Facing Rikkaidai's flawless lineup, Coach Banji had made a strategic gamble by completely reorganizing Yamabuki's traditional formation:
Doubles 2: Higashikata Masami, Minami Kentaro
Doubles 1: Eiji Kikumaru, Oishi Shuichiro
Singles 3: Sengoku Kiyomizu
Singles 2: Tezuka Kunimitsu
Singles 1: Fuji Shusuke
Against an opponent without exploitable weaknesses, Banji hoped this unexpected lineup shuffle might catch Rikkaidai off-guard and create tactical advantages.
"How about it, Brother Jun? The atmosphere here is incredible, isn't it?" Gustave asked as they settled into their front-row seats.
"It truly is," Jun replied with genuine amazement. "I never imagined a middle school tennis match could draw such massive crowds!"
In his world, even professional sporting events struggled to attract large audiences. The constant threat of alien beast attacks had left people subconsciously reluctant to gather in crowded spaces, despite the memory erasure protocols. What Jun was witnessing now—22,000 passionate fans filling an arena for teenage competition—would have been unthinkable in his reality.
"Just wait until the match begins, Brother Jun," Gustave said with a knowing smile. "Then you'll understand exactly why so many people are here."
Jun's curiosity was piqued. He began studying the players on court more intently, searching for clues about what made this competition special enough to warrant such unprecedented attention.
After the tournament organizer delivered the requisite opening remarks—cut mercifully short when an impatient spectator launched a water bottle at his head—the battle for regional supremacy finally commenced.
Both schools had kept their starting lineups secret until this moment, building anticipation for the tactical chess match about to unfold.
The opening doubles match would feature Yamabuki's veteran "Potato Heroes" combination against Rikkaidai's Niō Masaharu and Yagyū Hiroshi—a pairing that immediately caught Coach Banji's attention.
His expression grew serious as he studied the opposition. The lineup change had been designed to pit his stronger Potato Heroes against Rikkaidai's supposedly weaker Marui-Kuwabara partnership. Instead, Rikkaidai had also shuffled their formation, creating a direct collision between each school's elite doubles teams.
"It seems that against a school like Rikkaidai with no apparent weaknesses, traditional tactical maneuvering becomes irrelevant," Banji muttered with grudging respect. "This will come down to pure strength versus strength—a battle of absolute skill rather than strategic positioning."
The realization was both humbling and exhilarating. After years of relying on tactical brilliance to overcome superior talent, Yamabuki finally possessed the raw firepower to match any opponent.
"Masami! Kentaro! Give us a strong start!" Eiji shouted from the sideline as his teammates took their positions.
"Leave it to us!" Higashikata replied with a confident OK gesture.
"Looks like this will be a direct confrontation after all," Niō observed with his characteristic sly smile, addressing his stone-faced partner.
"Then we'll see who proves stronger—us or Yamabuki," Yagyū replied with clinical precision, adjusting his glasses with the methodical care that characterized everything he did.
Yagyū Hiroshi represented one of tennis's more unusual success stories. Having joined Rikkaidai's club this year after being forcibly recruited from golf by Niō's persistent nagging, he had somehow developed into a formidable competitor despite his late start. His gentleman's demeanor contrasted sharply with Niō's mischievous nature, yet their partnership had evolved into Rikkaidai's strongest doubles combination.
The synergy made sense when considering Niō's supernatural mimicry abilities. The "Trickster" could imitate anyone's playing style through his Phantom technique, making him the perfect complement to any doubles partner. Yagyū's disciplined fundamentals provided the stable foundation that allowed Niō's chameleon-like adaptability to flourish.
Following standard protocol, both teams met at the net for handshakes and the coin toss. For once, fortune smiled on Yamabuki—they claimed the crucial first service game.
"Lucky!" Sengoku shouted from the bench, his supernatural fortune apparently extending to his teammates. The Yamabuki players shared relieved grins, recognizing the psychological importance of gaining early momentum.
The Potato Heroes' playing philosophy embodied tennis fundamentals at their purest level. Unlike flashier competitors with signature techniques and supernatural abilities, Higashikata and Minami had built their reputation on flawless execution of basic skills—much like Shitenhoji's captain Shiraishi Kuranosuke.
This approach carried both advantages and limitations. While their style lacked the dramatic flair that impressed casual observers, it also eliminated exploitable weaknesses. Facing such complete players required preparation for extended battles of attrition, where mental endurance mattered as much as physical skill.
Minami positioned himself at the net while Higashikata prepared to serve from the baseline. A subtle hand signal passed between them—communication so refined that years of partnership had made it instinctive.
Higashikata's serve looked textbook perfect to the crowd but utterly pedestrian to elite-level opponents—exactly as intended.
"Is this really the extent of Yamabuki's ace doubles team?" Niō thought with initial disappointment. He'd expected something more spectacular from players with such fearsome reputations.
The straightforward delivery proved easy enough to return, but Niō's dismissive attitude shifted quickly as the rally developed. No matter what creative shots he attempted, no matter how cunningly he tried to exploit angles or create openings, the Potato Heroes responded with perfect positioning and flawless technique.
"Niō, they're pure fundamentalist players," Yagyū warned quietly. "We need to be extremely careful."
"I understand," Niō replied, his casual demeanor replaced by focused concentration.
The first game fell to Yamabuki as expected—serving advantages were crucial at this level of competition. Rikkaidai answered immediately in the second game, using their own service game to even the score.
The pattern continued through the third and fourth games, with both teams protecting serve effectively. At 2-2, neither side had managed to create a break point opportunity, suggesting the match might extend for hours unless someone found a way to elevate their play.
During the brief changeover, Coach Banji offered tactical advice to his doubles team: "Expect Rikkaidai to deploy synchronization in the next set. Stay alert and stick to your preparation."
"Understood, Coach," both players replied with quiet confidence. They'd anticipated facing synchronized opponents—any defending national champion would possess such capabilities. More importantly, they'd developed specific counter-strategies during their extensive preparation.
As the fifth game began, the predicted transformation occurred. Niō and Yagyū became enveloped in the familiar ethereal glow that marked synchronized doubles play.
"What is that?!" Jun gasped, staring at the luminous figures with wide-eyed disbelief.
"This is what makes tennis in this world so unique," Gustave explained with obvious satisfaction at his friend's amazement.
Instinctively, Jun's hand moved toward his chest—a photographer's reflex to capture this impossible scene. When his fingers found nothing, reality struck with painful clarity. He hadn't touched a camera since Sera's death, driven away from his profession by overwhelming guilt.
But watching this moment of supernatural beauty, something stirred within him that had been dormant for years. His original passion for photography hadn't been about scandal or sensationalism—it had been about preserving life's most precious moments, just as he'd done with Sera.
The decision crystallized with surprising clarity. After returning to his world, he would reclaim his camera and return to his calling. But this time, instead of chasing dangerous stories, he would focus on capturing the beauty that existed even in the darkest places.