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

Ryuzaki Jin was the first to rush forward. The Seigaku team members' expressions changed instantly, and they swarmed off the field to surround him, forming layers upon layers.

"Aron!"

Kikumaru ran over and squatted down beside him, reaching out to support his arm, tears welling in her eyes: "How are you? Your arm…"

Kawamura looked up, grinned, and smiled. The smile was weak and faint.

"We won..."

The sound was very soft, like the wind, and dissipated in a moment.

Kikumaru's tears fell instantly.

Oishi squatted on the other side, reaching out to support Kawamura's right arm. The moment he touched him, Kawamura frowned sharply, clenched his teeth, and let out a short, muffled groan.

Daishi dared not exert any more force, and with trembling hands released his grip. Looking down, he saw that the outside of Kawamura's right forearm was swollen, with the skin showing an abnormal dark red color, extending from the wrist all the way to the elbow.

"Let go, don't touch him." Fuji crouched down beside him, opened his eyes, his gaze grave, and looked up towards the referee's table. "Where's the doctor? Where are the medical staff?"

Echizen stood outside the crowd, his hat brim pulled low, obscuring his expression.

Tezuka stood at the very edge, looking at Kawamura's bleeding hand between his thumb and forefinger. His left hand, hanging at his side, was clenched tightly. His Adam's apple bobbed, but he ultimately remained silent.

The surrounding noises were a jumbled mess.

Kawamura was in so much pain that he couldn't speak, he could only shake his head and nod, and he couldn't even finish a sentence.

The medical staff on the sidelines rushed over, squatted down, lifted up Kawamura's sleeve, and pressed on his tendon. Kawamura shuddered in pain.

The air was filled with a faint smell of disinfectant mixed with the salty smell of sweat, which made one's heart tighten.

"No, he needs to be taken to the hospital immediately."

The doctor briefly examined his wrist, shook his head, and called for a stretcher outside, speaking quickly as he performed simple immobilization on Kawamura.

"Initial observation indicates severe swelling of the entire right arm, most likely due to acute tendon injury, accompanied by soft tissue contusion, and suspected partial tear. Avoid any movement; you must go to the hospital for imaging examinations first."

A group of people quickly walked over from the sidelines.

The butler walked at the front, followed by medical staff carrying a stretcher, two doctors in white coats carrying first-aid kits, and Sakaki Taro beside him.

"Coach Ryuzaki." The butler bowed slightly, speaking calmly, "We've already contacted Tokyo General Hospital. Our temporary medical building here has all the necessary equipment. We can do a preliminary check-up first and then wait for the hospital to send a car to pick us up, which will save time."

Ryuzaki Jin was taken aback.

She quickly realized that it was Wang Yueling who had arranged it beforehand. She felt a mix of emotions—gratitude, but also a little embarrassed. Finally, she nodded and whispered a thank you.

As Kawamura was helped onto the stretcher, he struggled to lift his head and look at Tezuka standing outside the crowd. His lips moved, and his voice was very soft, "Captain... I won."

Tezuka Kunimitsu crouched down, his gaze level with Kawamura's. He looked at Kawamura's pale face, nodded, and said in a lower voice than usual, "Yes. Take good care of yourself."

"The matches to come..."

"Don't worry," Tezuka interrupted him, his tone steady. "Leave it to us."

"Yes, Kawamura-senpai, don't worry about your treatment!" Momoshiro leaned closer to the stretcher, his voice a little muffled. "Leave the rest of the matches to us! Seigaku will definitely win!"

Kawamura nodded, breathed a sigh of relief, closed his eyes, and let the medical staff lift the stretcher.

Ryuzaki Jin followed the stretcher out, took a couple of steps, then stopped and looked back at Tezuka. "Tezuka, I'm leaving this to you. Don't be careless in the upcoming matches. I'll keep an eye on Kawamura's situation and let you know if I get any news."

"Okay." Tezuka replied, standing still and watching the stretcher walk away. His left hand hung at his side, and the old wound began to throb again, the pain perfectly matching the rhythm of his heartbeat.

There were people around him expressing regret, admiration, and sarcastic remarks. Tezuka seemed not to hear any of them, simply standing there with his back ramrod straight, like an unshakable statue.

Fuji walked over to him and followed his gaze. After a few seconds, he said softly, "Aaron is working very hard."

Tezuka didn't speak, but simply nodded slightly.

"But..." Fuji looked away, bent down to pick up the blood-stained racket from the ground, but didn't say the rest of the sentence that was on the tip of his tongue.

But is this kind of spelling really worth it?

He didn't know the answer either.

Staff members have already begun clearing the court in preparation for the next singles match.

On Hyotei's side, Kabaji walked back from the net, his steps neither fast nor slow. As the stretcher carrying Kawamura passed by him, he paused, glancing down at Kawamura's right arm, which was immobilized.

He paused for a moment, then turned and walked towards the Hyotei coaching bench.

Atobe had already stood up from the coach's bench. He crossed his arms, his gaze sweeping across the field as the stretcher walked away, his brow furrowed, and he remained silent.

Kabaji walked up to him, head bowed: "Lord Atobe, I lost."

Atobe looked away and glanced at Kabaji's wrist.

There is a small red patch on the outside of Huadi's right wrist. It is not swollen, but the color is darker than the surrounding area.

Atobe breathed a sigh of relief, his voice low, only clearly audible to Kabaji: "It's okay to lose. How's your hand?"

Kaba looked down at his right wrist, paused for a moment as if assessing something, then shook his head: "It doesn't hurt, it's just a little sore."

"I don't need to know if you're in pain." Atobe frowned, succinctly stating, "You should also go to the medical building for a checkup. Find out if there are any hidden injuries, then come back."

"Yes, Lord Atobe," Kabaji replied, raising his head slightly.

"Hmph." Seeing that he was still dejected, Atobe snorted, his tone harsh, but the look in his eyes softened considerably. "If you had tried to catch that ball, you wouldn't be able to move now. You'd win the game, but ruin your arm. I wouldn't even take that kind of victory if it were given to me for free."

Ryo Mochizuki walked over at some point, walked around the chairs and golf bags in the rest area, and stopped next to Kabaji. Hearing this, she smiled and said, "Bien joué. (Good job!) Takahiro. It doesn't matter whether you catch that ball or not."

Hua nodded, then looked down at her wrist, and said with a hint of grievance, "He hit me. I lost."

Ryo Mochizuki understood that Kabaji was trying to say that Kawamura had traded his arm for match point with those two sprinting waves. He could have caught the ball, but he didn't, and that's how he lost the game.

"Yes, he did it, and you also stood your ground. You both did what you believed in, but they're different."

Atobe neither confirmed nor denied his statement, glancing at him and scoffing, "Stop being so hindsight. You were the one with all the tricks before the game."

"Otherwise what?" Wang Yueling shrugged, looking completely innocent. "If Chonghong really hurt his hand by taking the hit, I'd be heartbroken."

As he spoke, he took Kabaji's hand, placed two fingers lightly on the outside of his wrist, and pressed along the tendon.

The force was very light, and the duration was very short.

After carefully examining the wrist, Wang Yueling took out an ice pack from her pocket, wrapped it around the injured wrist, withdrew her hand, sighed softly, and gestured to the butler, Yuan Ye, standing on the sidelines, "Chonghong, your wrist is still bruised. You should get it checked out properly. Go ahead!"

"Yes."

Sakaki Taro and Haruno Butler were already waiting at the edge of the field. Seeing Kabaji arrive, they led him towards the medical building. Haruno Butler even gave Atobe a slight bow, indicating that everything was arranged there.

Luna peeked out from Yukimura's arms.

Its little nose twitched, catching a whiff of disinfectant mixed with sweat—not too strong, but still enough to make it sneeze. Its restless little ears darted around in the air, and it used its tiny paws to tug at Yukimura's uniform collar, climbing up and craning its neck even higher.

Yukimura let it do its thing and didn't stop it.

Luna climbed onto Yukimura's shoulder, scanned the area with its heterochromatic eyes (one blue, one yellow), lingered for a moment in the direction of the medical building, then looked away, its tail tip brushing against the back of Yukimura's neck.

Yukimura tilted his head and rubbed his cheek against the kitten's ear tip, his voice very soft: "You think it's a pity too, right?"

Luna meowed softly. It rested its chin on Yukimura's shoulder and remained still.

"I hope he recovers well."

The murmurs in the stands subsided briefly after Kawamura was carried away, then surged up again, denser and more chaotic than before.

Some people were taking pictures with their phones in the direction of the medical building. Others were pointing to the side, gesturing to the people next to them about the trajectories of the balls. Some admired Kawamura's courage and said he was a true man. Others thought he was foolish, that it wasn't worth it for a game.

Some accused Hyotei of being cold-blooded, relentlessly chasing points despite their opponent's injury, deeming their victory unfair. Others even suggested a conspiracy, claiming Hyotei deliberately injured Kawamura, otherwise why would they have unleashed their full power precisely when they were trying to catch up?

"My God, he's been carried away again. He seems to be in even worse condition than Xiang Ri this morning. He's bleeding!"

"Of course. But what I'm more curious about is how he managed to hit those last two shots... His right hand was completely immobile. To be able to hit such powerful shots in that condition, isn't that a medical miracle?"

"Hmm, how can it not count?"

"Is it really necessary? It's just a qualifier, why did you hurt your hand like this?"

"What do you mean by 'it's necessary'? This is called fighting spirit! Whether it was Mukahi this morning or Kawamura in this match, they were both practicing 'doing what they know is impossible,' what do you know? Besides, we've won now, haven't we? Seigaku is now leading 2-1. If we win one more singles match, today will be over."

"Spirit is spirit, and action is action. If he stops playing, that's one thing, but what if he wants to? Is it worth trading an arm for a point in this game? He won for the team now, but what about later?"

"Indeed, and Seigaku is too ruthless. They didn't even stop the game when their players were injured like that."

"They made their own choice; what right do outsiders have to say whether it's worth it or not?"

"Exactly. It's a team competition. What's wrong with sacrificing a little for the team to win? That's called a sense of collective honor."

"Come on, the coach and the minister are both here. If they really wanted to stop it, wouldn't they be able to? To put it bluntly, isn't this just condoning someone using their body to gain points?"

"Seriously, Hyotei is so cold-blooded! Their opponent was injured like that, and they kept playing. Didn't they know to give them a break? They have no sportsmanship at all!"

"Are you sick? Why should Hyotei give up? A match is a match. If you're injured, you can withdraw. Why should you ask your opponent to throw the game? If you really care about sportsmanship, you should withdraw voluntarily instead of morally blackmailing your opponent."

"Exactly, if you can't handle the competition, don't come here. Why should they let you win? Being bad at competitive sports is the original sin. Who's to blame if you get injured?"

"That's right! Kawamura himself didn't call a timeout, so why blame the opponent? Just because someone is injured doesn't mean the opponent has to kneel down and lose."

"In competitive sports, strength speaks for itself. If you're injured, you should withdraw; if you don't withdraw, you should keep fighting. There's no reason to ask your opponent to go easy on you."

"You can't say that. They're all students. The opponent sacrificed so much; Hyotei went too far..."

"I don't understand this kind of sacrifice," another boy in a tracksuit interjected. "Kabaji on Hyotei's side was clearly holding back; he didn't put any power into the last few balls. Kawamura's win was also a result of their opponents letting him win."

"The opponent let him win? What are you talking about? If Kabaji really wanted to win, he could have just gone all out on those last few balls. Why didn't he? It's because he was afraid of injuring his hand. Kawamura wasn't afraid, so he injured his hand and won. How is that the opponent letting him win?"

"Exactly! If Hyotei really wanted to let them win, they wouldn't have been chasing so closely at the beginning. I think they just couldn't keep up. Besides, a win is a win. The rules don't say that players can't get injured, do they?"

"The rules didn't say it, but the principle was. You trade an arm for a point—what kind of sportsmanship is that?"

"Then what do you mean by competitive spirit? Is it wrong to give it your all?"

The two argued heatedly until their faces turned red, and the people around them quickly pulled them apart.

……

The extremists and moderates argued fiercely, each sticking to their own version of events. The sounds of their debate drifted down from the high stands, intermittent, like leaves fluttering in the wind and then falling back down.

Everyone had their own reasons, and it became a complete mess.

The press box was also in pretty much a mess.

Shiba Saori just stood up and took more than a dozen photos, capturing the scene of Kawamura being carried away on a stretcher, a close-up of Kawamura's bleeding right hand, and the scene of several Seigaku members surrounding him.

She watched Kawamura being carried away on a stretcher, put down her camera, her eyes red, sniffed, and muttered, "Inoue-senpai, Kawamura-kun really went through so much. He fought to the very end, even with his hand so badly injured, and he was still thinking about the team. He's so great."

Inoue took out his notebook, wrote a few lines of text for a bulletin board title, then looked at it again and sighed: "Great, yes, but the injury is really serious. The condition of his right hand just now was probably a torn tendon or something more serious. This kind of injury is terrible for a tennis player..."

He didn't continue.

"But...but he won!" Shiba Saori looked down at the camera screen, her thumb swiping through the footage she had just captured. Biting her lip and wiping her eyes, she said, "Inoue-senpai, why do you always pour cold water on us! It's good that he won. If we win the singles second match, Seigaku will advance! Kawamura's sacrifice won't have been in vain!"

Inoue didn't argue with her; he simply looked at the photos in her camera. He thought using the word "sacrifice" was too heavy a word.

Competitive sports should not be like this.

But seeing how excited Shiba Saori was, she ultimately didn't say it.

Inoue put away his notebook and pointed to a building not far away: "I just saw Mochizuki Ryo say a few words to the on-site doctor, and then the medical staff carried Kawamura to the side gate. That's the Mochizuki family's temporary medical building; the equipment is much better than the stadium's infirmary. He must have given prior notice."

Saori Shiba paused, then asked, "Why...why is he helping Kawamura?"

"He helps all the injured athletes." Inoue pulled out a medical aid guide posted by the tournament organizers today and handed her the one about the Mochizuki Foundation. "Athletes injured in today's match can get treatment there. This guy never leaves anything to be said about his actions."

Shizusa took the handbook, remained silent for a moment, and then whispered, "Well, he's quite... quite good."

Inoue glanced at her but didn't reply.