The world had gone silent for Akio Mune.
It wasn't that the crowd wasn't screaming—they were. The massive gymnasium was alive with noise: hundreds of voices crying out, gasping, cheering, chanting. It was the kind of electric roar that usually filled him with awe when he'd watched other matches, the kind that used to make him dream as a kid back in the magic academy days.
But now... Akio couldn't hear any of it.
His focus was a single, razor-sharp point.
Across the gleaming hardwood court stood Sora Hirotsuki, and with that sight alone, the rest of the world seemed to vanish.
The moment felt like falling backward into a nightmare. His past life, his pain, every humiliation he had ever endured—they all came rushing back the second his eyes met Sora's.
The kid hadn't changed. Not really.
Sora's smirk was as sharp as ever, his presence commanding attention even without effort. To the crowd, he was a star—a dazzling athlete, the top seed of the tournament, admired for his skill and charisma. But to Akio, Sora was something entirely different.
A monster.
The architect of his pain.
The one who had destroyed him before and now threatened to do it again.
The referee's whistle had not yet blown, but Akio's body trembled like he was already in the middle of battle.
Breathe, he told himself. This isn't the academy. This isn't the same life. You've come too far to fall apart now.
Sora tilted his head, feigning casual boredom. His voice cut through the tense quiet like a blade, pitched low so only Akio could hear:
"Well, well. The little worm crawled his way out of the dirt and onto my court."
He let the words hang, then added with mocking laughter, "Try not to embarrass yourself too quickly. I'd hate for everyone here to see just how pathetic you really are."
Akio's chest constricted.
That voice. That tone. Those words.
They were exactly the same as in his old world.
Images flashed in his mind: the narrow dormitory room where he'd locked himself away; his classmates pointing and laughing during training sessions; the council members' cold, contemptuous stares. And Sora, always Sora, smirking in the center of it all like a king surrounded by jesters.
For a moment, Akio couldn't breathe. His hands trembled so badly he almost dropped his racket.
The whistle blew.
The match began.
The first serve shot through the air like lightning. The shuttle blurred, almost invisible as it streaked toward Akio.
Instinct took over. He lunged, body moving before his mind caught up, and met the serve with a sharp, precise return. The crack of impact echoed like thunder, and the rally began.
Fast.
Faster.
Faster still.
The crowd erupted, voices blending into a single storm of sound as the two players clashed in a furious dance. Rackets swung like blades, feet pounded against polished wood, bodies twisted and lunged in a blur of motion.
Akio gave everything to keep up. His training, his late-night practices with Yukiko, the countless hours spent pushing his body to its breaking point—they all came into play now.
And for the first few rallies, he held his ground.
Point for point, shot for shot, he matched Sora.
The scoreboard stayed close.
The crowd screamed his name, cheering louder each time he landed a perfect smash or outmaneuvered Sora's seemingly perfect defense.
But then Akio saw it.
That smirk.
That gleam in Sora's eyes.
Sora wasn't even trying.
Every perfect shot, every graceful return—it was all done with terrifying ease. He was toying with Akio, letting the match look close just so he could crush him later.
Akio's heart pounded.
Cold sweat broke out across his skin.
This was exactly like before. Back in the magic academy, Sora had always waited until Akio felt hope—then he would tear it away, leaving him humiliated and broken.
Not this time, Akio told himself desperately. This is my second chance. I won't let him control me again.
The rally intensified.
Akio fought like his life depended on it, because to him, it did.
Each shot came faster, sharper, the shuttlecock a blur of white light. The court felt smaller and smaller as the two children pushed each other to the edge.
And for a moment... Akio believed.
He wasn't the talentless child from before. He wasn't the kid who had died full of regret. Here, in this world, he was someone new. Someone stronger.
But then Sora's laughter shattered the fragile illusion.
"Is that it, Worm? Is this the big comeback story you dreamed of? Pathetic."
The words dug under Akio's skin like poison-tipped needles. His focus wavered—and in that instant, Sora struck.
A devastating smash.
The shuttle hit the floor with a sound like breaking glass.
Point, Sora.
The crowd roared.
Akio's stomach heaved. His vision blurred.
The first game spiraled out of control.
Sora's movements grew sharper, more vicious. His smirk widened with every point he scored, every mocking glance he sent Akio's way. The crowd was enthralled, cheering wildly for Sora's "genius play," unaware of the cruelty fueling it.
By the end of the game, the scoreboard showed a brutal difference:
21–12.
The crowd cheered.
To them, it was an incredible display of athletic skill.
To Akio, it felt like the past repeating itself.
During the break between games, Akio stumbled to his side of the court, barely able to stay upright. His lungs burned. His legs shook.
More than the physical pain, it was the weight of memory that crushed him.
He saw flashes of his old world—his dorm room filled with silence, the hateful whispers of classmates, the cold eyes of the council members. Sora standing over him, triumphant, while Akio cowered on the ground like a broken thing.
It was happening again.
No, he thought, teeth gritted. Not this time. Not here.
"AKIO!"
Yukiko's voice cut through the storm of his thoughts.
The basketball captain was standing at the edge of the court, fists clenched, eyes blazing. "Don't you dare let him do this to you! This isn't the academy. This isn't his world. It's yours! Fight back!"
Something in Akio's heart cracked open.
A flood of emotion surged through him—pain, rage, determination. All the suffering he'd carried for so long, all the dreams he'd buried, came roaring to life.
The whistle blew.
The second game began.
And Akio... rose.
His movements sharpened. His eyes cleared. His heart pounded like a war drum.
The opening rally was a blur of speed and precision, and this time, it was Akio who ruled over the pace. His smashes came like thunder, his defense like steel.
The crowd erupted as Akio scored the first point of the game. Then the second. Then the third.
For the first time, Sora's smirk faltered.
The match turned fierce.
Point for point, the two kids clashed, their rivalry painting the court in fire and shadow.
Sora snarled, his voice rising above the roar of the crowd.
"You think this changes anything?! You'll always be nothing, Worm!"
Akio met his gaze, unflinching.
"Not anymore."
The scoreboard ticked upward.
The tension built.
The second game neared its peak.
Every rally felt like a lifetime. Every shot carried the weight of two worlds.
And then, just as the final rally began—just as Akio prepared to strike back with everything he had—
The screen cut to black.
TO BE CONTINUED...