaving only her round back of her head facing outwards.

Irie smiled and glanced sideways at the haughty little cat, teasingly saying, "You're quite picky, aren't you? You didn't even like someone as handsome as Tokugawa."

"It has its own cat aesthetic." Wang Yueling glanced at Sanada and Tokugawa, who had been rejected by the kitten, and summarized their common ground, analyzing, "Maybe it doesn't find its cold appearance fun."

Tokugawa glanced at him expressionlessly and did not reply.

-

On the field, Kawamura took more than ten seconds to straighten up. His right arm hung down, clearly he dared not exert any force, his face was as white as paper, and his lips were bitten until they bled.

But looking at Kabaji across from him, his eyes remained stubborn. He gritted his teeth, swallowed the pain, and stood back in his position.

It's match point, and it's still his serve.

If they can get just one more point, Seigaku will win.

Kabaji on the opposite side seemed to sense something, shifting his position forward slightly, but still refrained from launching a rash attack. Atobe gestured to him from the coaching bench, telling him to play cautiously and not to be reckless.

Kawamura unleashed a powerful "burning serve," not the fastest, but with a very tricky landing point. Kabaji stepped forward to volley, the ball hurtling towards the net. Kawamura lunged to save it, almost lying on the ground, barely managing to lift the ball.

The next three or four beats were played.

Kawamura retreated to the baseline, watching the high ball fly towards him. He took a deep breath, the hot air in his lungs making his throat hurt. He gritted his teeth; the pain in his arm made it hard to hold the racket, but he couldn't stop.

My mind went blank, with only one thought remaining: to hit another ball.

He took a huge step back, swinging his right arm in a wide arc, pressing his entire weight down on it once more. His muscles were stretched to the limit, and the arc of his body pulling backward was greater than ever before.

"They've already fought their way this far..."

Kawamura glanced in the direction of Seigaku and shouted, his voice hoarse and cracking, "I don't care what happens to my hand, as long as Seigaku wins!!!"

The sound of the racket hitting the ball didn't sound like a typical tennis ball.

It looks like something broke.

"Bang!"

"Ah!!! Dash Wave Ball!!!"

The ball's trajectory was almost invisible after leaving the racket; only a yellow afterimage streaked through the air. The moment it hit the ground, it bounced in a nearly vertical arc, with a terrifying sidespin, like a living organism whose physical laws had been forcibly altered.

The entire room fell silent instantly.

Everyone stared at the yellow shadow, forgetting to even breathe.

Kabaji stood still, watching the trajectory of the ball as it flew towards him. His body reacted before his brain could process it; he raised his right arm, but his feet didn't move. He could catch it, but Atobe-sama had said that you shouldn't force a super dangerous shot.

The ball hit the baseline, bounced out, and struck the net with a dull thud, shaking the net.

Dead silence.

One second, two seconds.

The seventh game ended 11-9.

"Match ended, Seigaku won. Score 7-6."

As soon as the referee's voice fell, the fan-shaped formation of the Hyotei cheering squad instantly stopped flipping.

Cheers erupted in the Seigaku rest area.

"Great! We won!! Kawamura-senpai won!!" Momoshiro jumped up and shouted, his fist flying high.

Kikumaru jumped up and down, clinging to Oishi's arm, his voice trembling with excitement, "That was amazing! Another dash wave ball! Aaron was so cool!"

Horio Satoshi and his two fellow first-year students waved support flags, their voices hoarse from shouting, "Long live Kawamura-senpai! Long live Seigaku!"

Saori Shiba, camera in hand, frantically snapped photos of Kawamura on the court, tears welling in her eyes. Wiping away her tears, she exclaimed, "So cool! That's the spirit of Seigaku! Kawamura, you're the best!"

Inoue sat up straight with a furrowed brow, looking at Kawamura on the field. He tightened his grip on the pen, making a small indentation in the notebook.

They won, but the price was far too high.

People from other schools were also talking about it throughout the stands.

A few people were standing behind the fence in the viewing area of ​​Fudomine.

Kippei crossed his arms, his brows furrowed tightly. Behind him, Kamio leaned over the railing, craning his neck to peer at the field, speaking as fast as pinballs rolling.

"Kawamura's right hand is already immobile, so how can he still unleash a new special move under these circumstances?"

"It was probably forced out of him in this match," Tachibana Kippei said, his voice deep and steady as he stared at the field. "It was the potential unleashed under extreme conditions. But the price was too high."

Ishida straightened up, staring at the landing point on the field in disbelief, his brows furrowed tightly. He spoke in a low voice, "Another sprint wave ball... even more powerful than the last one."

The first move of the Wave Ball relies on the coordinated power of the waist, abdomen, and arms, concentrating the impact on the ball's rotation. My brother said that teenagers in their developmental stage should only use the Wave Ball as a last resort. Using it several times in a row will require at least half a month to recover your arms.

That's just the consequence of a normal wave ball.

Kawamura's innovative move uses the wrong power generation method, relying entirely on wrist strength and shoulder twisting to create impact. This method of power generation... causes far more damage to the arm than a normal wave ball.

"So he played that last shot with all his might?" Kamio stood next to him, looking at Kawamura on the court, who was pressing his shoulder, and sighed.

Ishida nodded: "This shot was generated more aggressively, with a stronger impact, but the wear and tear on the tendons and joints was exponential. He used up the last bit of his right hand's strength in that shot. The key point is that he did it with one hand while already suffering from overuse injuries..."

He didn't finish his sentence, but the meaning was clear.

Tachibana Kichihei lowered his arm and looked at Kawamura on the field with a complicated expression.

Ju Xing stood next to her brother, holding her phone in her hand.

She had just recorded Kawamura's last shot in its entirety; the recording was frozen at the moment he unleashed that powerful, sprinting ball. On the screen, the arc of Kawamura's right arm was almost beyond normal physiological limits, like a bowstring stretched taut to the point of near breakage.

She stared at him for a long time before whispering, "Brother, is he just like you were back then...?"

"It's different." Tachibana Yoshihira interrupted her, his voice a little deep. "Back then, no one stopped me, but everyone was watching him, and no one stopped him."

Kamio leaned against the railing, tapping his fingers to a rhythm slower than usual. "Team Tachibana, will Kawamura still be able to play tennis?"

Yoshihira Tachibana shook his head slightly, his tone carrying an indescribable complexity: "I've seen similar 'acute tendon rupture injury' in the Kansai region... For a tennis player, it basically means saying goodbye to tennis."

Ju Xing paused for a moment upon hearing this, then fell silent, seemingly lost in thought.

On the row of chairs in Chengcheng Xiangnan.

Hanamura Aoi leaned back in her chair, put down her phone, her wine-red curly hair was tossed up and down by the wind, her gaze fixed on the Seigaku half of the court, her tone tinged with a sigh: "The Sprint Wave Ball, a move that explodes at the limit, is indeed very entertaining."

And Takashi Kawamura… he burned himself out completely. You can call a player like that foolish, or you can call him admirable, but you can't say he wasn't serious.

Kajimoto stood beside her, his purple eyes fixed on Kawamura's direction: "He won. Seigaku is now leading 2-1."

"What's the point of winning?" Huacun turned to look at him. "Will he still be able to play tennis in the future?"

Kajimoto paused for a moment, then said, "No."

Was this victory worth it for him?

Kajimoto did not answer.

"A tennis player's career is inherently short, so having a memorable match during junior high school isn't entirely a waste. However..."

As she spoke, Aoi Hanamura tied her long hair into a low ponytail, her eyes filled with scrutiny. Then she remarked to herself, "Seigaku's management is even more lax than I expected. The team members are fighting tooth and nail, and the coach doesn't even stop them."

Kajimoto's eyes also held disapproval, but his voice was steady: "There are quite a few junior high school tennis teams that put passion first. In their eyes, nothing else matters when it comes to winning or losing. But I've never seen anyone like Seigaku Kawamura who is completely disregarding the consequences."

"That's why Hyotei's risk management is so remarkable." Hanamura Aoi rested her chin on her hand, her gaze fixed on Mochizuki Ryo's retreating figure, a deep admiration playing on her lips. "They placed the captain on the coaching bench in advance, just to stop Kabaji from overextending himself. With that kind of foresight, no wonder they were able to train Hyotei's doubles team so well."

Kajimoto nodded, followed her gaze, and sighed, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. "Coach, are you trying to poach our players again?"

"Is that not okay?" Hanamura Aoi smiled. "He has principles, he's resourceful, and he protects his players. It would be a shame to put such a promising talent in Hyotei."

Kajimoto shook his head helplessly, not replying, and turned to look at the field: "If it were me, I wouldn't let the players sacrifice their health for a single game. There's a long road ahead, and gambling our future on a single group stage match is too short-sighted."

Ruo Ren sat up straight, sipped his straw, and shook his iced drink. His tone became less joking. "I've played many superstars, but I can't play this kind of fighting style. I can't learn this kind of reckless behavior. This is just a junior high school competition; it's not worth risking the rest of my life for it."

As he spoke, he used his hat to cover his wind-blown hair, leaned against the railing, and whistled, "Speaking of which, Kawamura's sprint wave ball is really powerful. If I were to encounter it, I probably wouldn't be able to catch it either."

"If you can't catch it, you can dodge it." Hanamura Aoi glanced at him. "Nobody asked you to use your arm to catch it."

"Yes, yes, Coach, I understand." Wakato touched his nose, chuckled, and took another sip of his iced drink. "But Seigaku took a gamble this time. They won a singles match 3, but lost a regular player. If they lose the singles match 2 later, wouldn't that be a huge loss?"

Kamishiro remained silent. But his gaze lingered on Kawamura for several seconds before shifting away.

The viewing area in St. Rudolph.

Mizuki sat calmly in the stands, fanning herself slowly. She glanced at the scoreboard, then at Seigaku's dugout, a cryptic smile playing on her lips. "Seigaku won singles match three, now leading 2-1. But Kawamura's move is ruined... the price, tsk."

Akazawa stood beside him, frowning: "Are you making sarcastic remarks?"

"I'm not just saying that lightly." Mizuki closed his fan, took out a pen, and drew a big red circle on the page with "Kawamura Takashi's" name on it. Then, he sighed to himself, "I'm objectively commenting on their script. Ah, Seigaku is still the same as ever, relying on their players to carry them. If they keep playing like this, how many more players will they wear down?"

Whether this is a worthwhile investment... depends on whether Seigaku can win in the future.

Akazawa stood to the side with his arms crossed, and sighed, "Kawamura's drive is quite admirable."

Shinya Yanagi stroked his chin, shook his head, and said excitedly to them, "It's truly awe-inspiring, but... I can't do it. To ruin my hand to win a match... I can't do that."

"So you'll always be relegated to a supporting role in a script." Mizuki glanced at him, her tone indifferent.

"Oh dear, thank goodness we don't have to run into someone so competitive. Otherwise, it would be such a hassle." Liu Ze rubbed his shoulder, not arguing, and muttered with a grin, "Speaking of which, the next singles match should be Fuji vs. Oshitari, right? It's really hard to say who will win."

"Mitsuki, which side are you on?"

"I'm not taking sides," Mizuki said, a slight smile playing on her lips. "I'm just recording data."

Yuta stood next to Yanagisawa, watching Kawamura on the field, his lips pursed in silence. He thought of when he left Seigaku, and of his brother, and felt a pang of sadness.

"Brother..." he muttered softly.

Yamabuki's side.

"Wow, that last shot was really powerful." Sengoku rested his chin on his hand and clicked his tongue. "Lucky... no, today's events are anything but lucky. Sigh, Kawamura's hand will probably take a long time to heal."

"Sengoku-senpai, he's bleeding a lot... It looks painful." Tan Taichi stood next to him, adjusting the green hairband that had slipped down his forehead, clutching his support handkerchief, his face scrunched up. "His hand..."

"He's finished." Sengoku said bluntly, his tone devoid of sarcasm, only carrying an indescribable somberness. "He might never be able to play tennis again."

Tan Taichi did not answer.

Akutsu stood up, hands in his pockets, his silver hair slightly disheveled by the wind. He had always disdained this kind of self-indulgent sacrifice.

Winning is winning, losing is losing, but a victory like Kawamura's... is meaningless.

"Stupid thing."

"Eh? Akutsu-senpai, aren't you going to watch anymore?" Tan Taichi turned around and looked at him.

"Let's go." Akutsu's gaze unconsciously swept towards Hyotei, landing on Mochizuki Ryo, before quickly looking away. He turned and left with an impatient expression, "What a waste of time."

Sengoku smiled and shrugged at Taiichi, indicating that it was time for him to leave.

Tantaichi was taken aback for a moment, then quickly followed, calling out, "Akuzu-senpai! Wait for me!"

The coach, sitting beside them with a smile, shook his head repeatedly while fanning himself with a palm leaf fan. "Young people these days are too competitive. Health is the most important thing. Winning or losing a game is nothing compared to having your hands."

"Exactly, when it comes to playing ball, luck is the most important thing."

Several people from Liujiao Middle School were also discussing it.

Aoi Kentaro stood at the front, looking at Kawamura's reddish-purple arms, which could be seen from a distance, and nervously raised his hand to touch his buzz cut, which was scorching hot from the sun.

Kuroba Harukaze stood beside him, glanced down at him, and patted him on the shoulder: "Kentaro, stop looking."

"But..." Aoi Kentaro's voice was a little hoarse, "Will he still be able to play ball in the future?"

Kuroba did not answer.

Tengen Hikaru stood to the side, watching the scene unfold. After a long silence, he finally spoke, "He's burning... finished. *splat*"

Kuroba glanced at him, unusually refraining from making fun of his lame jokes.

A cacophony of voices mingled together, flooding the entire stadium like a tidal wave.

-

The cheers from Seigaku didn't last long before they came to an abrupt end.

On the field, Kawamura stood still, heard the score announcement, and watched the ball hit the net and roll back. He had just managed a slight smile when suddenly all his strength seemed to be drained away, his knees buckled, and he knelt down.

The racket in his hand fell to the ground with a thud. Red bloodstains were stained on the yellow handle, standing out starkly against the orange-red plastic surface.

He clutched his right arm, his back hunched, large beads of sweat dripping from his forehead. His lips were pale with pain, but he didn't cry out; he just bit his lower lip, leaving a white mark.

"Kawamura!!!"