45. Infighting

“These two work together surprisingly well.” Shisaori hurriedly raised her camera and pressed the shutter.

“Yeah, this match is getting exciting,” Mamoru Inoue agreed, nodding.

“Tch—!” Confronted by Ryo Shishido’s taunt, my impulsiveness was instantly checked as Matsui pulled me back. He shook his head at me, and I let out a soft snort, turning away.

“Those two idiots, thinking they’ve won a game and getting all smug…” I muttered angrily.

“Relax, it’s just one game. Let’s use that technique,” Matsui hinted with his eyes.

“Oh, that move…” I immediately understood Matsui’s intention, flashing a fierce grin.

Bang!

Just as we finished our exchange, a streak of light shot through the gap between us, the wind from the ball lifting our hair. Matsui and I stared, dumbfounded. “What… just happened?”

“15-0!”

“Too slow. Pathetic,” Akutsu said coldly, his gaze fixed on Matsui and me.

We snapped out of our stupor and focused on Akutsu’s second serve. I took the ball and swung my racket gently.

“A fault?” Ryo Shishido watched the spinning tennis ball in the air, stepped back a few paces, and easily returned it.

“Here’s our chance!” Matsui noticed that half of Akutsu and Shishido’s court was unguarded and rushed forward to the net.

“That’s not a fault, Shishido!” Akutsu shouted as Matsui advanced, but before he finished speaking, Matsui’s arm was already swinging, sending the ball straight into the vacant side of the court.

“I see. He waited for Shishido to cover the backcourt, then deliberately aimed for the left side of Akutsu, since he’s right-handed,” Matsubara Mei murmured. Akutsu’s eyes flashed, and with a burst of force, he slid forward on one leg.

“What kind of posture is that?!” Many spectators gasped as Akutsu dove for the ball like a hungry tiger.

“Hah!” Akutsu landed and returned the ball. His body stretched with remarkable flexibility. Matsui and I, unprepared for his return, watched helplessly as we lost another point.

“30-0!”

“Even though you got the ball back, your movements are just pathetic,” Ryo Shishido mocked.

He wanted to praise Akutsu’s perfect save, but really, the latter’s posture was so exaggerated—no matter how gifted and athletic he was, there was no need to hit the ball like that.

“If you don’t want a hole punched in your head, you’d better take back what you just said,” Akutsu replied coolly, walking back to the court.

“Well, always so fierce,” Shishido shrugged helplessly, recalling what Akutsu had said before they teamed up.

“Let’s not even talk about strategies to build rapport. The reason I hate doubles is that no matter who’s wandering on my turf, I always feel the urge to smash them with the ball,” Akutsu gripped the tennis ball, making a muffled sound.

Beside him, Shishido listened to Akutsu’s overtly violent words, speechless. He opened his mouth, then complained, “Hey, we’re teammates now. Don’t even think about doing weird stuff to me. Some moves are absolutely off-limits.”

“Hmph, are you ordering me?” Akutsu stood, picked up his racket and strode out.

…

The score reached 40-0. Our tactics against Akutsu and Shishido’s pair were utterly ineffective. Whether it was targeting the middle, focusing on one player, or now deliberately exploiting faults to attack the unguarded court, we couldn’t take a single point from them.

“Evergreen leads! 2-0!”

“In doubles, formation is everything. Once your formation is broken, the match’s rhythm falls into your opponents’ hands,” Sadaharu Inui observed quietly, watching me and Matsui Hayato, who were beginning to tire.

“By observing subtle shifts in teammates’ body language and expressions, they effectively prevent mishaps from conflicting shots, then use powerful individual skills to counter deadly attacks. I have to admit, Akutsu and Shishido are quite a pair,” Yanagi Renji nodded, adding his thoughts.

“Who are these guys? Not only do they return balls from anywhere, but their counterattacks leave us helpless. If this were singles, we’d have been wiped out 6-0 by now…” My fighting spirit was visibly waning, my inner resolve beginning to falter.

“Don’t overthink it, Zhiba!” Matsui Hayato quickly revived his teammate, noticing his emotional shift.

“Remember, we’re playing doubles now. Since it’s doubles, there’s a doubles strategy. If our previous moves don’t work, we’ll keep looking for chances to exploit their weaknesses!”

My body trembled, then I smiled wryly. “Yeah, we’re playing doubles. Sorry, Matsui—I got a bit scared just now, but I’m good now.”

“Glad to hear it,” Matsui Hayato smirked, then changed the topic. “Hey, Zhiba, I just thought of something interesting.”

“Oh? Let’s hear it,” I stepped back, a fierce grin curling at my lips. “Alright then, Matsui—let’s give it another shot!”

“What are those two jabbering about over there? So annoying,” Shishido complained.

“Hmph, whatever tactics they’re discussing, it won’t help them,” Akutsu was indifferent to their conversation. His only goal was to crush them.

“Exactly. With our doubles, there’s no way we’ll lose,” Shishido’s confidence soared—their tactical coordination was flawless. Leading 2-0 was proof enough. Even if we had some secret weapon, Shishido still had new techniques up his sleeve. He couldn’t let Akutsu hog all the glory.

Now it was our turn to serve. Facing a pressure-free serve, Shishido returned the ball easily, but as he smirked in triumph, he was startled to see Matsui and I both rushing the net!

Akutsu noticed as well, sprinting forward. Nearby, Shisaori couldn’t help but exclaim, “Both at the net? How are they going to hit the ball?”

I swiftly countered Shishido’s return. Standing at the net, my shot was more than twice as fast as before. Akutsu and Shishido, poised to intercept the ball as it soared over the net, collided with a crash!

“Ah!” Both sat down hard, clutching their faces. Akutsu growled, “Hey, I should’ve gotten that one. What were you doing?”

“With your flexibility, you couldn’t have returned that perfectly. Coming from the backcourt, I could have made a better shot!” Shishido snapped back, equally angry.

“Don’t get too full of yourself, brat,” Akutsu grabbed Shishido’s collar, menacingly.

“Evergreen! No fighting!” The referee barked at them.

Shishido shoved Akutsu’s hand away, straightened his clothes, and walked back to the court.

“A clash, huh…” Fuji rubbed his chin, smiling faintly.

“Ahem, that’s not good, Vice-Captain Fuji. They’re teammates, after all,” Matsubara Mei reminded him, seeing Fuji amused by the intra-team quarrel.

“Our doubles pair… has a 1% chance of losing to Phoenix Blossom’s doubles,” Inui Sadaharu read from his notebook. Yanagi Renji raised his brows in surprise. “Oh? So that’s why you said there’s a 99% chance of winning—you’d already calculated it?”

“Yes, but since the winning odds were so high, I chose to ignore it. Now it seems, that 1% is slowly reversing the situation; perhaps… it’ll become Akutsu and Shishido’s stumbling block,” Inui mused.

“Don’t worry. They’re not ones to wallow in blaming each other. That’s why I lured and proposed them for doubles in the first place,” Matsubara Mei smiled gently, reassuring Inui. He’d considered all this—before Inui and Yanagi.

For Akutsu, there was a reason he absolutely couldn’t lose. Even after sweating through practice, that drive only grew stronger. And for Shishido, in some ways, the urge not to lose was even greater—especially the shame and frustration of losing without giving his all. That unwillingness burned inside him, far stronger than in Akutsu.