Natsuki's POV
I almost didn't recognize it.
Court Six at Kanagawa Stadium.
They resurfaced it last year, added new bleachers, updated the lighting.
But the wind still moves the same here.
And when Aoi stepped onto the baseline this morning, her whole body paused.
This was Mirai's final court.
No one said it out loud.
We didn't have to.
Shun's POV
I see Aoi across the net, Rio beside her. Haru on deck. Same old Kaimei.
Except they're not the same.
They're sharper. More in sync. Less afraid.
It almost makes me want to smile.
Almost.
But I didn't come here to reminisce.
I came here to win.
For Mirai. For what we never got to finish.
Aoi's POV
The first set is clean.
We trade points like clockwork. Shun's form is tighter than I remember. His new doubles partner is fast. Scarily fast.
Rio's holding her own at the net. Haru's timing is pristine. Sho's serves are landing like arrows.
But I can feel the edge.
This isn't just a match.
This is everything.
Haru's POV
Second set. Midway.
We're down 3–4.
Coach Kubo hasn't said a word in twenty minutes.
He's pale. Sweating more than usual. At one point, he grabs the fence like he's dizzy.
Natsuki notices first.
She rushes over.
Coach waves her off.
But I know that look.
I've seen it before—on my old coach. Right before he collapsed during regionals.
I grab Tanaka.
"Get help," I whisper.
He doesn't even argue.
Rio's POV
They pull Coach off the sidelines mid-point.
He refuses the stretcher, just leans against Natsuki like she's the only thing keeping him up.
"You finish this," he mutters.
"To win?" I ask.
He shakes his head.
"To prove it wasn't just her."
I don't ask who he means.
Because we both know.
Final Set – Aoi's POV
We're tied. 5–5.
Rain starts. Just drizzle. Then harder.
The officials let us finish.
My shoes are soaked. My grip slick.
But my mind?
Clear.
Shun serves.
Rio returns.
Volley. Cross.
We switch.
The ball arcs high.
I step into position. The same shot Mirai would've taken. The same court. The same weather.
But this time…
I don't hit it like her.
I hit it like me.
Topspin. Wide angle. Sharp cross court.
It lands.
Game.
Set.
Championship.
Tanaka's POV
They don't scream.
No dramatic pile-up.
Just a long, quiet moment.
Aoi looks up at the sky—rain in her lashes—and smiles like the weight's finally gone.
Haru steps beside her.
Rio drops her racket and laughs.
And for the first time since this whole story started…
No one's playing in the shadow of a ghost.
Coach Kubo (in recovery)
He watches the footage from the hospital bed, IV in one arm, notes in the other.
"Still not pretty," he mutters.
But he smiles.
Because that last rally?
That wasn't Mirai's formation.
That was Kaimei's.