As the announcement ended, Tokugawa and Kiran stepped forward to the net.
Both carried an air of distinction—Tokugawa cold and sharp-eyed, Kiran smiling with the confidence of a man holding all the cards.
Their first exchange of glances told them everything: this opponent was no ordinary player.
"Tokugawa Kazuya," Kiran spoke first, his tone light. "I've seen your matches. Park Junsu from Korea was completely outmatched by you in raw power."
His eyes studied Tokugawa carefully, but to his disappointment, the Japanese player's expression remained unreadable.
"Of course," Kiran adjusted his glasses, unfazed. "A player like you wouldn't show emotion over mere words."
With that, he signaled the approaching umpire. After the coin toss, both retreated to their baselines.
"Game set, best of three!"
"First set, Japan's Tokugawa to serve!"
The crowd's attention locked onto Tokugawa. What kind of serve would this formidable-looking player unleash?
Tokugawa tossed the ball high, his left arm arcing back in a smooth motion. The moment the ball entered the optimal strike zone—
A crisp impact sent the ball streaking across the court, its trajectory shimmering with prismatic light before vanishing entirely.
The Indian team stiffened in shock.
Kiran, however, merely narrowed his eyes, tracking the ball's unseen path.
A second later, the ball materialized behind him.
"So this is the 'Mirage Serve,'" Kiran mused. "I saw it in your match against Korea's No. 3. Tricky stuff."
He'd analyzed it thoroughly—a serve that exploited high-frequency vibrations to exceed the human eye's perception, creating an illusion of disappearance. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ noᴠelfire.net
"But," Kiran's gaze sharpened, "as Japan's new No. 3, you're surely more than just this gimmick."
Three more Mirage Serves followed, each disappearing mid-flight. Kiran didn't even attempt to return them.
Tokugawa's dominance was absolute.
The crowd murmured in disbelief. Compared to yesterday's marathon or even the previous doubles match, this Indian player seemed… weak. Some spectators even jeered, demanding Kiran step down.
But the Indian team remained eerily calm.
This was just the appetizer.
"Strange," muttered one of Japan's players. "It feels like India's already given up."
"An illusion," Mitsuya countered. "Kiran's been collecting data this whole time."
"Kiran Gilaput," Mitsuya explained, "India's No. 2 and their strategist. A two-time world math Olympiad silver medalist. His mental calculations are terrifying."
A pause. Then, reluctantly:
"His Data Tennis surpasses mine."
Mitsuya's Data Tennis was infamous within Japan's team—a nightmarish web of predictions that left opponents feeling like puppets.
And yet, he admitted inferiority?
"How?" Hakamada scowled. "From those casual shots? No way."
The third game began.
Tokugawa unleashed another Mirage Serve—
But this time, Kiran's racket connected cleanly.
"Got you." He smirked. "Nothing in this world truly vanishes. I've deciphered your trick."
The ball shot back, skidding along the baseline before abruptly twisting sideways mid-bounce.
"Outer spin shifting to side spin?" Fuwa raised an eyebrow. "Not bad."
"It's more than that," Mitsuya said. "The timing, the angle—he's exploiting Tokugawa's instincts."
"Visual deception," Moon added grimly. "He's playing with perception."
Kiran's strategy unfolded like a masterclass in psychological warfare.
Every shot was a feint, every spin a lie.
When Tokugawa expected a curve, the ball stayed straight. When he braced for power, the ball died softly.
"Game! India leads, 4-2!"
The crowd roared, their earlier disdain forgotten.
Kiran exhaled, savoring the shift.
"Tokugawa Kazuya," he mused, "you're intelligent. That's precisely why you'll lose."
His trap was designed for the sharp-minded—the more Tokugawa analyzed, the deeper he sank.
And now, the web was complete.
"Your chances of winning are zero percent—"
A golden streak exploded at Kiran's feet before he could finish.
The ball had already passed him.