The first thing Tezuka did upon returning to the Prince of Tennis world was to seek out Coach Banji, who was in his office reviewing tactical notes for the upcoming regional qualifiers.
"Coach," Tezuka announced without preamble, "my hand won't need treatment in Germany after all."
Coach Banji's usually relaxed expression immediately shifted to one of serious concern. He set down his papers and fixed Tezuka with an uncharacteristically stern look, his habitually squinting eyes opening fully to regard his star player.
"Tezuka, if you don't receive proper treatment for that injury soon, you risk permanent damage that could end your tennis career entirely," he said gravely. "I understand that traveling to Germany seems daunting, but this isn't something we can postpone or treat casually."
He leaned forward in his chair, his voice taking on a paternal tone. "If you're concerned about the financial burden, don't be. Yamabuki has consistently reached the national tournaments over the years, and the school provides substantial bonuses for coaching successful teams. Money is not an obstacle here."
"Coach, I appreciate your concern, but I've found someone who can treat my injury completely," Tezuka replied calmly. "Germany won't be necessary."
"Think carefully about this, Tezuka," Banji pressed, his worry evident. "German orthopedic medicine represents the absolute pinnacle of sports injury treatment worldwide. Your talent is comparable to someone like Echizen Nanjiro in his prime—you have genuine professional potential. If we compromise your recovery by cutting corners with an unproven treatment, it would be a tragedy not just for you, but for the entire tennis world."
Banji had been coaching long enough to recognize true genius when he saw it, and Tezuka possessed the kind of raw talent that appeared perhaps once in a generation. The thought of that potential being wasted due to inadequate medical care was genuinely distressing to him.
"I understand your skepticism," Tezuka said respectfully. "But if you would accompany me to see this treatment option in person, I believe you'll change your mind."
"Since you seem so certain," Banji replied with a resigned sigh, "I suppose I can spare the time to investigate. But Tezuka, if this proves to be some kind of alternative medicine quackery, we're booking the next flight to Germany."
"I think you should prepare yourself mentally for what you're about to experience, Coach."
"I've been coaching tennis for over thirty years, son. There's very little I haven't encountered in this business."
Twenty minutes later, Coach Banji was standing in stunned silence on the deck of an otherworldly restaurant ship, staring out at an ocean that definitely didn't exist anywhere near Tokyo. His worldview was undergoing a fundamental restructuring that would have challenged someone half his age.
"This... this is actually real," he managed to whisper, gripping the ship's railing as if it were the only solid thing left in his universe. "We've actually traveled to another world."
It had taken considerable time for the elderly coach to accept the reality of otherworldly travel. Even someone as open-minded as Banji needed extensive convincing when confronted with something that contradicted every assumption about how reality functioned.
With Tezuka serving as guide and translator, Banji gradually received a complete introduction to the Bamboo Staff, its mission, and the extraordinary individuals who ran it. Meeting a talking panda who could demonstrate martial arts techniques that defied physics had been particularly challenging for his rational mind to process.
After witnessing Tom's casual demonstration of cartoon-logic medical procedures—including producing a full X-ray machine from thin air and explaining complex orthopedic concepts through elaborate pantomime—Banji readily agreed that German treatment would be unnecessary.
"If this... Tom... can truly heal your hand completely," Banji said slowly, still processing everything he'd seen, "then I fully support this alternative. Additionally, I agree with your suggestion to bring our entire regular roster here for intensive training."
After extensive discussions with Gustave about logistics, costs, and training facilities, Banji calculated that the school's emergency athletic fund could support one month of training for the entire team. Combined with personal contributions from the players themselves, they could extend their stay to approximately six weeks.
"Six weeks of training in an environment like this," Banji mused, watching Chu Zihang complete another lap around the beach with his boulder, "could be equivalent to six months of conventional preparation."
Upon returning to their own world, Banji called a team meeting to explain the opportunity—though he was necessarily vague about certain details that would strain credibility. After some discussion about costs and commitment, all ten members of Yamabuki's regular roster agreed to participate.
The next morning, laden with equipment bags, personal luggage, and various tennis supplies, the entire Yamabuki Junior High School tennis team followed Tezuka through the Gate of All Worlds.
"Whoa! Tezuka, this is incredible!" Eiji's exuberant voice immediately filled the third floor of the Bamboo Staff as he bounced around like an energized rabbit. "This is really another world? This is where we're doing special training? Amazing!"
"According to all known scientific principles, the probability of successful dimensional transfer should approach zero," Inui observed, pushing his glasses up as he processed the impossible situation. "However, empirical evidence clearly contradicts theoretical predictions. I'll need to develop entirely new calculation models."
Sengoku flipped a coin into the air and caught it with a broad grin. "I checked my lucky coin this morning, and it promised today would be special! Even I didn't expect time travel, though. This is definitely my luckiest day ever!"
If Sengoku were a character in a fantasy novel, he would undoubtedly be one of those blessed protagonists who could stumble over legendary treasures just by walking down the street. Of course, even unlimited luck couldn't overcome the fundamental talent gap—which explained his recent losses to both Tezuka and Fuji.
"All right, settle down," Coach Banji said with gentle authority, his usual amiable smile containing enough commanding presence to immediately quiet the excited chatter. "Let's go downstairs and properly introduce ourselves to Mr. Gustave and his crew. We'll be their guests for the next six weeks, so good manners are essential."
"Yes, Coach!" the team responded in unison, their excitement tempered by respect for their coach's guidance.
As they made their way down to the main deck, they encountered an unexpected welcoming committee. Shin-chan was present with his baby sister Himawari in tow, having become something of a regular visitor since discovering that the Bamboo Staff offered endless entertainment opportunities.
The reason for their frequent visits was practical rather than purely social. Misae had been forced to take a part-time job at a local supermarket to supplement the family's overstretched budget—partly due to general economic pressures, but largely because Shin-chan's various schemes and accidents had resulted in several expensive mishaps during the recent holiday period. With Misae working longer hours, Shin-chan had been designated as Himawari's primary caretaker during the day.
Being constitutionally incapable of remaining idle, Shin-chan had quickly discovered that visiting the Bamboo Staff served multiple purposes: it gave him new people to interact with, provided safe entertainment for Himawari, and offered the possibility of encountering Conan for further mischief.
When Shin-chan spotted the group of uniformed teenagers descending the stairs, his eyes lit up with predatory glee. New targets for his particular brand of chaos were always welcome.
Himawari, meanwhile, had an entirely different reaction to the arrival of so many new faces. Her infant eyes widened with what could only be described as euphoric joy, as if she had suddenly found herself in paradise.
"Dai!" she squealed with delight, somehow managing to slip from Shin-chan's grasp with lightning speed and launching herself toward the group with the kind of coordination that no normal infant should possess.
Before anyone could react, she had somehow scaled Tezuka like a tiny, determined mountain climber and settled herself comfortably in his arms, gazing up at him with obvious adoration.
"How did she..." Tezuka stared down at the baby in his arms, genuinely puzzled by her remarkable mobility and apparent lack of stranger anxiety.
"Tezuka, meet Himawari—she's Shin-chan's little sister," Gustave said with obvious amusement as he approached the group. "I see you've already been introduced, though perhaps not in the conventional manner."
Tezuka nodded politely, recognizing Shin-chan from his previous visit and the memorable super realistic house playing session that had challenged his understanding of childhood psychology.
"Fair warning," Gustave continued with a grin, "you shouldn't treat Himawari like an ordinary baby, despite her age. She's not even one year old yet, but as you can see, she's far from typical."
"That much is obvious," Tezuka replied dryly, noting how easily she had maneuvered herself into his arms. "Normal infants don't possess such remarkable climbing abilities."
"Himawari has two primary interests in life," Gustave explained, clearly enjoying the team's bewildered expressions. "First, she's absolutely fascinated by anything that sparkles—jewelry, shiny objects, anything with metallic or crystalline properties."
He paused dramatically before delivering the punchline.
"Her second obsession is handsome men. If Himawari takes a liking to you, congratulations—you've been officially certified as attractive by one of the world's most discerning critics."
"Hahaha," Coach Banji chuckled self-deprecatingly, "I'm afraid this old man doesn't qualify for that particular honor!"
"Are you sure about that?" Gustave asked with mock seriousness. "Why don't you test the theory?"
"Tezuka, let me try holding her!" Eiji insisted, practically bouncing with excitement as he reached for the baby. "I want to see if I pass the handsome guy test too!"
As Himawari was transferred to Eiji's arms, the team held its collective breath. Would she cry? Struggle? Demand to be returned to Tezuka?
Instead, Himawari settled contentedly against Eiji's chest, examining his face with obvious approval.
"Yes! I knew it!" Eiji shouted triumphantly, performing a little victory dance while carefully supporting the baby. "I am indeed a certified handsome guy!"
"My turn, my turn!" Sengoku immediately demanded, practically wrestling Himawari away from Eiji. "Let's see if my luck extends to baby approval!"
Once again, Himawari remained calm and content, even reaching up to touch Sengoku's face with tiny, curious fingers.
"Lucky!" Sengoku declared happily, pumping his fist in celebration.
And so began an impromptu rotation, with each team member taking turns holding Himawari to receive their official attractiveness assessment. Fuji earned a particularly enthusiastic response—she seemed mesmerized by his gentle smile. Oishi received approving coos, and even the usually reserved Higashikata and Minami managed to keep her content.
However, when Kawamura's turn came, the results were dramatically different. The moment he took her in his arms, Himawari's face scrunched up in obvious displeasure, and she began to fuss with increasing intensity.
"Oh no, oh no!" Kawamura stammered, his gentle nature making him immediately assume he'd done something wrong. "I'm sorry, little one! I didn't mean to upset you!"
"It's not your fault, Kawamura," Gustave assured him kindly. "Sometimes the standards are just... very high."
The situation became even more awkward when Inui stepped forward for his turn, only to receive an equally negative reaction from their tiny judge. Himawari took one look at his face, processed what she saw, and began crying in earnest.
"Fascinating," Inui muttered, pulling out a notebook to record the data. "The infant appears to have developed highly specific aesthetic preferences based on conventional attractiveness metrics. This could provide valuable insights into evolutionary psychology and mate selection patterns..."
"The two of you shouldn't feel bad," Fuji said diplomatically, trying to spare his teammates' feelings. "It's not that you're unattractive—it's just that Tezuka and the others have set an unusually high standard."
Indeed, neither Kawamura nor Inui was particularly unattractive by normal standards. However, when compared to the genuinely striking features of their teammates, they found themselves on the unfortunate side of Himawari's exacting criteria.
It was an embarrassing situation, but at least they had each other for company in the "not certified handsome" category.