The stadium was silent for a single, impossible moment.
The second game had ended in Akio's favor, the scoreboard glaring 21–19 like a blood-red warning sign. Akio stood at the center of the court, stomach heaving, sweat dripping from his trembling frame. Across from him, Sora stood motionless, racket hanging loosely at his side.
But that silence didn't last.
The crowd roared back to life, a tidal wave of sound that rattled the very walls. Akio barely heard them. His entire world narrowed to one truth: one more game. One final match to decide it all. His second chance, his redemption, his entire existence—everything balanced on these last moments.
And across from him was the teenager who had destroyed him once before.
As Akio closed his eyes and steadied his breath, Sora's smirk slowly crept back into place.
"Impressive, Worm," Sora said, voice dripping venom. "You've crawled further than I expected. Almost made me think you weren't a complete waste of space."
His tone sharpened like a blade.
"But don't delude yourself. This ends the same way it always has—with you beneath me, broken and begging."
Akio's fingers tightened around his racket.
Those words. That arrogance. It was like every wound from his past life had been torn open anew.
But this time, he didn't flinch. He met Sora's burning gaze and said, through gritted teeth:
"I'm not the same child you crushed before. And I'm not begging anymore."
The whistle blew.
The final game began.
Flashback – The Boy Who Wanted to Save
The stadium blurred away, replaced by a softer, hazier image.
Sora's memories.
A younger Sora sat alone on the steps of the magic academy, knees pulled to his stomach. His clothes were torn, his face bruised. Students passed by in groups, whispering cruel words as they glanced at him with disgust.
"Late bloomer freak."
"No magic, no worth."
"Why does he even bother showing his face?"
Sora's small hands trembled. He'd discovered his magic late—far later than the other children. In a society where magic defined your very identity, he was treated as little more than trash.
But one child... one strange, bright-eyed kid, had spoken to him.
Akio.
Akio had seen him sitting alone one day and offered a clumsy smile.
"Hey! You like magic too, right? Someday, let's both become strong mages together!"
Those simple words had been like sunlight to Sora's dark world.
For the first time, someone hadn't looked at him with contempt.
From that day, Sora decided he would grow strong—not just for himself, but so Akio wouldn't have to suffer like he had. He dreamed of standing beside Akio as equals, rivals pushing each other forward.
But when Sora's magic finally awakened, everything changed.
His talent was extraordinary. His rise was meteoric.
The same students who once spat on him now worshipped him.
And as his popularity grew, he realized something horrifying:
Akio hadn't grown with him.
Akio was still powerless. Still mocked. Still at the bottom.
Sora tried to push Akio, at first gently, then more forcefully.
"Come on, Akio! Train harder! You can do it! We can stand together!"
But Akio's failures only mounted.
The other students' bullying worsened.
And one day, a thought crept into Sora's mind: What if I make him suffer even more? What if I push him past his limits by becoming his greatest enemy?
He told himself it was for Akio's sake.
That cruelty would force Akio to awaken, the same way suffering had awakened Sora.
But as the months turned into years, something inside Sora shifted.
His mockery stopped being a tool and became an addiction.
The crowds' cheers, the power he held over others—it was intoxicating.
And somewhere along the way, he forgot his original purpose.
By the time Akio died, Sora was no longer the teenager who wanted to save.
He was the tyrant who destroyed.
Sora's mind flashed to the night of Akio's death.
He'd been standing over Akio's lifeless body, the dorm room bathed in cold moonlight.
A single tear had slipped down his cheek, shocking even himself.
Why am I... crying?
The other students never questioned it. The teachers dismissed it as weakness.
But deep down, Sora felt something shatter that night.
And when he too was killed by a teacher—executed for being a "monster" who couldn't be controlled—Sora awoke in a strange new world.
A modern world.
A world without magic.
A world where his hands were empty and his past sins haunted him.
For the first time, he felt true despair.
And then, in the rain one evening, he saw a face he thought he'd never see again.
Akio.
At first, Sora couldn't believe it.
He followed Akio from afar, watching him navigate this strange new place.
And slowly, he pieced it together: Akio, like himself, had been reincarnated.
For a brief, shining moment, Sora resolved to do better this time.
To protect Akio.
To truly be his rival and his friend.
But the sight of Akio's face twisted something inside him.
The memories of their past life burned too bright, too raw.
Sora's kindness crumbled.
His jealousy, his guilt, his longing—they all fused into one overwhelming obsession.
And before he realized it, he was back to his old ways, bullying Akio not out of purpose, but out of madness.
"If he can't rise to meet me," Sora thought bitterly,
"then I'll crush him again... until he has to fight back."
Back to the Match
The third game raged like a storm.
Every swing of the racket was a clash of souls.
Every point scored was a wound reopened.
Akio moved with relentless determination. His body screamed in pain, but his spirit burned brighter than ever.
He wasn't just playing for himself anymore.
He was playing for Ukio, for Yukiko, for everyone who had believed in him in this second life.
And most of all, he was playing to shatter the chains Sora had wrapped around him for so long.
The score climbed: 15–14, Akio's lead.
Sora's breathing grew ragged. His movements were no longer flawless.
The crowd began to notice, their cheers turning to murmurs of shock.
For the first time, Sora looked afraid.
"Why... won't you stay down?!" he screamed, his voice breaking.
"You were supposed to be weak! That's who you ARE!"
Akio's response was calm, steady, like the eye of a hurricane.
"I was weak. But not anymore."
He lunged, unleashing a devastating smash that sent the shuttle hurtling past Sora's desperate defense.
Point, Akio.
Sora fell to his knees, sweat and tears mingling on his face.
Images of their shared past flooded his mind—two children who once dreamed of greatness together, now standing on opposite sides of a battlefield they'd built with their own pain.
I just wanted you to see me, Sora thought bitterly. I just wanted... to stand beside you.
But the words never left his lips.
Instead, he screamed in rage and hurled himself back into the match.
The final rally began.
Time seemed to slow.
The stadium held its collective breath.
Akio and Sora moved as if possessed, their bodies pushed beyond all limits.
Each strike was faster, harder, more desperate than the last.
And then, with one final, perfect motion, Akio leapt into the air.
His racket met the shuttle with a crack like thunder.
It struck the court on Sora's side, just inches from his outstretched hand.
Match point. Akio wins.
The crowd erupted into chaos.
Cheers, screams, applause—it all blurred together as Akio collapsed to his knees, sobbing with exhaustion and relief.
Across the court, Sora lay motionless, staring up at the ceiling.
For the first time, his smirk was gone.
As the medics rushed in, Sora's lips trembled.
"Akio... I... I just wanted..."
But his voice broke before he could finish.
A single tear slid down his cheek—just like the night Akio died.
And then, darkness claimed him.
Akio looked over at his fallen rival, his heart aching with a mix of victory and grief.
He didn't know the full truth yet—the pain behind Sora's cruelty, the twisted love that had become hate.
But he would find out.
Because this battle wasn't just the end of their rivalry.
It was the beginning of something far larger, a storm that would engulf them both.
As the episode faded to black, a single ominous line appeared on the screen:
"The real tournament begins now."