Okay, i edited it, and i realized how to do it without deleting every single chapter after it -.-... and adding them all back again...

He was sitting outside the ward, restlessly waiting for his brother to finish his doctors appointment. It was five, and he had a match in thirty minutes. Could they make it?

Forcing himself not to think of the worst, he directed his attention, instead, onto the dog-eared magazine in his hands. Federer beat Nadal in the Wimbledon final, some two months ago.

'I was right.' He mused, thinking of the things his father had bet on Nadal winning. Baka oyajii, he never told me. Oh well, he was at least 20 dollars richer now.

A few nurses were throwing sympathetic glances at him, something that he did not understand. They were just getting the usual iron supplements for Ryoga.

"NO! THIS CANNOT BE POSSIBLE!" his mother's voice came from within. "I DEMAND A SECOND OPINION!" her voice was loud and shrill, and it was attracting a few curious stares from a few patients sitting in the corridor.

Ryoma strode hesitantly to the door. It wasn't wise for anyone to be near her when she used that voice. He slid his hand onto the brass knocker and pushed the door open.

"... very sorry, but i'm afraid its true, we've already run multiple tests –"

"I REFUSE TO BELIEVE IT! COME RYOMA! WE'RE LEAVING"

It all started with the bruises on his arms, really. That was when his life ended. Not literally, but he had to quit the things he loved doing most, and watch helplessly at the sight of his mother sobbing continuously, and his father's usually carefree face morph into one of loss, pain, and fear.

It was a while before they could convince Rinko that their eldest son had contracted leukaemia, and when she finally accepted it, she broke down into tears and refused to eat anything for a week, until Nanjiroh's pleas finally persuaded her, and she broke into fresh tears once more.

Ryoma had been eight at the time, hardly old enough to understand the effect of this new development. He did however, get the gist of it when his father called him into a sit down discussion and insisted that he quit tennis.

"Ryoma, please. Ryoga is very sick and cannot play tennis anymore. You know he loves tennis as much as you do. He'll feel very bad if he sees you do something he cannot."

Ryoma hardly needed to be asked, he had already quit the team.

Five years later...

Ryoma glanced at the clock. Eight thirty. I guess they're not coming back tonight. Sitting at the empty table, he stared at his food and sighed. He really wasn't hungry. Wrapping his plate haphazardly in plastic film, he cleared some space in the fridge and shoved his untouched meal in. He would have it for breakfast tomorrow.

Making his way towards, his room, he stopped at the foot of the stairs to pick up a tired Karupin, before locking his door and sinking into his bed.

"Guess it's just you and me tonight Karupin."

Playing the memory over again in his head, Ryoma chuckled bitterly. That was just about the last time his mother had used "we" while referring to Ryoma and herself. Why could it not have been him with those fainting spells, weakness, bruises, hair loss, vomiting, operations, comas? Why? He could see the softness his mother's eyes as she looked at Ryoga, and couldn't help but compare it with the cold, icy ones that had been directed to himself.

Ryoga had stolen more than his share of rights as the first born son, leaving little love for his parents to spare for himself. Ryoma was constantly ignored at home, whether deliberate or not. And despite all this, why did he still love Ryoga? Well,, he reminded himself, Ryoga did not try to stop Ryoma from quitting tennis, he did not make his parents stay longer than necessary at the hospital, he made his parents agree to letting Ryoma stay in his ward once a week, and did everything that brothers would normally do together.

Sighing, Ryoma picked up his tennis racquet and stared at the grid the strings made as they crossed. Pressing his palm to the center, the tears that he had fought so hard to control in front of everyone finally fell, unrelenting, rolling against his cheeks before dropping, one by one, onto his lap.

He wiped his tears away. Crying was stupid. Ryoga didn't cry, even though had to undergo near hell to keep himself alive. Ryoga was strong, and he had to be strong too.

Look on the bright side. At least they're still with you, and when Ryoga gets discharged, we'll still be one family, right?

He said this to himself again and again, as if to reassure himself, trying to convince his mind that his parents had not forgotten him, still loved him as much.

Ryoma found himself on the floor the next morning, Karupin yawning on his stomach. He picked him up unceremoniously by the scruff of his neck and off his torso. Groaning slightly, he sat up, only to find that he was already an hour late for school.

Shit

He jerked up, and sprinted to the kitchen. They normally were there at seven, but please let them be there now, just so that he could see their faces.

"Boy!"

Ryoma spun around and almost fainted with relief, it was his father. He was home. Just as he opened his mouth to utter a good morning, Nanjiroh's hand struck Ryoma on the left cheek.

The sound of flesh on flesh was ringing in his ears, and Ryoma was rendered temporarily speechless. He stared at the rough, calloused hand in front of him. He hit me. Father hit me.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE AT THIS TIME? HUH? YOU'RE SUPPUSED TO BE IN SCHOOL, BOY! I DON'T PAY THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS FOR YOU TO SKIP SCHOOL!"

He hit me.

"ANSWER ME, BOY!"

The second shout brought Ryoma back to his senses as he slowly stuttered, "I'm sorry, I overslept-"

CRACK! The second slap brought Ryoma to the ground. As he clutched his reddened cheek, tears of shock fell from his already swollen eyes.

"Nanjiroh!" Rinko's voice came from the kitchen, "what are you doing?"

"Brat didn't go to school."

Rinko helped Ryoma to his feet and brought him to the table. As she busied herself with the task of getting Fanta for Ryoma, she glanced uneasily at her husband, as if afraid that he would strike Ryoma again.

There was an awkward silence among the three, broken only by the tinkling of ice cubes against the glasses.

Rinko spoke first, gently, "Ryoma, um... as you probably know, your brother's um... condition has worsened as of lately, and so, um... we, your father and I, would like to move closer to the hospital. So that we can be closer to him, and, um... we have sold this house... we wanted to tell you tonight, but since you're here now..."

Her voice drifted off as she caught sight of Ryoma's expression, halfway between shock and something else she could not quite recognise.

"So, boy, we don't want to inconvenience you with the travelling, because the new house is very far away from St. Johns. And we also think that you should continue your tennis, so your mother and I have made arrangements for you to attend school in Japan. It's a great school, I used to go there when I was your age. You can live in cousin Nanako's house at the moment, since it is vacant." His voice, which was so strong just a minute ago, was now uncertain.

"But, of course. You don't have to go if you don't want to. We don't want to force you to do something that you dislike. If you want to stay here, I won't object..."

Both parents looked at Ryoma expectantly. Ryoma's head was still in a whirl, but he got the general message. They don't want me anymore.

They don't love me.

Fighting to restrain the tears which were threatening to fall, Ryoma said, in a voice that sounded strangled to his own ears, "Can I bring Karupin with me?"

"Of course you can, dear!" Rinko said, almost beaming, oblivious to the fact that Ryoma was now visibly shaking, "Here's the plane ticket. The flight is tomorrow. We'll come visit you when Ryoga is better. I'm sorry that this is all so sudden. I really wanted to find a house that fitted all of our needs but, I guess some sacrifices had to be made..."

So he was the sacrifice.

She smiled sadly and added, "we'll miss you Ryoma."

Nanjiroh was saying something about packing, and tennis, while Rinko cleared the kitchen table.

Ryoma walked out of the kitchen in a daze. As he entered his bedroom, his knees have way and he sunk onto the floor, letting out a choked cry. Covering his mouth with his palm, he willed himself to remain silent as his world around him crashed down, his anguish unbeknownst to the couple below.