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

When Tezuka Kunimitsu stood up, the sunlight fell directly on him.

A few strands of his short, brownish-red hair were tossed about by the wind before falling back down. The lenses of his square glasses reflected the light, obscuring his expression. He wore a well-tailored blue and white team uniform that accentuated the taut line of his back.

He took off his coat, folded it neatly, and placed it on the armrest of the bench, his movements unhurried. Then he turned to face the court, his gaze sweeping across the entire court, finally settling on the coaching bench of Hyotei, pausing for less than a second before looking away.

When he bent down to lift the racket bag, his left arm bent slightly at a very small angle, so quickly that almost no one noticed.

But Echizen saw it.

He stood to the side, his hat brim pulled down, his gaze sweeping over the severed arm. He pursed his lips but remained silent.

Tezuka didn't look at him.

Carrying his racket bag, he walked step by step toward the Seigaku court. The sound of his shoes hitting the rubber surface was drowned out by the surrounding noise, but his steps were steady and without the slightest hesitation.

Those in the stands who had been talking swallowed their words as he moved. Even the wind seemed to have died down; only the numbers on the scoreboard continued to shimmer in the sunlight.

"...Tezuka? Is it really Tezuka Kunimitsu?"

"Seigaku is playing a trick! No matter who Hyotei fields, unless Atobe plays singles against second man, they've basically lost this point."

"Do you think Hyotei might also change their lineup? Let Atobe play singles second..."

"It's too late. The roster was submitted before the match. The current lineup is set in stone. Who do you think Hyotei will field?"

"Yuushi Oshitari. This... this is like the story of Tian Ji's horse race! This is too clever a scheme! Using a top-class horse against a mid-class horse! Oshitari against Tezuka... is there even a need for a fight? Seigaku is clearly going to win this game."

"But who can they face in a one-on-one fight? Fuji? That first-year student? Can they even beat Atobe in a one-on-one?"

"Haven't you figured it out yet? The coach never intended for Tezuka to face Atobe! They moved their strongest player to position two, letting Kawamura fight tooth and nail to get one point, then Tezuka gets another, and they'll gamble on winning the doubles match to advance. Singles? Let whoever wants to play, play."

"...This is too much..."

"That's too sneaky! The captain hiding and playing the second position? Hyotei was originally good at playing Oshitari against Fuji, but now that Tezuka is up there, how are they supposed to win?"

"What do you mean by 'cunning'? Don't you even know what strategy is? The rules don't say the captain can't play singles against two. So what if Seigaku is betting on this one point? Kawamura injured his hand to win this morning, wasn't that paving the way for this game?"

"You actually believe Kawamura wanted to play?" A middle-aged man wearing a baseball cap interjected, his voice low but his tone undisguisedly sarcastic. "He had no other choice. Regardless of whether he won the previous two doubles matches, he only had one option this time: to win. Otherwise, Seigaku would be out of the game."

Therefore, he can only win points by playing a "fight to the death" style; injury is inevitable, it's just a matter of sooner or later. Seigaku is aware of this, but no one says it outright.

"That's such a harsh way to put it! What do you mean by 'fighting to the death'? Kawamura-senpai's fighting spirit was just that!" A girl from Seigaku immediately objected, turning back to glare at him. "And in your mouth, it becomes a calculated scheme?"

"Fighting spirit? Didn't you see he could barely lift his hand?" The middle-aged man scoffed. "As for scheming, not quite. But it was at least an expected option. The coach didn't call a stop, his teammates didn't say a word, the whole team watched him charge forward. You think they didn't know that a wave ball can injure the hand? They knew it very well."

Nobody wanted to be the bad guy who called for a halt.

"If the coach had stopped the game earlier, would he have lost half his arm? I think they had already calculated that they had to get that point, which is why no one tried to stop them."

"How can you be so cynical?" The girl's face flushed red. "What coach would intentionally injure a player? Kawamura insisted on playing; would the coach just forcibly pull him off?"

The people trying to break up the fight also fell silent for a moment.

"Of course, Ryuzaki didn't intentionally injure someone; he just assumed they would push through. Anyway, if they win, it's a team effort; if they get injured, it's the player's own fault for giving it their all. Either way, they're not at a disadvantage."

"Give me back my darkness?!" The man in the baseball cap sneered. "The Kawamura family owns a sushi restaurant. His dad always tells everyone his son is a regular on the Seigaku tennis team, how proud he is. Now his hand is ruined, he can't even make sushi when he goes back. Do you think his dad will think the word 'victory' was worth this price when he finds out the truth?"

"You..."

"I'm just telling the truth. Think about it yourselves, if Seigaku truly considers Kawamura one of their own, why isn't anyone stopping them?"

"I know his family's shop, it's on the street near my house. His dad really brags to customers every day about how well his son plays tennis." The girl with the ponytail said in a somber tone, "If this hand is really ruined, he'll have a hard time making sushi in the future. If his dad knew that his son was ruined like this for a match, he would be so heartbroken."

"Don't say it, don't say it, it's heartbreaking." The girl next to her nudged her arm. "Besides, it's not necessarily because the coach forced her, maybe she wanted to do it herself."

"Whether the person is willing or not is one thing, whether the school will stop them is another. If I were the coach, it's just one game, not worth risking my entire life for."

Amidst the commotion, someone noticed the empty Seigaku coaching bench and asked with a deliberately sarcastic tone, "Did you guys notice? The Seigaku coaching bench is empty. Where are the Seigaku coaches?"

"She went with Kawamura when he was carried away."

"Go back to the past? Does that mean we'll never come back? Seigaku is leading 2-1 right now, it's the crucial deciding game, and the coach isn't on the sidelines giving tactical instructions, she's off running to the medical building? Do you think she knows what's going on?"

"Well...you can't say that, can you? She might genuinely be worried about Kawamura..."

"Worried? Worried about sitting there and watching him break his arm? And if Ryuzaki Jin is really worried, why not just send a player who's finished their match to check on him? Why go in person? To put it bluntly, he just injured a player and then told the captain to avoid the match; it won't sound good if word gets out. He should hide in the hospital, out of sight, out of mind. After all, sitting here will definitely make people gossip."

"That's going too far," someone immediately defended Seigaku. "With the players injured like that, shouldn't the coach go with them? How come it sounds like he's guilty?"

The two voices went back and forth, arguing. Some of the surrounding audience frowned, some shook their heads, some whispered in agreement, and some turned away with smirks.

A middle-aged man in a gray tracksuit in the front row crossed his arms and turned to the person next to him, saying, "I don't care how you analyze it, I just think Seigaku's move is too ruthless. Kawamura's aggressive style, plus Tezuka now playing singles against two opponents, it's obvious they're trading their bare hands for a ticket to the next round."

"We've gone off on a tangent. Regardless of how ruthless they are, the rules don't say you can't arrange your formation like that. They're playing within the rules, so what's there to say?"

Those were just tactics.

As long as you know it was Tezuka himself who played, not a substitute. Tezuka himself took the racket and played the game honestly, didn't he? As long as he played honestly and didn't throw the match, what's wrong with that?

"Tactics? What about Kawamura's hand?"

"That was the price he paid for his own choice. In team competitions, someone always has to sacrifice. Even if we take a step back... he's not a three-year-old; if he knew the pain, why didn't he just give up?"

"Are you engaging in victim-blaming? A fifteen-year-old kid, caught up in the heat of the moment, says he wants to fight, and the coach actually lets him? What's the point of having a coach then? Just sitting there watching?"

"..."

Another voice drifted from the back row, with a hint of schadenfreude: "I think Hyotei deserves it. They were just tricked by Fudomine's 'Tian Ji' strategy at the Metropolitan Assembly, and they didn't even make a counter-strategy this time. Whose fault is it?"

"That's right, Hyotei is really something. They stumbled last time but didn't take precautions. They're probably going to run into trouble again this time." Someone immediately chimed in, their tone tinged with schadenfreude.

"Tch, how do you know they didn't have a backup plan? Besides, even if Seigaku wins, so what? Winning by cheating is not honorable."

"The roster was submitted this morning and can't be changed now. Besides, they won through tactical planning, so how is that considered opportunistic and an unfair victory? If you're so capable, why don't you try arranging the lineup yourself?"

……

"Tezuka probably wants to face off against Atobe from Hyotei, so why did Seigaku agree to this arrangement?"

"You're asking me? Who should I ask?"

……

The murmurs from the stands exploded like a haystack on fire, scattering in all directions, one topic after another, making it impossible for anyone to hear anyone else clearly.

It was even more lively than when Kawamura was injured.

Some people sided with Seigaku, some criticized Seigaku, some felt sorry for Kawamura, and some were simply watching the spectacle. Others were taking pictures of Seigaku's rest area with their phones.

The only thing that everyone agreed on was that the highly anticipated battle between the two factions would be scheduled to be held in a different way.

On Seigaku's side, Tezuka had already reached the edge of the court. He placed his racket bag next to the coach's bench, bent down to tidy his shoelaces, and moved very slowly, as if he wanted to do everything with perfect precision.

As he straightened up, someone walked over to him.

Ryoma Echizen, holding a bottle of water, walked to the coach's bench, placed the bottle on the armrest of the chair, and then glanced at Tezuka.

"Minister," he said, his chin slightly raised, his hat pulled low, revealing only his amber eyes. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried his usual air of arrogance. "Anyway, I'm not playing today, so it's alright for me to sit here, isn't it?"

Tezuka paused for a moment as he adjusted his strings. He turned his head, his gaze sweeping over Echizen's face before returning to his racket.

That glance was brief, and Echizen expected him to say something like "No" or "This is the coach's bench." But Tezuka simply looked away and tightened his grip on his racket.

"Sit down. Watch carefully, don't be careless."

Echizen grunted in agreement, stretching his legs out on the coach's bench, leaning back in his chair. He looked up at Tezuka's back, opened his mouth, and finally managed to squeeze out, "We have to win... otherwise Kawamura-senpai's hand injury will have been for nothing."

Tezuka didn't turn around, but his fingers tightened slightly as he gripped the racket.

Fuji stood at the edge of the stands, overhearing the speculations of the audience behind him. Watching Tezuka's retreating figure as he entered the arena, his brown eyes half-open, he stared for a long time before whispering, "...What they said was really awful."

The words were spoken very softly, and only the large stone beside him heard them. The large stone turned its head to look at him, but did not ask any further questions.

Kikumaru stood to the side, his eyes still red, staring at Tezuka's figure, his voice tense with anticipation: "Tezuka's on the field... He'll definitely win, won't he?"

Oishi placed his hand on the railing, his knuckles tightening slightly: "...Yes, Tezuka never disappoints us."

"That's right!" Momoshiro nodded vigorously from behind, his voice so loud it seemed to dispel the previous gloom. "With the captain on the field, this point is a sure thing! Captain Tezuka will definitely hold onto the advantage that Kawamura-senpai fought so hard for!"

The three first-graders in Horio also joined in the chanting:

"Go Tezuka-sama!"

"Let's win this game!"

"Qing Xue will win!"

The cheers for Seigaku were finally reignited in the stands. Although there was still a sense of heaviness after Kawamura was carried away, Tezuka's appearance was like a shot in the arm, pushing the feeling of "not being able to let them down" in another direction.

People from other schools' spectator areas also stood up and peered towards Seigaku.

From the Fudomine stands, Tachibana An was the first to speak. Leaning forward, her hands gripping the railing, her eyes wide, she exclaimed, "Brother, why is Tezuka-kun playing singles second? Isn't it Fuji-nii?"

Tachibana Kichihei stood beside her, arms crossed, his gaze lingering on Tezuka for a long while. He didn't answer immediately, as if he were going through something in his mind, before finally speaking.

"It must be a tactical adjustment on their part."

"Huh?" Tachibana An turned to look at him. "Does Fuji-nii have no chance against Oshitari of Hyotei?"

Kamio's sneakers, which had been rhythmically tapping the steps, stopped. He turned around, his tone slightly disdainful: "Anzu, after these last few matches, haven't you figured it out yet? Seigaku and Hyotei are not even in the same league. Those guys from Seigaku knew long before the match started that their chances of winning in a head-on confrontation were slim, so they cleverly adopted the tactic we all use, trying to catch us off guard."

"This isn't cleverness, it's gambling." Tachibana Kichihei stood at the front, arms crossed, not answering immediately. His gaze lingered on Tezuka for a long while before he slowly spoke: "Seigaku's lineup is very clear. They themselves aren't confident about the two doubles matches. They absolutely must fight for Kawamura's point, and they must secure Tezuka's point as well. If he wins, Seigaku will end the match 3-1, and who plays in the singles won't matter."

"They're incredibly audacious," Kamio frowned, patting his knee and quickening his pace. "What if Kawamura loses all three singles matches? What if they don't win a single game in the first three matches? Wouldn't they be completely ruined?"

"No. There's no 'what if'." Tachibana Kichihei glanced at him. "Seigaku's only gamble is that Kawamura will fight to the bitter end. As for whether they win or not, in their choices, there are probably only wins or draws, no losses."

"They were betting that Kawamura would fight to the bitter end, betting that he would win the singles match even if it meant injuring his hand. They were betting that Atobe wouldn't have his teammates risk their bodies just to win. That's why it's called a gamble."

Ishida stood to the side, his voice muffled, "We've all been hit by the Wave Ball too many times, so we should know how painful it is. Seigaku's move is far too significant."

Kamio clicked his tongue, his rhythm of stepping on the steps becoming much more disordered than before.

Tachibana An glanced down at her phone screen, which still showed Kawamura's desperate attack. She muttered softly, "So... Kawamura was so badly injured, just to get one point?"

Kichihei Tachibana didn't answer, but instead fixed his gaze on the blond boy in the stands of Hyotei and Rikkai Universities, his eyes filled with complex emotions. Back in the day, when he played aggressive tennis, he too had traded his body for victory, and he had witnessed his partner's injury and withdrawal from matches. What could he say?

Shinji Ibu stood behind, his fingers unconsciously twirling the hem of his tracksuit, his eyes darting around, muttering to himself, "How can you gamble like that? What if Kawamura loses? Tezuka would have been wasting his time at position two. Besides, Kawamura's arm is injured like that; even if they win, the cost is too high. It's uncertain if he'll ever be able to play again. Is it worth it for a group stage match? I think Seigaku's coach is too ruthless. He knows the wave shot injures his hand and doesn't stop him, just waiting for the players to fight tooth and nail to get points, right...? No, no, who would have thought Seigaku would actually put their captain at position two..."

He kept chanting, which gave Kamio a headache. She reached out and poked his arm. "Shinji."

"Huh?" Ibu looked up, as if he had just come to his senses.

"Could you please keep your voice down when you're muttering to yourself?"

Ibu closed his mouth, but his lips were still moving.

On the Shonan side of the castle, Wakato leaned back in his chair, a straw dangling from his lips, and swirled his drink, openly watching the spectacle: "Wow, Seigaku's move is ruthless. They figured out that Atobe Keigo never plays solo, so they put Tezuka in position two. Looks like they're determined to end the game in this round."

"But speaking of which, I'd really like to see Tezuka vs. Oshitari."

"Ryuzaki Jin's tactical arrangement is indeed very clever." Hanamura Aoi rested her chin on her hand, her wine-red curly hair blowing in the wind behind her shoulders, carrying a faint scent of perfume. She looked at Tezuka on the court, a playful smile on her lips, and said to Kajimoto beside her, "Move the strongest point to position two, avoiding the opponent's strongest singles player. This way, as long as we can win the singles match, position two will become the decisive game."

Kajimoto stood beside her, his gaze shifting back and forth between Tezuka and Oshitari on Hyotei's side. He nodded. "The lineup was decided before the match, which means they never intended for Tezuka to go head-to-head with Atobe. Atobe's strength is undeniable; Tezuka wouldn't necessarily fare well against him. It's better to avoid direct confrontation and secure the points they're sure to win. As for Seigaku... aside from their unseemly behavior, their tactics are sound. But..."

"But what?"

"But the cost of Seigaku's formation is too high." Kajimoto's voice was calm, but his eyes held a hint of disapproval. "Kawamura's Hadouken is a move that hurts the enemy a thousand while also hurting yourself eight hundred; Ryuzaki Jin couldn't possibly not know that. The fact that she didn't stop it means that from the very beginning, Kawamura's point was treated as a 'consumable asset.' It's an implicit acceptance of trading losses for a higher chance of winning."

Hanamura Aoi smiled. There was no mockery in her smile; it even carried a hint of cruel appreciation.

"You're right. That's the essence of Seigaku's move... They calculated that Kawamura would fight to the bitter end, and they also accepted the cost of that fight. Trading the arm of a third-year regular for a higher win rate in a singles match, and then for Tezuka's absolute advantage in position two. They've calculated this in their minds."

She paused, her tone softening slightly: "Ryuzaki Jin was right to assume Hyotei had a bottom line and wouldn't go toe-to-toe with Kawamura and exhaust themselves. If Kabaji had also recklessly engaged in a firefight, Kawamura might not have won. I just didn't expect to see someone at the middle school level using the sacrifice tactic so skillfully."

If someone turns their hat brim behind their back, sways their legs while sucking on a straw, and drops of iced drink drip down the bottle, spreading a small dark patch on the ground, "Wow. I thought middle school competitions were all about passion and guts, but I never expected something like this. Coach, your analysis is honestly a bit scary."

"Scary?" Hanamura Aoi glanced at him sideways. "This kind of thing happens all the time in professional matches. But for it to happen to a middle school student does make it seem...very novel."

Ruo Ren turned his hat brim back, swinging his leg: "So that old woman from Seigaku did it on purpose? Kawamura's arm, it was a scapegoat from the very beginning?"

"I don't know if she did it on purpose." Hanamura Aoi turned her attention back to the court, "but she didn't call a stop when Kawamura hit that ball. That's the answer."

"And... Ah Hong, don't put it so harshly. Competitive sports are all about strategy."

Kajimoto was silent for a moment, then whispered, "The match roster was submitted a long time ago. Hyotei and the others can't change it now. On paper, Tezuka does have a higher chance of winning. Coach... do you think Hyotei has any backup plans?"

"You just said on-paper strength?" Hanamura Aoi glanced at him and smiled. "If tennis were just about on-paper strength, that would be great. That kid, Oshitari Yuushi... he's quite mysterious."

Her gaze swept across the court, landing on the figure seated on the Hyotei coach's bench, then shifted to the Rikkai grandstand. "As for whether Hyotei has any backup plans?"

"I don't know either."

"But that kid is in charge of Hyotei; he doesn't seem like the type to let people fight unprepared. I'd like to see if he has any surprises in store for us."