Akashi didn't have any objections to Mifune's idea. The expedition matches were just a small part—the real goal was the world tournament. Besides, next year was when the original story began, so this was also a good chance for Akashi to fully shift focus to the junior high division.
After two years of interfering with countless events, Akashi had also noticed a few patterns in this world. A lot of things this year had gradually started lining up with the original plot. It was like the closer they got to the timeline of the original series, the more obvious the so-called "will of the world" became.
Of course, that term "will of the world" was just how Akashi defined it. He still had no clue what it really was, so he could only stay alert for any unexpected developments.
On top of that, because Japan had done pretty well in last year's world tournament and then went undefeated in this year's expedition matches, more and more countries had started paying attention to Japan.
To avoid leaking too much intel, Mifune decided the U-17 training camp would be temporarily closed to junior high students until next year's national tournament. At this point, most players had hit a bottleneck and just needed time to refine their skills. It didn't matter where they trained—and Mifune knew Akashi's private training estate was just as well-equipped as the U-17 camp.
Even if junior high players were going to be required for next year's world tournament, the main force would still be the high schoolers. So Japan's U-17 team was sure to be the focus of attention from other countries. Mifune's arrangement would help hide the true strength of Japan's junior high players for as long as possible.
As for whether anyone might try to dig into the junior tennis scene, Mifune figured that was unlikely. Besides, he had some resources he could tap to keep the junior high kids protected.
Soon after, the junior high players regrouped at the mountain behind the camp and began their final intense training push of the year. Even Oni came along—he wanted to raise his own strength a bit more. If he'd beaten Camus last year, the Japan Team wouldn't have been eliminated.
Time passed slowly. While the junior players trained hard in the mountains, a plane from the United States landed at Tokyo Airport. A boy wearing a white cap stepped off. On the center of the cap was a large letter R.
The boy had dark green hair, carried a huge tennis bag, and wore a standard tennis tracksuit. It was obvious he was a tennis player. That's right—he was the legendary Prince of Tennis: Echizen Ryōma!
The original story's protagonist—Echizen Ryōma.
Right now, Ryōma was feeling a little annoyed. He'd been living just fine in the U.S. when his old man suddenly went off the rails and dragged him back to Japan. Worse, the guy made him, a 12-year-old kid, fly back alone.
But with Ryōma's cold, detached personality, he didn't say much. He just followed his dad's orders and came to Japan. As the four-time champion of the U.S. Junior Open, he actually looked down a bit on Japanese tennis.
Still, he'd signed up for this year's Kakinokizaka Junior Tennis Tournament before coming. He wanted to see what Japan's current level was like.
He had wanted to register for the 16-and-over bracket, but the staff rejected him. The most he could do was sign up for the under-16 division. Ryōma had no choice but to accept it.
When he got home, he saw his old man teasing the cat with his foot while reading a magazine. Ryōma ignored him, as usual. Nanjirō didn't even notice Ryōma was back.
Middle-aged Echizen Nanjirō.
It wasn't until his wife yanked his ear that Nanjirō snapped out of magazine-land. While apologizing to his wife, he glanced over at Ryōma with a look that seemed to say, "Kid! You came home and didn't even say hi?"
And just like that, the plot of the original story had finally begun. At that moment, Akashi was still at the U-17 training camp, relentlessly refining his dimensional skills and pushing to reach the next level. Even now, he wasn't sure if he could beat Volk.
History was moving forward without Akashi's involvement this time, running its original course. On a train, a timid-looking girl sat stiffly in her seat, not daring to move, because someone in front of her kept swinging a tennis racket around.
"If you want to hit topspin, you've got to use the Western grip—like this, hold the racket straight up, just like shaking hands!" A long-haired high schooler stood in front of the girl, demonstrating the stroke for his friends.
At that moment, Ryōma, sitting across from the girl in a cap, suddenly spoke.
"Hey! You guys are being loud."
The long-haired student blinked. Just then, the train jolted. The student lost his balance and dropped his racket to the floor.
"Seriously, getting schooled by an elementary schooler, huh~" the student muttered casually, then bent down to pick up his racket.
"That's more like it~ When the racket face is down, you grip the handle from above—that's the right way to hold a Western grip. By the way, what you just did, the handshake grip? That's the Eastern grip. A lot of people can't tell the difference~" Ryōma said with a trace of mockery.
Just as the student was about to lash out, the train came to a stop. Ryōma stepped off. The three students also got off at the same stop, rushing out behind him. Even the timid girl hurried off the train too.
That timid girl was Ryūzaki Sakuno. In the original story, she followed Ryōma from his entry into Seigaku all the way to the world tournament. No one really knew what kind of feelings drove her, but she went all the way to Australia just to cheer him on.
What happened afterward also unfolded like in the original. Because Ryūzaki Sakuno gave Ryōma the wrong directions, he arrived late for his match and was disqualified. That's when he ran into that same high schooler, Sasabe.
After Ryōma showed off, Ryūzaki Sumire introduced her granddaughter to him and then used her "Sumire Magic" to treat Ryōma's injuries.
Soon enough, a new school year began. This year, Akashi and the others were now third-years. In the junior high division, no one would be calling them kids anymore—in fact, they were now the ones qualified to call others kids, though no one would be that petty.
Fudomine's tennis club once again had an overwhelming number of applicants. If the courts weren't big enough, there was no way they could handle so many members.
This year was a little special. The legendary captain of the Fudomine tennis club—Akashi Seijurō—actually brought a red-haired first-year student with him and personally led him into the club, even asking Tachibana An to register him.
The new student bounced around nonstop as soon as he joined, full of endless energy and curiosity. Many readers had probably already guessed who he was. That's right—it was the other prodigy with incredible talent from the original story: Tōyama Kintarō!
Tōyama Kintarō.
After the world tournament two years ago, Akashi made a special trip to Osaka to visit the highly respected Granny Sugi. At the time, she had already started teaching Kintarō tennis.
Akashi talked with Granny Sugi for a long time, offering lots of suggestions for Kintarō's future training. In the end, she agreed to let Kintarō transfer to Fudomine after elementary school to continue his training under Akashi's guidance.
Granny Sugi had been a real pro player in her youth, even ranking in the top three in the world at one point. She was one of the pioneers who laid the foundation for Japan's tennis world.
After discovering Kintarō's extraordinary talent, she wanted to make one last contribution to Japanese tennis, pouring the final moments of her life into building up Kintarō's foundation in tennis.
Akashi had actually thought about helping extend Granny Sugi's life, like hiring top specialists and using the best medicine, but she turned him down flat. She knew her own condition well—every method had already been tried. Her body had reached its limit. No medicine could save her now.
Akashi had no choice but to give up that plan. Instead, he had her tennis court upgraded so Kintarō could spend his final time with her happily.
As soon as Kintarō joined the tennis club, he immediately displayed terrifying talent. He beat Ibu Shinji and Kamio Akira back-to-back and made it directly onto the regulars' roster. That's right—this year Akashi expanded the regular spots to eight.
He also extended the club rankings to include a top 10. During the ranking matches, even though Kintarō didn't win a single match against the other regulars, he still looked super excited and ended up earning the No. 8 badge. He was thrilled.
Ibu Shinji got No. 9, Fuji Yūta claimed No. 10, and Kamio Akira fell just short and couldn't break into the rankings.
But Kintarō's boundless energy quickly became a headache for the other regulars. He hounded them every day for matches—no one could get a break. Even Akutsu had no solution for the kid. Since they were teammates, he couldn't beat him up, and insults didn't work either.
It wasn't until Akashi whispered a secret to Kintarō that he finally quieted down. But Krauser couldn't help twitching at the corner of his mouth when he overheard it.
Akashi had said: "Hey Kintarō, have you noticed Liliadent looks a little different from us? Let me tell you the truth—he's actually a vampire. If you keep running wild like this, who knows if Liliadent might sneak into your room and drain your blood at night."
Kintarō completely believed Akashi's words. From that point on, he treated Krauser with the utmost respect, terrified of offending the scary vampire. The rest of the regulars had to stifle their laughter every time—they didn't want to get hit by a cross themselves.
Let's rewind a little. At Seigaku, it was the first day of the new school year, and lots of eager first-years stepped onto campus full of anticipation.
At the tennis club, Seigaku's top-four finish last year brought in a decent number of sign-ups. But unlike Fudomine, Seigaku didn't have money to burn. They had strict requirements for new recruits.
Still, maybe the "will of the world" was at it again. Not only did Ryōma join the club effortlessly, but the original trio from the story also got in—yes, including the familiar face of Horiō the Great.
Horiō the Great, with two years of tennis under his belt.
Nowadays, Seigaku had dropped the tradition of first-years only picking up balls. Every first-year who joined could participate in the regular tryouts. Fuji Shūsuke placed a lot of importance on discovering new talent.
This time, Ryūzaki Sumire had personally mentioned Ryōma to Fuji, which made him treat the selection process even more seriously. He kept thinking about who to pair Ryōma with. In the end, something must've clicked—he wrote down Inui Sadaharu's name.
By the way, after Fuji thoroughly reorganized the tennis club, the atmosphere among everyone became really friendly—except for Momoshiro Takeshi and Kaidō Kaoru. Those two probably had bad blood in a past life. So, the whole plot about Arai picking fights never happened.
When the selection matches started, our Horiō the Great lost his first-round match decisively. But maybe luck was on his side, since his opponent was Ōishi, so no one really thought it was embarrassing.
Ryōma, on the other hand, won his match smoothly, and with a score of 6-0. But since his opponent was another first-year, everyone just assumed he'd had some tennis training and didn't think much of it.
But then, Ryōma beat Ikeda with another 6-0 score, which surprised some of the older members. Ikeda was definitely above average in skill.
Ryōma also noticed that this opponent had some strength. Scoring wasn't as easy, but in the end, it was still the same conclusion—they were far from enough.
In the end, all the other first-years were eliminated except for Ryōma. The three little rookies pinned all their hopes on him. If he could win one more match, he'd become a regular.
The next day, Ryōma again won with a 6-0 score, which meant he had already secured a spot as a regular. But there was still one last match in the afternoon—his opponent was a current regular and Seigaku's strategist, Inui Sadaharu.
Ryōma didn't care at all. In his eyes, Japan's tennis scene was mediocre. None of them could really play, and so-called regulars couldn't be that strong. He was fully confident he'd win.
What the three rookies didn't expect was that before the afternoon match even started, several regulars had already shown up to watch. Among them was none other than their captain, Fuji Shūsuke.
When Ryōma and Inui arrived at the court, they greeted each other briefly, then began warming up. Inui glanced at Ryōma inspecting his racket. A glint flashed across his glasses, and a strange smile crept onto his face.
As the umpire made the call, both players stepped onto the court and walked to the net to bow. Inui looked at Ryōma and said,
"Four-time consecutive champion of the U.S. Junior Open—let's see if you live up to the profile."
"That depends if senpai is strong enough," Ryōma answered casually, a cocky tone in his voice.
They did a quick spin to determine serve, and our Horiō the Great began explaining what that meant to the two rookies nearby. Ryōma won the serve.
Standing at the baseline, Ryōma took out a ball and bounced it a few times to check its feel. After a few tosses, he launched it into the air. His right arm swung forward, applying a special spin to the ball as he served. The ball flew over the net and slammed into Inui's court.
"Opening with a right-handed serve. External spin probability: 96%," Inui muttered calmly as he moved to the landing spot.
The ball bounced and curved sharply toward Inui's face, but he simply tilted his head, swung his racket with his right hand, and leaned his body slightly as he returned the topspin serve with ease.
Ryōma froze for a second. He hadn't expected this senpai called Inui to return his serve so effortlessly.
"0-15."
The umpire didn't care if Ryōma was stunned. The score was called right away. Hearing it snapped Ryōma back to reality, and his eyes lit up with interest.
"Heh... not bad, Inui-senpai," Ryōma said with a grin.
He picked up another ball and served with the same topspin. Inui returned it just as easily, but this time Ryōma was ready and rushed toward the return point.
"Based on the running stance, cross-court probability: 87%," Inui predicted before Ryōma even reached the ball and moved toward his left side.
Sure enough, Ryōma hit a cross-court shot. But as soon as the ball crossed the net, Inui was already there and said,
"Judging by Echizen's current speed, if I raise the ball speed to 165.3 kilometers, his return probability drops to 1%."
Inui swung with a forehand drive. The ball rocketed off the racket at over 165 kilometers per hour, flying straight toward Ryōma's back-right corner. By the time the ball landed, Ryōma was still two or three steps away. The ball shot past and out of bounds.
"0-30."
Ryōma didn't say a word. He looked at the ball outside the court, adjusted his cap, and went back to the baseline. He served again—another topspin.
But now Ryōma realized something wasn't right. It felt like Inui-senpai had completely seen through him. No matter where he hit the ball, Inui was already waiting there and returned it with shots he couldn't touch at all.
"0-40."
"Game, Inui Sadaharu! 1-0!"
Ryōma quickly lost his service game. Still, he didn't show any reaction, as if the one who just lost wasn't him at all.
Inui, on the other hand, kept murmuring strange things under his breath, like "data correction 1.3%," or "personality metrics deviating," and such.
Then, everyone saw Ryōma switch his racket from his right hand to his left. He raised it, wearing a slightly arrogant look, clearly about to say something.
But Inui beat him to it, speaking calmly:
"Madamada da ne~ That's what you were going to say, right, Echizen?"