Green Forest Tennis Park
The Kanto Tournament finals had arrived.
This was one of the best tennis venues in the region, capable of holding tens of thousands of spectators.
Yet, even so…
A full hour before the match began, the stands were already packed.
Aside from regular fans, reporters and eliminated school teams filled the seats.
"I wonder if Yoru and the others can stop Rikkai's winning streak," mused Moonlight Atobe from Hyotei.
"Hard to predict," replied Taro Mizuki, shaking his head.
In the past, Mizuki would've flatly said "impossible."
After all, Rikkai Dai's lineup was flawless—no glaring weaknesses, just solid, all-around strength.
But this year's Seigaku was different.
Their top players were undeniably stronger, but their lower-tier members dragged the team's overall level down.
The Nationals were a team competition. A single star couldn't carry the entire match—it depended on the whole squad's performance.
"Actually, there's something I haven't told you all," Chikao Matsudaira suddenly spoke up.
The others turned to him.
"My brother's team—Yamabuki's entire roster—acted as Rikkai's practice partners for a week," he revealed.
A whole week of sparring?
Hyotei's members froze.
"Was it Kaneya Banji's idea?" Mizuki frowned. "Wouldn't put it past him."
In Japan's coaching circles, most aimed to prove themselves by stopping Rikkai's dominance.
Helping them was practically unthinkable.
But Banji was an exception.
With decades of experience and countless accolades, he didn't need to prove anything.
His unconventional training methods were infamous—high-risk, high-reward strategies that everyone in the industry knew about.
"I think Seigaku has a real shot at winning," Moonlight said calmly.
No complex reasoning.
He just believed Yoru and QP were unstoppable—two guaranteed wins for Seigaku.
They only needed one more point to clinch the match.
"Seigaku's here!"
A chorus of high-pitched cheers erupted from the stands.
The girls' screams had practically become Seigaku's entrance theme.
Led by Yoru, the team strode through the player tunnel, their composed aura unfazed by the noise.
They lined up neatly at the net, waiting.
"Rikkai Dai's arriving too!"
Another shout.
The stadium roared—the cheers dwarfing Seigaku's by far.
Twelve consecutive Kanto titles had built Rikkai an enormous fanbase. No upstart team, no matter how talented or good-looking, could compete.
Like celebrities taking the stage, Mitsudaira Akuto and his team emerged, waving casually to the crowd.
Unlike Seigaku's seriousness, Rikkai exuded effortless confidence—the aura of perennial champions.
The two teams met at center court.
Adjusting his glasses, Mitsudaira studied Yoru (who was nearly a head shorter) but showed no hint of underestimation.
"Shake hands!" the referee called.
Yoru extended his hand first.
"Trying to stop Rikkai's 13th straight title? I'm afraid you won't succeed," Mitsudaira said as he shook it.
Yoru rolled his eyes. "Ugh, spare me the clichés. So cringe."
He let go and walked off, leaving Mitsudaira stunned.
…Since when do people break script like this?
Seigaku's team followed without hesitation.
The referee frowned slightly but didn't penalize them.
(He'd long been tired of hearing the same pre-match trash talk every finals.)
Both teams returned to their benches for final preparations.
Five minutes later, the lineups were submitted—the match was about to begin!
---
Rikkai Dai's Bench
"Yuma, Yuho—this match is yours," Mitsudaira instructed.
"My analysis shows Seigaku's Doubles 2 is stronger than their Doubles 1 now. Watch out for Yamato's misdirection shots."
"I've explained their weaknesses. Once you understand the mechanics, returning those shots isn't hard."
Truthfully, Seigaku's doubles were their weak point. But to play it safe, he'd assigned the Ochi Brothers to face Yamato and Kawasaki's stronger pair.
"Peeep!"
The referee's whistle blew.
"Kanto Finals—Rikkai Dai vs. Seigaku! Players, prepare!"
The Ochi Brothers stood to warm up.
But when Mitsudaira saw Seigaku's rising players, his brow furrowed.
Kaedou Itsuki and Konishi Sensui.
Not Yamato and Kawasaki?
A bad feeling settled in his gut.
This wasn't just about the doubles switch—even if the other pair faced Yamato, Rikkai's odds were high.
What worried him was whether Seigaku's singles lineup would shift too.
If Kirihara didn't face Fuji in Singles 3… Rikkai could be in trouble.
---
On the Court
"Huh. Not Yamato?"
"Seigaku changed their formation. Hope this doesn't wreck Akuto's strategy."
The Ochi Brothers shrugged.
Once the lineup was submitted, there was no turning back.
As players, their job was simple: win.
Ten minutes later, the match began.
After the coin toss, Rikkai won the serve.
Taking their positions, Konishi took a deep breath.
"No matter who we face, we play our own game!"
"Damn right," Kaedou agreed.
They knew their role.
Before the match, Yamato had told them: "If you get the chance to prove yourselves, give it everything—no matter the stage."
With their +0.6 buff active, they sharpened their focus.
Thwack!
Ochi Yuho served from the baseline.
Not the fastest, but heavily spun—deliberately limiting return quality.
They'd studied Kaedou and Konishi too.
Knowing Seigaku's quick counters, spin was the best way to stifle their speed-based offense.
And it worked.
Konishi's return was weak.
Ochi Yuma intercepted at the net, firing a body shot—Kaedou's least comfortable angle.
With his shorter reach, body shots were always tricky for him.
Thud!
Kaedou barely got his racket on it, but Yuma smashed the weak return for the first point.
Ochi Yuma & Ochi Yuho lead, 15-0!
"Just like the captain said… They've analyzed us completely," Konishi muttered.
Kaedou smirked.
"Doesn't matter. We've got our own tricks too."
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