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525 – You Don’t Want to Be the Reason Your Teammates Fail, Right?
🕑 Added 2025-09-17 18:01:38 +0000 UTCEven between family, some bonds run deep while others are paper-thin.
Sometimes, a distant cousin feels less familiar than the kid who drops off the newspaper every morning.
From the very beginning, Tsuchiya Ryouta had noticed how differently his cousin Michiru treated him compared to Aki Tomoya.
They were both ordinary people crushed beneath Michiru’s overwhelming talent, yet Ryouta had never given up. Instead, he buried himself in baseball.
Failure was a constant in life.
Maybe if he spent all his losses here, he’d have none left elsewhere.
As long as he didn’t get used to failing, there was nothing to fear.
As for Aki Tomoya—after spending some time with him, Ryouta finally dug up a faint memory. In every scrap of recollection, this timid boy had always been trailing behind Michiru, never more than a step away.
No wonder his cousin treated him so kindly—too kindly, even.
No matter what outrageous things Aki said, or how absurdly he acted, Michiru never showed a hint of disgust like a normal person would.
Favoritism?
No, it was outright protection.
Anyone with eyes could see that Aki Tomoya held a special place in Hyoudo Michiru’s heart.
Realizing this, Ryouta broke into a cold sweat when Aki tried to stop Michiru from joining the baseball team’s cheer squad.
Human bias was a mountain to climb.
And Aki Tomoya, standing in Ryouta’s way, felt like an iron gate blocking the path to his dream.
For a moment, Ryouta thought everything was about to fall apart. But then…
Aki said Hojou wasted his talents—yet Hojou managed to balance school and still earn recognition from industry leaders.
Aki said Hojou was a violent thug—yet every time he fought, it was to protect the girls around him.
Aki said Hojou had beaten him up—yet even that was only because Aki had crossed the line.
Did he really want to stop Michiru from cheering for Hojou?
That thought gnawed at Ryouta. Why did it feel like the person Michiru cherished most kept shoving her closer to Hojou Kyousuke?
“So listen—absolutely, absolutely don’t get involved with Hojou Kyousuke! Michiru, you don’t understand.
He’s someone with no limits at all! He even says he’s an ‘equal-opportunity fighter,’ meaning he can send anyone flying with a single punch—man or woman!
That day, if President Akasaka hadn’t apologized fast enough, he would’ve gotten it too!” Aki declared, wearing an expression of dead seriousness.
Uncle Hyoudo nodded in agreement. In his mind, the image of Hojou Kyousuke was now crystal clear:
A genius, disciplined, hardworking.
Even when facing enemies, he showed restraint and composure—whether from confidence in his strength or good upbringing, it was admirable either way.
He had firm principles and valued his companions deeply.
But once someone crossed his bottom line, he didn’t hesitate to unleash brutal, decisive violence.
Oh, and the fact that he was “gender equal” in that violence? Even better.
“I understand now. Thank you, Aki. You’ve worked hard.”
Uncle Hyoudo nodded gratefully at his nephew.
“It’s nothing. As long as I can help Michiru,” Aki replied with modesty.
“You really did us a huge favor.” ×2
Ryouta and Uncle Hyoudo spoke in unison.
“Eh??” Aki blinked, confused, staring at the so-called violent delinquent.
Michiru’s expression was complicated. Her lips parted several times, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak.
Tomo… what are you even doing?
“Ryouta.”
Uncle Hyoudo turned toward his nephew with a warm smile.
“I’ve been thinking…”
“Yes, sir!”
Ryouta’s face lit up with joy. Not only had he secured Michiru as the cheer squad, maybe even that luxury team bus was within reach!
“Dad!”
Michiru suddenly shouted, her voice sharp with urgency.
“Even if Tomo got hit for a reason—even if Hojou Kyousuke had to do it—he still hit him! I’ll never, ever cheer for someone like that!”
The purple-haired girl stood firm, her small frame brimming with stubborn resolve. Hands braced on the stool between her legs, she leaned forward, eyes blazing.
Even if it meant practicing only at school… even if it meant giving up her band… she would never forgive someone who laid hands on Tomo.
“We’re family!”
Her voice rang out, though it wasn’t clear if she was saying it for herself, her father, or Aki Tomoya.
One thing was certain—it definitely wasn’t for Ryouta.
Even if he suddenly announced he was Hojou Kyousuke’s eighteenth-generation descendant, no one would be surprised.
They’d only wonder how Hojou’s superior genes could’ve produced such an unimpressive heir. Mutation, maybe.
“!!!”
Her words struck Ryouta like lightning.
He knew exactly how much his aunt and uncle doted on Michiru.
Any other daughter pulling stunts like this would’ve been disciplined long ago, but Michiru? She only got freer with every rebellion.
Like now—this was practically a family council.
If Michiru refused Hojou, then his uncle definitely wouldn’t…
“Alright, alright, I understand. Daddy understands.”
Sure enough, Uncle Hyoudo instantly softened, smiling like a jolly Buddha.
“Uncle, but Hojou—” Ryouta tried to interject.
“Ryouta, you heard Michiru and Aki just now, didn’t you?”
His uncle raised a hand, cutting him off.
Aki’s face lit up with excitement.
Michiru exhaled softly. Was it relief that she didn’t have to betray her childhood friend?
Regret that she couldn’t walk the path her cousin described—striving side by side with Hojou Kyousuke? Or maybe both.
Either way, it seemed settled.
“But—!” Ryouta tried to argue again.
“Tomo is my sister’s son. In this situation, do you think I’d really let Michiru go cheer for Hojou Kyousuke?” Uncle Hyoudo’s tone turned firm.
‘Damn it!’
Ryouta’s jaw clenched as he shot a murderous glare at Aki Tomoya.
He was already planning to tail him later—and rough him up before he reached the train station.
Thank goodness Japan had cameras everywhere!
“Well then, I’ll be going.”
His face darkened as he stood, not even bothering with politeness.
Better to grab a good position for the ambush.
“Ryouta-kun…”
Michiru called after him softly, her tone apologetic.
“Wait, wait, Ryouta! Where are you going? I never said Michiru couldn’t cheer for your baseball team!” Uncle Hyoudo suddenly called out.
“...Huh?” ×5
Every member of the Hyoudo, Tsuchiya, and Aki families froze at those words.
“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Uncle Hyoudo said, raising both hands like a scale—Hojou Kyousuke in one palm, his precious daughter in the other.
“Since Michiru refuses to support Hojou because he hit Aki, let’s flip it around. Have Hojou become Michiru’s band manager. That way, he can clear up their misunderstanding, and in return, Michiru can cheer for him.”
He smiled brightly. “Isn’t that the best of both worlds?”
“...Huh???”
The collective cry of confusion from all three families shook the room.
But Uncle Hyoudo only looked more pleased with himself.
Why get stuck on the cheer squad issue? Wasn’t the original debate about Michiru performing at livehouses?
There were two concerns: her grades, and her safety at those venues.
Both were tricky problems… yet both could be solved, in one stroke, by Hojou Kyousuke.
When Michiru hadn’t been in a band, her grades were a disaster.
Now that she’d gone down the rock path, Uncle Hyoudo could already see the endless retake hell looming over his daughter.
And Hojou Kyousuke — a genius who practiced kendo, played baseball, read manga, wrote novels, and still ranked top of his grade — surely had some special study methods.
If he took Michiru to a livehouse performance, he could easily slip in a bit of tutoring backstage between sets.
The best part, Hyoudo thought with a grin, was Hojou’s “gender equality” principle.
He wouldn’t coddle Michiru just because she was a girl.
He’d supervise her studies with iron discipline — and she’d learn the words whether she liked it or not.
Hyoudo could already picture the scene:
“Open your mouth — if you don’t memorize this word, you’re not leaving the house!”
“It’s almost time for Icy Tail to go on. You don’t want to make your bandmates fail, do you?”
“Write it down. If you can’t handle these simple problems, you won’t touch your guitar for a week!”
Hojou would stand at the dressing table with that stern look of his while Michiru sniffled and wiped her tears, studying like mad. If it were Hyoudo himself, he’d cave the minute his daughter acted cute. But Hojou was different — he treated everyone equally.
Safety was another issue that had already been settled by Aki Tomoya’s testimony.
If even a British diplomat trusted Hojou around their daughter, what did Hyoudo have to worry about?
Aki’s words made it clear: Hojou had the manners of a gentleman and the courage of a knight — gracious, but willing to use force to protect those close to him.
And the way he handled pressure from industry bigshots showed he was resourceful and capable.
Handling a livehouse would be nothing for him.
Perfect manager material.
So why fuss over Michiru joining the baseball team’s cheer squad? Just make Hojou her manager.
Hyoudo looked at his two model nephews with a fond expression.
Different paths, same result: they’d brought Hojou right to his doorstep.
“No way!”
“No way!”
Two voices shot up in unison, equally urgent.
Both Hyoudo and Michiru ignored Aki — everyone knew his reasons already.
But why was Tsuchiya Ryouta saying no?
“Absolutely not! No way!” Ryouta snapped, his voice cold and as urgent as Aki’s had been.
“Huh? Ryouta, what’s this? Weren’t you the one who suggested Michiru cheer for Hojou and the baseball team in the first place?” Uncle Hyoudo asked in confusion.
“Cheering is fine. The band isn’t.” Ryouta slapped his thigh and spoke with iron resolve: “Hojou can’t be Michiru’s band manager.”
“Why not?” Michiru asked.
She didn’t say it aloud, but listening to Ryouta, she also felt that if anyone could handle the manager role it would be Hojou — capable, good-natured, and already known to her friends.
Why, then?
Ryouta’s face twisted into an angry, incredulous smile.
“Send Hojou to manage Michiru? Are you kidding me?”
He shot his uncle a glare — the man’s plans were practically bouncing off his face.
Didn’t he know how much effort Ryouta had poured into getting Hojou to join the baseball club?
Didn’t he know how many brain cells he’d sacrificed fighting the kendo club, Yukinoshita, and the ‘Create a Happy Life Club’ for Hojou’s time?
Didn’t he know Michiru was nothing more than someone who made Hojou feel at ease — a tool to that end?
“Hojou’s time is precious. He doesn’t have spare hours to waste on stuff like that!” Ryouta said flatly, refusing without a second thought.
The fervor he’d had when he first arrived at the Hyoudo house was gone.
Uncle Hyoudo was stunned by the sudden face-change in his nephew; Ryouta’s cold expression made him see the boy in a new light.
Putting together what Ryouta had said before and after, the truth clicked into place.
So this kid wasn’t here to help resolve a family problem at all — he’d been scheming to use Hyoudo’s daughter to curry favor with Hojou.
That explained why he’d been trashing livehouses and hyping the cheer squad so relentlessly.
Everything made sense now, but Hyoudo couldn’t quite believe it. The audacity stung.
“Ryouta, you—” he began.
Don’t call me that, Ryouta muttered inwardly; he felt nothing but contempt for this uncle who eyed Hojou like prized property.
“Absolutely not a manager. No negotiation! Being the baseball team’s cheer squad is enough experience for Michiru.” Ryouta’s tone brooked no argument.
He knew exactly why Hyoudo had zeroed in on Hojou: because Ryouta and Aki had made Hojou look so appealing.
“If you need someone as a manager, hire one from the agency,” he said, dropping the formalities — a clear sign his patience had ended.
Michiru, her parents, her aunt, and even Aki stared in disbelief — Ryouta hadn’t said any of this earlier.
‘Keep staring if you want,’ Ryouta thought, there’s no way he’d let them take Hojou.
“Ryouta, we’re family!” Uncle Hyoudo cried, incredulous.
“For now, maybe not.” Ryouta retorted inwardly.
“Just like Hojou’s gender equality, I’m an upright person too,” Ryouta declared with righteous conviction. “I won’t give special treatment just because we’re related.”
He honestly meant it.
If Hojou weren’t so principled himself, he wouldn’t even be at the baseball club; he’d be at home running the ‘Create a Happy Life Club’ every day.
Hojou led by example, and Ryouta refused to fall behind.
Dammit.
Watching his nephew’s infuriating face, Hyoudo scowled inwardly.
He decided that not only would he deny Ryouta any of the fine liquor he’d brought as a gift, but he’d call Mr. Tsuchiya later and gush about how good the wine was — just to rub it in.
Let Ryouta taste the wrath of an angry father.
Ryouta fell silent, lips pressed together, arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the sofa like a statue.
He regretted his move, but now that he’d started, he wasn’t leaving empty-handed.
If he could steal Michiru away successfully, even getting beaten at home for stealing booze would be worth it — he’d laugh about it later.
But failing and getting beaten would probably make him cry like a coward.
‘Damn it!’
‘All this was Aki Tomoya’s fault!’
Tsuchiya Ryouta, who at least still had a working brain, knew he couldn’t blame the Hyoudo family for this mess.
Which meant the only target left for his fury was that idiot Aki Tomoya.
“Dad, it’s fine,” Michiru suddenly spoke up. “Like I said from the start, you can just find a professional agent for us, or let your secretary handle it.”
The Hyoudo family ran a sizable company — calling up a professional manager would’ve been child’s play.
But Michiru rejected the idea outright.
First of all, the members of their band were just high schoolers.
Sure, they were passionate, but none of them actually saw the band as their future career.
Bringing in a professional agent would’ve been overkill — not to mention it might make the others, like Shioriko and Aoba, feel indebted to her.
And second, the most important point:
Icy Tail was a rock band.
Rock! Where was the rock spirit in letting some adult control everything?
Asking her dad for help wasn’t rock at all!
“It’s okay, Michiru. Just listen to Dad this time, alright? I’ve already come up with the perfect solution.”
Leaning over the dining table, Mr. Hyoudo reached out and ruffled his daughter’s short, lilac hair until it was a total mess.
She didn’t care, though. Instead, guilt welled up in her chest.
It was all her fault. After working so hard at the company all day, her dad still had to sit here listening to Ryouta and Aki bicker…
But wait—did this mean she could actually go to the livehouse!?
Her heart leapt with excitement.
For other people, emotions might come and go quickly.
For Michiru, she simply never bothered to hold onto the bad ones.
Mr. Hyoudo noticed the blush blooming across his daughter’s cheeks. He knew exactly what she was thinking.
‘Inhale—exhale—inhale—exhale.’
After a few deep breaths, he straightened his posture and turned to face his nephew, Tsuchiya Ryouta.
Since it was clear Ryouta wasn’t here out of family duty, that made things easier.
When it came to business tactics and negotiations, Hyoudo Yukito was a seasoned professional.
He was the kind of man who once thought up pouring peanut oil in a rival’s lobby as a strategy — there was no situation in the world he couldn’t handle.
“Ryouta.”
His voice was gentle, warm, like a spring breeze brushing across your face.
Did Ryouta really think he’d been reckless barging into that dumb company for selfies?
No — he’d gotten away with it thanks to this very charm.
The receptionist had even offered to play tour guide.
But Ryouta sat still as a mountain, perfectly embodying the “seller’s market.”
Mr. Hyoudo didn’t mind.
His dignity as an elder wasn’t even scratched.
Compared to groveling on the floor, this was nothing — child’s play.
“I think I understand your concerns now. You’re worried Hojou-kun already has too much on his plate, right?” he asked with a soft smile.
“Exactly! Uncle, you don’t know how much Hojou-kun suffers every day.” Ryouta’s tone finally relaxed.
After all, Hojou had to beat people up at night, take girls shopping during the day, and from what Ryouta heard, he even slept through two straight periods of Japanese class that morning.
“But have you ever considered… maybe you’re underestimating him?”
Mr. Hyoudo’s expression remained warm.
“Do you really think Hojou-kun’s energy only allows him to succeed in one thing? He’s a genius among geniuses. Ordinary geniuses look like mortals beside him!”
Ryouta frowned hard.
Wait. Why did that sound so familiar?
Not just him — Aki Tomoya and Michiru both felt a wave of déjà vu hit them in the face.
That’s right!
Isn’t this exactly what Ryouta had said to Dad earlier!?
Michiru’s eyes sparkled with recognition.
“And maybe you don’t know Hojou-kun as well as you think. He hasn’t just excelled in kendo and academics — he’s also brilliant at manga, and—”
Mr. Hyoudo went on and on, practically copy-pasting Ryouta’s earlier speech word-for-word.
He couldn’t help it — Ryouta had already exhausted every word of praise in the dictionary.
The argument was so convincing that even as a father, he felt reassured about entrusting his daughter to Hojou.
“…”
Ryouta’s jaw dropped.
He hadn’t expected to be checkmated with his own words.
“Wait, that’s not…” He stammered, unable to form a proper rebuttal. Because the worst part was… it actually made sense.
Hojou was that talented, that strong — being Michiru’s manager probably wouldn’t even be a burden to him.
A terrifying thought struck Ryouta: he was on the verge of convincing himself with the speech he’d just given earlier.
Damn it…
If this went on, he’d be the one who ended up like Kisaki Tetta’s lackey — the real “number one underling.”
Watching his nephew’s dumbfounded face, Mr. Hyoudo chuckled inwardly.
‘Trying to outwit me? Come back after you’ve made it to Koshien! I’m a Keio University graduate!’
“And another thing. If Hojou-kun becomes Michiru’s manager, it won’t just benefit my daughter. Didn’t he start an animation studio?
He’ll need music for that. Michiru could help with compositions — for free!
You know her talent, Ryouta. As long as she puts in a little effort, she won’t lose to any professional.”
“…But Uncle, didn’t you just say this would hurt Michiru’s studies?” Aki Tomoya piped up nervously, completely lost on where this conversation was headed anymore.
“Ah, but times are changing, Tomoya. Diversity, flexibility — we need to see things from a dialectical perspective. Working on anime music could feed back into her band, broaden her composition skills, and—”
Not only that, it could open doors to other industries, expand her horizons, maybe even help Michiru discover her true passion.
“?”
A big question mark popped up over Aki Tomoya’s head.
Why did that sound so familiar too?
Oh, right — that’s exactly what he himself had said earlier! Back then, though, Mr. Hyoudo hadn’t been nearly so supportive!
