17. Ryo Shishido, Cast Aside

“Weren’t you worried that your behavior just now would make him suspicious?” Looking at the Evergreen Academy uniform in his hands, Akutsu sounded a little concerned; he hadn’t expected Naruki Matsubara to be so skilled at speaking in riddles.

“If he gets suspicious, all the better. I’d be thrilled if he jumped out right away. That way, Tezuka can just kick him out directly,” Naruki Matsubara replied with a carefree smile.

In the staff room—

“That’s the general idea. I wonder what the captain and vice-captain think?” After parting with Akutsu, Naruki Matsubara sought out Tezuka and Fuji to discuss the follow-up on recruiting players from other schools. No matter how hands-on he was, it was only right to at least symbolically ask for their opinions.

“I have no objection to Ryo Shishido and Sadaharu Inui, but Seiichi Yukimura and Genichiro Sanada…” Fuji nodded at first, but when it came to the latter two, he shot a hesitant glance at Tezuka.

“Is there really no one more suitable?” Tezuka rested his hands, fingers interlaced, beneath his chin, his tone calm.

“What do you mean, captain?” Naruki Matsubara couldn’t tell if Tezuka was dissatisfied with one of them, or all of them.

“Seiichi Yukimura doesn’t fit our tennis club’s training system. The same goes for Genichiro Sanada.”

“….” Naruki Matsubara found Tezuka’s reasoning completely unconvincing. He looked to Fuji, who smiled faintly. “I think Tezuka has a point. Besides, Matsubara, if you want to recruit someone from Hyotei, why not go for someone more distinctive, like Yuushi Oshitari or Gakuto Mukahi?”

“I’ve heard Yuushi Oshitari from Hyotei is skilled in many advanced tennis techniques, and Gakuto Mukahi has sharp tennis insight. Aren’t they stronger than Ryo Shishido?” Naruki Matsubara sighed inwardly. Of course he knew what those two were capable of. Evergreen only needed one genius, and besides, Gakuto Mukahi was ultimately just a paper tiger who’d get trounced by Shishido later on, no matter how impressive he seemed.

“If the captain doesn’t want to bring in Yukimura and Sanada, then let’s bring in Renji Yanagi from Rikkaidai instead. As for Ryo Shishido, he’s a hard worker who wins with effort—he’d make a good match with the naturally gifted Akutsu. Pair Inui and Yanagi for doubles, and our seven regulars are set.”

“Renji Yanagi from Rikkaidai, huh? He, Yukimura, and Sanada are known as the ‘Three Giants’ among the first-years. Won’t it be difficult?” Fuji asked, concerned.

“No need to worry, vice-captain. As long as the captain approves, it’s just a matter of time.” With that, Matsubara turned to Tezuka.

“I have no objections,” Tezuka nodded.

“Then I’ll take my leave,” Matsubara said, shutting the door behind him. Fuji finally spoke. “You don’t want Yukimura and Sanada to join because of what happened last year, right?”

“Nothing escapes your eyes.” Tezuka closed his eyes in admission.

“At first I didn’t think of it, but now I see—it’s more than just ‘two tigers cannot share one mountain,’ isn’t it?” Fuji’s gemstone-blue eyes softened as he gazed at Tezuka.

“We left Seigaku to keep chasing the national championship, but that doesn’t mean we have to gather all the top players from every school. What meaning would that victory have?” Tezuka’s eyes opened, his mind drifting back to his failed challenge against Yukimura a year ago—just like Sanada. Since then, Tezuka had seen Yukimura as his lifelong rival. If they were destined to be adversaries, it was better to remain on opposing sides.

Recruiting people required rhythm. Sadaharu Inui and Renji Yanagi were relatively easy to persuade; Ryo Shishido, though, would be a tough nut to crack. With his stubborn nature, it would be difficult to convince him to leave Hyotei.

Arriving at Hyotei Academy, Matsubara discovered after some inquiries that Hyotei had already completed its internal ranking matches and regular selection tournaments three days ago.

The ranking matches first selected a group of strong players, who then drew lots to enter an elimination tournament for the regular slots, narrowing the field to fewer than ten.

Since not every strong player in the ranking matches could become a regular, a round-robin was needed. Only those with both skill and formidable stamina could survive to the end.

This method of selecting regulars was unprecedented in Hyotei’s history, all thanks to a middle-aged man named Taro Sakaki, who had just taken over as the tennis club’s coach a few days ago.

Sakaki, single-handedly, brought order to the chaos in all three grades caused by Keigo Atobe’s joining the club.

Arriving at Hyotei’s tennis courts, Matsubara was impressed to see at least two ball machines per court. As expected from a private school sponsored by the Atobe conglomerate—not just ball machines, but even ball-retrieving robots on the nearby courts. This was the world of the wealthy.

Smack! Smack, smack! Smack! Hm? What’s that…?

Following the sound of tennis balls being struck, Matsubara looked over. On a neighboring court, he saw a ponytailed boy in shorts and a T-shirt, sweating as he returned balls fired by a machine with all his might.

“Not bad,” Matsubara praised, seeing the boy manage to return two or three out of every ten balls from the machine.

But on the next volley, the ponytailed boy missed two balls in a row, his footwork failing him!

As he turned, biting his lip in frustration, he suddenly noticed a shorter boy—at some point, Matsubara had pulled a racket from his bag and was strolling casually toward the flying balls.

“Watch out!” The tennis ball shot straight for Matsubara’s face. With a half-turn and archer’s stance, arms forming a V, he returned both balls in quick succession to the opposite court.

Thwack-thwack…

All of Matsubara’s returns landed cleanly in bounds. The ponytailed boy stared in shock. “That was… amazing!”

“Phew…” Matsubara wiped the sweat from his nose with the back of his hand and stood up slowly. So this is how much stamina it takes to use ‘Flash Step’ in peak condition. As long as he didn’t overuse techniques like ‘Universal Pull’ and ‘Almighty Push,’ he figured he could manage four bursts of ‘Flash Step’ in a match.

Looking at Ryo Shishido, who still had long hair and a softer, youthful look, Matsubara saw bright, admiring eyes and bangs fluttering in the breeze.

“Hey, that move just now was awesome,” Shishido couldn’t help but exclaim, running up to Matsubara.

“Really? Want to learn it?” Matsubara asked with a smile.

“Of course!” Shishido nodded vigorously.

“All right, then join the Evergreen Academy tennis club.” Matsubara went straight to the point, but this left Shishido frozen, his ponytail swinging as he looked confused. “Why?”

“Your endless drive and indomitable fighting spirit moved me,” Matsubara replied.

“Really…” Shishido’s fair cheeks blushed at the praise, a little bashful. It was the first time anyone had complimented him like this.

People who had admired him before always used the same clichés—‘you play well,’ ‘your skills are impressive’—words that meant little.

But the praise from this black-haired boy seemed to warm the softest part of Shishido’s heart. For a moment, he was stunned.

“Of course. I’ve been watching you for a while. Though your skills have some flaws, your fundamentals aren’t bad. Combined with your energy—which draws attention even from outsiders—you’re a shining diamond among tennis players your age.”

Matsubara smiled as he finished. The sugarcoated words left Shishido a little dazed, but Matsubara’s next offhand comment stung.

“However, compared to Hyotei’s well-equipped training facilities, Evergreen is a bit lacking,” Matsubara remarked, operating the ball retriever to clear the court.

“Why look down on your own school? Even if it’s not as good as others, as long as there’s the slightest chance, you should keep striving and push to surpass them, right?” Shishido protested, clearly unhappy.

“It’s not about looking down, just being realistic. It might sound discouraging, but that doesn’t mean Evergreen is an easy target,” Matsubara laughed lightly, then changed the subject. “By the way, why are you training alone?”

“It’s a bit embarrassing… but since you ask, I lost out during the regulars selection and got eliminated,” Shishido said quietly, hanging his head in disappointment.