Chapter 14
Saturday's clear sky was as clear and bright as a washed sapphire.
There were crowds of people outside the center court, and the air was filled with the summer heat, the slight smell of grass and fanatical anticipation.
In the Kanto Tournament, Hyotei Academy faced off against the champion Rikkai University Affiliated School. This peak showdown attracted countless eyes.
I walked through the noisy crowd, my crimson figure like a dancing flame or a graceful crimson lotus, standing out in the crowd.
The silk sleeveless long dress has a smooth cut, and the auspicious clouds and wings-spreading black bird patterns carefully embroidered with black silk thread on the hem appear and disappear with every step, exuding an oriental classical elegance and mystery.
The outstanding appearance and unique temperament inevitably attracted many eyes, some of which were amazed, some curious, and some inquiring.
But I seemed unaware of this. My long, dark hair was loosely tied up, revealing my graceful neck. I looked intently at the route instructions sent by Oshitari on the mobile phone screen, and walked lightly and firmly towards the Hyotei support area.
Suddenly, the crowd in front automatically parted, and a team came towards us.
They wore yellow and black uniforms, marched in step, and carried the calm aura of a king. Most of the team members were young and youthful, confident and proud.
However, my eyes were instantly caught by the figure at the front of the team.
A young man wearing a black baseball cap.
The brim of the hat was pulled down slightly, covering part of his eyebrows and eyes, revealing only the cold and hard jaw and tightly pursed thin lips.
He walked at the front of the team, his posture as straight as a pine tree, his steps steady and powerful, each step carried a peculiar sense of rhythm, not intentional, but as if his breathing was integrated into his steps, with a natural sense of coordination and strength.
That is definitely not the pace of an ordinary athlete. It is a kind of nearly perfect body control, an instinct that can only be acquired through long-term high-intensity and high-precision physical training.
He is a martial artist.
I was ecstatic, and my originally calm eyes suddenly lit up with a sharp light. I didn't expect that besides Hijiruo, I would meet such a martial arts master here.
My pace involuntarily slowed down, and my eyes, like the most sophisticated scanner, locked onto the back of the boy in the hat, trying to capture more clues about his martial arts style and strength from his walking posture, which seemed ordinary but actually contained infinite power.
"Kiriyama-san! Over here!"
At this moment, Oshitari's highly recognizable lazy voice penetrated the noise and came from not far away.
Following the sound, I saw Oshitari standing in a prominent position in the Hyotei support area, waving at me with a smile on his face. Next to him, standing prominently, was Atobe Keigo.
Atobe was still as eye-catching as ever, his hair shining in the sun, and his Hyotei jacket casually draped over his shoulders.
He seemed to have seen me as well, his gray-blue eyes looking over at me through the crowd. His gaze paused for a moment on my eye-catching crimson dress, then returned to his usual deep and steady expression, nodding slightly.
Almost immediately, the oncoming Rikkai University team stopped in their tracks at the shout. The young man in the black hat at the head of the group slowly turned around.
As he moved, the face beneath the brim of his hat became clearly visible.
An extremely handsome face with cold lines, as if it were cut by a knife or an axe, with sword-like eyebrows slanting into the temples, eyes as sharp as a hawk, a high nose bridge, and thin lips tightly pursed. He exudes a powerful aura that is indestructible like a rock and is majestic without anger.
"Oshinobu." Sanada's voice was deep and powerful, like the collision of metal and stone. His eyes swept over Oshinobu and then fell on Atobe Keigo beside him. His eyes instantly became sharper, with the solemnity of meeting a worthy opponent. "Atobe."
"Sanada." Atobe raised his chin slightly, his eyes meeting Sanada's sharp gaze, and there seemed to be invisible lightning colliding between the two in the air.
The fateful showdown between the king Rikkai and the ice emperor had already begun invisibly before the game.
At that moment, I could clearly see the flags fluttering in the wind in the Rikkai University formation. On a deep purple background, the words "Rikkai University Affiliated School" were written in bold, powerful letters.
After a brief confrontation with Atobe, Genichirō Sanada seemed to notice the strong presence and inquiring gaze next to him.
His eyes, sharp as an eagle, shifted slightly and fell precisely on me.
When his eyes fell on my crimson figure and the surprise and curiosity that had naturally emerged on my face due to discovering a master, Sanada's brows, which had always been as cold and hard as ten thousand years of ice, frowned almost imperceptibly?
There seemed to be a very slight trace of confusion in his eyes.
Who is this girl with such eye-catching clothes and unique temperament?
Why was he looking at me with eyes as if he had spotted his prey?
Atobe keenly caught the look Sanada gave me, and the subtle quirk in his eyes. A flash of coldness, a strong warning, flashed across the depths of his eyes.
He calmly took half a step forward, his tall and straight body intentionally or unintentionally blocking the path of my eyes and Sanada's, blocking the scrutinizing gaze.
"Oshitari," Atobe's voice sounded, breaking the delicate atmosphere of confrontation. He didn't look back at me, but just ordered Oshitari, "Take Kiriyama to her place." His tone left no room for doubt.
Oshitari pushed up his glasses, his eyes quickly sweeping over Atobe, Sanada, and me, his mouth curling up in a meaningful arc: "Hey, hey, I understand."
He turned to me, smiling broadly, "Kirishama-san, please follow me. Your 'special viewing seat' is ready."
I took one last, deep look at the imposing Sanada Genichirō, etched that cold, sharp face and that rock-hard aura firmly into my mind, then retracted my gaze and nodded to Oshitari, "Okay."
The flame in his heart that wanted to explore the true meaning of martial arts burned even brighter with the appearance of Genichirō Sanada.
Hyotei vs Rikkai University.
Atobe Keigo vs. Sanada Genichirō.
This is more than just a pinnacle of tennis.
Perhaps it will also be an unexpected starting point for me to explore the deeper mysteries of Japanese martial arts.
With growing interest, I followed Ozuki to the so-called "special viewing seats".
On the way to the "special viewing seats," Oshitari's gaze lingered for a moment on my crimson dress, his smile behind his glasses revealing undisguised admiration. "Kiriyama-san's outfit is truly dazzling today. The embroidery is so charming."
"Thank you." I continued walking, my gaze sweeping over the noisy, cheering crowd around me. I explained calmly, "In China, the black bird symbolizes good fortune, and auspicious clouds represent luck. This should be considered a good start for Hyotei."
Having said that, my thoughts are more on the hat-wearing Genichirō Sanada.
Hearing this, Oshitari's smile widened. "Ah, that's really a good omen."
The so-called "special viewing seats" turned out to be VIP seats in the front row of the Hyotei support area, with excellent views and even awnings. A bottle of iced mineral water and a pair of lightweight high-power binoculars were thoughtfully placed next to them. You don't have to guess who did this.
I sat down, placed the telescope on my lap, and my eyes were already fixed on the field where the game was about to begin.
As soon as the game started, the air was ignited!
The collision between Hyotei and Rikkai University, two of Kanto's top powerhouses, was like Mars hitting the Earth. Every sharp serve, every thrilling save, and every precise interception triggered thunderous cheers from the stands.
The Hyotei supporters were like boiling lava, chanting "Atobe! Atobe! Hyotei! The winner is Hyotei!" in unison, accompanied by waving large flags and... the huge posters of the starting players that I took photos of hung around the stadium.
Those moments of power, determined looks, and magnificent moves I meticulously captured seemed to inject endless adrenaline into the entire Hyotei camp. The sheer force of their momentum nearly blew the roof off center court.
The crowd was amazed at the high-definition, handsome, and powerful posters. Oshitari, sitting not far from me, pushed his glasses up and chuckled softly, "Look, your masterpiece is outstanding."
I nodded slightly, but my eyes were always sharply following the movements of the players on the field, especially Hiyoshi Wakaba and the silent emperor of Rikkai University.
Hiyoshi Waka's "overthrow of the superior" became more and more fierce in the high-pressure confrontation. His steps were cunning and his movements were swift. He integrated the fierceness of ancient martial arts into tennis, and every ball was carried with the momentum of making a desperate move.
However, my telescope was more focused on Genichirō Sanada in the Rikkai University rest area.
Even when sitting quietly, his back remained straight as a pine tree, his breathing was long and deep, and his whole body exuded a sense of rock-solid stability. This was not the physique of an ordinary athlete, but the bearing of a martial arts master who cultivated both inner and outer qualities.
Finally, the grand finale is on - Singles Number One!
Atobe Keigo vs. Sanada Genichirō!
Ice King vs Emperor!
When the two men stared at each other across the net, the invisible auras collided as if they were real. The air in the entire stadium seemed to freeze, and the previous noise turned into a breathless silence. Everyone knew that this would be a peak showdown that would be recorded in the history of the Kanto Tournament.
As soon as the game started, it became intense.
Atobe's gorgeous skills and insight were brought to the extreme. His "Waltz Towards Destruction" was like an invitation to death, accurately hitting the opponent's weaknesses; the "Tannhauser Serve" flew close to the ground with a strange spin, and his jumping and smashing figure was like a god descending in the sun. Every point was accompanied by his finger snaps that resounded throughout the stadium and the deafening cheers of the Hyotei cheering group.
However, Genichirō Sanada, the emperor of Rikkai University, is like an insurmountable steel barrier.
My binoculars were fixed on the movement of his feet. His steps seemed simple and straightforward, without any fuss, yet they held an indescribable mystery. The spacing, landing point, and shift of center of gravity of each step were measured to the millimeter, like the most sophisticated instrument.
No matter how tricky the angles were, Sanada always managed to reach the ball's landing point with minimal movement and utmost speed. This wasn't simply a realm achieved through tennis training; it was a martial arts accomplishment that had deeply ingrained advanced footwork into his bones.
"Its fast as the wind" fast attack, "its slow as the forest" tight defense, "its aggressive as fire" violent offensive, "its immovable as a mountain" absolute stability...
Each switch of form carries with it tremendous power and the spirit of martial arts.
The clash between the two was a clash of strength, skill, will, and even the Dao. The clashing of rackets and tennis balls resonated like a dense drumbeat, sweat splattered, and eyes sharp as blades.
The score went up and up, each point a thrilling victory that made your blood boil. The only sound on the court was the whistling of the tennis ball through the air and the heavy breathing of the two players.
At the crucial game point of the deciding set, the score was deadlocked and the air was as tense as a fully drawn bowstring.
Atobe hit an extremely tricky ball down the line, and Sanada saved it with his devilish pace. Atobe followed up with a small ball in front of the net, and Sanada flew to save it again.
However, in this split second——
“Crack!”
An extremely slight, yet clearly audible, breaking sound was heard in the silence.
The specially made, extremely tough racket string in Sanada's hand, which had accompanied him in many battles for many years, broke without any warning under the violent impact of this extreme save.
The broken string drooped helplessly like a dying snake, and the tennis ball, barely deflected, bounced limply onto the net and rolled helplessly down.
The whole audience was silent.
Everyone was stunned, including the two people on the field.
Sanada maintained the posture he had when he landed after saving the ball, looking at the broken racket in his hand. For the first time, a very brief look of surprise appeared on his stern face.
Atobe Keigo also stopped moving, frowning as he looked at the falling ball and Sanada's broken racket. There was no joy of scoring on his face, but instead a sense of reluctance and solemnity at having his peak showdown interrupted.
After a brief moment of shock, the referee checked Sanada's racket and finally made a ruling: since the racket itself was accidentally damaged and he could no longer hit the ball effectively, the game would be replayed.
However, the game had to be briefly interrupted because the racket was damaged and needed to be replaced.
However, this unexpected interruption and the subtle impact of the rematch completely disrupted the two players' originally evenly matched and highly concentrated peak state.
While the subsequent matches were still intense, they could no longer recapture the feeling of pushing oneself to the limit, the burning desire for life. In the end, this highly anticipated battle of emperors ended with neither side being able to fully display their abilities, leaving them with deep regret.
When the referee announced the final draw, the whole audience was in an uproar, filled with sighs of disbelief and discussions.
Atobe stood at the net, sweat soaking the tips of his silver-gray hair. He looked across at Sanada, who was also panting and looking at him with a complicated expression, and extended his hand. Their equally strong hands clasped together, without further words, only a deep regret for not having a full match and a deep respect for their opponent's strength in their eyes.
I put down the telescope and breathed a long sigh of relief. I didn't know when my palms were already sweating.
The match itself was shocking enough, but what made me even more uneasy was the powerful footwork that Sanada displayed on the court, the kind of pure and simple footwork that was ingrained in him.
A draw... it's a shame.
But for me, the greater "gain" has been clearly imprinted in my mind.
Genichiro Sanada...
His martial arts are even more powerful than Hiyoshi Wakaba's "overthrow of the superiors".
On the road of exploration, there seems to be a peak that is more worthy of looking up.
Just then, Atobe finished his brief post-match greetings and headed towards the Hyotei support area. His expression was grim, clearly displeased with the draw. He stopped in front of the "special viewing area" where I was.
He didn't look at anyone, but just picked up the bottle of iced mineral water next to me that I hadn't touched yet, unscrewed the cap, tilted his head back and took a few big gulps.
The cold water flowed down his chin and soaked the collar of his sportswear, but it seemed unable to extinguish the unwillingness and fighting spirit in his eyes.
He put down the water bottle and glanced at me, his eyes filled with the frustration of not winning and the anger of having their duel interrupted. Finally, in a voice hoarse from intense exercise, yet still unquestionable, he said something in a deep voice, like a declaration, or some unspoken promise:
"Next time...I will definitely win!"
After saying that, he didn't stop, grabbed the coat draped over the back of the chair, turned around and strode towards the players' tunnel. His back was still straight, but he was wrapped in a layer of low pressure that kept strangers away.
I stood there, watching the direction he left, and there seemed to be a thin layer of sweat on my palms from watching the game just now.
The noisy stadium gradually dissipated, leaving behind a mess and lingering discussions.
Sanada's footwork, ingrained in his bones and returning to its roots, was etched into his mind like a brand, igniting an even stronger desire to explore. But at this moment, looking at Atobe's back, which was clearly filled with reluctance and fatigue, his heart was inexplicably touched.
Ordinary people may only see his imperial aura, gorgeous skills, or his obvious frustration at the moment.
But what I saw was something deeper.
It was the incredible willpower consumed by battling a master like Sanada to the end, and the huge price paid for pushing the body and mind to the limit every minute and every second.
The silver-gray hair soaked with sweat, the violently heaving chest, and the suppressed gasps under the tightly pursed thin lips are all evidence that cannot be disguised.
He was able to fight with Sanada to such a level, being evenly matched, and even forcing the opponent's racket strings to break unexpectedly. The sweat, tempered muscles, and honed will behind this should definitely not be underestimated.
That is a "power" of another level, a power that burns talent to the extreme and is supported by absolute effort.
Almost without thinking, I picked up the spare clean towel on the bench next to me, took a few quick steps, and caught up with him at the entrance of the player tunnel.
"Atobe-san." My voice was not loud, but it clearly penetrated the echo in the corridor.
Atobe paused, looking back in surprise. The flush from exercise hadn't completely faded from his face, a few strands of wet hair stuck to his forehead, and his eyes still held a lingering anger and a subtle hint of fatigue.
I didn't say anything, but simply held out the towel to him, motioning him to wipe the sweat from his face and neck. My movements were so natural, as if it were a matter of course.
Atobe was obviously stunned.
He looked down at the white towel held out to him, then back up at me. There was a moment of bewilderment in his eyes, as if he hadn't expected me to catch up, let alone something as ordinary yet strangely intimate as handing him a towel.
In the dim light of the passage, the post-exercise blush on his face seemed to deepen, even his ears were tinged with a faint red. After a brief moment of surprise, he reached out his hand, almost stiffly, and took the towel.
"..." He opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he just uttered a low "hmm". His voice was hoarse from exercise, different from his usual gorgeous voice.
He wiped his cheeks and neck roughly with the towel, his movements with a bit of the clumsiness and concealed haste typical of teenagers, as if he wanted to quickly erase this sudden and somewhat disorienting contact.
Seeing him in this rare state, stripped of his imperial aura and even a bit bewildered, I couldn't help but curl the corners of my lips, a sincere smile in my eyes, and whispered, "You were really impressive today, Atobe-san. I saw your brilliance."
I say this with all my heart, not as a mere compliment. This radiance is the will watered by sweat, the edge forged through countless trials and tribulations, the mark of a truly strong person.
Atobe suddenly stopped wiping his sweat.
He raised his head, his pupils clearly reflecting my figure and the undisguised, appreciative smile on my face. His gaze was deep and complex, as if he was truly seeing the person in front of him for the first time, as if he was burned by some kind of affirmation that struck him directly to the core.
He clenched the towel in his hand, his knuckles turning slightly white, and moved his lips, but in the end, he couldn't say anything. Only the tense jawline seemed to soften slightly.
"Kiriyama-san!" At this moment, Yuushi Ozuki's highly recognizable lazy voice came from behind, with just the right smile, breaking the delicate atmosphere.
He put his hands in his trouser pockets and walked slowly towards me. His eyes behind the glasses moved accurately between me and Atobe, and the corners of his mouth raised a meaningful arc, "Don't leave in a hurry."
He walked closer, ignoring the sudden chill in his expression, and looked at me with a smile: "Lord Atobe is hosting a party tonight at Tsukimidai to celebrate our tenacious draw against the reigning Rikkai University. The standard will naturally be Atobe-level."
He deliberately emphasized the words "tenaciously forced a draw", which earned him a sharp glare from Atobe, but he didn't care. Instead, he moved closer to me, lowered his voice, and spoke with a bit of cunning as if sharing a secret.
"Secretly, he offered to treat us, and he even... well, expanded the budget. This is a rare opportunity, so please do me the honor of coming, Kiriyama-san."
I raised an eyebrow.
A reward? A celebration of a draw?
This excuse is... the style of Atobe Keigo?
His eyes swept over Atobe, who was turning his head sideways, as if looking at the poster on the wall of the passage, with an arrogant look of "I didn't hear anything", but the slightly tense profile and his reaction just now made Oshitari's words more credible.
Tsukimidai...one of Tokyo's top Japanese food stalls, known for its exquisiteness and expensiveness.
It would be a waste if you don’t eat it.
Moreover, after experiencing such a thrilling game, it is indeed difficult to calm down and I need some buffer.
I glanced at the wrinkled towel in Atobe's hand.
"Okay." I nodded readily, feeling a bit relieved by the touch I had just experienced and the upcoming delicious food. "Thank you for bothering me then."
The smile on Oshitari's face instantly widened, as if he had accomplished some important task, and he immediately made the decision: "Great! Then shall we set off now? The car is waiting outside."
He turned to look at Atobe, his tone a little teasing, "Right, Atobe?"
Atobe finally turned around, his eyes quickly swept across my face, and then he returned to his usual, arrogant expression, as if the brief loss of composure just now had never happened.
He raised his chin slightly with dignity, and his gorgeous voice rang out with an unquestionable sense of control: "Ah, yes. Follow me, don't keep me waiting."
After saying that, he turned around first, casually draped the used towel over his shoulder, and strode towards the exit of the passage. However, his pace seemed a little more leisurely than when he left alone just now.
Oshitari pushed up his glasses and gestured "please" to me, the light behind his lenses flashing with a perceptive smile. I shrugged, followed Atobe's steps, and merged with the Hyotei team that was gradually emerging.
Taketo Mukai came over curiously. "Eh? Kiriyama-san is coming too?"
Shishido Ryo crossed his arms and glanced at me coolly: "Humph, it will be more lively with more people."
Hiyoshiro nodded silently, his eyes still filled with the concentration unique to warriors.
Karaichi followed behind Atobe silently, like the most solid shadow.
The team reunited and headed towards the parking lot.
The afterglow of the setting sun stretched their shadows very long, and the air was filled with sweat, grass and the vigorous scent unique to young people.
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