"Kuni, do you know Ogata-sensei?"

Kunihama tilted his head in response to Sho's call. As always, a smile was plastered on his face. According to him, he wasn't smiling intentionally. "That's just the way my face is made," was Kunihama's explanation.

"I don't know. Maybe he's watching the game somewhere else?"

Kunihama's accent is ingrained in his Kansai dialect. Whenever he returns to his hometown of Gifu, his family finds him creepy, saying he sounds like a different person. Kunihama quickly returned his gaze to the court. The team match was in the middle, and the player in white had just taken the kote.

It was the third day since the opening ceremony, and the team matches were just around the corner. In the preliminary league, three schools would play against each other in a round-robin format, and only the school with the most wins would advance to the final tournament. Right now, the first match was in progress, with the two schools other than Myoho Gakuen facing off. Both schools were well-known powerhouses, and not to be underestimated. It was fortunate that the other two schools were playing against each other first. This allowed them to observe the opposing team's order and how the players fought.

When the match started, Ogata sensei was standing right next to them, but before they knew it, he had disappeared. Their match was due to start in just ten minutes, but the sensei was gone.

"Maybe he's going to the toilet?"

Kunihama was relaxed. The white player held on to his ippon, and the middle match ended. With white leading by one point, the vice captain match began. Myoho Gakuen's first and second players had already put on their protective gear in preparation for the next match.

The vice-captain match also ended with a ippon victory for the white player. This sealed the victory for white. I looked around, but the teacher hadn't returned yet. Just as the captain's match was about to end, he finally appeared.

"Is there anything I can help you with?"

I rarely ask questions to Ogata-sensei, but in my moment of relief, I blurted out a question. I also felt guilty for disappearing until just before the game, despite being the coach.

The teacher didn't seem sorry and replied, "I was late because I was being interviewed."

This is no ordinary match. It must be a special match even for you, Sensei. I suppressed the urge to say more and picked up my protective gear.

As soon as the final match ended, the Myoho Gakuen players filed out onto the court. Five players lined up in a row. As the final player, I was the furthest from the referee. I faced off against the opposing team on the court. In front of me stood a player with thin, thread-like eyes.

"Thank you"

As I bowed to my squinting opponent, I thought about what Ogata-sensei had said. Isn't it a sign of disrespect for my student to give an interview right before the match? A coach isn't even allowed to talk to his players during the match. Shouldn't the time before the match be spent focusing on caring for the players?

The vanguard match has begun. Our vanguard is a second-year student, but his abilities are already on par with those of the upperclassmen. He will undoubtedly be the captain after the Inter-High. That's what my classmates and I always say.

At Myoho Gakuen Kendo Club, it was customary for members to retire during the summer training camp held after the Inter-High School Championships in their third year of high school. When lining up before and after practice, the third-year students usually line up in the front row, followed by the second-year and first-year students. However, on the final day of training camp, the second-year students, including the new captain, line up in the front row, and the third-year students sit in seiza in the last row behind the first-year students. It was then and for the first time that Mr. Ogata nominated the next captain. Unlike in junior high, where the captain is chosen by a vote among the club members, the high school captain is chosen by the coach's nomination.

Looking at the red sash tied around the vanguard's back, I was reminded of last summer.

Only two students from each school can participate in the Osaka Prefecture Inter-High School Championships boys' individual tournament. Every year, Myoho Gakuen decides on the two representatives through a round-robin tournament between all members. In last summer's round-robin tournament, Ishizaka came in first and Kunihama came in second. Since the third-year students arrived, captain Ishizaka and vice-captain Kunihama have been regulars in team matches as well.

In his second year, Kunihama was sadly defeated in the semi-finals of the prefectural tournament. He then defeated the player who had beaten Kunihama in the finals to win the championship. Only the winner and runner-up can advance to the Inter-High School Championships.

His momentum did not wane even after he advanced to the main tournament. He defeated upperclassmen and before he knew it, he had advanced to the top four. Two third-year students and Fujinami were also among those who advanced. With two second-year students remaining in the semi-finals, and with the success of Kagoshima's Kikuchi, a magazine article after the tournament stated that "a whirlwind of second-year students is taking place."

In the semifinals, he scored a point with a kaeshidō and advanced to the finals. Meanwhile, the match between Fujinami and the third-year student dragged on. The overtime continued for ten, then twenty minutes, and the crowd gradually began to murmur. As he stretched in preparation for the final, he realized that the majority of the crowd was cheering for Fujinami. The crowd was probably hoping for a second-year student to defeat an upperclassman and for a final between second-year students. Spectators who don't have any particular attachment to the wrestlers always look for the more dramatic outcome.

The two fighters were gradually slowing down due to fatigue. After about 30 minutes, Fujinami dove in and struck his opponent's men. His bamboo sword caught his opponent's men cleanly. It seemed like it would be a point, but only one referee raised his flag.

Immediately afterwards, as Fujinami turned around, his opponent immediately struck his men. It seemed as if he mustered all his remaining strength and jumped with all his might. The desperate strike hit Fujinami's men with a powerful bang. Three flags were raised. After a long overtime match, Fujinami's defeat was decided.

At that moment, a loud, audible booing erupted from the stands. It wasn't just from Fujinami's high school, but from athletes and parents from other schools as well. It was the first time I had ever witnessed such a scene. One of the tournament organizing committee members immediately ran into the stands to reprimand the booing. The voices of dissatisfaction soon died down, but an odd atmosphere remained in the venue.

It was then that I first realized the star quality of Fujinami the athlete. It's true that Fujinami's men should have been awarded an ippon. If it had been awarded an ippon, the outcome would have been the opposite. However, in kendo, where the judge's decision takes top priority, such decisions are commonplace. Despite this, the audience was so supportive of Fujinami that an unusual amount of booing broke out. This couldn't be explained simply by the fact that he was a second-year student.

In the final, he overwhelmed the wrestler who had defeated Fujinami and won by two points. His opponent was tired, but more than that, he was intimidated by the match itself. It was clear that the booing in the semi-final had an impact. If he was in perfect condition, it would be difficult to win against a weakened opponent.

As the gold medal was placed around his neck at the closing ceremony, he somehow felt as if his victory was something that had happened to someone else. Winning the individual championship at the Inter-High School Championships was almost synonymous with the title of strongest high school fencer. And yet, he had no real sense of being the strongest. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Fujinami, who was holding the bronze medal. There was neither regret nor joy in Fujinami's eyes.

After the closing ceremony, we were surrounded by several reporters. Professor Ogata stopped the reporters from approaching us and said, "Please take your questions in order." Having been interviewed countless times, the professor also demonstrated his skills as a manager. Looking at the reporters' faces, I felt like I was at a celebrity press conference.

One of the reporters proudly declared.

"As someone from the 'kendo world,' please tell us how you feel about winning."

It was a standard question. As I was thinking about the answer, I looked at the figure behind the reporter. From afar, Kota Fujinami was looking my way. "Do you think you've won?" I felt as if he was asking me that.

I changed the answer I had in mind.

"There's no joy."

The reporter's expression froze.

"Next year, I would like to beat Fujinami and win again."

The reporters began to murmur. Another reporter asked a question from the side.

"Does that mean there's no point in winning if I don't beat Fujinami?"

"In order."

Professor Ogata scolded the rude reporter and then whispered something in his ear.

"Hey, what's going on?"

"Sorry. I don't really understand it myself."

I didn't really understand why I said that. There was no doubt that he had advanced through the tournament and reached the top, but I felt that if he hadn't beaten Fujinami, I couldn't call him the strongest.

Ogata-sensei answered all subsequent questions. After the interview, he pressed him about the intention behind his remarks, but all he could do was apologize. Later, in another interview, he corrected himself, saying, "All players are rivals, and I don't view Fujinami-kun as special," but some in the kendo world are still not convinced. The coach of the opposing school in the final was a junior of Ogata-sensei's, but it seems that they lost contact after the Inter-High School Championships.

When he heard the rumor, he immediately apologized.

"The mouth is the source of trouble"

The teacher didn't get angry, but comforted me.