(Based on the poll results, Germany is way ahead, so I'll go with Germany. Get ready for an epic, hype-filled storyline!)
Ten minutes later...
The security guard lay slumped over his desk, completely drunk.
"And this guy thought he could stop me?"
The burly man chuckled, lifting his gourd of sake before strolling into the welfare center.
Unfortunately, he didn't find Oni Juujirou inside.
Just as he was about to leave, an elderly man blocked his path.
The burly man immediately straightened up—he knew better than to act recklessly around someone like this. Respect was mandatory.
After explaining himself and stating his purpose, the old director quickly understood.
"So you're looking for Oni Juujirou? U17… as in the tennis U17?" the director asked.
"Yes. I'm Mifune Inshou, head coach of the U17 training camp."
"I came here to personally invite Oni Juujirou to join us. It'd be a waste for someone of his talent to quit tennis."
Mifune Inshou—
The mastermind behind Japan's U17 team.
In the original series, his coaching skills were nearly unmatched. A lover of alcohol, his seemingly erratic behavior always carried deeper meaning.
Anyone who received his guidance underwent a dramatic transformation in strength.
"Juujirou really does have incredible talent. Back then, he used to shout about becoming Japan's No. 1 tennis player."
The old director smiled fondly at the memory.
But there was also a hint of resignation in his expression.
Ever since Juujirou had come to the welfare center, he'd treated it as his second home—and the children as his own siblings.
At first, the director thought it was a good thing.
But after Yoru and QP appeared…
He began noticing the fire in Juujirou's eyes whenever he watched tennis matches on TV.
Over time, it became clear—Juujirou belonged on a bigger stage. He shouldn't be shackled here.
With a firm resolve, the director finally spoke.
"Juujirou took the kids fishing. Follow the road outside—you'll find him down by the shore."
"Promise me… you'll make sure that boy keeps playing tennis."
"I will."
---
By the shore.
"Ready?!"
"Here I go!"
BOOM—!
A thunderous explosion sent a geyser of water into the air, followed by a rain of fish—about sixteen in total. Enough for a feast.
"Woahhh!"
"Let me count… only sixteen? Last time, Yoru-nii got 38!"
"Hah! Juujirou-nii still can't beat Yoru-nii's record~"
The kids' teasing struck a nerve.
After the Nationals, Yoru had stayed at the welfare center for a while. They'd held a fishing competition—and Yoru's 38-fish blast remained unbeaten.
Juujirou's eye twitched.
"Tch! That was just luck—he hit a whole school of fish! If it were me, I'd get 50 easy!"
"Look at Juujirou-nii's face! Yoru-nii would say he's 'malding'!"
Juujirou's face turned beet red.
"Fine! I'm eating the first fish myself!"
"Nooo! Juujirou-nii, you're the best~"
Laughter filled the air—until a gruff voice cut through it.
"So this is how you waste your talent?"
Juujirou's head snapped up.
The man before him looked like a straight-up villain—unkempt beard, wild hair, and a glare that could melt steel.
Instinctively, Juujirou stepped in front of the kids, gripping his racket.
If this guy tried anything…
Black Axe— right to the face.
Thanks to Yoru's training, he'd perfected the sweet-spot technique and fused it with his Axe Smash. The power now rivaled Byoudouin's Destruction!
"I'm Mifune Inshou—head coach of U17."
The old man's gaze burned into him.
"Oni Juujirou. Why refuse U17's call? Wasn't your dream to become Japan's No. 1?"
---
Meanwhile, on the court…
"Game, Yoru! 3-0!"
Fuji Syuusuke knelt on the ground, gasping for air. His entire body was drenched in sweat.
Only five minutes had passed.
Yet in those three games, Yoru had dismantled him—shattering his pride with every shot.
Each rally was a descent into despair.
"Fuji, take a break. You're still not facing tennis head-on."
"Come back when you're ready to take it seriously."
Yoru's voice was calm, but the message was brutal.
He needed this wake-up call.
In the original series, Fuji's biggest weakness was his mindset.
He never fought for himself—only for his brother, Tezuka, or his friends.
The one time he played for his own sake?
He lost.
By the time he finally awakened, it was too late.
After his defeat to Shiraishi, Fuji underwent a monstrous evolution—unleashing insane techniques and adopting an ultra-aggressive playstyle.
Right now, he was stuck in the same rut.
Without the tennis club forcing him to train, he wouldn't even have reached 7-star strength.
"...Understood."
Fuji picked up his racket, his expression hollow, and walked to the sidelines.
"Fuji…"
Oishi looked worried, but Yamato stopped him.
"Let him process it. The captain doesn't do things without reason."
Fuji stood by the fence, unmoving, letting the sweat drip from his face.
Yoru didn't push further.
Better to break him now than let him fail in a real match.
His gaze shifted to Tezuka.
"Ready?"
"Yes."
Tezuka tightened his grip, fully focused.
He knew Yoru was holding back.
If Yoru played seriously, they'd end up like Inui—unable to even touch the ball.
This was a teaching match. Nothing more.
"Here it comes."
SWISH—!
The serve landed with brutal spin.
Tezuka's eyes sharpened.
"Reverse Tezuka Zone!"
He reacted instantly, slicing the ball to counter the rotation—
But the spin was too much.
His arm trembled as the ball ripped itself from his strings, veering out of bounds the moment it crossed the net.
BANG!
"15-0!"
Yoru walked to the other side, unfazed.
"Every serve from now on will be Reverse Zone. Break it. Understand it."
From what he could see, Tezuka's mastery of the technique was lacking.
Even if the strain was an issue, he should at least reach the level of his Zero-Shiki Serve.
"Yes!"
Tezuka's entire body tensed, his eyes locked onto Yoru.
The first-years on the sidelines were speechless.
They had just witnessed true dominance.
---