"U-17? I think I heard about that in the UK. Does Japan have something like that too?" Atobe was the first to speak.
"Akashi-kun, could you explain more about U-17?" Yukimura asked, also curious.
"Under Seventeen, or U-17 for short, is a centralized training program meant to develop future Japanese professional players aged 17 and under, including those who are exactly 17," Akashi explained simply.
"In some of the stronger tennis countries in Europe, they even have U-12 or U-14 programs that start training talented players from a young age. For example, in my birthplace, Germany!" Krauser added from the side.
"But how come none of us or even our senpai have heard about this U-17 thing?" Fuji asked in confusion.
"That's because Japan's U-17 training camp is basically hidden from middle schoolers. Or rather, it's not open to us. They only recruit high school players," Akashi said slowly.
"So that means all those senpai who graduated… they went to U-17?" Sanada said seriously.
"Exactly. You can ask the second- and third-years about it. Most of them barely ever see the senpai who moved on to high school. Take Hyōtei's former captain, Ochi Tsukimitsu, for example. Even after entering Hyōtei's high school division, you'd rarely see him again," Akashi added, glancing at Atobe.
"Then what's the point of U-17? Is it like this training camp—to raise everyone's skill level?" Yukimura asked again, getting to the heart of it.
"Improving skills is just one part of it. The ultimate purpose of U-17 is selection—for the U-17 World Cup," Akashi revealed without hesitation. Expanding their horizons early would only help them later.
"From what the Akashi family's intel tells us, the previous players in Japan's U-17 program were pretty mediocre. Internationally, they were ranked very low. At one point, they almost didn't qualify for the World Cup. But this year? Things are going to be very different." Akashi's tone turned playful.
In the original story, after Byoudouin's group joined U-17, they completely turned the camp upside down. Aside from a few third-years who were barely hanging on, most were eliminated by first-years.
Especially Byoudouin and Oni—those two were in a league of their own among high schoolers. Even Tōno could barely stay undefeated. Before Oni became the gatekeeper, he gave so many upperclassmen serious psychological trauma. And when Byoudouin returned from the mountain hell training, the seniors fared even worse.
Akashi saw everyone go silent, clearly thinking about the World Cup. He chuckled and said, "Alright, alright. The World Cup is still far off. I'm only telling you about U-17 so you can mentally prepare and set a higher goal for your tennis."
"I told Fuji-kun before—look further ahead. We won't always be rivals. This is what I meant. That said, for the upcoming Kantō and Nationals, victory will belong to Fudomine~"
"Hah? Don't be ridiculous, Akashi! The one who's taking the national championship is none other than ore-sama!" Atobe, who'd picked up some info in the UK, was the first to snap back.
Yukimura let out a long breath and looked at Akashi with slightly changed eyes. Still, he spoke seriously, "Thanks for the information, Akashi-kun. But whether it's Kantō or Nationals, Rikkai won't lose."
"That's right! Rikkai has no weak points in our championship run!" Sanada said with firm conviction.
Fuji didn't jump into the championship debate. He knew that, with Seigaku's current strength, making the top four in Nationals would already be hard—let alone taking the title. Still, that didn't mean he planned to give up.
"That's about it for explaining the goal of this camp. I'll give you one more heads-up—based on multiple international proposals, the global tennis federation is considering lowering the age limit for the World Cup. It's not official yet, though," Akashi added as a final warning.
Technically, the U-17 World Cup allows anyone aged 17 or under to participate, but most assume it's only for high schoolers. Unless you're exceptionally strong, middle schoolers don't get to play. But in the original storyline, two years later, middle schoolers were practically forced to compete.
As everyone began to warm up to each other, basic training for the regulars was about to begin. Compared to Fudomine's regular members, the regulars' workload was much heavier.
Just as Yukimura was about to head off with the Rikkai team, Akashi stopped him and gestured for a private conversation. Yukimura looked a bit surprised, but didn't question it.
Akashi led Yukimura to a corner of the training courts. Looking at him seriously, he spoke in a calm but firm voice.
"Yukimura-kun, I have a question for you. I hope you'll answer honestly. It might be important for you."
Seeing Akashi's serious expression, Yukimura also sobered up. He nodded to show he understood.
"Have you experienced anything odd with your body lately? Like sudden numbness or weakness in your limbs?" Akashi asked, his gaze sharp and focused.
Yukimura froze for a second, confused by why Akashi suddenly asked that. Still, he tried to recall. Now that he thought about it, he had experienced one or two of the symptoms Akashi described. But he'd always chalked it up to overtraining and didn't pay much attention to it.
"There were one or two times like what you described, Akashi-kun, but I figured it was just from overtraining and not recovering properly. It shouldn't be anything serious, right?"
Akashi's brows furrowed when he heard that. He hadn't expected Yukimura's condition to show signs as early as his first year. Luckily, he'd arranged for a top expert to be present during the training camp. If they'd let it drag on, it might have developed exactly as it had in the original story.
"Yukimura, this isn't something minor. The chances are small, but if it's what I think it is, the consequences could be serious."
"Akashi-kun, just tell me straight—what exactly is going on?" Yukimura, unsettled by his tone, started to worry.
"It's like this. You and I both have way higher mental strength than most kids our age. But that can put a strain on a developing body. If your body can't keep up, problems might show up unexpectedly. That's what my private doctor told me," Akashi said, mixing fact and fiction.
"You're saying… something might be wrong with my body?!" Yukimura said in disbelief.
"It's just a possibility. That's why I suggest you get a full medical checkup. I actually brought in a renowned specialist for this camp. If there's nothing wrong, great. But if there is, we can treat it early and stop it from getting worse," Akashi finally explained his real reason.
Yukimura gave Akashi a complicated look. He didn't think anything was wrong with his body, but he couldn't outright reject Akashi's good intentions either. After thinking it over, he agreed. It wasn't like getting a checkup would hurt.
Seeing that Yukimura had agreed, Akashi immediately contacted his butler and had him take Yukimura to see Dr. Takahashi—a top expert in sports neurology who the butler had specifically brought in. Dr. Takahashi had just returned from a conference in Germany a few days ago, and as soon as Butler Tanaka heard, he used the family's connections to bring him in.
Akashi watched Yukimura's back as he walked away. At last, he had changed his fate—one problem solved. But something else was still bothering Akashi.
It was the fusion rate. Yesterday, Akashi noticed that ever since it reached 95%, it had stopped increasing completely. No matter how perfectly he imitated the behavior of Kuroko's Akashi, nothing worked. This had never happened before.
With no one around, Akashi tried reaching out to the system in his mind.
"System! Why has the fusion rate stopped increasing? Not even a 0.01% bump?"
He'd expected no response—he was used to the system ignoring him—but to his surprise, this time the system answered. Though the content wasn't quite what he expected.
"Ding! Special query detected. Answering will deduct 5% fusion rate. Would the host like to proceed?"
What the hell?! You're charging fusion rate just to answer a question? Have you no shame? Though Akashi was annoyed by the system's behavior, he didn't have much choice. Gritting his teeth, he agreed to the deduction.
"Ding! 5% fusion rate deducted. Current rate is now 90%. Analyzing query, please wait~" Great. It's basically a glorified AI assistant. No wonder it's always silent—it doesn't have self-awareness like other systems.
"Analysis complete! To reach 100% fusion, host must fully match the behavior of the complete Akashi Seijurō. Current behavior is incomplete. Recommendation: reflect thoroughly! Answer complete!"
Akashi froze when he heard this. What did it mean by "complete Akashi Seijurō"? Wait… the Akashi in Kuroko no Basket had two personalities. Because in his past life he resonated most with the dominant, overbearing version, he'd been subconsciously aligning himself with that side.
But the other personality was the opposite—gentle, humble, team-oriented. Did this mean he needed to embody that side too to fully synchronize? But he didn't have a split personality like the original!
Then it hit him—maybe he didn't need a real personality split. As long as he separated behavior during matches from his normal self, it could work. And once he hit 100%, he wouldn't need to fake it anymore.
Thinking this through, Akashi let out a deep breath. From now on, he'd have to figure out how to switch between the two modes. Just then, the system chimed again.
"Ding! Congratulations to host for completing hidden mission—'The Complete Self'! Reward: Special Doubles Skill 'Pseudo ZONE'! Through focused mental resonance, temporarily awaken your partner's potential and enter a synchronized ZONE state!"
Akashi checked the new skill, speechless. It seemed similar to Niō's forced synchronization technique—basically a god-tier skill for doubles. Not bad. If the World Cup followed the same events as the original, the chances of being matched against Germany in the exhibition match were high.
Right now, Akashi felt great. Not only had he helped Yukimura avoid a serious health problem, he'd also gained a powerful doubles technique—and, most importantly, there was finally hope for reaching 100% fusion.
He dropped his usual cold expression and replaced it with a gentle smile. His whole demeanor subtly shifted—no longer sharp and intimidating, but more approachable and warm.