Nighttime.
Echizen Nanjirō dialed a number saved in his phone as "Old Hag."
"Hmph, so you finally remembered to call me?"
A slightly aged woman's voice came through the other end of the line.
"Hey, Old Hag, remember that eldest son of mine I told you about—Yoru?"
On the other end of the call was none other than Ryūzaki Sumire, the coach of Seigaku Middle School and Nanjirō's own former coach from his junior high days.
"That little genius you kept bragging about?"
"I've already arranged for him to enroll at Seigaku. So quit whining to me from now on, especially about nagging me to come coach~"
Nanjirō grumbled.
Over the years, due to Seigaku's poor performance, every time he spoke with Ryūzaki, he had to endure her complaints.
She'd even go as far as begging him to "guide" her team.
While Nanjirō did have an eye for talent, he wasn't some selfless saint.
Troublesome tasks like that were the last thing he wanted to deal with.
If it weren't for his close relationship with Ryūzaki—and the fact that she had technically been his mentor once—he wouldn't have even considered sending Yoru to Seigaku.
To put it bluntly, Ryūzaki was the worst coach he'd ever seen.
Sometimes, he wondered if she had saved the life of one of Seigaku's board members—how else could someone with such terrible results still keep her job?
Sending Yoru to Seigaku was his way of repaying her.
"You heartless bastard… Whatever, I don't even want to argue with you. I'll handle the rest."
After hanging up, Ryūzaki couldn't help but smile.
She knew a thing or two about Yoru.
Nanjirō had mentioned him often over the years, so she'd taken the time to watch footage of Yoru's matches in the U.S. junior tournaments.
And just as Nanjirō had said—Yoru was the most naturally gifted player she'd ever seen.
Flawless technique, overwhelming dominance for his age, ice-cold composure under pressure…
A perfect genius.
Even Nanjirō in his youth had his weaknesses, but Yoru?
None.
And on top of that—he was ridiculously handsome.
...
A few days later.
Dressed in athletic wear with a tennis bag slung over his shoulder, Yoru stood at the gates of Seigaku Middle School.
"Ah, the sweet scent of youth."
Watching the waves of uniformed high school girls walking through the gates, Yoru couldn't help but feel a surge of nostalgia. This was the kind of school atmosphere he loved.
Back in his past life in China, school uniforms—especially in public schools—were, to put it kindly, questionable at best. Even Liu Yifei would've struggled to make some of them look good.
But here?
The crisp, stylish uniforms—whether pure Japanese or lovey-dovey anime-style—were right up his alley.
After completing his enrollment, Yoru strolled through the campus, following the freshman guide to his assigned classroom.
"Wow, that new student is so hot!"
"How do you know he's a freshman? He's tall enough to be a third-year!"
"Uh, hello? He's wearing casual clothes. Only freshmen do that."
"So handsome~ Let's follow him and see which class he's in!"
"Great minds think alike~"
...
From the moment he stepped onto campus, Yoru's ears were bombarded with whispers about his looks.
Honestly, when it came to open-mindedness in schools, Japan was even wilder than the U.S.
And here he was—just a middle schooler.
As more and more eyes lingered on him, and more and more students started following him, even Yoru—a man of two lifetimes—couldn't help but blush.
"This is too much… Gotta find my class ASAP!"
With a sea of pale thighs trailing behind him, the sheer force of adolescent hormones threatened to overwhelm him.
Ding-dong-dong~ Dong-dong-ding~
The school bell rang, and the bustling campus instantly quieted down.
Yoru barely made it to his classroom before the bell finished.
Thankfully, the enrollment guide had assigned him a seat, so he didn't have to deal with the awkwardness of choosing one.
"Woooah~"
The moment he walked in, the entire class erupted in gasps.
"So handsome~!"
"Oh my god, is this an idol drama? He looks like he stepped out of a manga!"
"Seriously, he's so good-looking—like, the more you look, the hotter he gets!"
The girls' excited chatter filled the room, their gazes locked onto Yoru with hearts in their eyes.
"He's sitting next to me?!"
The only empty seat left was next to a girl who instantly turned beet red, her eyes sparkling.
Yoru awkwardly rubbed his nose.
Thanks to his enhanced senses from the system, he could hear every single whisper around him.
And honestly?
This world had no shortage of good-looking people.
Especially in the Prince of Tennis universe, where handsome guys were everywhere—but even among them, Yoru stood at the absolute peak.
In his past life, he'd always dreamed of being this attractive.
But now that he was… the sheer volume of attention was… well…
Too damn good!
"Ahem."
The bald teacher at the front cleared his throat, trying—and failing—to redirect the class's attention.
Most students were still staring at Yoru.
The girls were one thing, but even the boys were fixated—though their looks were far less admiring and far more jealous.
"You there."
The teacher pointed at Yoru. "Switch seats with the student in the front row."
If everyone was going to stare, he might as well put Yoru where they could at least pretend to look at the blackboard.
"Yes, sir."
Yoru remained calm, but the girl beside him looked utterly crushed.
Ignoring the lack of attention, the teacher began the lesson.
Since it was the first day, there wasn't much actual teaching—just handing out uniforms, textbooks, and self-introductions.
"Hello everyone, my name is Genitame. I'm from Kun Country. I love singing, dancing, and basketball. My dream is to be a celebrity, and I have a two-and-a-half-year plan to—"
"Alright, alright, that's enough."
"Way too long-winded. Just get down already, middle-parted guy."
Dejected, the student with the center-parted hair cut his speech short and slunk back to his seat.
Most of the girls looked bored during the other boys' introductions.
It was obvious who they were really waiting for.
To make sure the others got at least some respect, the teacher deliberately saved Yoru for last.
Finally, it was his turn.
Stepping onto the podium under everyone's gaze, Yoru spoke simply:
"Hello, I'm Yoru. I'm from China. I like playing tennis. That's all, thank you."
He turned to leave, but the hormone-fueled girls weren't about to let him go that easily.
"Yoru-kun, what kind of girls do you like?~"
"Yoru-kun, can you teach me tennis sometime? I love tennis too~"
...
Questions flew at him from every direction.
"Damn, is this the privilege of being good-looking? I'm not bad either—why doesn't anyone ask me?"
"Bro, if you can't afford a mirror, at least use your piss as one."
In that moment, nearly every boy in the class couldn't help but glare at Yoru with varying degrees of resentment.