A/N: Well, here's my foray back into the Prince of Tennis fandom. I wonder how this will work out...

Chapter One

Ryoma slumped to his knees. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally. He wiped the sweat off his brow and looked up. All he saw was the retreating figure of his father. His father, without even glancing back, said, "Stupid son. Don't challenge me if you have no chance of winning!"

Stupid son…

Ryoma had a few, somewhat vague memories of when he was a toddler. His father had always called him by his given name, without fail. Then, before he knew it, the transition had been made from Ryoma to stupid son. Ryoma knew that it was around that time that he had made the transition from Otou-san to Oyaji. It should've been obvious that the bond between father and son began to deteriorate around then. No one, however, had given it notice.

No chance of winning….

Ryoma also knew that around the time of the name changing, his father had started teaching him tennis. He had tried hard, so he could receive simple praise from his father, a pat on the head, maybe. As he grew older, though, he received less and less praise no matter how hard he trained. Soon, tennis was just about the only thing he did, but he never won. He would train, and then lose. He would train harder, and then he would lose again. It became a never-ending cycle.

Those words too, were never-ending. Ryoma had heard so many variations of it before. It no longer bothered him as much as before. They were so familiar to him, so extremely familiar. So why did it keep ringing in his head this time? Those words had been going around in head for days. Maybe it was because he thought he had really improved by being at Seigaku. Maybe it was because he really thought he had a chance, but he was so easily crushed….

"Oi! Ochibi!" A loud voice said from beside his ear.

"Kikumaru-senpai!" Ryoma said, shocked out of his reverie.

"Why are you spacing out for, nya?" Eiji said. He was sitting right next to Ryoma.

"It's nothing." Ryoma said, which was a total lie.

Ryoma continued eating his sushi, absently. Those words were still going around in his head. It was somewhat tiring; he had trouble thinking. He realized that it was only when he played tennis did those words stop, only when he played tennis. Was tennis all he was worth? Almost his entire life revolved around tennis. He didn't remember going a single day without playing tennis at least once…

"Saa, you've been poking at the same piece of sushi for a while now, Echizen." Fuji said. He was sitting across from the younger boy.

Ryoma's eyes widened a bit when he saw that Fuji spoke truth. He quickly shoved it in his mouth. He continued eating, trying to not think. He didn't realize that he was actually eating pretty quickly. He choked on one piece, and Eiji hit his back a few times. Ryoma winced. Eiji had hit one his many, long scars that covered is back. "Is there something wrong, Echizen?" Tezuka asked. He had noticed Ryoma's change in expression.

"It's nothing." Ryoma said again.

"There's a 99.75% chance that Echizen is lying." Inui said.

"Tch, why would I lie?" Ryoma said.

"Well, there is a 72.5% chance that you're—" Fuji firmly clamped his hand over Inui's mouth.

"Saa, we should believe our baby boy. Besides, depressing talk would ruin our dinner." Fuji flashed a dazzling smile at Inui. He cleared his throat, avoiding Fuji's gaze…and his smile. Everyone, except Tezuka of course, shuddered. They all pitied Inui. When Fuji smiles that brightly at you, you know something's not good.

Slowly, everyone began eating and talking again. The light, cheerful mood from before was recovered. However, there were three pairs of eyes on a certain freshman. Their owners continued to engage in the conversation with the others, but their minds were focused on Ryoma. Fuji was sitting directly across Ryoma, so he had seen all of the emotions that had flashed through the younger boy's eyes. Oishi sat next to Fuji, and, like always, he was acting the part of Seigaku's mother hen. He had watched Ryoma closely when he began choking. It wasn't like Ryoma to choke. Tezuka had seen Ryoma's wince and had seen through his lies. He was the captain after all.

There was something wrong with the freshman, and his three senpai-tachi were determined to find out what it was.

"I'm home," Ryoma said. He received no answer.

He walked into the kitchen. There was note on the refrigerator. It was from his mother. Apparently, she'd be home late, and Nanako was staying with one of her college friends. It said nothing about his father, so he was probably sleeping somewhere around the house. Ryoma walked upstairs into his room. He dropped his bag next to his desk and flopped onto his bed. Mere seconds later, Karupin was by his side. As he stroked her fur, she curled up to him. His hand fell into a steady rhythm, as did his breathing. It wasn't much longer until he was asleep.

Ryoma pulled off his pajama shirt. His back faced his full-size mirror. He was about to reach for his shirt when he paused. He had heard a deep rumbling beneath him. It had only been for a few seconds, but it was enough to make Ryoma wary. He reached for his shirt again. Then, the earthquake hit. With nothing to keep himself standing, he fell down.

His mirror fell down on him.

He screamed in agony.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts!

The broken shards of glass dug into his skin.

His own blood created a pool around him.

He began to feel numb; he was losing consciousness.

He slipped away…

Ryoma shot up in bed, panting. Karupin hissed at him angrily; he had interrupted his sleep. She jumped onto the ground and walked away. Ryoma, however, hadn't even noticed her. It had been a long time since he had dreamt that nightmare. He was seven when it happened. It was hard to believe that it's been five years since the incident. He still remembered it as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. Of course, the cause might be the fact that the memories resurfaced in the guise of nightmares every now and then.

However, the actual incident wasn't the part that hurt him the most. It was when he woke up that…No. He wouldn't think about that. He absolutely would not bring up those memories. They were buried deep in his mind and heart. He shook his head and lied down. He turned onto his side and clutched his blanket. It wasn't long until he was asleep again.

Ryoma opened his eyes. He was in a bed that wasn't his own. He looked around. Everything was so…white. The walls, the sheets, and the curtains were all white. Then, he realized that he was in a hospital room. He could hear voices from outside the room. If he strained his ears, he could make out what they were saying. One voice, he recognized as his father. His father said, "When will he be able to play tennis again?"

"Tennis? It will be quite a while before he can do anything like that. He's seven years old! He will need time to recover from both the injury and the shock!" It was a man's voice, probably the doctor.

"Well, how long until he can play tennis? I'm not the doctor here!" His father was persistent.

"Every parent asks about their child before anything else! They do not ask when their child can play tennis again!" The man's voice seethed with anger and frustration.

"I'm asking! When can he play tennis?" His father was frustrated as well.

That's when realization hit Ryoma. "Every parent asks about their child before anything else," is what the doctor said. Did that mean his father didn't care? The only thing his father asked about was tennis. Did he only care about tennis? Did Ryoma not even matter to him? Was a sport more important than his son?

Ryoma shot up in bed again. He was sweating. Why was he remembering everything that night? Was it because Eiji hit one of his scars? That particular scar was aching, now that he thought about it. That wasn't important, though. What was important was getting rid of those nightmares. So, he did the one thing that had been constant throughout his lifetime. He played tennis. He didn't know how long he played; it could've been a minute, an hour, or a day. All sense of time was lost. He was only aware of the tennis.

"Nya! Ochibi looks so tired!" Eiji shouted, as he hugged his kouhai.

It was true. When Ryoma had finally finished playing, he hadn't been able to get back to sleep. There were dark circles under his eyes. He had seen them but thought nothing of them. He figured he'd be able to catch up on his sleep in class, which he did anyway. Ryoma shrugged off Eiji and his concern. "I'm fine, Kikumaru-senpai."

"Are you sure, Echizen? You really don't look too well. Do you have a fever?" Oishi fretted over the younger boy. He held one hand up to Ryoma's forehead and one to his own to compare their temperatures. "You feel fine to me, but I could be wrong. Do you need to rest? You shouldn't—"

"Saa, Echizen said he was fine, so we should believe him. Ne, Oishi?" Fuji interrupted.

"Aa, I guess you're right…" Oishi frowned. Something was definitely not right...

A/N: What did you think? Please review!