Prince of Tennis: Shocking! Hyotei's Demon King is a Yukimura fangirl!

Chapter 10 I believe you will definitely recover.

The voice just fell.

The harmonious atmosphere in the ward suddenly froze.

Yukimura's hand, which was resting on the blanket, curled up slightly. The light in his eyes, which had been shining when he talked about tennis and plants, dimmed. He still wore a polite smile, but there was no trace of a smile in his deep eyes.

He lowered his eyes slightly, his gaze falling on the bouquet of flowers that Wang Yueling had brought. His voice was very soft, and his tone was somewhat nonchalant: "There's nothing much to say. I'm just sick and recuperating in the hospital."

This answer was vague and evasive, clearly an attempt to avoid the topic.

Wang Yueling sighed helplessly. He knew that the stubborn young man in front of him, who was so pitiful, had long been used to hiding his vulnerability and bearing all the pressure alone, unwilling to show anyone the slightest bit of his weakness.

He walked slowly to the bedside, keeping a distance that was neither too close nor too far from Yukimura, his gaze steadily locking onto Yukimura's eyes, and said, word by word with certainty, "I know it's Guillain-Barré syndrome. But I believe you will recover."

Yukimura's pupils contracted slightly. He raised his head and looked at Mochizuki Ryo quietly, completely surprised that the other party knew so much about his illness. He remained silent for a long time.

The ward was quiet for a few seconds.

The pink chrysanthemums on the windowsill swayed gently in the breeze, making a rustling sound.

"I've done my research, and this disease isn't as easy as you say."

Wang Yueling's voice was gentle and melodious, like the crushed morning light. He took out a stack of documents that he had prepared in advance and handed them to Yukimura's outstretched palm. When their fingertips touched, he could feel that Yukimura's hand was slightly cold.

"I know you have a strong heart and are not someone who gives up easily. But Yukimura, for this kind of illness, willpower alone is not enough. This is not your problem; your body needs professional medical intervention."

He noticed Yukimura's hesitant gaze as he looked down at the documents, and continued to offer objective and rational advice with measured steps, without a hint of coercion:

"The doctors here are experts who have been deeply involved in sports medicine for decades. They have unique treatment plans for nervous system injuries and sports rehabilitation, which are more effective than the basic symptomatic treatment in ordinary hospitals at present. The cure rate can be increased by at least 30%, and the chance of fully recovering athletic ability after surgery will also be greatly increased."

"Take a closer look for yourself."

He stopped there and simply watched Yukimura quietly, giving him enough time to process the information.

Yukimura remained outwardly calm, but inwardly he was in turmoil.

I took the folder and opened it.

The first dozen or so pages are filled with introductions of experts, mainly three: one Chinese and two Germans, each with a densely written resume below their photo.

To make it easier for him to read, the boy carefully marked the key parts of the treatment plan in light blue.

Yukimura scanned the pages one by one, his gaze finally settling on the page of a German expert named Dr. Laurent.

He had heard his attending physician mention this expert.

With over 20 years of experience in the field of sports neuromedicine, I have published hundreds of papers and led several international research projects.

The doctor spoke subtly at the time, but the gist was: if we could get this specialist to consult, that would be the best option.

But it's almost impossible.

It is said that this person has long since retired and never makes private medical visits. Even when invited by top wealthy families, he has never agreed. He cannot be invited by money or connections.

Yukimura was shocked that Mochizuki Ryo was able to invite this person, and continued reading.

The other two experts, one specializing in trauma psychology and the other in trauma rehabilitation, have also been deeply involved in the field of neurorepair for many years, handled many challenging cases, and are well-known figures in the industry.

In short.

This medical team is comprised of top athletes from around the world who would be eager to book a appointment with any one of its members, not to mention the accompanying massage and nutritionist teams, making it even more exceptional.

Yukimura closed the folder, his fingers gripping the edges of the documents tightly, looking at Mochizuki Ryo with a complex expression.

He didn't think he was being presumptuous; he was certain that this medical team was tailor-made for him, with arrangements made for every aspect, from treatment and psychological support to rehabilitation.

He just couldn't understand it.

The young man in front of him was a complete stranger, yet he was willing to go to such lengths to bring in such a top-notch medical team.

He couldn't think of any reasonable reason.

Is it simply because the other person is a fan?

"When did you contact these people?"

"A week ago," Mochizuki Ryo answered very honestly, "that Dr. Andrew from Germany, my grandfather made the call for me, otherwise I couldn't get him to come. At that time..."

He went on and on, vividly describing how difficult the old-fashioned German man was to deal with, complaining to Yukimura with a sense of grievance.

Yukimura listened and remained silent for a long while.

"Why are you helping me so much?" Unable to see through the man in front of him, he asked bluntly, "We've only just met today, don't give me that fan/idol nonsense!"

"Because you deserve it."

Looking at the confusion in his eyes, Wang Yueling smiled slightly and uttered these words.

He didn't say a word about the deeper reasons.

These five words are light, yet like a small pebble thrown into Yukimura's heart lake, they create ripples.

Worried that his overthinking might affect his mental and physical health, Wang Yueling added with a smile, "I forgot to tell you, if nothing unexpected happens, I'll be an excellent businesswoman in the future, so don't worry, I won't do anything that loses money."

He stood upright, his fingertips lightly tapping the edge of the bed, his movements natural and elegant, displaying the bearing of a wealthy heir.

"Accepting this help gives you a greater chance of recovery, allowing you to return to the court and the Rikkai University tennis club you care about more quickly; for those experts, it provides another clinical case, enabling them to accumulate more experience; on a larger scale, it also contributes to the advancement of sports medicine worldwide, giving athletes with similar experiences more hope in the future."

"Besides, I don't plan to use this team once and then disband it. This will be the stepping stone for me to expand my business empire in Japan."

"In short, it's beneficial to you, to me, and to everyone, so why not?"

To avoid putting Yukimura on a psychological burden, Mochizuki Ryo explained things in detail. Of course, these were not just empty words; they were indeed part of his plan, though he hadn't gone into specifics.

But the main reason is for Yukimura.

Then, as if remembering something, he pulled up a chair and moved closer to Yukimura.

His eyes crinkled into crescents, his little tiger teeth and somewhat silly smile reappeared, completely devoid of the elegant and composed demeanor of a heir just moments before. He clung to the edge of the bed like a spoiled golden retriever, speaking with a touch of shamelessness:

"Of course, there's another very important reason... oh no no no... this is the most important reason, all the others are secondary."

"That is, to fulfill the wish of this die-hard fan. Don't underestimate the power of fans. My biggest wish is to see you standing on the court healthy and in top form, playing against your opponents."

"Let everyone see, Yukimura Seiichi of Rikkai University has broken through from the Child of God to become a god."

"Yukimura, please!"

His tone was youthful and lively, and his coquettish manner was a modified version of Jiro's. He did it so naturally that it eased the tense atmosphere in the ward.

As Yukimura watched him shake his head, it was as if he were truly hallucinating that he had grown ears and a tail, and he barely resisted the urge to pat his head.

The corners of her lips turned up slightly.

Thoughts were churning in my mind.

This was the first time someone hadn't comforted him by saying "it will be alright," but instead told him, "I have a way, if you're willing."

He knew better than anyone that this was the last chance, and the best chance.

Yukimura researched a lot about the disease and consulted many doctors. Everyone said, "Get well soon," "Stay optimistic," and "You'll get better."

But he understood that since he fell ill last winter, and after so many days of treatment, the effect had been minimal.

Guillain-Barré syndrome is one of the most troublesome neurological disorders.

The treatment is difficult, and the outcome after surgery is uncertain; no one can guarantee that he will be able to return to the court.

but……

He desperately wants to get better.

I long to return to that familiar tennis court.

I really want to stand on the podium at the National Championships with my Rikkai teammates.

He never wanted to have that nightmare of "not being able to play tennis" again, and he never wanted to see his family and teammates worry about him again.

I've thought about it a lot.

Yukimura finally nodded, his voice soft and slightly hoarse: "Thank you."

These three words were the signal that he was willing to accept help. Even now, he still didn't understand why the other party was doing so much for him, but his obsession with tennis and his desire to return to the court made it impossible for him to refuse this hard-won hope.

Finally hearing the answer she wanted, Mochizuki Ryo breathed a sigh of relief.

Her azure eyes were like a scattered sea of ​​stars, radiant with life.

She turned around, took the food box she'd completely forgotten, placed it on the bedside table, and opened it with elegant, deft movements. With an barely concealed gleam of excitement, like a child eager for praise, she pointed everything out to Yukimura:

"Grandma made this box of wagashi and mung bean cakes especially for me when she heard I was coming to visit her in the hospital. She said sweet things would cheer her up. This peanut milk is homemade. I simmered it for a long time and only added a little rock sugar. It's not too sweet. Try it."

Seeing him bustling around, Yukimura felt much of his frustration dissipate, his mind gradually relaxed, and a genuine smile appeared on his lips.

He reached out and took the wagashi, took a bite, and the sweetness melted in his mouth.

"tasty."

He made a comment, then picked up the bowl of peanut milk beside him. The warm heat spread through the porcelain bowl to his fingertips. He took a sip, and the sweet peanut aroma spread in his mouth. The sweetness was just right, neither too sweet nor too bland, and the texture was smooth.

"It tastes great," Yukimura exclaimed sincerely.

"Right? This is my specialty. Just tell me when you want some, and I'll make it for you again." Wang Yueling proudly raised her chin, her chuunibyou-ish pride impossible to hide, making her somewhat adorable.

The two sat together, one eating snacks and the other leaning against the edge of the bed, chatting about trivial things: food, scenery, books they had recently read, and so on.

The atmosphere between the two had lost the awkwardness of their first meeting; instead, it felt like that of longtime friends, casual and natural.

Wang Yueling speaks in an interesting yet tactful way, never asking embarrassing questions or trying to please others. Occasionally, she'll throw in a witty remark in French, her pronunciation pleasant and carrying a subtle flirtation.

Yukimura found that chatting with Mochizuki Ryo was exceptionally comfortable.

You don't need to deliberately find topics to talk about; whatever you say, the other person can respond, and respond just right.

As they chatted, Yukimura suddenly asked, "By the way, how old are you this year? You look about the same age as me."

"fifteen."

"What a coincidence, me too." Yukimura smiled, then followed up with, "You just got back from France, which school are you studying at now?"

"I just transferred to Hyotei Academy not long ago," said Mochizuki Ryo, already guessing what Yukimura was about to say.

really.

Upon hearing this, Yukimura's eyebrows curved into a smile, and his tone carried a hint of Rikkai's pride, like a haughty little cat: "Hyotei, I know, their tennis club is quite strong, they've only won the runner-up title in the national tournament for two consecutive years, while our Rikkai has just won the championship twice in a row."

He thought for a moment, his eyes shining with confidence, "This year, we are confident that we can win a three-peat."

Looking at his arrogant little expression, Wang Yueling felt a pang of jealousy.

Even while ill, this person still cared about Rikkai University, but unfortunately... his teammates disappointed him.

The image of Yukimura's anguish after learning that Rikkai had lost to Seigaku flashed through Ryo Mochizuki's mind, and an unspeakable anger rose within him.

If it's because the two teams are evenly matched, then losing is just losing, but...

"Ling, what's wrong?"

Ryo Mochizuki's anger was extinguished by Yukimura's affectionate "Ryo," followed by a racing heartbeat.

"Cough, I'm fine. I was just thinking about some unpleasant things. Seiichi... don't worry."

Mochizuki Ryo coughed in a pretentious manner. When he deliberately called Yukimura by his name, he secretly glanced at Yukimura's attitude and found that the other party was only slightly taken aback and did not refuse.

His secret joy exploded instantly; if he weren't concerned about his image, his mouth would have stretched to his ears.

"A three-peat? We'll have to ask Atobe and the others if they'll agree. Hyotei will be different this year."

Silently scoffing to himself, he thought, "If Atobe and Sakaki Taro's cousins ​​still haven't made any progress with the analysis report I gave them, then the Hyotei tennis club shouldn't even be living..."

I might as well dig a hole and bury myself!

"You have no chance," Yukimura declared.

"Don't speak too soon." Mochizuki Ryo laughed out loud. "We'll see what you're really made of on the court once you've recovered."

Yukimura's eyes were full of determination.

"it is good."

The two were having a pleasant conversation when there was a gentle knock on the ward door. The doctor came in and reminded Yukimura to get ready for his medical check-up.

Wang Yueling glanced at the time.

I realized I'd been here for almost three hours.

He stood up, pushed the chair back to its original position, straightened his clothes, and resumed his elegant and composed demeanor.

"Seiichi." He stood by the bedside, looking intently into Yukimura's eyes again. "Trust me, you will get better. Discuss the treatment with your family. Don't worry, I'll take care of everything."

"What you need to do now is rest and recuperate, and don't think too much."

He paused, took out a business card from his pocket, placed it in Yukimura's palm, and said in a softer voice, "Contact me anytime once we've discussed it. I'll bring a doctor with me."

Yukimura was deeply moved by his unwavering belief that "I believe you will get better even more than you do," and replied softly.

"it is good."

Wang Yueling smiled and nodded, picked up the empty thermos, and turned to leave the ward.

The door slammed shut.

The ward fell completely silent.

Yukimura sat on the bed, listening to the footsteps fading into the distance.

After a while, he got out of bed and went to the window.

As the boy walked out of the hospital building, the sunlight shone brightly on his blond hair.

The man walked to the car, suddenly stopped, and looked up in his direction.

Yukimura quietly watched downstairs.

The boy looked up, backlit, so his expression was obscured, but you could sense that he was smiling.

Then he waved in this direction.

Yukimura instinctively wanted to raise his hand, but he stopped himself, watching the man turn around and get into the car, which slowly drove away, getting further and further away, until it disappeared from sight.

He looked down at the business card in his hand.

My heart was beating a little faster for no reason, as if something was quietly sprouting there.

Yukimura carefully placed the business card under his pillow, then sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the pink daisies on the windowsill.

Mingming was still alone in the hospital room.

But it seems...

I'm not as lonely as I used to be.