POV: Kenji – Game 2, Set 1 (Kenji's Serve)
Score: 1–0 (Kenji & Ayumi lead)
Kenji bounced the ball twice.
The air was different now—less like practice, more like chess with cardio.
He glanced at Ayumi, already in her ready stance, mouthing something.
Probably "banana strategy" or "mango blitz." She refused to call formations by their actual names.
Kenji's eyes flicked to Hana. She was calm again. Back in her element.
Don't give her rhythm. Serve wide. Make her run.
Point 1:
He tossed the ball and served hard out wide to Hana's backhand.
She lunged and blocked. The return was decent—low, slicing.
Kenji didn't wait. Moved in fast, driving the next ball into Ryota's alley with surgical precision.
Ryota reached it—barely.
Ayumi sprinted diagonally—again off-plan—and punched it down the middle before Kenji could call a switch.
Winner.
15–0.
He blinked. "You were supposed to cover cross."
"I felt the middle calling my name," Ayumi said cheerfully.
Kenji resisted the urge to recalculate everything.
Instead, he stepped back and tossed the ball again.
Point 2:
This time: body serve to Ryota.
The return came back faster than expected—aggressive, deep.
Kenji pivoted, lobbed it up safely.
Mistake.
Hana slammed it—clean smash between them.
15–15.
Ayumi gave a half-apologetic shrug. "Okay, that one was gravity's fault."
Kenji wiped his palm against his shorts.
No space for casual returns. Control depth. Test their footwork.
Point 3:
Kenji tossed the ball higher, hit a sharp kick serve to Hana.
It bounced unpredictably, and Hana's timing slipped. The ball floated too high.
Ayumi crashed the net.
Slapped it down with the ferocity of someone chasing a sugar rush.
30–15.
Kenji almost smiled.
She doesn't volley conventionally. She just… lunges at possibilities.
And sometimes, impossibly, it worked.
Point 4:
Another serve—this one a flat drive down the middle at Ryota.
Ryota met it with force, sending it screaming cross-court.
Kenji caught it, sent it diagonally back with precision.
Hana tried to volley it off-angle—
But Ayumi bolted into the no-man's land, spun her racquet mid-air (for no good reason), and dinked the ball just over the net.
It wobbled like a bad decision and fell dead on the line.
40–15.
The opponent team froze.
Ryota looked annoyed. Hana arched a brow, as if wondering if Ayumi was possessed.
Kenji just whispered, "That wasn't in any playbook."
Ayumi said, "Improvised magic. We're co-writing the script."
Point 5: Game Point
Final serve. Kenji slowed the tempo.
A gentle topspin to Ryota's forehand, pulling him wide.
The return came angled. Fast.
Kenji couldn't reach it—Ayumi did.
Not with control. Not with grace.
But with speed and… something dangerously close to instinct.
She leapt and hit a one-handed backhand—somewhere between a Hail Mary and divine comedy.
Winner. Clean.
Game, Ayumi and Kenji. 2–0.
As they walked back to the bench, Ayumi whispered, "Are we… accidentally brilliant?"
Kenji exhaled. "You're not predictable. That's… something."
"You like it."
He didn't answer.
But he was thinking:
I've trained with structure my whole life. I've played with form, patterns, discipline. But this—
This was like trying to solve an equation where the variables changed mid-match.
And somehow, it was working.