Before the game, every team would go to familiarize themselves with the venue, but they would only leave after a quick look. Only Ryonan actually trained there.
Moreover, the afternoon's training volume was doubled compared to usual, and sweat soaked every player's uniform. Even Sendoh couldn't help but wipe the sweat from his forehead when Taoka called for a stop.
Two hours later.
"Go eat and replenish your energy," Taoka said, taking off his hat and fanning himself.
Then, he led everyone to a spacious izakaya near the hotel.
As they pushed open the wooden door, wind chimes jingled, and several tables of customers were already seated inside.
Taoka gestured for Shimamura Yoko to follow, and the two went to the front desk to finalize the meal. The others looked for empty seats in the restaurant.
"Yo? Isn't this Fukuda?" A flippant voice came, carrying undisguised mockery.
Everyone looked in the direction of the voice. It was a tall boy wearing the red uniform of Qingfeng High School, his collar open, a smirk on his lips, and his eyes fixed on Fukuda.
Four or five teammates sat beside him, all joining in the laughter, their gazes uniformly falling on Fukuda.
Fukuda's face instantly darkened. He clenched his fists, his Adam's apple bobbing, but he said nothing.
Gu Jin frowned, just about to speak, when the tall boy had already stood up and walked over, scrutinizing Fukuda as if he were some rare object: "It really is you, Fukuda Kiccho. Haven't seen you since junior high graduation. Didn't expect to run into you here—how is it, now you've managed to get into Ryonan?"
"Who are you?" Uozumi took half a step forward and asked in a deep voice.
"Me?" The tall boy scoffed, pointing to the team emblem on his chest, "Qingfeng High School, Moriyama Kenta. Fukuda and I are old classmates from the same team in junior high."
He deliberately emphasized the words "old classmates," his gaze sweeping over Fukuda's tense face. "Speaking of which, back then, Fukuda was the 'lone wolf' of the team. He was silent all day, and no one wanted to talk to him. Only Jin Soichiro had a good temper and was willing to exchange a few words with him."
At these words, the Qingfeng players burst into laughter.
Moriyama's smile grew more smug, and he continued, "I remember once during a practice game, he missed a crucial shot and was scolded by the coach. Guess what happened?"
"Moriyama, stop teasing!" The Qingfeng players egged him on.
"He actually cried on the spot, hahaha, and then turned and ran—"
Fukuda's face was already flushed red, the veins on his temples throbbing, his fists clenched so hard his knuckles were white, as if he was about to throw a punch any second.
"What a stench, who's spouting nonsense here?" A bristly voice suddenly rang out.
Sakuragi Hanamichi stepped forward, pointing at Moriyama's nose and cursing, "Where did this stinking fish and rotten shrimp come from, gossiping all over the place? Are you looking for a beating!"
Moriyama was stunned for a moment, then laughed: "Oh? Fukuda, not bad, you actually have friends? But red-haired guy, who the hell are you?"
"Sakuragi Hanamichi!" Sakuragi stiffened his neck, his eyes spitting fire, "Apologize to Fukuda immediately!"
"Oh, quite loyal, but what if I don't apologize?" Moriyama raised an eyebrow, deliberately leaning close to Fukuda's ear, lowering his voice but still making sure those around could hear, "What? After going to high school, you learned to find a backer?"
"Shut up!" Fukuda finally couldn't hold back a shout, abruptly pushing Moriyama.
Moriyama stumbled back two steps, and the Qingfeng players immediately stood up, the atmosphere instantly becoming tense.
Sakuragi Hanamichi's face was so dark it looked like it could drip water, veins bulging on his forehead, pointing at the opponent's nose: "I'll say it again, apologize to Fukuda!"
When Moriyama was pushed back, he wasn't angry; instead, he patted his touched clothes, his smile becoming even more obnoxious: "What? Hit a nerve and resort to violence? Fukuda, after a few years, your temper has grown quite a bit."
He turned to look at Sakuragi, scanning the conspicuous red hair, and scoffed: "Red-haired kid, do you know how annoying he was on the team back then?
He never looked when passing, his teammates would run themselves ragged, and he only cared about his own shots;
The coach told him to cooperate more, and he would glare, as if someone owed him a lot of money."
"Back then, we all called him the 'court ghost'—you could see him, but you couldn't touch the ball. He could throw a pass directly out of bounds, it was hilarious!"
"Hahaha, and another time during a practice game, he had the ball stolen three times by the opposing guard, and he actually squatted on the ground and cried, saying others were targeting him!"
Moriyama watched Fukuda's increasingly pale face with folded arms, continuing to slowly twist the knife: "Speaking of which, Fukuda, now that you're in Ryonan, you're probably still the same, right? Holding onto the ball and never letting go, your teammates all have to revolve around you? If that's the case, your Ryonan team might not go far in this National Tournament."
He deliberately leaned closer to Sakuragi, speaking in a volume only the two of them could hear: "I advise you not to get too close to him, lest you be corrupted by his reclusive nature—oh right, he even stole sports drinks from the team back in junior high, and when he was caught, he flat-out denied it. In the end, Jin Soichiro took the blame for him."
No sooner had he finished speaking than Sakuragi's fists were clenching with a cracking sound, his eyes seemingly on fire: "You try saying one more word!"
Moriyama, however, stepped back half a pace and gestured with his chin to his Qingfeng teammates: "Hear that? This red-haired guy is more agitated than the person involved. Fukuda, the backer you found is quite loyal."
He then looked at Fukuda, a mocking curve on his lips, "What? Don't dare to talk back yourself? Still need others to stand up for you? You're still the same spineless person you were back then."
Sakuragi Hanamichi suddenly rushed forward, grabbing Moriyama's collar, the veins on his forehead throbbing: "You listen to me! Fukuda Kiccho is my brother! If you dare to utter one more word, I'll tear your mouth off right here!"
"What are you doing? Looking for a fight?" Taoka, who had just finished ordering, roared, stepping forward to stand between them, "During the National Tournament, do you want to be disqualified?"
Sakuragi Hanamichi then released Moriyama.
Moriyama straightened his clothes, still wearing an arrogant smile: "Ryonan's coach? Please don't be angry, I was just catching up with an old classmate." He glanced at Fukuda, "It seems Fukuda is doing well now, with someone to protect him. Alright, I won't disturb your meal."
With that, he led the Qingfeng people away, striding off. Before leaving, he deliberately turned back and mouthed something to Fukuda, as if saying, "Just you wait."
Fukuda stood rooted to the spot, his chest heaving violently, his eyes a little red.
Sakuragi patted his shoulder: "Why get angry with someone like that? When it's game time, we'll just beat them down!"
Fukuda looked up at him, saying nothing, but quietly loosened his clenched fists.
Taoka sat down with a grim face: "Eat! Don't let irrelevant people spoil your mood." He picked up a piece of fried pork cutlet for Fukuda, "If you've got the guts, win it back on the court."
Fukuda lowered his head and took a mouthful of rice, mumbling a vague "Mm."
Gu Jin saw it all, understanding in his heart—if Qingfeng could win their first match, then the game between Ryonan and Qingfeng would likely be even more intense than imagined.
Sakuragi was engrossed in devouring his meal, his chopsticks clattering against the rim of his bowl, when he suddenly heard Fukuda's voice drift over: "I know a place with really good soft-serve ice cream. I'll take you there later."