Haha, I was bored and I just had to write this. As I don't want to waste my time doing something that won't be read anyway, if I get a sufficient amount of views and reviews, I'll continue it. If I don't, I won't delete it, but I'll leave it up there anyway. I have to go soon, because it's Conserve an Hour's Worth of Electricity Day!

This is in no way meant to be racist toward anybody. I hope you don't take it the wrong way, because I'm the last person to encourage racism, and besides, this story will end up being so far-fetched that you'll forget who's who in a jiffy anyway. If any part of this is offensive, tell me! I can't stand racism.


In some year at some time in some place, Christopher Columbus, usually known by his much cooler name, Sengoku Kiyosumi, set off on a journey to discover India. His country longed for spices and riches, and tennis balls, and he traveled by ship, carrying those desires and dreams with him. It wasn't long when he reached land, which looked nothing like India, but he presumed to be India anyway.

"Lucky!" he cried, and jumped off the ship and onto the land. "I wonder if there are people here who can tell me where the tennis shop is."

He wandered aimlessly, and soon came across two beings who looked much different from he. No, no, not their skin colors. Their shirts. Sengoku, you see, was wearing a green shirt, for that was the color of his country, Yamabuki. These two new people, however, were wearing white and grey shirts. They glared at him. One had short, red cropped hair, while the other had long, blue hair and glasses.

"Why are you here?" the redhead demanded. "You want to have a match? Let's play, Yuushi. This guy looks pretty scrawny to me." He whipped out a tennis racquet and aimed it at Sengoku, who stared at him perplexedly.

"Calm down, Gakuto," the blue haired one chided. "This newcomer is obviously very primitive. You can tell by the way he dresses." He looked Sengoku up and down. "See, his hair doesn't match his shirt at all. Very primitive indeed. He probably doesn't know how to speak human language. Maybe we should try grunting at him."

Sengoku felt as though he ought to have been offended, but instead grinned, ran over to them, put his arms around their shoulders and exclaimed, "Nice to meet you guys too!"

Naturally, Sengoku's discovery made him famous. Years later, people began to migrate to the New Land, which was soon called America, or Tennistopia. People from England, or RikkaiDai and Seigaku, settled on the east coast and lived a calm, serene life. But, as with tennis players, you can't have peace for very long.

"Can't we play?" Akaya whined. "It's not fair that Hyotei gets to play tennis and Seigaku and RikkaiDai aren't even allowed to have tennis racquets. I bet I could totally beat King Atobe in a game of tennis. And maybe break a few of his bones, too."

"We must obey King Atobe's orders," Jackal scolded, and continued to sweep the shimmering marble steps. King Atobe lived in his castle, which was surprisingly modern for the 1700s. It included a plasma screen television, a variety of iPods, a touch screen laptop, and can openers, although the can hadn't been invented yet.

"But I want to play!" Akaya stomped his foot and dirtied his Majesty's beautiful marble staircase. It sent a vibration running throughout the rest of the building. Beautiful vases, flowerpots, and sculptures all toppled down and shattered into billions of little pieces. "Oopsy," he said, not sounding very apologetic or guilt-stricken at all.

But that wasn't all it destroyed. The King's cherished golden tennis racquet, studded with diamonds and an MP3 player, fell from its podium and broke in half. Atobe gasped and snapped, "Ore-sama is infuriated! This means war."

Of course, that'dbe after his two hour long bubble bath.