Shirano nearly spat out his barley tea, caught between laughter and exasperation. "Boss, in gaming, it's not about who has the biggest weapon!"
Amid this extraordinary atmosphere, Daigo Umehara absorbed the wisdom of two top-tier players like a dry sponge soaking up water.
Shirano taught him the most intricate calculations, revealing the risks and rewards behind every move.
Nagai Kenta instructed him in the craftiest psychological tactics, showing him how to read his opponents' habits and set the most profound traps with the simplest actions.
Once, Daigo had been a beast who relied solely on claws and fangs to tear apart his prey.
Now, this beast was learning to set traps, conceal his presence, and deliver a fatal blow with a single strike.
The last Saturday in August, Nippon Budokan.
This hallowed ground, once a sanctuary for rock bands' roaring anthems, had transformed into a massive, shimmering electronic arena.
The massive screen overhead displayed the blue Sega logo and the TV Tokyo emblem in alternating brilliance. Countless spotlights swept across the sea of heads, illuminating the dazzling "GG" banners that hung everywhere.
In one corner of the audience, Umehara Masao and his wife appeared somewhat bewildered.
Mrs. Umehara clutched her handbag tightly, looking around at the young people waving their glow sticks and shouting hoarsely, feeling as if she had stumbled into another world.
Umehara Masao maintained his usual stern expression, but his sharp eyes—honed on construction sites—were fixed intently on a small figure standing on a beer crate in the distant players' area.
"Don't be nervous, Uncle, Auntie!" Boss Sato, in his wrinkled suit, squeezed between the couple, his face flushed with excitement. "See that? This is the atmosphere of the national tournament! It's completely different from our little shop!"
He pointed at the stage, spittle flying as he took on the role of commentator. "They're playing Virtua Fighter now, but that's boring. Wait for The King of Fighters to start. Then we'll see how our Tokyo Team crushes them!"
Umehara Masao remained silent, merely grunting in acknowledgment through his nose.
With the commentator's triumphant announcement, the screen transitioned, and the familiar opening theme of The King of Fighters reverberated throughout the arena.
"It's here! It's here!" Sato exclaimed, slapping his thigh in excitement.
The Tokyo Team's first match pitted them against the Hokkaido Team.
Their vanguard was Shirano.
He took a deep breath and stepped onto the arena floor, his expression as focused as if he were solving a complex mathematical equation.
The match began. Shirano's Mary fought with remarkable precision, each move and step executed with ruler-like accuracy.
"Beautiful! He capitalized on his opponent's recovery time to land a combo!" Nagai Kenta murmured from the sidelines.
In the end, Shirano single-handedly defeated both the Hokkaido Team's vanguard and middleweight.
"Good job," Nagai Kenta said, patting Shirano on the shoulder as he exited the arena.
"Not bad," Shirano replied, wiping sweat from his palms. "The opponent's attack patterns were pretty unorthodox. He almost caught me off guard."
Nagai Kenta was caught between laughter and tears. Shaking his head, he walked onto the stage.
As the team's middle player, he faced Hokkaido Team's final ace.
His opponent was a fiercely aggressive player who immediately launched a storm of relentless attacks.
Yet Nagai Kenta stood like a rock, unmoved by the tempest.
In a critical moment when he seemed pinned against the stage edge, his opponent executed a habitual jump and heavy landing, aiming to end the match.
"Now!" Nagai Kenta's eyes lit up.
His Kusanagi Kyo unleashed a crisp "Demon Burn" the instant his opponent's character left the ground!
A perfect Rising Dragon! An unparalleled anti-air strike!
K.O.!
The arena erupted in thunderous applause.
"We won! We won!" Sato leaped up in the stands, excitedly grabbing Umehara Masao's arm.
Umehara Masao staggered slightly from the impact, but didn't push him away, his gaze remaining fixed on the players' bench.
His son hadn't even entered the match.
The subsequent rounds became a showcase for Nagai Kenta and Shirano.
One relied on seasoned composure, psychologically and experientially overpowering his opponents.
The other depended on meticulous calculation, dismantling enemies with precise data and frame-perfect execution.
The Tokyo Team swept through the competition like a whirlwind, crushing all obstacles in their path as they stormed into the semifinals.
The commentator's voice grew increasingly excited. "They're incredible! The Tokyo team is simply too strong! Their vanguard, Shirano, and center, Nagai, have demonstrated overwhelming power! We haven't even seen their ace—eleven-year-old "Beast" Umehara Daigo—take the field yet!"
The camera panned to the athletes' bench.
Daigo Umehara stood expressionless, as quiet as a bystander.
"Hey," Shirano nudged Nagai Kenta with his elbow and muttered, "We're out there risking our necks, and this guy just stands around raking in the cash?"
Nagai Kenta smiled. "Isn't that perfect? Keeping him as our trump card lets the opponents wonder and worry."
At that moment, the bracket for the semifinals appeared on the big screen:
Tokyo Team vs. Osaka Representative Team.
When "Osaka" appeared, the smile vanished from Nagai Kenta's face.
Shirano also gasped, instinctively flipping through his notebook.
"The Osaka team, known as the Naniwa Three Gods. Their captain, nicknamed the Western Oni—"
The camera swept across the Osaka team's bench, focusing on a young man with a flamboyant hairstyle and a faint, arrogant smile, staring across the sea of people at the Tokyo team.
He extended his finger in Daigo Umehara's direction and made a throat-slitting motion.
The Budokan fell silent for a moment.
In the audience, Sato's cheers caught in his throat.
Umehara Masao's brow finally furrowed into a deep frown.
Semifinals, the battle for the final four.
All the spotlights converged on the central main stage. When the words "Tokyo vs. Osaka" flashed on the big screen, the atmosphere in the Budokan grew scorching.
The Osaka team, known as the Naniwa Three Gods, were the undefeated legends of the Kansai region.
The match began with Shirano as Tokyo's vanguard.
However, Kyo Kusanagi, Osaka's vanguard, fought like a mad dog, completely disrupting Shirano's rhythm.
Chaotic, reckless, each of his attacks came at a price.
Shirano's finely tuned system of calculation failed for the first time in the face of absolute chaos.
On the screen, as Shirano's last character fell, even he seemed dazed.
He had only taken out the opponent's second character, yet he had already lost.
"It's alright, leave it to me," Nagai Kenta said, patting Shirano on the shoulder before stepping onto the stage.
As Tokyo's mainstay, Nagai Kenta faced Osaka's second fighter, who was in peak condition.
He fought with steady composure, successfully turning the tide, but ultimately fell to Osaka's captain—the man known as the Western Oni.
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