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521 – A Parasite’s Youth?
🕑 Added 2025-09-15 15:40:22 +0000 UTCHearing his nephew’s words, Mr. Hyoudo swallowed back what he was about to say.
“Geez, Ryouta-nii, what are you even doing here? From the start all you’ve been saying is ‘no, no, no.’ Even my dad isn’t that strict!” Michiru pouted in frustration.
Just when hope was in sight, her cousin had to butt in again.
“Michiru, don’t speak like that.” Mrs. Hyoudo scolded her daughter with a glare, though her eyes also lingered on Ryouta with curiosity.
To be fair, the boy hadn’t offered a single constructive suggestion so far—just objections and denials.
Surely he had more than that?
“Ahem… what I’m doing is giving you a preview of what’ll happen if you upload a video online. The people out there will be way harsher than I’m being now.” Tsuchiya Ryouta replied without the slightest change of expression.
“Oh, I see. That actually makes sense. You’re good at this, Ryouta-nii.” Aki Tomoya nodded in admiration.
“Right back at you. I think your imitation was even more convincing.”
Ryouta rolled his eyes internally.
‘Please stop lumping me together with you.’
“Well then…” Mr. Hyoudo muttered, rubbing his chin.
He was starting to find this whole situation tricky.
At that moment, a certain dutiful baseball club captain decided it was his cue to step in:
“Speaking of which—if all you need is a stage to perform on, I might actually be able to help.”
“Huh!? Ryouta-nii, don’t tell me you’re finally quitting baseball!?” Michiru gasped in delight.
“As if! Are you an idiot?”
“Michiru, don’t spout nonsense. If Ryouta gave up now, after coming this far, that would be even dumber.” Mrs. Hyoudo gave her daughter another sharp look.
“Oh… yeah, that’s true.”
“Ryouta, if you have an idea, just say it. We all trust you.” Mr. Hyoudo spoke earnestly.
Ryouta smiled humbly, then planted his hands on his knees and shifted to face his uncle properly.
For some reason, Mr. Hyoudo suddenly felt like he was back at the office, confronted by employees pitching half-baked ideas in exactly that same posture.
…No, it had to be an illusion. This was his dependable nephew, after all!
“Uncle, have you ever heard of a cheering squads?”
“Cheering squads?”
Everyone repeated the word, either aloud or in their heads.
Of course they’d heard of it—baseball was Japan’s national sport, and cheering culture went hand in hand with it.
The term was far from unfamiliar.
But nobody spoke further, waiting for Ryouta to continue.
Especially Tomoya, who felt like he was about to be sold on a new kind of hype.
“Yes. You all know I’m the captain of the school baseball team…”
“Wait, wait—Ryouta-nii, you don’t mean to have Icy Tail go cheer for your team, do you!?” Michiru asked, dumbfounded.
“Exactly! The stage would be massive, the audience way bigger than at any livehouse. Performing there would be invaluable for sharpening your skills.”
Yukito didn’t even bother looking at his cousin.
“Cheering, huh…” Mr. Hyoudo mused.
“That doesn’t sound right. Bands are supposed to be the ones receiving cheers. Isn’t it kind of backwards to make them the cheer squad instead?” Tomoya tilted his head.
“How could cheering compare to a livehouse? In a baseball game, the main stars are obvious.”
“You’ve got a point…” Mr. Hyoudo nodded.
Normally, the band was supposed to be the dazzling spotlight—the sole protagonist.
But as a cheer squad, wouldn’t they just become background decoration?
Ryouta cast a quick glance at his useless cousin, then ignored him completely and kept his eyes fixed on his uncle.
“You’ve watched baseball games before, right?”
“Of course.”
“Then you understand how important the cheering squads are, don’t you?”
“Well…”
“I know, I know! Most idol groups make their money from fan support!” Tomoya chimed in eagerly.
Nobody looked pleased with that remark—unsurprising, since he was the only idol otaku present.
To the others, his words might as well have been nonsense.
“Um, Tomoya, have some more fruit.” Michiru tried to soften the mood for her childhood friend.
“Whoa, is this one of those 5,000-yen strawberries from the supermarket down the street!?” Tomoya’s eyes sparkled.
He’d nearly gone blind just staring at them through the display earlier.
“Yes, yes. Take a box home later.” Mrs. Hyoudo smiled, though it was a touch strained.
Not because of the strawberry’s price but more because of Tomoya’s reaction.
Meanwhile, Ryouta was fully locked into his pitch.
He’d run this scene through his head countless times before coming here—even rehearsed it under his breath on the train, completely oblivious to whether the other passengers thought he was insane.
Focus. Focus was the key to success.
“Before the game officially begins, all eyes are on the cheering squads. That level of attention—and the pressure of performing—is no less than an underground live stage.” He spoke to his uncle with solemn conviction.
“True enough… before the first pitch, the cheer squads are the stars.” Yukito nodded, though his mind admittedly went to the cheerleaders’ long, bare legs.
Not that he was a pervert—that really was the only highlight before the game began, and both sides always put on an elaborate show.
“Once the game starts, if it’s exciting, who leads the crowd in cheering? The cheering squads.
And if the game’s boring, who becomes the only highlight? The cheering squads.” Ryouta said firmly, without a shred of dishonesty.
Baseball might have come from America, but in Japan, cheering had evolved into its own unique culture.
Cheering squads here were massive, uniform, and electric.
They prepared chants, songs, and choreographed routines for offense and defense, adapting their support to every shift in the game.
The most famous example was the Soukei-sen—the century-old rivalry between Waseda University and Keio University.
Whenever Keio’s team won, their cheer squads would rush to Oukuma Shigenobu’s residence and Waseda’s main gate, shouting “Banzai!” in unison.
If Waseda won instead, they would storm to Fukuzawa Yukichi’s residence and Keio’s gate, cheering just as loudly.
The spectacle resembled a full-blown parade, and later games had to be restricted out of fear the chaos would spiral out of control.
By the way, Oukuma Shigenobu and Fukuzawa Yukichi were the founders of Waseda and Keio respectively.
The cheer squads’ message was clear: “Your students got utterly crushed by us. The future of Japan clearly lies in Waseda/Keio’s hands!”
For Waseda students, their darkest moment probably came when Fukuzawa Yukichi’s face was printed on the 10,000-yen bill. Compared to him, they much preferred Prince Rankotoku.
Even today, the Soukei-sen remained a heated, electrifying event—though with less gunpowder than in its earliest days.
“Crush Waseda! Crush Waseda! Knock them out! Ohhh~~ Keio’s gonna win! Keio’s gonna win!”
Mr. Hyoudo suddenly began humming softly, a nostalgic smile spreading across his face.
“Yeah… back then, even if I didn’t understand the game, just sitting in the stands with my seniors and singing along was so much fun. Watching the brass band and the conductor up front, I felt like Waseda was nowhere near Keio’s level.”
“Exactly!”
Ryouta smacked his thigh and shouted with conviction:
“Cheering and baseball are one and the same! Only with a great cheer squad can the players give their best. The cheer squad isn’t just a side role—they’re the real stars! For Michiru and her band, becoming the cheer team for the Soubu High baseball club is the best possible choice!”
He declared each word firmly, his voice ringing with righteous passion.
The more he spoke, the more he convinced himself this wasn’t about flattering Hojou at all—it was for the baseball team, for the Hyoudo family, for the Tsuchiya family!
Old memories of his student days surged in Mr. Hyoudo’s mind, overwhelming him.
Cheering… how nostalgic.
He knew how vital a cheer squad was.
Behind every powerhouse baseball team stood a powerhouse cheering section.
Even in the NBA, the phrase “home-court hell” was often thanks to their fans.
Just picture it: the stadium echoing with the other team’s chants, trumpets blaring, drums pounding.
Before every pitch, you’d have to steel your nerves.
Throw a bad ball and the boos would rain down.
Throw a good one—and still no cheers from your side.
That crushing loneliness.
But with a strong cheer squad? When your team’s at bat, the music swells, voices rise, the anthem shakes the stands.
Even if you mess up, the encouragement keeps you going. Land a good pitch, and the trumpets and drums erupt.
The difference is brutal—it’s like the enemy team is stuck under a constant debuff.
Some high schools that won the Koshien tournament even credited their cheer squads as unsung heroes, working just as hard and sharing just as much glory as the players.
Take Osaka Toin, for example—their brass band was championship-level in its own right, rivaling Kyoto Tachibana.
Thinking about it, Mr. Hyoudo was tempted… but there was one issue.
“But Ryouta, you and Michiru don’t even go to the same school.”
“Right! Are you expecting me and the girls to just transfer over? We’re already exam students. If I give up my school’s internal recommendation, I’ll never make it into college.”
Michiru blinked her wide eyes.
At least she was self-aware enough to know her chances at a decent school through normal entrance exams were slim.
Mr. Hyoudo nodded gravely.
That was exactly why he’d always insisted his daughter couldn’t repeat a grade.
As long as she didn’t, she was practically guaranteed a place in Keio University, one of Japan’s top private schools.
Sure, her academic scores weren’t stellar, but Keio graduates towered leagues above most schools’ anyway.
Transfer? Impossible. His daughter was no scholar.
“It’s fine! That’s not even a problem!” Ryouta waved his hand decisively.
True, every powerhouse baseball team had a powerhouse cheer squad—but there were exceptions.
Some schools, driven by nothing but grit and dreams, clawed their way into Koshien without one.
And when that happened? They borrowed cheer squads from other schools.
They called it “friendship cheering.” And it was even more fiery!
“Think about it—Michiru and her friends chasing their own dream while also burning themselves out to help others achieve theirs. Isn’t that the perfect picture of youth?
My baseball team is Michiru’s baseball team. Michiru belongs to the baseball team! Icy Tail belongs to the baseball team!”
Ryouta’s voice rang with fervor, unshakable.
Seeing the flicker of interest on his uncle’s face, he pressed on:
“Soubu High already co-hosts events with Kaibin Comprehensive every year, so we’ve got tons of experience with interschool collaboration. Plus, our school doesn’t even have a brass band. No worries about stepping on toes!”
Did Soubu High really not have a brass band? Ryouta had no idea.
But did it matter? Not at all!
At least in the past two years, he hadn’t seen them at any of his games.
Maybe they thought showing up for a mere prelim match was beneath them.
But for the Soubu High baseball team, those prelims were life or death!
No—don’t think about it. Too depressing. Tears prickled at Ryouta’s eyes.
If they didn’t show up, it was as good as being dead.
But if Michiru agreed—she and her band would become the official cheer squad of the Soubu High baseball team.
The honorary Rock Division of Soubu High!
“The most important thing is—even if Michiru and her band don’t perform perfectly, as their club president I promise they’ll never be treated unfairly!”
Tsuchiya Ryouta laid down his trump card, staring at Mr. Hyoudo with burning determination.
Once he saw the resolve flicker across his uncle’s face, he turned back toward his cousin:
“Think about it, Michiru—that’s Koshien we’re talking about! The Hanshin Koshien! Do you know what kind of bands get to perform there?
The Beatles? U2? Maybe X-Japan? That stadium holds fifty thousand people! Fifty thousand! That’s more than the entire population of our hometown in Nagano!”
“Fifty thousand…”
Hyoudo Michiru whispered in awe.
Her violet eyes shimmered as if she could already see it: herself, Ranko, Echika, and Toki performing under the gaze of fifty thousand cheering fans.
Seeing her expression, Tsuchiya Ryouta felt a surge of triumph.
It was done—his plan had worked!
“In that case, I’ll leave it to you, Ryouta—”
Mr. Hyoudo began, but Ryouta was already leaning forward, eyes blazing, practically ready to whip out a contract on the spot.
But then, an unwelcome voice cut in.
“But like Ryouta said, you need a strong baseball team first before the cheer squad can step onto a big stage.
I don’t know much about it, but Michiru mentioned before that your baseball club isn’t exactly strong, right?
Is Soubu High even the kind of powerhouse that could make it to Koshien?”
It was Aki Tomoya, frowning in doubt.
“I don’t question Michiru’s talent or potential—she’s amazing, no matter what. But reality isn’t like a game. It’s not like Osu! Tatakae! Ouendan where you just cheer hard enough and suddenly the team keeps winning…”
‘BAM!’
A thunderous noise made Aki jump, cutting his words short.
He turned his head to see Ryouta’s hand slammed down hard on the coffee table.
“…There was a mosquito.”
Ryouta ground out between clenched teeth.
The Hyoudo family members blinked, shaken from his earlier fervor.
Seizing the moment, Ryouta raised his voice:
“Aki-kun! Do you even know what youth is?”
Before Aki could respond, Ryouta pressed on:
“Like I said before—Michiru and her band joining our baseball team as its cheering squad isn’t just about chasing their own dream. It’s about setting themselves on fire to help others reach theirs! That’s the very essence of youth!
Our baseball team needs Michiru and her friends.
And in turn, we can give them a stage where they’ll grow, hone their skills, and show the world who they are.
That’s what it means to support each other and move forward together!
If we follow your logic, Michiru’s band would have to join an already championship-level team.
That’s not mutual growth—that’s one-sided leeching! Isn’t that shameful?”
His words were earnest, and though he didn’t deny that Soubu’s baseball team was weak, his conviction made it clear: this wasn’t about a merger of giants, but about striving together for future glory.
“But…”
Aki opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out.
Ryouta’s speech had been about baseball and music, yet somehow it felt like he was personally attacking him.
“Alright, Aki, I understand your point.”
Mr. Hyoudo chuckled.
Even the way he addressed him had softened.
Then he lifted his hand, motioning downward.
“Ryouta, sit down. Don’t get so worked up.”
Only then did Aki realize Ryouta had risen to his feet.
His own face was wet—Ryouta’s spit had sprayed him during the passionate speech.
Flustered, Aki quickly wiped it off.
“Sorry, I got carried away.” Ryouta gave an apologetic smile, then sat back down, smoothly taking the glass of ice water offered by his aunt.
For a while, silence settled over the living room.
Everyone was lost in thought.
Then, unexpectedly, Michiru spoke first.
“Ryouta-nii… thank you for thinking about me so much.”
