The setting sun dyed the rubber surface of Sobu High's tennis court a warm orange, and a gentle breeze brushed past the fence, carrying the late-summer heat.
However, the a
After giving Saika and Hachiman a good interrogation using tennis, it was already quite late. Continuing to stay on the tennis court was of no use anyway, so today's training was tentatively dismissed right there.
Although Asagumo invited Asakura to go hang out at the shopping street together, Asakura still very politely declined.
It wasn't because his legs were soft or anything, but rather he really had business to attend to, having already made an appointment beforehand.
In an inconspicuous alleyway, there was a shabby little shop with a faded lantern hanging at the doorway that had "Takeuchi Ramen" written on it in crooked Japanese script, its dim yellow light casting dappled shadows onto the ground through the glass window.
This was the "secret contact location" Asakura and a certain someone had agreed upon.
The moment he pushed open the door, a rich aroma of tonkotsu broth blew right into his face, mingled with the savory char of fried gyoza and the freshness of chopped green onions.
Simultaneously blowing against his face was warm, cozy heat—if it were winter, it would surely be quite a pleasant experience, but in summer, it felt like a less-than-wonderful sensation.
The ramen shop wasn't large, with only five or six wooden tables and chairs, yet there were quite a few customers—perhaps this was also one of the reasons why the whirring air conditioner's cooling wasn't all that effective—mostly students in school uniforms and off-duty salarymen, with noisy chatter, the light clatter of chopsticks against bowls, and the owner's shouting all intertwined together.
Asakura scanned the interior and quickly locked onto his target.
In a corner by the window, a pink-haired girl was curled up in her chair, her head buried in the raised collar of her school uniform, revealing only a pair of round, deep-blue eyes like a cautious yet curious little squirrel, peeking toward the doorway every now and then.
Although she seemed to think her hiding was absolutely perfect, her sneaky appearance—coupled with her conduct of ordering nothing except lemonade after entering the shop—had long drawn secretive glances from quite a few people around her.
This made Asakura couldn't help but hesitate a bit: Was he really going to sit with this idiot... ah no, this contact person, and draw everyone's attention?
Before he could make up his mind, Chika jerked her head up, her deep-blue eyes instantly lighting up. The feigned alertness from a moment ago vanished into thin air in an instant, replaced by irrepressible excitement.
"Over here!" She first shouted out loud, then realized she was currently making "secret contact", so she lowered her voice and said it again: "Over here~"
Asakura pressed a hand to his forehead.
Girl, why don't you just be a bit more straightforward instead?
Even so, Asakura sighed and sat down beside her, not letting the spot she had occupied in advance go to waste—though the owner, whose customer turnover rate was being affected, was already casting white-eyed glares in their direction.
"So how's the situation?" Asakura asked her while opening the menu.
"Where's the secret contact code word?" the girl said in a lowered voice.
No way, you actually want to play this game?
Asakura rolled his eyes.
"...Gotham City, where folk customs are simple and rustic." he said.
"Toad Town, where talents abound and the land is blessed."
Aping the mannerisms of a secret agent on TV, the girl leaned closer and lowered her voice, yet because she was so excited, her tone carried clear leap-for-joy eagerness.
"Are you satisfied now?" Asakura sighed.
"Heheh, that's it, that's exact feeling! The current me is no longer Fujiwara Chika, but Fujiwara·spy·Chika!" The pink-haired girl struck a pose she deemed cool, then asked curiously, "By the way, where are those two places in the code word you came up with? I don't think I've ever heard of them when my family went traveling abroad..."
"Don't worry about it. They're just small places where humans and humanoids frequently appear, that's all."
Asakura waved his hand. He glanced at the menu and found that the items listed were all quite high quality yet inexpensive; it seemed he had found the reason why this ramen shop's business remained so good despite being tucked away in an alley corner.
"Well, whatever!" Although Chika was a bit curious, she didn't obsess over it too much.
After all, after getting to know Asakura, as someone with a rampant curiosity, she somewhat knew there were subtly bizarre things in this world that were better left unknown—like the non-existent shrine that almost caused her to hit a GG—so after making a not-so-difficult choice between survival instinct and curiosity, she didn't press the matter too hard.
"By the way, here is the list of sports clubs participating in the Triwizard Tournament that you wanted. I secretly copied it from the student council office, it's all right here." As she spoke, she pulled a small notebook out of her school bag and carefully pushed it in front of Asakura, her deep-blue eyes brimming with expectant 'praise me quickly' look, like a pink-haired puppy that had completed a mission and was waiting for a reward from its master.
That appearance inexplicably reminded Asakura of Hitori: although on ordinary days the girl would subconsciously avoid his gaze and not meet his eyes, on certain special occasions—such as in bed—she would also gaze at him with similar watery eyes.
Huh, now that I think about it, Anon and Nadeshiko seem to give off a similar feeling too.
Speaking of which, are all the pink-haired girls I know dog-type? Isn't that attribute overlap a bit too heavy?
Tossing the wild, rambling thoughts in his mind aside, Asakura picked up the notebook and flipped it open to take a look.
The handwriting on it, rather than being delicate and neat, was rounded and somewhat cute, quite like its owner. Different colored pens were even specially used to mark the strength tiers of each club, showing that the girl had been quite meticulous during the copying process.
"Thanks for your hard work, Chika." He looked up at her, his tone carrying a few hints of sincere gratitude.
Although even with intelligence, Sobu High's sports clubs would probably still be beaten to a pulp by Shuchiin, he still had to thank her for her good intentions.
"Hehehe, no hard work at all, no hard work at all!"
Chika immediately smiled with her eyes curving into two small crescents, two shallow dimples appearing on her cheeks, as she said to Asakura, who was looking back at the menu again: "Anyway, copying the list didn't take much effort, and if we really have to talk about it, maybe Shuchiin pulled off this Triwizard Tournament because of me and Kaguya, you know!"
"What do you mean?" Asakura moved his gaze away from the menu and looked at the girl in confusion.
"Huh, didn't I tell you?" Chika leaned over to Asakura's side, looking at the menu in his hand together with him, while saying casually: "Kaguya and I are both transferring to Sobu High."
"You've never mentioned anything like that before?" Asakura said in surprise, "Why transfer over here?"
"Because Sobu High is there!" the girl said in all seriousness.
"Even if you answer using that famous mountaineering quote..." Asakura rolled his eyes.
"Because Asakura-kun is there!"
"What kind of reaction am I even supposed to make..."
"Just smiling is enough," Chika nodded. "By the way, regarding this shop, although the internet says their specialty is tonkotsu ramen, in truth, those who order the black garlic style karaage miso ramen are the real connoisseurs! Extra green onions, and don't forget the soft-boiled egg!"
For unknown reasons, admiring glares that conveyed, 'This young girl... is no simpleton!' arrived from the other tables.
And so Asakura said decisively: "I see. Since you put it that way, I'll order the extra chashu soy sauce ramen then."
"You didn't accept my suggestion at all?! But the karaage chicken really is super delicious, you know?"
"Then I'll just order a side dish of it." Asakura casually set down the menu.
"Guh, is this the adult tactic of not caring about extra expenditure at all...?" Chika squinted her eyes, clutching her chest as she made a pained expression as if she had taken true damage.
"Just adding a side dish shouldn't be much of anything for your allowance anyway," Asakura asked curiously.
"My family doesn't let me spend money carelessly; my strict upbringing won't allow it," the girl sighed.
"Strict upbringing means not being able to order an extra side dish in a ramen shop, yet being able to transfer from an elite school to a public school as you please?" Asakura teased: "Although Sobu High's teaching quality is pretty decent, it's far inferior to Shuchiin. Did your family actually agree to it?"
"For this, Chika here paid a massive price, you know."
Muttering, the girl called over the waiter, told them both her and Asakura's orders, and only then continued: "Though I'm actually relatively okay; over on Kaguya's side, things seem to be quite tense with her family..."
In truth, while it wasn't particularly clear, Chika had more or less heard that the largest investor behind Shuchiin had intricate ties with the Shinomiya family. The Shuchiin board completely letting the high school principal act arbitrarily to hold the Triwizard Tournament this time might also be a move by the Shinomiya family to give Shinomiya Kaguya a lesson and exert pressure.
However, there was no solid evidence for this, and most of it sounded like rumors spread by word of mouth, so Chika didn't plan on telling her 'Asakura-sensei'—in case Asakura barged through their doors only to discover it had nothing to do with the Shinomiya family, wouldn't that be way too awkward...?
"Actually, there's no need to go out of your way to transfer to Sobu High; staying at Shuchiin would be the same too—well, not that I'd say something so buzzkilling, though."
Regarding the girls' feelings, although Asakura didn't particularly care that much, he wasn't mean-spirited enough to say their determination was worthless either. He merely shook his head nonchalantly: "Don't worry, if it's only to this extent, as long as I'm here, there's no need to take it to heart. It's just family, what kind of grudge can't be resolved overnight?"
Or rather, even if they weren't family but enemies instead, once roasted to medium-rare or so, practically any feud or grudge could probably be put down.
"Having Asakura-sensei around is the confidence backing both me and Kaguya."
Chika patted Asakura's shoulder: "So the rest of my and Kaguya's lives are in your hands, big hero."
"Feels like you're trying to cling onto me."
Asakura jabbed.
"Your feeling isn't wrong," Chika said in all seriousness: "In most cases, a girl's true feelings carry as much weight as her life."
"Then that's way too heavy."
"If it's Asakura-sensei, I think there won't be any problem."
Just as Chika finished her sentence, the waiter walked over holding a tray with two bowls of steaming ramen.
"Ohhh, it's here!" The girl's deep-blue eyes lit up in an instant, her body swaying side to side in anticipation.
Asakura also reached out and took the bowl of ramen he ordered.
Thick noodles were submerged in tea-colored tonkotsu broth, topped with several thin slices of chashu, sprinkled with bright green scallions, and a soft-boiled egg lay quietly to the side, giving off a mouthwatering aroma.
Chika's eyes sparkled as she instantly forgot the weight of life. But instead of using her chopsticks right away, she used a spoon first to scoop up a mouthful of soup and took a sip.
"At a time like this, taking a sip of the soup first is what true connoisseurs do!"
Just how obsessed are you with becoming a ramen master? Asakura jabbed in his mind.
However, seeing the happy expression on the girl's face, he couldn't resist copying her and scooped up a spoonful of soup to drink.
The flavor was indeed quite rich and bright, carrying the unique taste inherent to tonkotsu broth without feeling like broth powder, meaning the soup base was likely truly simmered from bones.
Seeing this, Chika nodded in satisfaction, picked up her chopsticks, and eagerly poked at the soft-boiled egg. The yolk instantly spilled out, coating the noodles and looking exceptionally tempting.
"Itadakimasu!"
She put her hands together, said it with a beaming smile, and then impatiently picked up a bite of noodles with her chopsticks, blew on it, and stuffed it into her mouth, her cheeks puffing up instantly like a little hamster stuffed with food.
In this moment, Asakura suddenly somewhat understood why some people watched mukbang videos while eating.
The girl ate very earnestly, her eyes slightly squinted, a bit of soup dripping at the corner of her mouth yet completely unbothered, focusing solely on stuffing large mouthfuls of noodles into her mouth. Her chopsticks constantly stirred in the bowl, and she even split the chicken pieces into smaller bites, eating one piece per bite with great relish.
It truly did stimulate one's appetite.
"Eat slower, nobody is competing with you." Looking at her like this, Asakura felt both helpless and found her somewhat cute, handing over a napkin, "Look, the corner of your mouth got soup on it."
Chika raised her head, blinked her eyes blankly, took the napkin, and haphazardly wiped the corner of her mouth.
She waited until she had completely finished the entire bowl of ramen before making her victorious closing declaration in full satisfaction: "So delicious... this tonkotsu broth is so thick, and adding black garlic and miso creates quite a unique flavor profile! The broth base in this area can already be considered exceptionally top-tier, the noodles are bouncy, and the firm noodles don't feel undercooked at all! The chicken pieces are the ultimate finishing touch!"
"Is it really that delicious?" Asakura blinked his eyes and looked at his own bowl of noodles.
Granted it tasted pretty good, but to be honest, he really couldn't tell any huge difference between this shop's broth base and the ramen he had eaten at other places in the past.
"Though many ramen shops say things like 'This broth was simmered over ten years!'—ah, Asakura-sensei, don't make that expression, of course it couldn't literally be simmered for ten years, it's usually just used to describe how many years the chef has been immersed in broth-making—however, most ramen shops' broth bases are far inferior to this one! Among the ramen I, Chika, have eaten, the ones that can compete with this one are probably only those few long-standing ramen shops in the Kumamoto region."
Chika evaluated with an air of authority.
That posture made her seem remarkably professional, almost like some gourmet expert, giving off an impression of looking impressive even if one didn't quite get it.
Asakura thought for a moment and said:
"You didn't wipe off all the soup at the corner of your mouth."
"Mmph..."
tmosphere on the tennis court right now didn't feel like the sweet-and-sour youth life of boys and girls after school, but was closer to the feeling of two cowboys about to duel in a Western film.
It was as if tumbleweeds would roll across the tennis court in the next instant.
Miura waved the tennis racquet in her hand, which she had borrowed from Saika—although there were tennis racquets in the equipment room, compared to the cheap ones bought by the school, the professional tennis racquet prepared by someone as dedicated to tennis as Saika was clearly much easier to handle; although it couldn't compare to her own racquet, it was still decent enough.
"Hmph, since we're playing, I won't be holding back." Holding the racquet with both hands, she bent her knees slightly into a fairly standard hit stance, her fluffy blonde hair swaying gently with her movements, her eyes filled with defiance.
Leaning against the net and spinning his tennis racquet in hand, Asakura said with a casual smile: "It's fine, I'll show mercy... at least enough for you to touch the ball."
"Who needs you to show mercy! Don't look at me like this, I used to be a prefectural representative, you know!" Miura was so angry that her cheeks flushed slightly red, her fingers tightening their grip on the racquet with a bit more force, "You guy, Asakura, it's this arrogant look of yours that makes people hate you!"
The onlookers on the side had long since found their spots to watch.
Saika had diligently brought over several chairs from who-knows-where.
"That kind of thing should just be left to the boys," Yui said while helping him pat down the chairs.
"Um..." Saika's forehead was covered in black lines: "Although Yuigahama-san might have forgotten... I'm a boy too, you know?"
"Nani?! Saika-chan is actually a boy?!" Anon's eyes widened in sheer shock and astonishment.
"Ahaha..." Saika seemed long accustomed to being treated with this attitude, merely sighing with a hint of helplessness. Sitting together with Hachiman, his face turned full of anticipation again: "Asakura-kun and Miura-san both seem very impressive, I wonder who will win."
Hachiman rolled his dead-fish eyes, his tone carrying a bit of helplessness: "Rather than asking who will win, you'd better think carefully about how to make Miura feel a bit better after she gets exploded☆annihilated by Asakura in a moment... Crying girls are the most troublesome."
"Saying things like that, Hikigaya-san, you're never going to be popular with girls, you know." Yanami pointed out in all seriousness.
"Superficial things like that are something I don't need."
Hachiman said nonchalantly, his face full of life-weary cynicism.
Yui looked at Miura with a bit of worry, then looked at the composed Asakura, whispering under her breath: "I just hope Yumiko doesn't lose too badly..."
Asagumo gently patted her shoulder, smiling to comfort her: "Don't worry, Takuma-kun knows his limits, and besides, look over there."
Yui looked in the direction she was pointing, only to see Yukino standing to the side with her arms crossed, her eyes fixed sharply on the court.
"Yukinon looks so serious?"
"If Takuma-kun goes too far, Yukinoshita-san will definitely step in to stop him," Asagumo said with a beaming smile. "So there's no need to worry."
"Huh, isn't Asagumo-chan going to stop him?" Yui asked in confusion.
"Doing that might lower Takuma-kun's favorability toward me," Asagumo continued to say with a beaming smile.
Yui: "..."
So it's fine if Yukinon's favorability lowers on Takuma-tan's side?
In the middle of the group's casual banter, Miura had already impatiently swung her racquet: "Hey, Asakura, are you actually playing or not? Dallying like this, are you scared?"
"Scared?" Asakura chuckled softly, walking leisurely to one side of the court, casually tossing the tennis ball into the air before catching it steadily. "Since you're in such a rush, let's begin then. First game, you serve."
"Hmph, you said it!" Miura took a deep breath, walked behind the baseline, held the tennis ball in both hands, and stared intently at Asakura on the opposite side.
Although she hadn't touched a tennis racquet for a while after entering her second year of high school, the muscle memory left behind from her grueling training in the past was still there.
Thus, following her original habit, the girl stood with her feet shoulder-width apart, leaned her upper body back slightly, tossed the tennis ball high up, and swung the racquet with the momentum. Accompanied by a gust of wind, the tennis ball flew toward Asakura's backhand side.
Judging solely from this serve, while her technique was still some distance away from a professional level, it was already far beyond that of ordinary club enthusiasts.
Asakura nodded lightly; it seemed she was indeed qualified to serve as a sparring partner for Saika and Hachiman.
Of course, if she was taking him on as an opponent, it was somewhat lacking.
Even without using those foul powers, the passive, nearly seven-fold human reaction speed provided by the spell [Snake] alone made the girl's excellent serve look like slow motion in his eyes—Miura's swing action, the trajectory of the tennis ball, and even the arc of the ball drifting in the breeze were all clearly presented before him.
If he wanted to humiliate his opponent, Asakura even had time to raise his hand to adjust his collar before leisurely turning sideways to hit the ball back.
And so, that was exactly what he did.
"15-0." Saika called out the score reflexively, his tone carrying a bit of surprise: "What an wonderful counter... Is Asakura-san really just an amateur?"
Miura froze on the spot, looking at the tennis ball landed by her feet, her face filled with disbelief: "How is that possible... How are you so fast?"
"It's hit reaction speed that's fast! Don't leave out the important qualifier!" Asakura said loudly: "I don't want weird rumors spread about me!"
"Only a pervert would think weird thoughts because of phrasing like that!" Miura was enraged by his attitude, her gaze becoming even more focused.
She tried hard to recall the experience and techniques taught to her by the professional player who coached her in the past, bouncing the tennis ball on the ground a few times to get a feel for it before tossing the ball up again.
This time, Miura put in even greater effort, swinging the racquet faster, the tennis ball flying toward Asakura's blind spot with a fierce swoosh of wind.
Perfect.
The feedback coming through the racquet in her hand gave Miura a surge of confidence; although luck played a role, this serve was already the best she could possibly achieve.
She didn't believe the guy on the other side could easily catch a serve like this.
Yet facts proved that he actually could.
Under the buff of [Snake], no matter how fast her serve speed was or how tricky the angle was, Asakura could easily track the trajectory of the tennis ball.
He didn't even need to make large movements, needing only to slightly adjust his stance to precisely hit the tennis ball back—because it was so effortless and relaxed, it even gave off the illusion that Miura was serving the ball straight onto his racquet;
Furthermore, every spot he returned the ball to was stuck right where Miura found it hard to reach: either near the sideline, at a dead corner near the net, or just barely passing over her racquet, making it so she could only graze the edge of the ball even when giving her all.
"30-0."
"40-0."
Saika's scorekeeping voice rang out time and time again, and each time, Miura's expression turned a bit uglier.
Fine beads of sweat had already seeped out on her forehead, her breathing grew somewhat rapid, and the hand holding the racquet began to feel slightly sore, yet she hadn't managed to complete a single valid hit—she could barely even touch the balls Asakura returned.
"Hey! Are you doing this on purpose?!"
Miura stopped her movements, panting heavily as she shouted out loud at Asakura, "You could clearly just win outright, so why do you insist on playing with me?!"
She could feel that Asakura wasn't using his full strength at all. Every ball he hit back felt like he was deliberately teasing her, making her give her all to chase after it, only to fall short by just a tiny bit every single time. This sense of gap and drop-off was even more maddening than losing directly.
"Yes," Asakura nodded and said.
The girl froze for a moment, and only then realized he was answering her phrase from earlier, 'Are you doing this on purpose?', instantly getting so angry she was about to blow her top.
"If you surrender now, you only lose half, you know," Asakura said, playing with his racquet.
To his surprise, however, Miura didn't throw in the towel. She merely bit her lip, took a deep breath, and walked behind the baseline once again. Even though she should have understood by now that she had zero chance of winning even if they kept playing, even so, she intended to grit her teeth and stick it out to the very end, showing no intention of giving up halfway.
Even Hachiman couldn't help sitting up straight—he had originally thought Miura would break down in tears very quickly from Asakura's mean-spirited bullying, but the other party didn't prove to be that fragile after all. Despite looking like a character serving as a mere vase in a flamboyant normie group, she displayed an unexpectedly tenacious side in a moment like this, which was quite rare.
This time, the girl no longer pursued speed; instead, she changed the angle of her serve, attempting to deceive Asakura with a feint.
She deliberately assumed a posture to serve to his forehand side, but at the exact instant before the racquet hit the ball, she suddenly shifted direction, serving the ball low toward Asakura's backhand side, wanting to make it so he wouldn't have time to bend down and return it.
Yet all of this appeared extraordinarily clear in Asakura's eyes.
He could even clearly see the subtle movements of Miura's wrist and predict the direction of her serve.
The moment the tennis ball flew out, he bent slightly at the waist and gently flicked his racquet, sending the ball precisely back; moreover, this time, the ball stayed very low, skimming close to the ground as it flew straight toward Miura's feet.
Miura instinctively bent down to receive it, but the tennis ball was too fast and the angle too sharp. Just as her racquet grazed the ball, the ball slid right off the edge of her racquet and landed inside the line.
"Game one, won by Asakura-san," Saika's voice sounded, his tone carrying a bit of helplessness along with a touch of admiration.
It was hard to say whether he admired Asakura for his tricky technique (?), or Miura for trying so hard.
Miura stood limply on the spot, supporting herself with hands on her racquet, panting heavily in large gasps. Sweat droplets slid down her cheeks from her forehead, dripping onto the rubber court to form tiny wet spots.
Looking at Asakura on the opposite side, who remained completely composed, her heart was filled with a sense of defeat.
The match format was best two out of three sets, though looking at it now, they probably wouldn't reach a third set anyway.
Miura was searching for an opening for victory.
"15-0."
Miura was trying to turn the tide.
"30-0."
Miura was trying to return even a single ball.
"40-0."
Miura could do nothing OTZ.
"Game two, won by Asakura-san."
Saika's scorekeeping voice rang out once again, and Miura's legs went soft, nearly collapsing onto the ground. Supporting herself with the racquet, she panted heavily in huge gasps, the stubbornness in her eyes gradually fading, replaced by a deep sense of powerlessness. She knew she was simply no match for her opponent; continuing to play would only be bringing humiliation upon herself.
"Although I've practically won already, should we still continue with set three?" Asakura walked over to the net and looked at her, his tone carrying a hint of gentleness without teasing her any further.
He could tell that Miura had already given it her all; playing any further would only make her look more miserable.
Miura bit her lip, tears welling up in her eyes, yet she stubbornly didn't let them fall. She raised her head and looked at Asakura, her tone laced with unwillingness: "Continue! I still want to play! Even if I lose, I want to lose with dignity!"
Looking at her stubborn demeanor, Asakura smiled helplessly: "I actually already held back... well, fine, I'll let you see what it looks like when I get serious."
Miura wiped away the sweat on her forehead and assumed a hitting stance once again, "Bring it on! Hit me head-on!"
In the third game, Asakura expectedly stopped holding back, wrapping up the battle in the fastest time possible.
His serves were faster, his angles sharper, and his hits packed even greater force—every single ball carried a fierce swooshing wind.
Yet that was already just the simplest and most basic aspect.
Apart from that, there were balls whose trajectories became exceptionally bizarre; balls that looked slow at first glance, but always filled people with a deep terror so that they couldn't gather the courage to receive them; and balls that were completely impossible to return even if caught...
"15-0."
"30-0."
"40-0."
"Game three, won by Asakura-san," Saika said helplessly.
"Why is this guy so ridiculously good at playing..."
Shut out completely by Asakura, Miura collapsed onto the ground in an OTZ position, showing a look of disbelief: "Seriously, are those kinds of balls actually something human beings can hit?"
Granted, her tennis skill certainly couldn't compare to professional levels, but she had been a member of the tennis club in middle school and had even successfully been chosen as a representative for the prefectural tournament. Her skills should have been more than enough to crush ordinary students, whereas Asakura—this guy who looked like an otaku—had never even appeared on the tennis court before and was supposed to be a total novice.
As a result, no matter how she played on her side, the opponent could effortlessly catch every ball, while the balls he hit back were outrageously ridiculous. On top of that, Asakura maintained that effortless, composed look the entire time, causing Miura's mental fortitude to nearly shatter as she began questioning her life...
"I told you I'm super strong," Asakura said, taking a sip of the tea Asagumo had brewed for him in advance, looking thoroughly satisfied.
"If that's the case, wouldn't it be fine if you just went and participated in the Triwizard Tournament, Asakura?"
Miura couldn't help saying: "Even if it's Shuchiin, no one there could hit such ridiculous balls like yours, right?"
"Mm... I don't really have much interest in things that are too much trouble. Although I did think about whether to be a mercenary and go help other clubs beat up kids, but as expected, forget it," Asakura shook his head: "We'll talk about it when the time comes."