31. Facing Ryuenji

With Matsubara Meii advancing through the group stage, Tezuka and the other five followed suit. In addition, four second-years and five third-year unofficial players who survived the selection also moved forward, making a total of sixteen contestants. Among them, only eight would earn the right to become official players!

Upon seeing this lineup, Matsubara Meii felt something was amiss. Including himself, the seven official players were unlikely to be eliminated by the unofficial ones based on strength alone, but if two of the seven were drawn to play against each other, one would be forcibly eliminated. Moreover, those unofficial players who avoided facing an official might sneak through, becoming subpar additions to the official roster. If four official players were drawn to battle each other, the number eliminated would double!

His throat tightened; Matsubara Meii could hardly imagine the possibility of three strong players being eliminated. Tezuka and Fuji's method had a glaring flaw!

He wasn't the only one to notice this issue. Sadaharu Inui and Renji Yanagi, both masters of data analysis, spotted the problem as well. Inui, in particular, voiced his objections to Tezuka's arrangement.

Tezuka, as though anticipating this, explained, "Regardless of which eight ultimately emerge victorious, the losers will have a chance to enter a resurrection round. Among the winners, unofficial players will be prioritized as targets for challenges by the losers. The outcome of these matches will determine whether the identities of winner and loser are swapped."

Matsubara Meii wondered if Tezuka had forgotten his medicine this morning—this convoluted system seemed entirely unnecessary. Clearly, Tezuka was aware that strong official players could be ousted while weaker unofficials might slip through. Why not simply have six of the seven officials play each other, allowing one to advance unchallenged? Then let unofficials challenge officials, with the loser stepping down and the winner taking their place, just as he himself had once defeated Kanazuki Hajime.

In truth, the resurrection rule was devised after careful consideration by Tezuka and Fuji. Matsubara Meii’s suggestion had also been discussed. However, if they followed his method, unofficial players would lose the incentive to challenge, since the tennis club at Evergreen was not like those of other famed schools—the unofficials were much weaker. If implemented, the unofficials, knowing they stood no chance against the officials, might simply refuse to challenge or forfeit, which—even if only a one percent chance—Tezuka did not wish to see.

With the resurrection rule, both unofficial and official players were compelled to face each other, gaining invaluable experience. Officials could refine their skills against one another, as well. It was a win-win.

Yet such complex reasoning was not obvious to everyone. The officials, including Matsubara Meii, had no complaints, but the advancing unofficials were vocally dissatisfied. Of course, their grumbling was ignored by Tezuka, and the battle for official positions proceeded in an orderly manner!

According to the random draw, Matsubara Meii would face Renji Yanagi, Tezuka Kunimitsu would face Fuji Shusuke, while Akutsu, Shishido Ryo, and Inui Sadaharu would each face two third-years and one second-year unofficially. The competition would be split between morning and afternoon, with Matsubara Meii and Renji Yanagi’s match scheduled for the morning.

Court Three.

At this moment, Matsubara Meii and Renji Yanagi stood opposite each other. The latter’s lips curled into a smile. “I never expected you to be my opponent, Matsubara.”

“You look quite confident—are you planning to eliminate me?” Matsubara replied with a light laugh.

“Elimination is merely a temporary loss of official status. I must admit, Tezuka and Fuji are strong, but their tournament format is terribly clumsy.”

Yanagi found the arrangement of this internal ranking match riddled with flaws; there were a hundred and eight better ways to organize it, yet they had chosen the worst.

“Which side?” Matsubara approached the net, placing his racket upright on the ground.

“Reverse side,” Yanagi answered softly, stepping forward.

“Thud!”

The referee, seated at the umpire’s chair, saw the pattern on the base of Matsubara’s racket and declared loudly, “One set to determine victory. Matsubara serves!”

Matsubara tapped his racket against the ground, gazing at Yanagi’s calm expression. Facing an opponent known as a “master,” he dared not be careless and concentrated all his strength into the serve.

“Whoosh!”

“Serve at 110% power—afterward, there’s a 95% chance the return will not reach the baseline.”

Instantly analyzing Matsubara’s data from the past few days, Yanagi redirected the serve swiftly to the opposite baseline. As Matsubara rushed to intercept, the ball sailed out of bounds before he could reach it.

“15–0!”

“Was I predicted?” Matsubara muttered inwardly. The previous shot had landed in an unreachable corner; it dawned on him that Yanagi’s data tennis had already taken hold of the match.

“Smack!”

On the second serve, Matsubara deliberately reduced his power. Focused intently on countering Yanagi’s cunning shots, the return suddenly felt comfortable.

“A normal shot…”

They rallied back and forth across the court, and a hint of doubt crept into Matsubara’s mind. Was his earlier feeling of being dominated by data tennis merely an illusion?

Upon reflection, it made sense. This was only the second ball—Yanagi couldn’t possibly be using data tennis against him so soon. He must have simply been too careless earlier, resulting in that lost point.

As Matsubara’s vigilance subtly relaxed, suddenly, amidst their neutral rally, his pace abruptly quickened. Yanagi sent a deft drop shot; caught off guard, Matsubara lunged forward, falling as he managed to return the shot.

The joy of making the return had barely spread across his face when Matsubara realized trouble: Yanagi had already leapt high, smashing the ball for another point!

“30–0!”

“How can this be…” Matsubara fixed his gaze on Yanagi. Outwardly, Yanagi appeared composed, but inwardly he was in turmoil. Why did it feel as though his movements were predicted and restricted?

The first ball was an unreachable diagonal, the second forced him to exert himself just to stay in play…

“Matsubara seems to be in trouble,” Fuji observed from the sidelines, his eyes narrowed as he noted the boy’s astonishment.

“Yanagi’s data tennis surpasses mine because he can compute the match’s trajectory from the available information. This gives his opponent an intense sense of pressure, regardless of their mental fortitude,” Inui explained calmly, adjusting his glasses. He believed Matsubara had already fallen into Yanagi’s trap and, if this continued, would be led by the nose until the match ended.

“That brat won’t lose easily to anyone.” Akutsu’s emotionless voice broke the silence. Ignoring Inui and Fuji’s glances, he watched Matsubara’s desperate chase, his gaze growing darker.

Others recruited by Matsubara might not know his true strength, but Akutsu certainly did—he had suffered a crushing defeat at Matsubara’s hands! Compared to the explosive shots in their own match, the balls sent to Yanagi seemed soft and powerless.

This thought only fueled Akutsu’s anger. Clenching his fists, he stared unblinkingly at Matsubara’s every move.

“You’d better not lose, kid. If your opponent defeats you, everyone who’s lost to you will have no standing left.”

The only one who remained silent was Tezuka, arms crossed, expressionless, calmly watching the match. No one could guess what he was thinking at that moment.