Chapter 51: Enlightenment
"It's Rikkai University."
When the khaki uniforms of Rikkai University appeared on the sidelines, the members of Seigaku who were originally chatting about tonight's barbecue suddenly jumped up like a cat with its tail stepped on, while the members of Hyotei leaned against the wall as if they were enjoying the show.
Yukimura stood in front, his coat drooping down his side. His iris-purple hair was gilded with a gentle golden edge by the dusk light. He looked at Kazama and smiled slightly, "Sister Ling called us back for dinner."
Yukimura blinked, that was the tacit understanding they had when they were kids playing pranks. Kazama understood, turned around and said goodbye to everyone, then left with Yukimura.
"What a pity, Kazama isn't going." Kikumaru hung his head and leaned on Oishi's shoulder.
"Senior Kazama's face looks a bit sour." Echizen pulled the brim of his hat.
"Gen," Momoshiro poked her arm, "did you have a fight with Kazama?"
"You're kidding," Yuan rolled his eyes at him, "I'd never fight you before April."
"I don't fight with girls."
"Hiss, idiot."
"Who are you talking about, Kaitang Snake?"
"Kazama looks like he's worried," Oishi finally managed to squeeze out of the chaotic circle and breathed a sigh of relief, "Fuji, what do you think?"
Fuji glanced at Tezuka's knuckles gripping the racket, where he was gripping it harder than usual, so tightly that even the edge of the bandage was digging into the flesh. He then looked at Kazama's receding back, and suddenly curled his eyes and hummed softly into the air.
——
After saying goodbye to the other members of the tennis club, Yukimura, Sanada, and Kazama were the only ones left on the remaining half of the journey. Before leaving, Sanada said nothing, but just looked at Kazama and nodded slightly to Yukimura.
"Did you have a fight with your teammates?"
Yukimura was the first to break the silence. The setting sun on the street corner lengthened their shadows as they walked side by side. "Just now I saw you staring at Seigaku's direction, looking unhappy."
Fengjian lowered his head and kicked the pebbles under his feet, "No."
"Well, I knew you wouldn't say it," Yukimura said, smiling at her. "I've preliminarily concluded it wasn't Gen-san. After all, if it was her, you wouldn't have missed the chance to complain to me." He paused for a few seconds before returning to his own analysis. "As for anyone else, they're unlikely, so the most likely one is Tezuka."
Kazama paused, and then he heard his affirmative voice continue: "Did you and Tezuka... have a fight?"
She didn't say anything, but her actions proved everything.
"We didn't have a fight," she said, stopping with her head down, her hands clutching her shoulder straps, her voice muffled in her throat. "It wasn't even a fight. I was just throwing a tantrum on my own."
Maybe it's not even a temper tantrum.
Fengjian kicked the stone with a little more force. The stone hit the curb and bounced back to rub the tip of her shoe, leaving a white scratch, like a thorn stuck there.
Yukimura stopped short, but didn't immediately respond. He caught a glimpse of the ice cream shop across the street and smiled to himself, "Want some ice cream? It's my treat."
A few minutes later, two figures standing shoulder to shoulder appeared in the park at the foot of the mountain filled with afterglow.
"So, you're upset because Tezuka's old injury recurred."
Yukimura held the fruit tea in his hand. The cold air stuck to the wall of the cup, forming a layer of frost that was now coming out.
"I guess so." Feng Jian took a bite of the ice and exhaled a breath of cold air like a winter breath. His voice was as light as the movement of stroking the straw when he spoke. "I just think he doesn't take his body seriously enough."
"Perhaps I'm a bit nosy," she said with a self-deprecating laugh, lowering her head to stir the strawberry smoothie in her cup, her voice as if frozen. "After all, no one wants to expose their scars nakedly in front of others."
“Boom.”
Suddenly someone flicked his forehead, causing Feng Jian to feel pain. He turned his head and looked at him angrily, "Xingcun, what are you doing?"
"Don't let your imagination run wild," Yukimura retracted his finger and looked back at the sparkling sea. "You haven't even asked anything yet, but you're already denying all your previous efforts."
"Effort is only useful when others need it, otherwise it will only cause trouble to others." Fengjian curled his lips.
Yukimura stared at the sunset light, and suddenly turned to ask her, "Kazama, have you noticed that your attitude towards Tezuka is different from that of others?"
Feng Jian was stunned.
"Perhaps you haven't even noticed it yourself, but the way you look at Tezuka is like looking at a precious piece of porcelain in need of repair," Yukimura said calmly, his voice filtering through the sea breeze, carrying a damp chill. "But what the players truly need is never sympathy or pity, but respect and trust."
"I believe Tezuka thinks so too," Yukimura smiled at her, "perhaps he hopes that you can stand by his side and believe that he can stand on that battlefield again. Because in some battlefields, gentleness is just useless armor, and only by giving it your all can you have no regrets."
"Go back," he patted her shoulder, skipped down the stairs, and his voice returned to his usual gentle tone. "Tomorrow is our finals... I hope to see you standing with our opponents."
The street lights along the coastal road lit up one after another, casting a warm white glow on Yukimura's face. She looked at him, and the sea breeze blew, and the wrinkles in her heart seemed to be smoothed out at once.
When Fengjian pushed the door open, Sister Ling was wiping the table. The blazing light fell on the ends of her hair. Without even looking up, she sighed, "That kid from Jing City said you were with him. Next time, don't run out without saying a word. You have a cold, and it's not good to make adults worry."
She responded softly and was about to go upstairs when Sister Ling suddenly called her and took out a wrinkled hard-cover notebook from the drawer of the counter.
"You were not here just now, and a boy asked me to pass it to you." She wiped her hands and stuffed the notebook into her arms, saying jokingly, "It's the boy I met in the hospital before."
Feng Jian was startled. Before he could open the book, Ling Jie pushed him upstairs. "You should thank her properly. This thing is very important to you. You still haven't changed your habit of losing things."
She sat down at the table, the desk lamp casting spots of varying shades of light on the wrinkled paper. This was the record book she had dropped in the rain on the court last night. She didn't expect that someone would pick it up.
The pages of the record book were still a little damp, like seaweed just picked out from the rain, and when touched by fingertips, they curled up to reveal fine, rough edges.
She turned the pages one by one, the rain-stained handwriting smudged like melted sugar, until the last page, the ink of the line was darker than the rest, the strokes ended with a sharp hook, flowing like water, as rigorous and meticulous as he himself:
"Tomorrow, let's give it our all."
Her fingertips paused on the words "go all out" and suddenly she felt the light from the desk lamp was a little hot, causing her fingertips to tremble slightly.
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