22. Liu Lian'er’s Choice

To finish the competition left unresolved in their elementary school days—even though Sadaharu Inui and Renji Yanagi said little, they had long been prepared for this outcome: after this match, they would part ways, each serving their own team, each fighting their own battle.

As Sadaharu Inui and Renji Yanagi turned to leave together, a bright, youthful laugh rang out, “That was an excellent match, truly splendid.”

Accompanied by gentle applause, Sadaharu Inui paused in surprise at the arrival of Naruki Matsubara. “Matsubara?”

“Do you know him, Sadaharu?” Renji Yanagi, who had stopped and turned, glanced at the boy and, noticing Inui’s reaction, quietly asked.

“Yes, he’s a member of the tennis club at the school I’m about to transfer to—Naruki Matsubara.” Sadaharu Inui nodded, introducing him to Yanagi.

“Evergreen Academy, Naruki Matsubara.” The boy extended his hand warmly.

Sizing up the handsome youth, Renji Yanagi reached out to shake his hand. “Rikkaidai, Renji Yanagi.”

“Would you mind having a chat?” Naruki Matsubara went straight to the point.

Renji Yanagi remained silent. After a moment, he glanced at Sadaharu Inui standing behind the boy and replied flatly, “If you’re here to persuade me like Sadaharu, my answer remains unchanged: I refuse.”

“No, not a persuader—you’ve misunderstood.” Naruki Matsubara laughed, waving his hand. “I only wanted to talk with you privately. Do I look like the type to play the persuader?”

Seeing that Yanagi didn’t immediately agree, Matsubara turned to Sadaharu Inui, “Is it alright if I borrow Yanagi for a while, Sadaharu?”

“Ah… Yes.” Sadaharu Inui had no idea what Matsubara was planning; this wasn’t in the script he’d been given. Before coming to Rikkaidai, Matsubara’s instructions for him had been to convince Yanagi to join Evergreen Academy, or, failing that, to appeal to his emotions. Nowhere in the plan did Matsubara himself step in, so Inui was somewhat bewildered.

“If you’d rather not, that’s fine. Honestly, as Sadaharu’s friend, I’ve heard of your reputation as one of Rikkaidai’s Big Three and I’d really like to exchange thoughts with you.” Matsubara shrugged, unconcerned, and as he turned to leave, Yanagi spoke, “Since you’re neither a persuader nor a stranger, but Sadaharu’s friend, I welcome it.”

“Shall we talk as we walk?” Naruki Matsubara was secretly delighted that Yanagi agreed, but outwardly maintained his composure, gesturing ahead.

Yanagi glanced back at Sadaharu Inui, who nodded to him, and only then followed the boy out.

Crunch, crunch…

As they strolled, Matsubara watched Yanagi’s narrow, smiling eyes and chuckled, “I’m quite curious—during your match, why did you hold back?”

!

Yanagi hesitated briefly, then replied slowly, “Why do you think I held back?”

“I only met Sadaharu today, so whether he held back or concealed his strength from me remains to be seen. But as one of Rikkaidai’s Big Three, from any perspective, you couldn’t possibly lose to Sadaharu, could you?” Matsubara looked at Yanagi.

“That suggests you don’t truly know Sadaharu. He and I used to play doubles—we were unbeatable in elementary school tennis. Over time, I realized that Sadaharu was just as suited to singles, perhaps even more so. In singles matches, he could unleash greater strength. My loss naturally illustrates this.” Yanagi replied calmly.

“Like you, Sadaharu joined the tennis club as a first-year. At Seigaku, he couldn’t become a regular, wasn’t allowed to play practice matches, and was suppressed by the upperclassmen. All that was left for him was to pick up balls and quietly record others’ data in his notebook…” Matsubara paused. “Perhaps you’re right—I don’t really know Sadaharu. But honestly, none of these things would happen at Rikkaidai, would they? As the nation’s most prestigious school with a long history and illustrious achievements, you made the regulars’ team—so even if you weren’t as strong as Sadaharu in elementary school, are you still not his equal now?”

“What? Seigaku would really do such things?” Yanagi paid no attention to Matsubara’s later words; his focus was entirely on Seigaku’s treatment of Sadaharu.

“That’s right. I only learned about it when I brought Sadaharu out of Seigaku today. Before, I recruited him because I valued his talent for handling data.” Matsubara feigned ignorance and shook his head.

“I can tell that even though Sadaharu has made some new friends, he isn’t happy at Seigaku. What about you? At Rikkaidai—a school long dedicated to sports and renowned for its intensity—are you happy?” The boy’s question startled Yanagi, whose mind was still on Sadaharu. It sounded like a simple question, but when it was aimed at himself, Yanagi found he couldn’t answer—because he didn’t know if he was… happy.

When he first entered Rikkaidai, Yanagi would occasionally wear a smile called happiness. He hoped to make new friends here, to mask the sadness and reluctance brought by parting ways with Sadaharu Inui.

But Yanagi was far too naïve. With his calm and refined temperament, he found it nearly impossible to find kindred spirits at Rikkaidai.

Loneliness, like the wind, accompanied him always. Even after joining the club to fit in, he only managed to get acquainted with Genichirou Sanada.

Even Seiichi Yukimura—gentle and easy-going, later hailed as one of the Big Three alongside Yanagi—did not give him the same sense of camaraderie as Sanada’s iron-blooded valor.

He was frustrated in friendship. In the tense, overly serious atmosphere at Rikkaidai, the relentless pace and pressure of training left Yanagi feeling breathless.

He had no grand ambitions, only the wish to play tennis happily. Yet Rikkaidai never gave him that feeling.

Everything felt mechanical, as if preordained. In such confusion, Yanagi, along with “Child of God” Seiichi Yukimura and “Emperor” Genichirou Sanada, found himself bearing the heavy burden of Rikkaidai’s pursuit of a flawless national triple crown.

After all, before they joined the tennis club, the regulars who had already graduated or moved up had secured twelve consecutive Kanto championships and several scattered national titles for Rikkaidai.

As freshmen, their task was to win the first national triple crown. Ordinary Kanto titles no longer satisfied the school’s leadership, and non-consecutive national victories held no real value. Only the triple crown would make them the undisputed strongest champions!

Like everyone else, Yanagi embraced Rikkaidai’s doctrine of constant victory, making the national triple crown his dream—his mission. Because he was a student of Rikkaidai, he had to realize the school’s dream.

In the month since enrolling, thanks to his mastery of data, Yanagi was dubbed “The Expert” among the Big Three he formed with Yukimura and Sanada.

But whether it was the Big Three, the triple crown, or the so-called “Expert,” none of it made Yanagi smile as he once did.

He was silent in the face of Matsubara’s words.

“From the way you played, I could see your feelings for Sadaharu. By holding back at the end, you wanted your friendship to remain unchanged, so the meaning of the match would not be altered by your rejection.” Matsubara gazed at the sky as he spoke.

“But have you considered—if Sadaharu discovers you went easy on him to atone for your guilt, he may never forgive you for it.” Matsubara sighed.

“In truth, Sadaharu never blamed you. Whatever you do, he’ll only silently support you. All he wants is for you to tell him why you left Tokyo for Kanagawa without a word back then. Otherwise… why would he insist on finishing the match you left unresolved in elementary school?” Yanagi was suddenly shaken, recalling Sadaharu’s demeanor in the library, and slowly lowered his head. “What does happiness matter? Everyone pays a price for their choices. Sadaharu left Seigaku, and I… will dedicate myself to achieving Rikkaidai’s flawless triple crown.”

“Is that so…” Matsubara frowned; Rikkaidai’s indoctrination was deeper than he’d imagined. At this rate, wooing Yanagi seemed hopeless.

“So Rikkaidai matters more to you than your friendship with Sadaharu.” Watching Matsubara’s disappointed expression, Yanagi seemed to see Sadaharu’s disappointment in him. He opened his mouth, but no sound came, and he fell once again into the murky mire he’d been trapped in from the start.

He was unable to choose between Rikkaidai and his old friend. Yanagi’s expression was mournful, the complex emotions within him plain to see.

“Well, I meant to just chat but ended up bringing up so many heavy topics that trouble you. I truly apologize.” Matsubara’s expression returned to normal; he stood and bowed.

Even if not for the sake of persuading Yanagi, the boy felt there was no need to continue the conversation. After all, forcibly picking a fruit yields neither sweetness nor satisfaction—it’s a fanciful hope.

Watching Matsubara, Yanagi recalled Sadaharu’s words to him.

“We’ll always be partners, right?”

“As long as we’re together, conquering the world is no dream.”

…

At the end of those beautiful memories with Sadaharu, mirrors enclosed them. The first crack spread, followed by countless fissures, and with a crash, they all shattered.

“In truth, even if I were to choose Sadaharu, I have reasons why I can’t leave Rikkaidai.” As Matsubara began to depart, Yanagi finally voiced the thoughts he had wrestled with, confirming them countless times in his heart.

“Hm?” Matsubara turned, watching Yanagi’s bobbed hair sway gently in the breeze, his tone mild. “Is it because of the responsibilities you have to bear?”