The shared memory of their honey heist adventure had both Gustave and Sengoku laughing despite the tournament's intensity.
"You weren't nervous when a bear was chasing you through the forest with stolen honey," Gustave pointed out with amusement. "Why get nervous now over a tennis finals?"
"You're absolutely right!" Sengoku's confidence surged back as he slapped his chest. "Can Rikkaidai possibly be scarier than that bear? I'm the Lucky Sengoku!"
With his swagger restored, he strode toward the court with renewed determination.
"That kid," Gustave chuckled, shaking his head as he retrieved his abandoned popcorn. If Sengoku was going to battle Rikkaidai, then Gustave would wage his own war against these snacks.
The singles three matchup was now official: Yamabuki's Sengoku Kiyomizu versus Rikkaidai's Mori Jusaburo.
While Yukimura Seiichi undoubtedly ranked as Rikkaidai's strongest player, the identity of their second-best remained hotly debated. Sanada Genichirō and Mori Jusaburo had faced each other countless times in practice matches, with victories split roughly evenly between them. Moreover, Mori's notorious laziness made it impossible to determine whether he'd ever deployed his full strength against his teammate.
"Go get them, Sengoku!" the entire Yamabuki bench called out as their player prepared to take the court.
"Don't worry—I'll definitely bring victory back to Yamabuki!" Sengoku raised his racket high, radiating the confidence that had carried him through countless challenges.
On the opposing side, Yukimura offered his own encouragement to the departing third-year. "Mori-senpai, I'm counting on you for this match."
"Leave it to me, little captain," Mori replied with uncharacteristic seriousness, his usual casual demeanor replaced by genuine commitment. "I'll deliver that victory."
"Come on, Mori-senpai!" Even the perpetually stern Sanada offered rare vocal support for his teammate.
"Hey, Sanada, have you changed?" Mori's playful grin returned instantly. "Come on, smile for me! If you smile, I'll definitely crush the opposition!"
"That's too lax!" Sanada's familiar roar restored the natural order as his serious expression snapped back into place.
"Tsk, you won't even give me one little smile," Mori complained with exaggerated disappointment before collecting his racket and heading toward the court.
What he missed was the brief, genuine smile that flickered across Sanada's features the moment he turned away.
"Terrifying!" Kirihara Akaya shuddered at the sight. Sanada's unexpected smile was somehow more frightening than his usual scowl—like witnessing a demon attempting kindness.
"What?" Sanada turned at the outburst.
"Sorry! I was wrong!" Kirihara immediately prostrated himself in apology.
"Hmm." Sanada nodded with satisfaction. Unlike the troublesome Mori, at least Kirihara remained properly manageable with just a stern look.
The pre-match formalities proceeded according to standard protocol. In matters of luck, Sengoku had never met his equal—he claimed the crucial first service without surprise.
As the referee's whistle launched the match, Sengoku immediately deployed his full arsenal against the formidable Mori. His recent losses to Fuji and Tezuka had forced serious self-reflection about his tennis philosophy. Drawing upon his natural athletic instincts, he had incorporated boxing footwork into his court movement and created an entirely unique fighting style.
The Bamboo Staff training had provided additional inspiration. Watching Po and Gustave work with Chu Zihang had sparked ideas about integrating various martial arts techniques into tennis applications. Under Coach Banji's guidance, Sengoku had developed his own comprehensive fighting tennis system.
During his service preparation, Sengoku began bouncing lightly on his feet—subtle movements that immediately caught attention.
"What is he doing?" Multiple Rikkaidai players voiced confusion at the unusual pre-serve routine.
"That looks like boxing footwork," Sanada observed, his kendo background providing insight into combat movement patterns. "Those light bounces are identical to techniques boxers use for positioning."
"Boxing footwork in tennis?" The concept was entirely foreign to everyone present.
"Right straight punch!" Sengoku's serve exploded forward with the sudden, devastating precision of a boxer's jab—fast, accurate, and powerful. Mori couldn't react in time as the ball blazed past him for a clean ace.
"Yes!" Eiji celebrated enthusiastically from the Yamabuki bench.
Mori studied the service area where Sengoku's ball had landed, his casual expression sharpening with newfound focus and respect.
For his second serve, Sengoku again called out "Right straight punch!" but this time Mori was prepared and managed a return. However, the serve had been deliberate misdirection—Sengoku's real weapon was what followed.
"Left hook!" He charged the net with explosive speed, delivering a perfectly placed drop shot that Mori couldn't reach in time.
Using his serving advantage and an arsenal of unexpected boxing-themed techniques, Sengoku claimed the opening game. The second game saw him incorporate judo principles alongside his boxing footwork, somehow managing to break Mori's serve as well.
"Mori-senpai's serve was broken!" Sanada's expression grew increasingly serious as the scoreboard showed Rikkaidai trailing 0-2.
"Don't worry, Sanada," Yukimura's gentle voice carried absolute conviction. "Mori-senpai promised to bring us victory, and he always keeps his word."
Sanada nodded, his faith in their veteran teammate overriding his concern about the early deficit.
As the third game commenced, Sengoku prepared to continue his martial arts assault—only to freeze as Mori suddenly closed his eyes and appeared to fall asleep standing up.
"What's he doing? Has he given up?" Sengoku stared in bewilderment at his seemingly unconscious opponent.
"I won't give you the chance to surrender!" Regardless of Mori's apparent condition, Sengoku would maintain full intensity until the referee made any official announcement.
"Right straight punch!" His signature serve blazed forward with characteristic precision.
Despite having his eyes closed and looking completely asleep, Mori suddenly moved with fluid grace, his racket making perfect contact to return the shot effortlessly.
"Tiger Cannon!" Sengoku leaped high to unleash his former signature technique—a devastating overhead smash.
The powerful attack was casually returned by the sleeping Mori, whose reaction time seemed even faster than when he'd been fully awake.
"What's wrong with that Rikkaidai player?" Jun asked in amazement. "How can he play better while sleeping than when he was awake? His reaction speed has improved dramatically!"
The absurdity of the situation strained even Jun's expanded understanding of this world's possibilities. Glowing synchronization had been strange enough, but unconscious tennis bordered on the ridiculous.
"That's Mori Jusaburo's signature technique," Gustave explained with the weary tone of someone long past surprise at tennis impossibilities. "It's called 'Sleep.' By letting his body enter a dormant state, his concentration increases dramatically. He can instantly analyze opponents' movements and ball types, then make unconscious counterattacks with perfect precision."
"That's why they call him 'Sleeping Mori Jusaburo,'" he concluded.
"Wait..." Conan's detective instincts immediately noticed something suspicious about that nickname. A mental question mark practically materialized above his head.
"Sleeping Mori Jusaburo?" he muttered with growing indignation. "That sounds like they copied the setting directly from my world! What's next, is he going to solve mysteries while unconscious too?"
The comparison wasn't entirely unfair—both involved someone performing at superhuman levels while apparently asleep, though the applications differed significantly.
Despite the seemingly absurd nature of the technique, its effectiveness was undeniable. No matter how creatively Sengoku deployed his fighting tennis or how precisely he placed his shots, the sleeping Mori returned everything with casual ease.
After entering his dormant state, Mori won three consecutive games, transforming a 0-2 deficit into a 3-2 lead. Sengoku's early momentum had been completely reversed by his opponent's supernatural unconscious abilities.
The crowd watched in fascination and bewilderment as one player fought with the intensity of a martial artist while his opponent responded with the serene efficiency of someone taking a nap.
It was, Gustave reflected while crunching his popcorn, exactly the kind of impossible scenario that made this world's tennis so uniquely entertaining—and utterly divorced from any recognizable version of reality.
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