Chapter 2 Tennis Recorder



Chapter 2 Tennis Recorder

The smell of natto in the cafeteria was almost overwhelming. Fukama ate at his bowl of rice while listening to Minamoto Chiba ramble on: "...So Momoshiro ordered carrot stew with beef at your restaurant yesterday? He obviously hates carrots."

"Maybe it's because I said radishes aren't good for wound healing," Fengjian said vaguely. Her mind was full of the medical checkup package prices she saw when she passed by the hospital this morning. She had to find a way to get Sister Ling to go for the checkup willingly.

I just can't find a suitable reason.

"Speaking of which, April, do you want to go watch the tennis club practice this afternoon? Senior Gan said there's a new and amazing freshman."

“…”

The other side of the cafeteria.

"The girl who helped Tao change the menu in Chinatown yesterday turned out to be from our school," Kikumaru poked Taocheng's bandage, raised his chin and nodded at the two people not far away, "She actually knew that radishes are not good for wound healing."

Inui Sadaharu pushed his glasses up and scribbled something in his notebook. "Kazama April, Class 8, Grade 2, lives in Kazama Tofu House in Yokohama's Chinatown. Low-key, good at shot put, a sport that fewer than 5% of girls excel at. There's an 85% chance it's because she helps out at home. Last week, she sat in the last row of biology class. Her notes were neatly graded at 92."

Tao Cheng almost choked on a mouthful of fried noodles: "Senior Gan, you even checked this?"

"Data collection is fundamental." Qian closed the notebook and glanced at Tezuka, who was eating alone at the next table. "Her perspective might be helpful for recording training."

Kikumaru leaned closer to Momoshiro and said, "Look, when Tezuka heard the word 'record', he turned the pages of the book faster~"

Momoshiro followed his gaze and saw Tezuka looking down at the training plan, tapping his knuckles on the page that contained "Dietary Recommendations."

——

She wanted to ask Ling Jie to go for a physical examination, but she couldn't find a suitable reason. Feng Jian Siyue had to settle for the next best thing and buried herself in the library reading health books. Yuan Qianye complained that she was "better at health preservation than an old woman."

The April sports festival was like a dream softened by the sun. Cherry blossoms from the edge of the playground rustled onto the track, staining the red plastic a pale pink. The wind carried the sweet aroma of sports drinks and the tang of young people's sweat, blending like a fizzy soda.

Fengjian Siyue sat cross-legged on the lawn with the account book given by Sister Ling spread on her knees. During her lunch break, she helped her family check the vegetable money for this month.

Next to him, Gen Chiba was holding a dogtail grass in his mouth and swinging his legs boredly, but his eyes were glued to the rest area of ​​the tennis club not far away, like a cat staring at dried fish.

"April, your sweatpants are almost dragging on the ground. Are you really planning to wrap yourself up like a dumpling?" Chiba reached out and tugged at her trouser legs. "Look at Hayakawa from Class 3. She's wearing a new plaid skirt today. Sato-kun's eyes are wide open."

Without even looking up, Fengjian drew a line across the account book with her pen. "If you squat down in a skirt, you'll be exposed, and it'll get dirty when you help Sister Ling move the rice bags." She paused and added, "Besides, who is Sato-kun?"

Chiba sighed exaggeratedly: "You, besides the store's account books and Natsume Soseki, can you pay attention to the living people?" She suddenly leaned closer and lowered her voice, "Look over there, the tennis team is checking their equipment."

Feng Jian glanced in the direction of her gaze and saw only the backs of several people in green sportswear. One of them was bending over to adjust a tennis racket, and the ends of her chestnut hair shone coldly in the sunlight, as if it had been quenched by ice.

"That's President Tezuka."

"That's the one I pointed out to you the other day." That's the guy I saw in the store last time.

"Although Momoshiro's running punishment was very strict, he was super cool when he played tennis!" Chiba's voice was filled with joy. "Last year in the Kanto qualifiers, he served the ball directly into the boundary marker of the other court. With a 'boom', the whole court exploded! My deskmate said the ball was as fast as a meteor."

Fengjian paused, her hand gripping the pen. She recalled the day before yesterday in the shop, when Momoshiro, bandaged, was being teased by his companions, and the boy in a suit and school uniform standing at the door—a tall, upright figure, silent, a mere glance at the crossed-out "Braised Beef Brisket with Radish" on the menu. His eyes were emotionless, yet they made one dare not neglect him.

"He looks...serious," Kazama said matter-of-factly.

"Yes, he is very rigorous!" Chiba corrected. "Senior Gan said that Tezuka's training plan is precise down to the minute, even the swing angle is recorded in a notebook. Oh, and Senior Gan is the one with glasses; he and I are neighbors," she said, her cheeks slightly red. "He asked me yesterday if I would like to be a recorder for the tennis club."

"Me?" She frowned. "I don't even know the rules of tennis. What am I supposed to remember? How many bottles of sports drinks did someone drink today?"

"Senior Gan said you're very attentive!" Chiba shook her arm like a spoiled cat. "Last time when Taocheng injured his hand, you immediately saw that carrots wouldn't be conducive to recovery. You're better than the team doctor. And the recorder doesn't need to know anything about tennis. Just record the number of serves and the landing points. It's very simple."

"And most importantly, there's a club subsidy for memorizing data," Chiba lowered his voice. "The tennis club often orders group meals, so maybe we can earn enough to pay for Sister Ling's medical checkup."

Kazama's fingers tightened around the pen. The ink mark "3kg of carrots" on the account book was pricked by the tip of the pen, leaving a tiny dot of ink, like an unwiped tear.

"Maybe we can give it a try."

"Then I'll go find Senior Gan to get the form later!" Chiba said excitedly, muttering in her ear like a chirping spring bird.

Feng Jian thought of the curled-edge ledger under Sister Ling's counter and suddenly felt a little absurd. Helping with the family's accounting was to make a living, and keeping track of a group of teenagers playing basketball was also for the same purpose.

——

The next day before school, Sister Ling pulled out a sky-blue school badge from under the counter. It had "Tao Cheng Wu" engraved on it. "This is what the kid left behind yesterday. Can you take it to him?"

"good."

As soon as she arrived at school, Fengjian ran to the tennis court. The setting sun dyed the barbed wire fence golden. As she pushed open the fence, she heard a "bang". The green and white tennis ball flew past her ear and hit the fence behind her, making the ropes buzz.

"Feel sorry."

A cold voice sounded behind him.

Kazama turned around and saw Tezuka Kunimitsu standing in front of the net, holding a racket in his hand. A black wrist guard covered half of his forearm, and the edges were slightly damp with sweat.

His eyes fell on the school badge in her hand, "Looking for Taocheng?"

"Hmm..." She handed over the school badge, and her fingertips accidentally touched his wristband, which was so hot that it felt like she was holding a small sun. She retracted her hand as if she had been electrocuted, but there was still a little warmth on her fingertips.

Tezuka took the school badge and handed it to Momoshiro who had just finished running, then turned to Kazama: "Are you the new recorder?"

"yes......"

Before she could finish, he had already turned and walked to the other end of the court, bending down to pick up the tennis ball. The setting sun stretched his shadow very long, and when he swung the racket, the muscles under his wrist guard were tense, like a fully drawn bowstring, revealing a strength that could not be wrong.

Fengjian suddenly remembered the form given by Gan, and took out the notebook as if possessed. The cover had light scratches on it, and it looked like an account book.

She paused with her pen, drew a small "△", and then wrote -

President Tezuka: The wristband's temperature is too high. Do you have a cold?

——

"Our opponent in the regional qualifiers is Fudomine."

When a voice suddenly came from behind him, Fengjian's pen tip suddenly stopped, and a heavy black line was drawn on the word "study".

She turned around and saw that the person who had just been standing behind her and talking had turned around and was talking to the egg-headed boy who came around from the other side: "Daishi, have you heard of this school?"

"I haven't heard of it. Does Kazama-san know this school?"

As soon as he finished speaking, several eyes looked over from all over the stadium. Fengjian Siyue opened his mouth, but his mind suddenly went blank. "It's a new school established this year..."

"It's a municipal middle school participating for the first time this year, and they've never made it past the preliminaries before," Inui Sadaharu intervened, adjusting his reflective glasses. "It's said the tennis team went through a major shakeup a year ago, with all the old members resigning and being replaced by reserve players."

"Then winning this game won't be easy, just like we won against Yulinzhong," Kikumaru walked towards the court with his hands behind his head, "right Oishi?"

"Ah, well...it's better to be careful."

"No."

He pushed his glasses up, the lenses reflecting a cold light. "It's said that the original regulars were all second-rate players who didn't do their jobs properly. On the contrary, the reserve players were the ones who had the ability but didn't have the chance to participate because they were oppressed by their seniors."

"No matter if we are the starters or substitutes, we can't lose before we make it to the national competition." Tao Cheng clenched his fists, and the bandage on his wrists turned white.

"Hiss~ You only know how to talk."

"Venomous snake, what did you say? Do you want to quarrel?"

"Come on."

"Come if you want."

"Okay, okay, everyone stop arguing." Dashitou advised painfully.

After everyone dispersed to continue training, Gan's voice came calmly, "It's normal to have omissions when recording data at the beginning. Don't worry about it."

"good……"

Fengjian lowered her head and wrote in her notebook: "Fudomine Municipal Middle School, this is the first time participating in the competition this year." The handwriting was neat, just like when she was helping Sister Ling record the new dishes that had just been released this year in the account book, every stroke could not be wrong.

She squatted on the sidelines, staring at the game on the field, and drew a lightning symbol on the notebook, marking it as "super fast ball".

Inui Sadaharu adjusted his glasses. "Echizen's outspin serve has an initial velocity of 189 km/h, which is equivalent to 52.5 meters per second. And the ball you just memorized took only 0.4 seconds to hit the ground from the racket face."

As he spoke, Kazama noticed that the calculator on his sleeve was still glowing red, like a waking eye.

While muttering to himself, Kazama wrote down every word he had just said in his notebook, even highlighting "outspin serve" and "ball speed". The sound of the pen tip scratching across the paper colliding with the sound of the ball hitting the court.

"Hey, recorder!"

Arai's voice interrupted her thoughts. He ran over with a stack of sports drinks in his arms. "Help me move these to the rest area."

Gan watched Fengjian's back as he left, lowering his head to write something in his notebook. His movements were interrupted by the sudden laughter beside him: "Actually, we are all very curious, Gan, why did you ask someone who knows nothing about the basics of tennis to be the court recorder?"

He closed his notebook and looked at the girl in the distance who easily lifted a can of water. The corners of his mouth curled up slightly. "A layman's perspective might lead to some unexpected discoveries."

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