Ayumi had just successfully balanced a tennis ball on her head for twelve seconds—"a new personal record in physics-defying chaos," she declared to absolutely no applause—when she spotted them.
They walked onto the court like they paid rent on the baseline.
And honestly? Maybe they did.
Ryota Tanaka and Hana Nishimura. Undefeated mixed doubles duo. Polished. Synchronized. The kind of people who probably meditated together or solved escape rooms for foreplay. They looked like anime rivals in a sports opening—complete with wind effects and glowy auras.
Ryota's smirk was a warm-up stretch in disguise.
Hana's silence somehow spoke in italics.
Ayumi elbowed Kenji. "Incoming smugness at twelve o'clock."
He didn't look up. "Ignore them. They feed on attention."
"Too late. I've made eye contact. The social contract is binding."
Ryota leaned casually on the fence like the gate was made of his ego.
"Well, well," he said, his voice dripping sarcasm like overpriced honey. "It's true. The chaos gremlin and the reluctant tax accountant. Together at last."
Ayumi stepped up, all grin and no brakes. "Correct. We're accepting fan mail, compliments, and confused admiration from less interesting pairings."
Hana blinked once, like a cat preparing to judge. "We saw your last scrimmage. There's… an energy."
Ayumi beamed. "That's what the school nurse said too, but in a slightly more panicked tone."
"We like to call it unquantifiable synergy," she added, mock-formal. "You wouldn't understand."
Ryota's gaze shifted. "And you, Arakawa? How's it feel carrying unpredictability on your back like a broken string?"
Kenji looked up, finally. Calm as a still pond. "It's not weight if it moves fast enough."
Ayumi blinked. Hold on. Was that poetic shade? Did he just defend her with physics metaphors?
Hana's lips curled into the tiniest smirk. "We play you next week. Looking forward to the… creativity."
"You'll get our best," Kenji replied.
"And possibly our weirdest," Ayumi added, spinning her racquet like a conductor's baton. "No promises."
Ryota gave a mock salute. "Then may the best system win."
As they turned and left, Ryota adjusted his jacket like a villain in Act Two. Ayumi exhaled.
"Okay. Objectively? Terrifying."
"They're organized," Kenji said, toweling off. "Not the same as dangerous."
Ayumi stared after them. "Do you think they're dating? Or just… intimidating in stereo?"
Kenji didn't answer. His mind was already diagramming angles, speeds, patterns.
Ayumi, meanwhile, was imagining a dramatic anime montage: her and Kenji back-to-back, his grip tight and strategic, her socks neon, their synergy chaotic but impossible to pin down.
She grinned.
Game on.