Just then, a figure slowly walked over.
It was the freshman representative, Keigo Atobe.
Quite a few people in the crowd recognized Atobe and wisely made room for him.
Atobe glanced at the second- and third-year regulars before him. One reason he'd joined Hyotei Academy was that the school had reached the National Tournament semifinals last year, but...
"What a bunch of trash, you second- and third-year Hyotei regulars!"
Having attended England's U14 training camp, he'd honed a pair of eyes that could see right through anything.
Atobe couldn't see a trace of the "aura" a true strong player should have in any of them.
Even with their National Tournament semifinal finish, they didn't seem all that impressive~
"Hey, brat! What the hell did you just say?!"
A second-year standing behind Mitsuya Genko stepped forward, furious, and reached out as if to teach Keigo Atobe a lesson.
"Hmm?"
Atobe raised an eyebrow and slowly stepped forward until he stood in front of the second-year. He lifted his chin and said haughtily, "Are you talking to me, the great Atobe?!"
Atobe had received an elite aristocratic education from a young age, and he carried an air of nobility that seemed impossible to approach.
"You..."
The second-year was about to say more, but Mitsuya Genko stopped him first.
"If you want to join the tennis club, junior, please go over there to sign up."
Mitsuya Genko was very courteous. As a third-year, he knew better than anyone what the name Atobe meant at Hyotei Academy. To put it bluntly, if Atobe told someone to get lost, even the school staff wouldn't dare say no.
"The tennis club?"
Atobe looked over the tennis club members, then turned back to Mitsuya Genko and asked, as if puzzled, "You're the current official players of Hyotei Academy's tennis club?"
At that, the official Hyotei players behind Mitsuya Genko straightened up.
Some had only just been promoted to the team, while others had competed in the National Tournament alongside Gekko Ochi. To one degree or another, they all carried the pride of "strong players."
"Kid, you'd better know your place. Our Hyotei tennis club reached the National Tournament semifinals last year. Don't push your luck."
The same second-year spoke again. His name was Nagakawa Ino. He'd spent a whole year picking up tennis balls for the Hyotei tennis club, and had finally waited for the third-years to graduate so he could become a regular.
He hadn't yet had a chance to make his mark, and he didn't want to fade into obscurity just like that.
Today, they were scheduled to play Yamabuki, one of the Kanto region's top four teams. These first-years—even if Atobe was the young master of the Atobe Financial Group—would still have to pick up balls at the Hyotei tennis club like everyone else.
"National Tournament semifinals! Hahaha..."
Atobe couldn't help laughing when he heard that.
For a moment, everyone turned their attention to the young master of the Atobe Financial Group.
"You didn't even make the finals. That's such an embarrassing result—I can't imagine how you have the nerve to bring it up."
Atobe's smile faded a little. He looked at Mitsuya Genko with a mocking expression and said coolly, "You're the one in charge of this bunch, aren't you?"
"What do you mean by that?"
Even someone as mild-mannered as Mitsuya Genko couldn't hold back his anger after hearing those words.
"Answer me. Yes or no!"
There was an unmistakable note of command in Atobe's voice.
"Yes."
For some reason, Mitsuya Genko found himself unable to resist Atobe's words and openly admitted his position.
"Play me, then. I want to see if this tennis club has any players worth their salt."
Atobe's gaze swept over Mitsuya Genko. He set down his tennis bag, took out a racket, then headed toward the nearest court.
The Hyotei players nearby couldn't stand the arrogant kid. Mitsuya Genko, too, was starting to lose patience. "Why should I play you?"
Atobe came to a slow stop, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. "You don't have to. In that case, starting today, I'll be the one calling the shots at the Hyotei tennis club."
"You..."
Nagakawa Ino couldn't take it anymore. He reached out, ready to teach Atobe a harsh lesson.
But Mitsuya Genko raised a hand to stop him. A cold glint appeared in his eyes. "This is the tennis club, Nagakawa!"
"If you pull a stunt like that again, you're out of the club."
Mitsuya Genko was, after all, an admirer of Gekko Ochi. He'd learned quite a bit about Ochi's attitude toward the tennis club, and the one thing he absolutely wouldn't tolerate was violence.
"Oh?"
In the distance, a blue-haired boy's eyes flashed with surprise.
"Things are getting interesting."
The blue-haired boy wore a curious look. He'd come all the way from Osaka and had joined Hyotei because he'd heard its story—and also because his family had moved for work to Tokyo Metropolis.
If his family's circumstances hadn't changed, he might have gone to Shitenhoji like his cousin.
"Hey, what's getting interesting?"
An urgent voice came from the other end of the phone.
"Nothing. I just spotted an interesting guy."
The blue-haired boy raised an eyebrow and looked through his glasses at the nearby court.
"Let's talk later, Kenya~~"
Then he casually hung up, picked up the tennis bag beside him, slung it over his shoulder, and slowly headed toward the court.
"Senpai, here's my application form."
Kamikawa glanced toward the court and handed his application form to the second-year standing before him.
"Mm~ Sure..."
The other boy barely glanced at the form before taking it. His attention was almost entirely on Atobe.
A first-year challenging an upperclassman to a match—something that had never happened last year, the year before, or even further back. What was this first-year trying to do?
Kamikawa looked toward the court, tilted his head, and murmured, "The revolution has begun, Tezuka."
At that, Tezuka silently nodded, a fervent glint in his eyes.
First-year middle schoolers weren't allowed to play in matches. It was a rule at every school's middle school tennis club.
But rules were made to be broken.
Tezuka wouldn't be able to sit still if he went his entire first year without playing a single match.
Even at Seigaku, Tezuka had done everything he could to reform the club. The result was... before the reforms could even get underway, those hopelessly untalented upperclassmen had already ruined his arm.
Bang!!
The fluorescent-yellow ball skimmed past Mitsuya Genko's feet and slammed into the concrete wall.
Mitsuya Genko stood on the court with his hands held level. His eyes widened, his gaze vacant.
"Atobe wins."
"Score: 6–0."
Only then did Mitsuya Genko seem to realize what had happened. His body felt drained of strength as he panted heavily.
"N-no... impossible!"
The Hyotei regulars behind him looked utterly disbelieving. Their bodies trembled uncontrollably, and one of them even stepped forward.
"I'll play next! The vice-captain's already used up a lot of energy today. You didn't earn that win fairly!"
Atobe held his racket in one hand and placed the other against his face. Peering through the gaps between his fingers, he looked over the faces of these so-called senior Hyotei regulars.
"No need to make it so complicated. You can all come at me one by one. If I lose even a single game, I'll stop meddling in the tennis club's affairs!"
"How's that? I'm being pretty generous to you, aren't I?"
Atobe's words were full of provocation.
In his eyes, these upperclassmen were relying on nothing but their age. They'd simply eaten a year or two more meals than he had. He'd met plenty of people like that while playing tennis in England.
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