7. The Wager (Seeking Investment, Recommendations, and Collections!)

“But shouldn’t we still go find Akutsu?” Taichi Dan spoke up, seeing the eager look in Naruki Matsubara’s eyes. Matsubara’s lips curled slightly. “Visiting Silver Blossom High is just as important as looking for Akutsu.”

The way Matsubara gripped his racket made Taichi raise an eyebrow. Did he intend to stir up trouble with Silver Blossom?

The boy patted the pocket of his shorts, easily capable of holding three or four tennis balls, and smiled, then strode off.

If the reward for defeating Silver Blossom’s tennis club were ordinary, he would have let it go. But the reward was the Freedom Mastery, something Matsubara could not ignore.

If his technique, Universal Pull, corresponded to Tezuka’s Zone; Almighty Push countered all powerful smashes and wave shots; Time Flash handled the Four Elements style with ease; then Freedom Mastery could truly rival, or even surpass, the State of Selflessness.

Entering Silver Blossom High, Matsubara greedily inhaled the fresh air. No wonder this school was surrounded by verdant trees—bathed in the freshness of nature, it indeed brought a sense of serene delight.

At the Silver Blossom tennis courts, the rapid thwack of tennis balls echoed, spirited shouts rising and falling. Players in deep green uniforms exerted themselves in practice matches. Occasionally, someone displayed formidable skill, defeating their opponent in an instant, earning cheers and applause from the others.

“Well done, Tsunomoto! Your Judo Tennis is as exceptional as ever,” called a man with slightly curly long hair and stubble from the sidelines, clapping as he watched a man in a headband dissolve a powerful smash with remarkable agility.

Tsunomoto grinned, glanced at his exhausted opponent, and tipped his chin. “Want to go again? I really like your powerful smashes. No matter how hard you hit, I can return them all.”

“Haha… no thanks, Vice Captain,” the other player replied, evidently intimidated by Tsunomoto’s Judo Tennis, quickly conceding.

“Even for a practice match, finding me an opponent who isn’t even an official member is a bit insulting, isn’t it, Yamada?” Tsunomoto complained as he slung his racket and approached the stubbled man.

“After the third-years graduated, you and I became club captain and vice captain, but the official members are only left with Kiryu and Endo. If we always practice separately from the unofficial members, the club’s strength will never improve,” Yamada said gravely.

“Tch, if only there was a decent opponent. Practicing with this bunch of trash is so boring,” Tsunomoto grumbled, producing a long toothpick and placing it between his lips.

He noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Just as Tsunomoto turned his head, a blurred yellow-green streak came speeding toward him!

“Ah!” The toothpick flew from his mouth as Tsunomoto sidestepped and stabilized himself with a twist of his waist. He watched as the tennis ball, pressed flush against his cheek, slowly dropped to the ground. His face now swollen and aching, he glared furiously toward the outside.

The other players, hearing the commotion, paused and turned to look where Tsunomoto was staring. The wire fence there now had a hole the size of a grown man’s fist. The edges of the wire were twisted and deformed by the immense force, faint white smoke curling out.

As everyone stared in shock at the scene, several meters away on the lawn outside the fence stood a plain, handsome youth with a tennis racket slung over his shoulder. He turned to Tsunomoto and smiled, “I heard you were looking for a worthy opponent. How about me?”

“Wait… Did that guy aim through the hole in the fence from so far away?” one player whispered.

“Nonsense, there was never a hole in our fence! He punched through it from way back there with his shot,” another exclaimed.

“Is it even possible to punch a hole like that with a tennis ball?” murmurs spread among the players, growing louder and louder until the shock erupted into a wave of incredulous voices. Hearing the uproar behind him, Tsunomoto clenched his teeth so hard he nearly shattered them, his swollen cheek throbbing, as he glared at Matsubara. “Damn brat!”

Crunching footsteps sounded as Matsubara strode into the court, joining the crowd of players. Before he could speak, Tsunomoto shouted, holding his face, “Hey, kid! Who gave you permission to come here?!”

Taichi Dan, still outside the fence, saw Matsubara provoking Silver Blossom’s tennis club just as he had feared. He regretted not stopping him sooner. Silver Blossom High was no third-rate school like North High; its players were shrouded in mystery, and each could possess hidden strength.

Watching Matsubara surrounded by more than twenty deep green uniformed students, Taichi gripped the wire fence anxiously. “Matsubara…”

“Hm? That’s…” He noticed a boy with a watermelon-shaped head, dressed in a green coat and trousers, hands in pockets, walking along the gravel path. Taichi watched him enter the school building and muttered, “Akutsu… why is he here?”

“Your tennis courts are… remarkably ordinary,” Matsubara remarked, ignoring the hostile stares around him as he calmly surveyed the surroundings.

To be honest, he had thought the Evergreen Academy’s tennis courts were the worst in the world, but it turned out there were schools with even worse ones.

“Damn it, are you even listening to me? Brat, your shot hit my face! If you don’t want to end up with a pig’s head, you’d better apologize right now!” Tsunomoto roared, his face flushed from both injury and indignation at being insulted and ignored.

“Oh? Does it hurt? I never hold back with men,” Matsubara replied, noting Tsunomoto’s darkening expression, smiling lightly. “I heard you say the players here are all hopelessly weak. How about a match? If I lose, I’ll apologize. If you lose, that shot just now doesn’t count.”

“What the hell, brat? Are you looking to die…”

Just as Tsunomoto was about to rush at Matsubara, Yamada grabbed him. “Let it go. Why get angry at a kid? This is perfect. Let him witness the strength of Silver Blossom, a famous tennis school. It’ll kill some time, and with your skill, handling an elementary schooler is easy enough.”

“Yeah… you’re right.” Tsunomoto understood Yamada’s meaning and gave a sinister smile. He was getting worked up for nothing. He could teach this arrogant brat a lesson with tennis.

He raised his racket and pointed it at Matsubara. “Let’s raise the stakes. If you lose, you not only have to apologize, but I’ll also return that shot to you—exactly as you gave it. How’s that?”

“Interesting. If you lose, I want you to quit… No, since we’re raising the stakes, let’s go bigger: ten balls each. If you lose, all of you must quit the Silver Blossom tennis club.”

With that, Matsubara bowed his head slightly, his black bangs obscuring his expression. Several players’ faces changed at his words, and Tsunomoto was stunned. “What did you just say?!”

“What, afraid to bet?” Matsubara said quietly, fingers gently plucking at his racket strings.

“Ten balls each? Are you going to defeat fifty people?” Yamada, the club captain, asked in a deep voice. Nearly thirty other club members gathered around, forming layers of spectators.

“Is this kid an idiot?” someone muttered.

“He’s way too arrogant, thinking he can beat all of us!”

“Show him what we’re made of, Vice Captain Tsunomoto!”

“Yeah! Crush him!”

Complaints erupted across the court, while Tsunomoto, hands in pockets, laughed maniacally, as if possessed. Seeing Matsubara stand motionless, his laughter abruptly stopped, and his eyes narrowed in seriousness. This brat didn’t seem to be joking…

“If you really can defeat all fifty of us, not only will we quit, but all these rackets and balls are yours,” Yamada said, still grave.

“Then let’s begin,” Matsubara replied briskly, walking toward the court without another word.