The rain hadn't stopped for days.
By Saturday morning, Tokyo felt drowned beneath the storm, as if the very city was holding its breath for what was about to unfold.
Heavy, slate-gray clouds hung low over the skyline, blocking out even the faintest glimmer of sunlight.
Sheets of cold rain battered the streets, hammering on rooftops and umbrellas alike, pooling in gutters until they overflowed like small rivers.
The world felt muted, swallowed by the storm.
Through the misty dawn haze, Akio Mune stood silently at his window, staring down at the city below.
His reflection was faintly visible in the glass, his emerald-green eyes almost glowing against the gray backdrop.
He was dressed neatly in his school-team tracksuit, his transparent umbrella and raincoat hanging by the door.
In his hand, he clutched his lucky shuttle, the one he had carried since his very first match—a reminder of both the pain and triumph that had led him here.
Behind him, the small apartment was quiet, though it was anything but peaceful.
His heart thundered louder than the storm outside.
This feeling... it's just like before.
Like when I faced Sora.
His heart tightened at the memory of that brutal match—the sweat, the roars of the crowd, the sheer weight of his trauma colliding with his determination.
But this wasn't the same.
This time, he wasn't just playing for himself.
He was playing to uncover the truth, to face the mysterious child who called himself his brother.
Akio pressed his palm to the cold glass, his breath fogging the window.
The thought of Ukio's dead, detached gaze sent a chill through him, colder than the rain outside.
This is it. There's no turning back now.
From the kitchen, the kettle whistled sharply, pulling him back to the present.
Akio poured himself a quick cup of tea, the warmth calming his trembling hands.
As he sipped, he heard his phone buzz.
It was a message from Yukiko:
[Yukiko]: "Yo, Akio! Meet me at the tournament hall. We're gonna crush this thing today! Also, bring extra socks. You know how soaked those courts get when it rains lol."
Akio smiled faintly, a rare moment of levity amid the storm of anxiety brewing inside him.
"Yeah," he murmured to himself, "see you there."
Arrival at the Tournament Hall
The tournament hall loomed like a cathedral of competition, its vast, modern structure glowing faintly against the rain-smeared sky.
Spectators with umbrellas crowded the entrance, their chatter drowned beneath the constant drumming of the downpour.
Inside, the air was electric with anticipation, the polished courts reflecting the harsh white lights above.
Akio stepped through the entrance, shaking off his umbrella, his breath catching as he took in the sight.
Every corner of the hall was alive with energy—players warming up, coaches giving last-minute pep talks, and fans waving handmade signs.
It was overwhelming, but also strangely grounding.
For a moment, Akio felt like just another competitor, rather than a kid carrying the weight of two worlds.
"Akio!"
Yukiko's voice cut through the noise, warm and familiar.
He jogged over, his own tracksuit clinging slightly from the rain.
"Hey, you made it! You ready to rock this thing?"
Akio gave a small, determined nod.
"Yeah. I'm ready."
"Good," Yukiko grinned, slapping him on the back.
"'Cause today's gonna be wild. I heard there are some serious players this time—not just random clubs like before. This is the real deal, alright."
Akio's heart skipped.
Somewhere among those serious players was the teenager with eyes like his own.
His "brother."
Tension Between Two Newcomers
Before the tournament could begin, the announcer's voice boomed over the loudspeakers.
"Welcome to the Tokyo Winter Badminton Championship!
Today's matches will determine who advances to the finals, and who will fall in defeat!"
The crowd roared, a wave of sound washing over Akio.
He and Yukiko moved to the side benches, waiting for their round to be called.
The first match of the day featured two newcomers whose tension was palpable even from across the court.
Renji Hoshino: A tall, lean teenager with fiery red hair tied back in a loose ponytail. His sharp amber eyes gleamed with arrogance, and he carried his racket like a sword.
Daiki Morimoto: A stockier, broad-shouldered player with messy brown hair and a bandage across his nose. His calm, serious demeanor contrasted sharply with Renji's fiery energy.
As they stepped onto the court, the air shifted.
Spectators leaned forward, sensing the animosity crackling between them.
"Looks like there's some bad blood there," Yukiko murmured, nudging Akio.
"See the way they're glaring at each other?"
Akio nodded silently, his eyes narrowing.
Even without words, he could feel it: a story of rivalry, pain, and ambition playing out before him.
The Match: Renji vs. Daiki
The whistle blew, and the match began at a blistering pace.
Renji moved like a wildfire, his smashes fierce and unrelenting.
Every strike was accompanied by a guttural shout, his body language radiating raw aggression.
Daiki, however, was calm and methodical, his defense like an unshakable wall.
He absorbed Renji's assaults, countering with precise, measured shots that gradually wore his opponent down.
The crowd was enthralled, gasping with each exchange.
Akio's heart pounded as he watched, the intensity reminding him of his own battles.
Between rallies, Renji shouted across the net, his voice dripping with venom.
"You think you're better than me, huh? Always playing it safe, always acting like you're above me!
I'll crush you, Daiki!"
Daiki's reply was quiet but cutting.
"This isn't about you, Renji. It's about the game. That's why you'll never win."
Renji snarled, his attacks becoming even more erratic.
Sweat flew from his brow as he pushed himself to the brink, but Daiki remained steady, his calm like a storm's eye.
Finally, with a perfectly timed smash, Daiki ended the match.
The shuttle hit the floor with a decisive thud.
The whistle blew.
Daiki won.
The crowd erupted, but Renji collapsed to his knees, clutching his racket in despair.
His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he muttered under his breath,
"Why... why can't I ever win?"
Akio watched silently, a racket forming in his throat.
He saw himself in Renji—in the desperate need to prove something, to overcome the ghosts of the past.
Akio's Resolve Strengthens
As the first round concluded, Yukiko turned to Akio, his expression serious.
"See that, Akio? That's what this tournament is about.
It's not just about skill.
It's about hearts colliding."
Akio clenched his fists, the memory of Ukio's piercing gaze burning in his mind.
"Yeah. And I'm going to show him my heart... no matter what."
The announcer's voice rang out again, calling the next round's players to the court.
Akio and Yukiko exchanged a look, their silent bond stronger than words.
This is it, Akio thought. The road to the truth begins now.
Building Toward the Semi-Finals
As the day progressed, the tournament grew fiercer.
Players fell one by one, their dreams crashing like waves against the relentless tide of competition.
Akio advanced steadily through the brackets, his focus razor-sharp.
Each victory brought him closer to the truth, but also closer to the kid who waited at the center of this storm.
Between matches, Akio caught glimpses of Ukio in the crowd.
The teenager never spoke, never moved, just watched—his emerald eyes glowing faintly beneath the shadow of his hood.
Every time their gazes met, a chill ran down Akio's spine.
By the time the semi-finals approached, the tension in the hall was suffocating.
The storm outside raged harder than ever, its winds howling against the walls as if echoing the battles within.
Cliffhanger Ending
As Akio prepared to step onto the court for his semi-final match, the lights flickered briefly, casting eerie shadows across the hall.
He glanced toward the stands and saw Ukio... smiling.
It was a small, almost imperceptible smile, but it sent ice through Akio's veins.
Why... why does he look like that?
The announcer's voice boomed:
"Semi-Final Match! Akio Mune versus..."
The rest of the announcement was drowned out by the sudden roar of the crowd and the deafening crash of thunder outside.
Akio gripped his racket tightly, his heart pounding in sync with the storm.
This wasn't just a match anymore.
It was a step closer to uncovering Ukio's twisted game—and to deciding the fate of his own soul.
The screen faded to black, leaving only the sound of rain and the whisper of Ukio's haunting voice:
"The truth shall be prevailed... if you win.