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

In the match game, Atobe served the first Tannhäuser serve, which was unlike any of the previous ones.

After landing, the ball didn't slide to one side as usual. Instead, it veered twenty centimeters to the left, then, as if pulled by some force, turned back to the right, like a yellow snake slithering along the ground, finally landing firmly in the corner inside the sideline. The spin was ridiculously strong; when the ball grazed the ground, it even kicked up some plastic scraps.

Tezuka stood at the baseline, his foot only moving half a step.

It wasn't that he didn't want to catch it; it's just that Tezuka's territory simply couldn't hold onto the ball. The spin was too chaotic, and the trajectory was completely outside the predictable range. By the time he reacted, the ball had already stopped inside the boundary.

……

The murmurs from the audience gradually dissipated.

"My God! Tannhäuser can fight like that? I've never seen that before!"

The middle-aged man in the baseball cap sat up straight, his hands gripping his knees tightly, his face full of shock. "This shot... is more than one level better than before. That shot had double sidespin after landing, swaying left and right, making it impossible to predict the landing point."

The boy in the blue T-shirt in front of him leaned over, looking bewildered, and asked, "Huh? What's the difference between this and skating on the other side before?"

"The difference is huge!" The man glared at him. "The spin of a single-sided slice is fixed, and Tezuka's style can use the opposite spin to pull the ball back. But with this kind of two-way change-of-direction spin, the trajectory after landing is unpredictable, and Tezuka can't calculate the direction of spin at all, so he can't pull the ball back!"

His words were full of admiration, "To be able to serve to this level in junior high school... Keigo Atobe, you're a monster."

……

In the press box, Saori Shiba held her camera, but didn't press the shutter for a long time. The ball had been too fast; she hadn't even been able to focus, and the photos she took were all blurry afterimages.

She bit her lip, glancing towards Hyotei with a hint of resentment in her eyes. "It's okay... it's only one ball. Captain Tezuka will definitely be able to handle it."

Inoue quickly took notes beside him, the pen scratching against the paper, and muttered, "Improved Tannhäuser, bidirectional side spin, uncontrollable landing trajectory. Tezuka's Domain is ineffective."

"It seems this is Atobe Keigo's true level. Compared to this, the previous Tannhäuser was like a warm-up ball..."

In the stands of Yamabuki Junior High School, Ban-lao stared intently at the court before slowly speaking, "The younger generation is truly formidable. Few professional players can achieve such precision in controlling this high-difficulty compound spin serve."

Sengoku, standing nearby, looked completely bewildered. "Coach, what's a compound spin?"

The old man gently tapped his head with a palm-leaf fan. "It's like a ball with two forces hidden inside. It looks like it's sliding to the left, but after you run past it, it turns to the right. It's impossible to defend against."

Sengoku's eyes widened. "That's outrageous! Can Tezuka, relying on his 'brilliant talent' and 'honed' instantaneous reflexes, even catch that?"

The old man didn't answer directly, but simply shook his head. "Watch closely. This is the last round."

Akutsu, who was still annoyed by Kawamura's appearance, was also drawn to the commotion on the field. His gaze fell on Atobe, and his eyes were filled with fighting spirit.

Back in Shonan, Hanamura Aoi pushed up her glasses, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

Her pen flew across the notebook, the handwriting slightly shaky, and her smile deepened. "Dual-sided compound crossover Tannhäuser... the wrist control is amazing. Having a good coach makes all the difference; even this high-difficulty serve system has been honed to such a high degree."

Kajimoto stared at Atobe on the field for a long while, then said softly, "...So he hadn't been going all out all along."

"Those Tannhäuser serves in the first eight games were all adjustments. He was testing the limits of Tezuka's range and his own power curve. Then, on that last shot, he used all the results of those adjustments."

If someone is holding a straw in their mouth, clutching the bottle but forgetting to drink, they might say: "So he planned from the beginning to use the full version only in the last round?"

"Yes." Hanamura Aoi lowered her hand that had been supporting her chin, her eyes filled with undisguised admiration. "He just needs to finish with the most perfect and magnificent thing in the last four goals."

In the viewing area of ​​St. Rudolph, Kanzuki watched Atobe on the field, then looked down at the dense data on his notebook.

"No, the data doesn't match at all... We have to scrap it and recalculate."

He flipped through his notebook, speaking rapidly, "Compound spin Tannhäuser, landing 30 centimeters inside the sideline, two layers of spin... These balls weren't in the previous data at all. Just how much has Atobe been hiding...?"

Akazawa stood beside him, swallowing hard. "Then...does Tezuka still have a chance?"

Mizuki glanced at him sideways and snorted, "Opportunity? What are you going to use to seize an opportunity? Tezuka's arm is useless; he won't last more than a few minutes. Atobe's serve is a sure win."

On Rikkai's side, Kirihara, who was squatting on the steps, now squatted down, his whole head sticking out forward, his eyes wide open: "This serve is outrageous... If I were up there, I definitely wouldn't even be able to touch the ball."

Niou also dropped his joking expression, leaned forward slightly, and focused his gaze on Atobe's wrist. "That rotation intensity must be putting a lot of strain on his wrist. This guy is really willing to risk everything to win."

Yagyu pushed up his glasses. "Ling must have helped adjust the way he exerted force, otherwise his wrist wouldn't have been able to withstand such a strong lateral rotation."

"I don't believe there wasn't an adjustment." Irie glanced at the proud man on the side, and pulled his sunglasses down a little from the bridge of his nose. "Atobe's serve has layered spin. The outer layer is sidespin, and the inner layer is topspin. After landing, the two layers of force are released one after the other, which messes up the trajectory. Tezuka's domain can only handle regular spin, so he naturally can't catch this kind of complex spin."

"Two layers of side rotation?" Tokugawa's voice came from the side, tinged with an unusual curiosity. "Can he control it with that kind of precision?"

Irie looked at him and smiled: "Obviously. And the accuracy of the serve is very high. The landing point error is no more than two centimeters."

Tokugawa looked at the field and said nothing more.

Beside them, Mochizuki Ryo crossed her arms, her gaze fixed on Atobe. She wasn't surprised at all; instead, she proudly stuck her nose up high.

This combined, directional version of Tannhäuser was indeed the power generation strategy he had proposed half a month prior. At that time, Atobe had reached a bottleneck in practicing Tannhäuser, always feeling that its destructive power was insufficient. He casually mentioned that two layers of reverse rotation could be added, and that was all.

Such results were achieved through Atobe's own painstaking efforts, practicing each ball with Oshitari one by one. It was originally one of his trump cards, saved for the finals against Seiichi.

Tezuka was pressing hard today, so he revealed it ahead of schedule.

The results were even better than expected.

His lips unconsciously curled up slightly again, but he quickly pressed them down, regaining his calm expression.

Yukimura held Luna, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the kitten's ears. He looked at Atobe on the field, his eyes full of approval, and said softly, "Very good control of the rhythm. Giving the opponent no chance to breathe, while maintaining the necessary balance."

"The complete Tannhäuser." Sanada walked to the edge of the table, his voice low, as if speaking to himself. He looked at Atobe's back, his eyes beneath the brim of his hat as deep as a still pond. "Why did he hold back in the first few games?"

"Because it's unnecessary." Yukimura's voice was soft. "The full version of the Tannhäuser serve requires two consecutive sidespins in different directions. This serve puts almost twice the load of the regular Tannhäuser. The intensity of the previous games didn't require him to use this serve. Now he's using it... because he wants to end the match."

Sanada did not refute.

He looked at Tezuka's back on the court. The opponent was still holding the racket in his left arm, but the position of the racket had been moved up half an inch compared to before.

……

Atobe stood behind the baseline, his racket spun beautifully around his wrist, and finally settled firmly in his hand.

The long rallies in the first two sets had indeed taken a toll on his stamina; sweat dripped from his forehead down his jawline, hitting the scorching court and evaporating instantly. Yet his breathing remained steady, his chest rising and falling gently, and his icy blue eyes shone with an astonishing brightness, like blades tempered with ice.

He didn't rush to serve the second ball.

He stood there, holding his racket, waiting for Tezuka to adjust his stance, grip the racket properly again, and even waiting for him to rub his elbow and return to his serving and receiving position.

He then raised his hand and tossed the ball up.

"Ah, all set."

He said something in a low voice, which drifted away on the wind.

Knees slightly bent, swing the racket.

The moment the racket grazed the ball, the wrist twisted sharply, channeling all the force into the ball. The small yellow ball flew out with tremendous spin, and the entire arena heard a sharp whistling sound as it cut through the air.

The ball seemed to be twisting in the air, and when it slammed heavily onto the inside of the baseline, the entire field seemed to shake. A deep white mark was scrambled into the synthetic surface, a shocking sight.

Tezuka anticipated the ball's trajectory. He shifted his feet to the side and raised his left arm to swing. But the ball suddenly changed direction before hitting the ground, sliding a few centimeters to the other side.

The racket missed its target.

The wind blew past his ears, carrying the cool air currents from the swirling ball.

"ACE, 30-0".

The referee's voice trembled slightly, filled with barely concealed excitement.

The room was silent for a few seconds, then a wave of discussion surged up.

"Two ACEs! That's incredible!"

"So this is Atobe's true serving level? All those before were just child's play!"

"What happened to Tezuka's level of skill? Has all that honing his skills stopped working?"

"You didn't see whether it worked or not, you couldn't even touch the ball. Tezuka's left hand is probably about to give out."

……

Everyone understood.

Atobe Keigo is getting serious.

In the previous eight games, he had been probing, pulling, and wearing down Tezuka's arm. Now that it was the match game, he was done playing around and determined to end the game with his serve.

Those amazing serves and dazzling moves he made before were not even his limit.

Hyotei's emperor only truly revealed his fangs in the final game.

Tezuka's condition is clearly no longer up to par.

Tezuka stood still, his left hand twitching slightly. The pain in his elbow intensified, like countless needles pricking him, shooting up his arm. He remained expressionless, simply switching his racket to his right hand and gently shaking his left arm.

The stands at Seigaku were completely silent.

Momoshiro gritted his teeth and remained silent, his knuckles cracking so hard he didn't even realize it. Kikumaru pursed his lips, his eyes red, and didn't shout as usual. Oishi stood beside him, his brows furrowed tightly, his lips pressed into a straight line.

Kawamura stood at the back of the crowd, his right hand hanging down, his left hand clenched tightly. He stared intently at Tezuka's back on the field, as if trying to send his strength through his gaze.

"Only two balls left..."

One of the three first-graders whispered something, but the sound was carried away by the wind.

Ryuzaki Jin stood at the highest point, her hand trembling slightly as she gripped the railing. She knew that Tezuka's arm had reached its limit; if he continued playing at such a high intensity, he might never be able to play tennis again.

But she knew Tezuka's personality better; as long as he was still on the field, he would never quit halfway through the match.

She turned her face away, unable to bear to look any longer.

Atobe stood on the other side of the court, watching Tezuka adjust his grip twice before regaining his footing. He didn't urge him, but simply held the racket, his fingertips lightly tapping the handle, his expression calm.

Sunlight fell on his face, half bright and half dark. His icy blue eyes reflected the figure opposite him.

There was not a trace of contempt in his eyes.

He could tell that Tezuka wasn't in good condition.

Very bad.

As an opponent, he respected Tezuka's will. But as captain, he had to win.

……

Mochizuki Ryo leaned back in her chair, her gaze sweeping over Tezuka's taut shoulder line as she mentally calculated.

If he played a couple more balls like that, Tezuka's elbow would probably give way. He glanced up at the entrance on the sidelines; the stretcher team was already quietly standing there, wearing white coats that made them quite conspicuous.

I put my finger on something a little bit.

In any case, it's better to deal with it immediately after the game than to drag it out.

"That's the third ball," Kirihara muttered softly, clutching his shirt. "Can Captain Tezuka catch it?"

Niou replied seriously, "It's difficult. Even if I catch it, I can't hold the racket."

As soon as he finished speaking, Atobe threw the ball over again.

Same position, same throw height.

At the moment of swinging the racket, the wrist rotates more.

The ball flew out with even stronger spin, heavier and faster than the previous two. The yellow ball, like a bolt of lightning, hurtled straight towards the baseline.

Tezuka still had no intention of sitting idly by and waiting for his doom.

He took a half step forward, his left arm suddenly tensing, the strength he had honed through countless trials desperately gathering at his wrist. The white light on his arm flickered, much fainter than before, like a candle about to go out.

The ball slammed solidly onto the racket.

The immense force traveled along the handle of the paddle, causing him a sharp pain in the mouth of his hand.

The fingers holding the racket loosened.

The racket slipped from his hand, flew horizontally a long distance, crashed into the net with a thud, bounced twice, and landed on the ground.

The yellow tennis ball, propelled by the remaining force, flew directly into the stands. A spectator in the front row caught it, still stunned and unable to react.

"40-0".

Three balls. Three aces. Match point.

It took less than eight minutes in total.