"Sigh..."
Hearing Yoru's announcement, Ryuzaki Sumire felt conflicted.
In her philosophy, Seigaku was meant to be a disciplined, step-by-step institution—not this cutthroat, survival-of-the-fittest environment.
Yoru ignored her burning gaze.
He had zero respect for Ryuzaki.
In the original timeline:
Tezuka, a nationally renowned prodigy since elementary school, was bullied by useless seniors and forced to pick up balls. Despite having a player like Tezuka, Seigaku couldn't even make it past Kanto. Fuji, whose talent surpassed even Shiraishi's, was wasted under her watch.
Ryuzaki had no eye for talent, let alone the ability to manage it.
The previous toxic atmosphere in Seigaku? She was the root cause.
Worse—she was useless. Throughout the entire series, she contributed nothing as a coach. No strategies, no development, just narrating matches like a glorified commentator.
Compare her to:
Banji Miki (Yamabuki) – Master tactician. Sakaki Tarō (Hyōtei) – Bold enough to make first-year Atobe captain. Hanamura Aoi (Jōsei Shōnan) – Scientific training methods.
Even first-year Atobe wasn't as strong as Yoru was now—yet Sakaki had the vision to entrust him with leadership.
Ryuzaki? Pure dead weight.
Yoru scanned the regulars' power levels, dissatisfied.
Though the training runes had boosted everyone significantly, only Kirihara and Yamato were truly competitive. The rest? Slightly stronger cannon fodder.
Against average teams? Fine.
But against U17 monsters? They'd struggle.
They needed tactics, individual skill, and clutch performance—not just the First Strike Rune.
"System, how else can I get runes?"
[Ding! Aside from specific triggers, winning matches has a chance to drop runes. Winning championships guarantees one!]
For now, they'd have to rely on tournament rewards.
"Hope the district prelims give something good."
Under the system's rules, without special triggers, only championships could secure runes.
Fortunately, the district prelims were free wins—no noteworthy opponents.
Weekend. District Prelims Venue.
The first stage of the national season had begun.
Dozens of schools crowded the entrance, registering for the District Preliminaries.
The national season was divided into four stages:
District Prelims → Top 4 advance. Metropolitan Tournament → Top 4 advance. Regional Tournament → Top 4 advance. Nationals.
A middle-aged man snapped photos of arriving teams, his camera clicking incessantly.
"Quite the turnout~"
Inui Mamoru.
A reporter for Tennis Weekly.
As he aged, he'd shifted focus from international circuits to domestic school tournaments.
His notes highlighted a few key schools—with Seigaku at the top.
A die-hard Echizen Nanjirō fan, he still held hope for Seigaku despite their abysmal recent record.
That's why he chose this low-stakes prelim as his return to domestic coverage.
"They're here!"
"Seigaku's arrived!"
Murmurs spread as a blue-and-white bus pulled up, emblazoned with "Seishun Gakuen."
"Finally~"
Inui aimed his camera—then froze.
The first to step off was Ryuzaki (expected).
But the next three were complete strangers:
A never-before-seen boy (Yoru). Kirihara. Yamato.
Only when Kawasaki Junsai exited did anyone recognize a face.
"Who the hell are those guys?!"
"The one with shades is Yamato—Seigaku's ace. Couldn't play last year 'cause he was a first-year."
"Then who's the guy in front?!"
In Japan, hierarchy mattered. Exit order = team ranking.
For a former powerhouse like Seigaku, this was unprecedented.
"Wait… Kawasaki's fourth?!"
"Isn't he the captain?!"
A voice cut through the chatter:
"He's not the captain anymore."
Silence.
"My brother's a first-year at Seigaku. The tennis club's had a massive shake-up."
"A first-year took over as captain."
"WHAT?!"
The crowd erupted.
A first-year captain?! That was unheard of!
As if to confirm, Kirihara leaned toward Yoru:
"Captain, we're grabbing drinks. What'll you have?"
"Sports drink's fine."
"HOLY SH*T—IT'S TRUE?!"
The news spread like wildfire.
Within minutes, every team knew Seigaku's captain was now a first-year kid.
"PFFT—HAHAHAHA!"
"Seigaku's finished! A first-year captain?!"
"Kawasaki wasn't weak either… This kid must be something."
"Doesn't matter. A first-year leading? They'll be a joke this year."
The Seigaku team remained unfazed.
Only they knew how strong Yoru was—and how much he'd changed Seigaku.
This year, they'd storm into Nationals.
Maybe even…
Reach for the national championship banner.
Inui stared at Yoru, shocked yet intrigued.
"A first-year captain…"
Regardless of skill, this was headline material.
Time to dig deeper.