Songyuan Mingyi, Who Is Both Soft-Hearted and Calculating

“...”

Completely stunned by Naruki Matsubara’s sharp-tongued barrage, Sasabe was left speechless, his words faltering and dying on his lips, unsure of how to respond at all.

While Naruki Matsubara stood alone in his tirade, Ryo Shishido watched the spectacle from the side, making no move to speak in Sasabe’s defense.

The atmosphere grew so eerily silent that Sasabe began to feel anxious. Snapping out of his daze, he flushed with embarrassment and fury, snatching the tennis bag away from Tatsukawa Tatsushi.

With a harsh zip, he yanked out his racket, pointed it at Jiraku Asakura, and, voice shaking, shouted, “I gave you money for two bowls, but you’re accusing me of paying for just one. Tell me, old man—are you an honest person or not?!”

Seeing Sasabe on the verge of starting a fight, Jiraku Asakura and Masayo Asakura each took a step back. The former, face grave, gritted his teeth and replied, “Of course I am!”

“Then tell the truth! How many bowls did I pay for?”

Sasabe lunged forward, racket raised as if to beat Jiraku Asakura, but the last shred of reason held him back. He still needed the old man to clear his name—he couldn’t risk losing that. His voice broke with desperation as he demanded, “Tell him! Now, say it!”

As if driven by a devil inside, Sasabe itched to lash out, but just then, Naruki Matsubara let out a scornful laugh. He, too, drew his racket from his bag, his smile widening with each second. “Trying to scare a poor ramen vendor with your tennis racket? Aren’t you ashamed?”

The boy gripped his racket and glared at Sasabe, his expression fierce. “So you have a racket, huh? Who here doesn’t?”

He emphasized those last words, swinging his racket up and aiming it at Sasabe, the whistling wind slicing the air.

“Jii-chan, speak up. Just how many bowls did he pay for?” Naruki Matsubara asked quietly, his eyes fixed on the solemn-faced Jiraku Asakura.

At those words, everyone’s attention fell on Jiraku Asakura—Masayo Asakura trembling, Ryo Shishido silent, and Tatsukawa Tatsushi watching patiently. All waited for his answer.

“Sir, everyone here wants the truth. Don’t forget who we are, at this very moment. Say it out loud—how many bowls?”

Naruki’s words seemed innocuous, but to Jiraku Asakura, they were as clear as a wake-up call. Yes, they’d already agreed to teach these two food-wasting brats a lesson, and the time had come. How could he hesitate now?

Remembering Sasabe’s arrogant, wasteful behavior in the shop, Jiraku Asakura’s resolve hardened. He glanced at Sasabe threatening him with a racket, then at Naruki Matsubara poised against Sasabe, and finally, after swallowing hard, he spoke:

“One bowl’s worth...”

The words landed with the weight of a gavel. Naruki Matsubara and Ryo Shishido felt the tension drain away, while Sasabe and Tatsukawa Tatsushi looked as stricken as kites with cut strings or drowning men desperate for air—their faces twisted in misery.

Sasabe’s grip on his racket visibly loosened. Naruki Matsubara lowered his racket as well. Sasabe turned to face him, his voice flat and cold.

“You’re no peace-loving, kind person. You’re a true villain.”

“Oh?” Naruki raised an eyebrow, a mocking grin curling his lips. “Well, I’m actually getting hungry.”

“And as for who’s the bigger villain, you’re a few years too young to compete with me, shorty. I’m telling you, I’m worse than you’ll ever be!”

With a wild roar, Sasabe flung his racket aside, seized the half-finished bowl of noodles still on the table, and began to slurp them down noisily, louder than thunderous snores. In no time, he’d devoured everything in the bowl.

“Ugh...”

Clutching Tatsukawa Tatsushi for support, Sasabe retched, his stomach painfully swollen and gurgling as if a storm raged inside. He gasped for breath, tears and snot streaming down his face, soup and noodle bits smeared around his mouth.

“Watch closely—if I can’t finish both these bowls today, all the money I’ve thrown down is yours for nothing!”

His voice was sharp and fierce.

“If you can’t finish what’s left, I’ll double your money back,” Naruki Matsubara replied, pulling out his unicorn wallet and flipping it open to reveal a stack of crisp bills.

“Go for it, Sasabe!” Tatsukawa Tatsushi cheered.

“Slurp! Slurp!”

Sweating profusely, Sasabe began eating from Tatsukawa Tatsushi’s bowl. But he’d truly reached his limit—the noodles he’d eaten earlier wouldn’t even let him burp, and just one more bite would send him vomiting on the spot.

But—since it was a bet, Sasabe would never back down. This was no longer about how many bowls or how much money. Now, he had to win this bet against Naruki Matsubara.

“What are you doing, dawdling around? Eat properly, you’re too slow—I can’t even see the noodles disappear,” Naruki taunted.

“Come on, Sasabe—show them how we eat, that we’re not to be underestimated. Two leftover bowls? We could finish two more full ones, no problem. Let’s go!” Tatsukawa Tatsushi encouraged him again, unwittingly sending Sasabe’s blood pressure soaring. Was this idiot trying to kill him with kindness?

Yet, even without Tatsukawa’s words, Sasabe was determined.

“Argh!”

With a wail of anguish, Sasabe forced down the rest of the noodles from Tatsukawa’s bowl. A single white noodle dangled from his tightly closed lips. Summoning all his strength, he finally swallowed the last mouthful of soup and noodles. His stomach now felt utterly alien to him.

He slammed the empty bowl onto the table, his trembling finger pointing at the two toppled, empty bowls. Gasping for breath, he demanded, “Well? Did I finish them or not?!”

“Hang in there, Sasabe! I’ll call an ambulance right away!” Tatsukawa Tatsushi shouted, seeing him unable to stand straight.

“Well...did I finish them, or not, shorty?” Sasabe swayed, barely coherent.

“I know you paid for two bowls, and I know you finished them both—you fell right into my trap,” the boy said with a wicked smile as he drew near. “I hope this teaches you something: wherever you eat, never waste food. Understand?”

Sasabe stood frozen, unable to move. Only after a long pause did he manage to point at Naruki Matsubara and gasp, “So...you planned this from the beginning?!”

“Of course. So what if you have money? The old man worked hard to run his shop, and you and your buddy wasted food here with a straight face, bragging about how you could afford it. Sasabe, you’re the disgrace of the North High tennis club. No—you're the greatest shame in all of junior high tennis.”

With that, Naruki Matsubara stuffed all the cash from his wallet into Sasabe’s hand. “This should be enough to call ten ambulances.”

“Well? Why are you still standing there? Waiting for me to call one for you?”

Seeing Sasabe and Tatsukawa Tatsushi still staring at him, Naruki’s eyes narrowed sharply.

“W-we’re leaving!” Sasabe stammered, his body stiffening. Then, together with Tatsukawa Tatsushi, the two of them fled in utter humiliation.