With the arrival of Richard Baker and his team, the Kanto Regional Selection Training Camp officially came to an end. All selected players would head to the Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium on the day of the match.
After landing in Japan, Richard immediately started promoting his team. He gathered a group of reporters and invited them to visit their temporary base, showing off some of the training routines of the team's reserve members.
He expected the reporters to be amazed, but gradually realized that they seemed completely uninterested. This made Richard grumble to himself, 'What a bunch of country bumpkins—they can't even appreciate true tennis artistry.'
What he didn't know was that these reporters had been watching Akashi and the others play over the past two years. Their standards had risen far beyond what they used to be. If this had been a few years ago, Kanto's press might have been genuinely impressed by Richard.
But now, Kanto's middle school players were basically the peak of the game. Other regions couldn't compare. Only Shitenhōji from Kansai still drew some attention. Naturally, no one was interested in a few American reserve members.
In fact, many reporters came to the interview with the mindset of watching a comedy. They didn't believe this American youth team could beat the Kanto monsters. Getting paid while enjoying themselves—who wouldn't want more gigs like that?
Richard quickly finished showing the reporters around the training grounds. Since there was a press conference coming up, he didn't chat with them for long.
This time, Shiba Saori didn't sneak off to the lounge out of curiosity for an exclusive. She quietly waited with Inoue Mamoru for the press conference to begin. What the reporters really wanted to see now was the Kanto team utterly crushing the American West Coast reps—that would be worth burning through rolls of film.
At that moment, Richard was still dreaming about making a fortune in Japan. But what he didn't know was that he couldn't fool the organizers of this exhibition match so easily—because the host was the Akashi Group.
Yes, that's right. It was Akashi's family's company running the show. One major reason Akashi agreed was because it was a business opportunity—might as well keep the profits in the family. In the end, he was going to make Richard lose everything, down to his underwear.
Just a few days earlier, a manager from the Akashi Group had contacted Richard through the Tennis Association. The two sides came to an agreement about the exhibition match and even signed a wager clause. To Richard, it looked like a golden opportunity falling into his lap.
He thought he understood Japan tennis better than anyone. Even if they gathered players from all over the country, they still wouldn't be a match for his American West Coast team. And this was just the Kanto region.
So he happily signed the deal, secretly mocking how dumb and rich the Japan folks were. They were practically handing him free money. All he had to do was let his players casually play along, and the dumb Japan fanboys would eat it up.
In Richard's mind, tennis wasn't anything special. Fandom culture—that was the future. As long as he made stars out of his players, it would rake in more money than any club.
Still, Richard wasn't in a great mood at the moment. Backstage, he was furious in the lounge. Kevin's unauthorized actions had messed with part of his plans. Thankfully, Kevin and his sidekick made it back at the last minute.
Time flew by, and the press conference was about to begin. All the invited reporters were already in place, waiting quietly. Richard was finishing up his last preparations.
Meanwhile, at Akashi's training estate, everyone was gathered in front of a giant outdoor screen, waiting to watch the live press conference. After the training camp ended, most of the players had come to the estate to continue training.
Shiraishi and the others were also watching curiously. Even though the Kansai region wasn't involved this time, it was human nature to enjoy the buzz—and they were genuinely interested in seeing the Americans' current strength.
Akashi had already informed the heads of all the training schools—including Rokkaku—that the national middle school players would participate in the world tournament this year. Whether they'd get selected or not was uncertain, but treating everyone equally seemed best. Whether to tell their team members or not was up to each captain.
At that moment, the screen finally changed. Richard appeared center stage. You had to admit, dressed in a sharp suit, he looked pretty polished.
"Dear guests of Japan, welcome to today's event. I'm Richard Baker, coach of the American West Coast Youth Representative Team!" Richard started with a self-introduction.
"It's truly unfortunate that none of you in Japan know what real tennis is. Have you ever thought of tennis as an art form?"
"Tennis should be a performance. When the best stage, the best actors, and the best production all come together—that's when miraculous art takes the stage!" Richard Baker preaching his philosophy of tennis.
But this speech didn't sit well with the players watching from the estate. Many frowned instinctively. Akutsu looked like he was ready to tear Richard to pieces. Clearly, he was treating them like a bunch of clowns.
"Excitement, fantasy, and danger—the world's most perfect tennis. Let us show you, the people of Japan!" Richard concluded with his final line.
Then he began introducing each member of the American West Coast Representative Team. The whole scene looked more like some kind of idol debut event, leaving many reporters visibly awkward.
"The most perfect tennis in the world? What a joke. Right, Kabaji?" Atobe was the first to scoff.
"Fsssh…" Kabaji replied in his usual blunt manner.
"Looks like it's time to have a proper 'exchange' with these players. Still, they seem strong. Hopefully they'll make the match a little interesting." Fuji spoke with his usual smile, but everyone could hear the chill in his tone.
"Tch! What a damn waste of my time!" Akutsu said, clearly irritated.
Akashi glanced at Akutsu, muttering in his mind, 'Talking like you don't want to be here, but isn't it just because Kintarō's playing? Just admit you spoil him, you tsundere freak.'
On the big screen, the player introductions finally ended. The press Q&A session began. While the reporters weren't particularly impressed by the players, their journalistic instincts kicked in, and many raised their hands.
"You're not the official U.S. national team. Have you considered the possibility of a crushing defeat?" one reporter asked bluntly.
"That question doesn't hold water. Once you watch the match, you'll understand just how strong we are! Of course, I can confidently say we're stronger than last year's U.S. national team!" Richard declared proudly.
That statement made the third-year middle school players raise their brows. They'd watched the last world tournament. The U.S. was second only to the Big Four, and rumor had it this year they were even stronger.
"If Reinhardt heard that, I wonder what he'd think," Akashi murmured.
This year, the U.S. team was among the strongest in the early rounds of the world tournament. They weren't even afraid to face Germany—until Ryōga messed everything up later on.
"I'm Inoue Mamoru, editor of Tennis Monthly. I have a question for Kevin Smith. You may be facing Echizen Ryōma, who seems to have a connection to your father. What do you have to say about that?" Inoue asked.
"What do you mean? Echizen Ryōma's going to play in this match?" Kevin's sharp eyes locked onto Inoue.
"Yes. Echizen Ryōma is on the player list for this match." Inoue checked his materials and answered truthfully.
Kevin stepped forward, grabbed Richard's mic without hesitation, and stared into the camera with a fierce tone:
"I've been waiting for this day—to play against Echizen Ryōma! Hey, Echizen Ryōma! I'm not running and I'm not hiding! I'm going to crush you in front of the whole audience!"
Everyone watching the livestream immediately turned to look at Ryōma. He lowered his head, adjusted his cap, then looked at Kevin on the screen and said,
"Hmph… You're still way off."
In truth, Ryōma knew he probably wouldn't get to play this time. He was only a substitute. Still, he was curious about the connection between Kevin and himself.
Because of Akashi, most of the players returned to the training estate after the camp ended, so Ryōma didn't meet Kevin beforehand and had no clue about the grudge between their fathers. To him, Kevin just seemed like a weird guy.
Time flew by, and the match day finally arrived. Thanks to heavy promotion from the Akashi Group, spectators had gathered from all over to watch.
To boost his team's popularity in Japan, Richard had even arranged a mini-concert before the match, bringing in Jellybeans, a massively popular American idol.
Outside the American West Coast team's lounge, a Tennis Association staff member was talking to Richard, informing him that many sponsors would be attending, and most importantly, the current chairman of the Akashi Group would be present in person.
Richard told him not to worry one bit—he was one hundred percent confident in his team. They were just middle schoolers from Japan, easy pickings. He was already thinking about how flashy their victory would look.
According to the wager clause in the contract with the Akashi Group, if Richard's team won, he'd receive thirty million dollars in sponsorship from the group alone. Combined with other sponsors, total sponsorships could hit forty million dollars.
With the crowd cheering wildly, Jellybeans wrapped up her mini-concert, and the match was finally about to begin. The host stepped onto the center of the court.
He first thanked the Akashi Group for its strong support of the event, gave shoutouts to several of its tennis-related brands, and then introduced all the other sponsors. After that, the players were called onto the court.
As the Kanto representatives entered, the stadium erupted with cheers. In the VIP section, the Fudomine crew watched the players with great interest—especially Akutsu and Kintarō.
After both teams exchanged pre-match handshakes, the referee took his position. The second doubles match was about to begin, and the four players had already finished warming up.
At that moment, the announcer began introducing the four players for the doubles match. When the crowd heard that the first match featured Atobe and Sanada as a pair, the cheers grew even louder, nearly shaking the stadium roof.
On the sidelines, Richard was giving his players last-minute instructions, repeatedly stressing that the match needed to be exciting, that they had to showcase their full performance ability, and grab the sponsors' attention at all costs.
"Up next is the second doubles match! Representing the Kanto team, we have the duo of Atobe Keigo and Sanada Genichirō versus Billy Cassidy and Michael Lee from the American West Coast Representative Team. Players, please enter the court!"
Billy and Michael walked out as usual, but the moment they saw their opponents, their expressions shifted—something was clearly not what they expected.
Atobe strolled to center court wearing his Kanto team jacket. As he stepped forward, the crowd from Hyōtei Academy began chanting rhythmically, quickly drawing in the rest of the spectators.
"Atobe! Atobe! Atobe! Atobe!"
Atobe raised his right hand high, then snapped his fingers sharply. Instantly, the cheers fell silent, and a device above the stadium opened, releasing a cascade of rose petals that slowly floated down from above.
"Victory… will belong to ore-sama!" Atobe ripped off his jacket and tossed it high into the air.
"Still such a drama queen, huh, Atobe," Sanada said, a little exasperated.
"My bad! Seems ore-sama steals the spotlight more than you!" Atobe replied with a smug grin.
Richard stood on the sidelines, dumbfounded. 'Why does this guy look more like a performer than my own players? Who's the real star of this match?'
Once the cheers died down, all four players moved to the net for the pre-match coin toss. Though there was usually a greeting, Atobe and Sanada completely ignored the other side, leaving the referee awkwardly signaling for the toss.
Atobe won serve, drawing another wave of cheers as he and Sanada calmly returned to their side of the court.
"First game! Atobe Keigo to serve!"
Standing at the baseline, Atobe looked at Billy and Michael across the net. He smirked with disdain, then tossed the ball high. As he swung his racket, his wrist snapped with force, loading the ball with intense spin.
The ball shot over the net, carrying heavy spin, and landed near the front court. Billy moved up to intercept it, but the moment the ball touched the ground, it spun violently, barely bounced, and skidded low across the surface, sliding out of bounds.
"Tannhauser Serve!"
"Ace! 15-0!"
Billy stood frozen, unable to believe what he'd just seen. In all his time training at clubs and facilities, he had never seen a serve like that.
Atobe, unfazed, walked back to the baseline, tossed up another ball, and hit another Tannhauser Serve with the same spin.
Billy finally reacted, but had no good counter—on his end, the ball looked like it hadn't bounced at all. How was he supposed to return that?
"Ace! 30-0!"
For the next two points, Atobe unleashed more Tannhauser Serves, showing no mercy. Though many Japanese middle schoolers had already learned how to counter it, it worked flawlessly against these American players.
"Ace! 40-0!"
"Game! Atobe and Sanada lead, 1-0!"
Second game. Billy stepped to the baseline for his serve. Though Atobe's serves had shocked him, he quickly composed himself. They had always planned to let the opponents win three games anyway.
Sure, their serve was strong—but this was doubles. How many serves could they get off? Besides, Billy had already seen it. The ball didn't not bounce—it was just low. He was confident he could crack it.
Billy tossed the ball up and hit a clean, flat serve aimed at Atobe's back corner. Though he had his own serving tricks, he remembered Richard's words: this was a performance.
Atobe's eyes narrowed. The contempt in his gaze deepened, tinged with anger. From his perspective, Billy clearly hadn't put any strength into the serve.
With a single step, Atobe slid into the landing zone and smashed the ball back. It zipped past the net and slammed toward Billy's feet with vicious speed.
Billy was caught off guard, but he managed to react and block the shot. The impact jolted his arm with surprising power, throwing off his return. The ball floated high into the air toward Atobe's side.
Atobe had already dashed to the net. He leapt and slammed the ball down hard.
The shot struck Michael's racquet hand with such force he instinctively let go. The ball rebounded upward, and Atobe jumped again, delivering another brutal smash.
The ball sliced through the air like a yellow streak, zipped past Michael's side, and landed just on the sideline before bouncing out. Billy, still in the back, couldn't reach it in time.
"Rondo Towards Destruction!"
"0-15!"
"Heh~ Bask in ore-sama's glorious technique!" Atobe said, full of swagger after scoring the point.