JSWGAS Chapter 12

The person walking with Kokonoe Hikohito was his senior, a Grand Slam winner from ten years ago. Kokonoe Hikohito used many connections to find him, telling him that he had a very good tennis prospect and hoped that the child could follow him to learn when he went to junior high school.

Nishikiori Koshi – the man who transitioned from a professional tennis player to a coach – was unsurprisingly interested in the genius he spoke of. He was once a highly anticipated player and, after retiring, loved to discover young talents to train.

Objectively speaking, Nishikiori’s wording was very appropriate, and he didn’t dismiss him because the speaker was a boy. And he was very friendly. Nishikiori did not choose to listen to the more flamboyant description in Kokonoe Hikohito’s words, but instead had a separate, face-to-face conversation with him.

He first asked Kokonoe Taka how many years he had been learning tennis. After getting a surprising number, he raised his eyebrows and said in surprise, “You started a year earlier than me. I started playing tennis when I was five years old.”

He also politely inquired about his training plan and the setbacks he had encountered in practice. Kokonoe Taka described these things from a detached, third-person perspective. No one knew that he was actually talking nonsense.

Things like, I really like tennis, tennis has taught me many things, playing tennis is very fun, and defeating opponents is very fulfilling –

All lies.

But in reality, in the past few years, the only thing that fits the definition of “setback” is his inability to refuse his father’s requests. Kokonoe Taka raised his eyes, looked past Nishikiori’s shoulder at his father next to him. He wouldn’t let him say it.

But at the same time, an uncontrollable malice welled up in his heart. It was like a devil whispering in his ear, murmuring softly. – Say it, let this man be put on the spot with no way to back down. What would his expression be like then?

Kokonoe Taka did not control the spread of this malice. People are sometimes like this: the more they know they can’t do something, the more they want to try it.

The accumulated emotions were rebounding. How long had he suppressed it? Now, that much was surging into his heart. The lights were dazzling, and the halos in his vision overlapped, almost giving him the illusion that he was naked and exposed to the sun.

He was slightly distracted, and his fluent sentences suddenly broke off.

Nishikiori took the pause as a sign that the boy had finished speaking. The expression on his face showed that he was giving an encouraging smile.

“So, Taka, do you mind if I call you that?”

More than the person himself, Kokonoe Hikohito couldn’t wait to rush up and answer for him – “He doesn’t mind!”

Under his eager gaze, Kokonoe Taka suddenly shut his mouth tightly. His gray eyes were hidden under his half-lowered eyelashes, turning into an unclear gray mist.

Nishikiori smiled kindly, assuming he was just shy and tacitly agreed.

“Taka, do you like tennis?” He paused. “Would you like to learn tennis with me?”

At this time, there was only one answer: obey him. As long as he affirmed, Kokonoe Taka would be Nishikiori’s tacitly approved student. For the rest of his teenage years, he would have to dedicate his life to tennis, smashing his head against a brick wall.

Just affirm, and he could live in the future described by his father. Life would be smooth sailing, without any obstacles, just like that high-class car smoothly starting and heading towards the day it’s scrapped.

Kokonoe Hikohito mouthed the words where Nishikiori couldn’t see: “Say you like it.”

Just like the countless times you’ve done it, the countless lies you’ve told, say you like it.

At this moment, Kokonoe Taka remembered what Oikawa had said. It couldn’t even be called a rebuke, just a straightforward statement that instantly revealed a corner of his mask.

He was different from them, he thought. I envy you.

His hands were so hot, as if another pair of hands was holding him tightly.

His stomach also hurt so much, as if there were magma and sulfuric acid rolling inside, colliding violently with his thoughts.

“…”

“Hmm?”

Nishikiori wanted to get a little closer. The boy in front of him opened his mouth, making a tiny sound of air. He could only see the other person’s blurred lip shape.

“…No.”

No? No to what?

Not only was Nishikiori stunned, but even Kokonoe Hikohito couldn’t react for a moment. The two adults looked at the boy in shock, their opened mouths like wallets that couldn’t be closed.

Kokonoe Taka said it again.

“I refuse.”

Clear enunciation and a firm tone. Saying these words was much easier than he had imagined, far too easy. He felt a sudden sense of weightlessness, as if he had jumped from a tall building, or as if he had crawled out of a mud pit with all his strength.

Just one step forward.

Kokonoe Taka inexplicably laughed. His expression at this time didn’t look like a child throwing a tantrum at all. Something more mature peeled off that mask.

Nishikiori asked, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t like tennis.” Kokonoe Taka kindly explained, revealing a pleasant and mischievous smile – the mischievous part was directed at the shocked Kokonoe Hikohito, whom he had never shown this expression to. In Kokonoe Hikohito’s eyes, his label was only ‘obedient and well-behaved.’

“Rather, I hate this kind of sport that is not pure at all.”

Nishikiori wasn’t angry. He looked at the black-haired, gray-eyed boy in surprise. More than discomfort at being offended, he was more curious: “Why do you think it’s not pure?”

“What kind of wonderful things do you think a man who brings his son to a place like this, stained with the colors of fame and fortune,” he pointed at Kokonoe Hikohito and said harshly, “will teach his son about tennis?”

Kokonoe Hikohito looked like he was immersed in a shock that almost subverted his worldview – he never thought that his obedient and well-behaved son would say something so shocking, almost throwing his face on the ground and trampling it repeatedly.

Nishikiori was intrigued: “Is that what you think? Then the things you said before about liking tennis very much and tennis teaching you many unforgettable things were also lies?”

“You can understand it as my brain being unclear.”

Weightlessness. Weightlessness. Still no feeling of standing on solid ground. Kokonoe Taka made a fist, then released it, looking at the crescent-shaped marks he had made on his palm.

“What do you think my tennis is?” He sincerely asked the man who was many years older than him.

Nishikiori pondered for a moment, and actually said in a patient and guiding tone: “I’ve seen your games and heard people mention it… If I were to describe it, I would give you ‘victory.'”

A record with no defeats. Probably able to win against most players older than him. The genius’s appearance only showed the audience the deeply ingrained strength, and the strength pointed directly to victory.

“Your style is obvious.” He was actually discussing it with the boy. “You slow down your attacks against those weaker than you, and you try every means to win against those stronger than you – I didn’t quite understand why you became… um, relaxed? Or rather, without a sense of urgency, when facing opponents with a stronger difference in strength. Now I’ve found the reason.”

Kokonoe Taka interjected: “Because it’s boring.”

He spread his hands. “What’s more, I hate it.”

“Is that so? That’s a pity.” Nishikiori said, “I originally wanted to directly help you change this bad habit.”

Kokonoe Hikohito had wanted to interrupt and get angry during their conversation. But the two of them didn’t give him a chance to speak at all – seeing that the conversation was coming to an end, he finally angrily questioned: “What do you mean?!”

“I mean I’m not doing it anymore.”

Compared to his furious father, Kokonoe Taka seemed somewhat inappropriately scattered. But when Kokonoe Hikohito spoke, this scatteredness quickly turned into a venomous accusation: “Father – I realized that I’ve been enduring for so long, but it seems like I’ve always been trying to please you.”

“– What are you saying?! You’re still a child, you don’t understand my good intentions!”

Kokonoe Hikohito’s tone was no longer so tense. Was it because he had said something to show weakness?

Too bad, he was wrong.

“No, no.” He corrected. “I may continue to try to please you – but now, I’m not doing it, I refuse to continue to please you with victory.”

Kokonoe Taka skillfully spoke to Kokonoe Hikohito across Nishikiori. He was sure that Kokonoe Hikohito would not get angry in public, unless he didn’t want to continue in this world.

At this time, you will feel that the power of money is really good.

Kokonoe Taka thought this, his mouth didn’t stop: “Or, Father, do you want to force me to continue? Then I can’t guarantee that I won’t keep losing. After all, I’m on the court, and there’s always only one person on the court.”

Perhaps it was because he had been joking around with Oikawa for so long, his tone unknowingly took on a bit of the other party’s mischievous style.

“I hate tennis, and I hate you too.”

The smile on his face suddenly disappeared, and his gray eyes stared intently at his blood-related father. Kokonoe Taka’s tone was filled with disgust, which was too heavy for a child of his age – he was like a beast facing an outsider who wanted to invade his home, roaring faintly.

“You never cared about me.”

Seeing that things were not going well, Nishikiori quietly left at some point – this was someone else’s family affair, and he didn’t want to get involved.

“You never cared about the family, you never cared about Mom, you never cared about whether I was willing or not. You forcibly put the things you couldn’t do on my body, whipping me to move forward according to the life you planned for me.”

He said, “But I’m not your thing.”

“I’m not you either. Why should I help you fulfill your long-cherished wish?”

Kokonoe Hikohito’s face flushed red, and soon turned bluish-purple, changing color like a palette.

“Nonsense!” He scolded in a low voice, glaring at him.

“I’m your father! It’s been like this since ancient times for a son to inherit his father’s business!”

“It’s disgusting to not be able to decide your own origin.” Kokonoe Taka retorted, taking a deep breath. “So, I’m not doing it anymore – whether it’s tennis or being your son. I’d rather not have a father like you.”

“You–”

Kokonoe Taka didn’t care about his answer. He felt light all over, as if he was in a dome, and the feeling of joy burst forth in his heart. Even if there were still sour, suffocating, salty tears in there, it couldn’t stop the freedom he felt at this moment.

He ran out of the venue without looking back. The rain outside hadn’t stopped, pelting down on his head and skin, deadly cold and shockingly cool. He ran in the water vapor, past the streets, past the overpass, past the intersection, past the sweet voice of the host in the screen hanging on the roof. As if he was going to run out of this world, he kept running forward!