.Polaroid.

Thriller
Attempt 1.

Summary.

Tenisu no OjisamaHow everything would have gone if I was supreme ruler of Eaaarths. Really though:

What if Ryoma had never come back from the US Open and the nationals had never happened? Fast forward a few years, after he and the SeiGaku team have grown apart. Everyone is now in college pursuing their own dreams. Then, a large corporation announces an amateur team tournament with a prize of over 100,000.00US Dollars. Is Ryoma's coming home exactly what the disbanded SeiGaku needs to reform and win? Or will it just push everyone further apart?
Mature
AU Sort of…
Thrill as main pairing, other pairings TBA.
Moderate OOC ing. And a few OC s My apologies.

A/N.

For this story I'd like everyone to understand that I'm not crazy, Fuji really does have brown eyes. I'm going with the manga not the anime. Other differences may come up later on but I guess I'll point those out as they come. Also I'll be using the Eastern style of names with surname first and given name last. If you have questions about that ask.

Chapter 1.

.Those breasts look heavy, can I hold them for you?.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

With a sleepy moan Echizen Ryoma inched across his bed to stare groggily out from under his covers. Blinking a bit and rubbing the crust from his eyes he sighed and slowly crept an arm from the warm barrier of his blanket to quiet the noise.

Seriously…

But even his thoughts seemed a bit sleepy. On one hand he was quite conscious and knew that if he didn't wake up at that moment he would be devastatingly late to his first day of school, but on the other hand he could get some well needed sleep. Well really, he didn't need it, having just slept for fourteen hours. But he was still feeling jet lagged! Yeah! That must have been it, even though he had flown in at least two weeks ago.

With another groan Ryoma slid listlessly to the floor in a crumple of limbs and blankets. Though it was bright and sunny outside his window, the air was still brisk and he regretted having to part with his beloved blankets. He stood, stretching limbs that had grown quite considerably while he had been living abroad. Standing in front of his mirror he shrugged into his new university uniform. Now that he had grown, he looked a bit more lanky, standing at a taller 5'10". Really, he wasn't one to be vain, but the uniform fit him snugly, emphasizing his "toned-n-growned" muscles. And the dark material added to his slightly enigmatic look, emphasized more so by his shaggy black hair.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The alarm rang again, in case he had been seduced by the dark side of going back to sleep. He stepped over his abandoned blankets and pajamas to tap the alarm's snooze. Taking a quick look around his new one person apartment he grabbed up his school satchel and a roll from the fridge to munch on the way.

Really it was a big change from the last time he had been living in Japan, but it didn't bother him too much. The only thing he really missed was his cat, but Karupin was getting old and Ryoma had known that another scene change couldn't be good for his beloved pet. He supposed he could have gone back to living at the shrine, which had been taken over by his aunt and her brood, but he didn't really feel like being around family. Hadn't that been why he'd decided to return to Japan? To stand on his own two feet and get through school away from the tennis circuit?

A flash of being jostled about by close friends known as teammates as someone screamed "We won, we won! Ochibi you did it!" caught Ryoma by surprise and he tried to push it from his mind. It had been years since he had seen his old team and he tried not to think of them.

It was silly to think that they were the reason he had really decided to come back to Japan. Wasn't it?

Locking his apartment door he scooted down the steps and out into the bright day. Tugging his winter uniform a little so that it lay flat against his body he began his walk to the university, only blocks away. It was a sea of black-clad students, all with the same look as him, overslept and harried.

Seriously…

It was far too early for anyone to be out of bed. Looking around him he shielded his eyes against the sun. He hadn't worn a hat in years, but now, looking around him, he wondered why he had given up the tradition. Perhaps it had been his way with trying to cope at yet another life-jarring move to a different country. Adopt an American name, adopt an American way of dressing, adopt an American lifestyle. All to block out the memories and guilt of what he had been leaving behind, just to further his career. Well, perhaps it hadn't all been that simple, but for some reason, Ryoma felt worse about it at that moment more then he had in ages. Perhaps it was being around the same streets where he had once roamed with his friends that brought back such painful memories.

He entered the gates of his new academic institution, swept along with the rest of the freshman. You could instantly spot them from the returning students from the slightly panicked look in their eye. Today was his first day of college too, but Ryoma didn't really feel anything but tired. He was only going back to school as a sort of life stabilizer. Since he had burned out on the pro circuit early there was no real appeal of going to school anymore. There would be no teams to join, but perhaps he could put pieces of his life back together to form a bit of normalcy. Form a few friends, get a job, become part of the working class. And stay away from Tennis. Hell would freeze over before he would ever pick up his racket again. Not after what happened last time.

From there on, the day had been pretty uneventful. An uneventful welcoming ceremony. An uneventful morning. An uneventful lunch. An uneventful end of classes. The only real thing that interested him was when his counselor informed him that it was required of him to join some kind of club. Ryoma really had no idea what to join. It wasn't as if he was really bad at anything, but he just couldn't decide what to spend the rest of the year doing. It would take a bit of thought. Perhaps a trip to the school library could give him some ideas. "How To..." books had always been his go-to-guy.

After losing his directions to navigate through the large campus towards the library Ryoma found himself beside the Tennis court and the familiar hum of excitement sent his heart beating just a bit faster. He longed to lace up and hit the courts, and a few balls, but he daren't.

Almost as if conjured an unbidden memory climbed its way from the depths into his conscious.

It was the tie-breaker game. Advantage receiver, one set match, and his opponent's serve. His name was Henry Folson and he had a way of getting into Ryoma's head. Sweat dripped down onto the court from both players. Exhausted, out of breath, muscles aching. The game had been going for over an hour, and neither player had had much advantage. Their skill levels were equal. The only thing left was a psychological battle.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Henry bounced the ball methodically against the court, grinning.

"Really, would you hurry? I have places to be after I beat you," Ryoma called across the court. Unfortunately this only caused Henry's grin to widen.

"Think you can beat me with your trash talk? Ooh, I'm so afraid. Tell me runt, how did a kid like you come to be in a tournament like this? Did your daddy buy your way in? The great Samurai. Really, is there even anything other then your father in you? All I see is a faded shadow of an old geezer. And you're not even as good as him."

Without warning Folson swung his racket, quick serving harshly towards the corner. Echizen had to dash to reach it, but he managed to return it. On and on the volley went, neither wanting to lose. Somehow it had become more about who was playing, then what they were playing.

"See, I told you, no other moves then what I've seen before. No wonder your father had to leave the pros to go back to that po-dunk little village of his. Isn't that where you're from? Everyone saying that you're some whiz kid but they're all wrong aren't they?"

"Shut. It." The famously cool Ryoma felt his blood burning. Why was this man getting to him? Was it because he was tired? Was it because of the cracks against his father? Or did it have to do with his own nagging voice inside him?

You'll never be more then you're father. They never really wanted you at SeiGaku, that's why not even one of them have written or called in the past two years. Everyone but you knows you're a failure.

"Shut it!" Ryoma shouted with a loud grunt, kicking his stance wide and hitting the ball weakly over the net, barely crossing the tape. The drop shot forced his opponent to the net, catching him completely off guard. Folson lunged towards the net barely catching the ball with the frame of his racket. A chance ball. A chance Ryoma would never let pass. Up into the air he went, almost as if in slow motion, as his racket collided ferociously with the ball, sending it thudding harmlessly into the opposing court.

The match was over. Ryoma had won. But underneath all the deafening cheers Ryoma could still hear one last jibe.

"You think you've won here, but you haven't. I know, and soon the world will know, exactly how much of a failure you are. It's no wonder they wouldn't take you, a loser, to nationals."

Ryoma saw red. Perhaps his racket has acted on its own. But it was highly unlikely. As his arm slashed across the court, towards his opponent he could not contain himself. WHACK. The crowd gasped as one as blood splattered onto the court. Ryoma's eyes went wide as he realized what he had done.

"Oh my god," he whispered. He had bloodied a man. With his racket.

Smashed back into reality with such a gruesome thought Ryoma bent his head, pulling a non existent hat brim down over his eyes. Sliding away from the tennis courts that brought him so many unhappy memories he quickened his pace towards the library. But not before a watchful eye noticed the impulsive hat gesture. Brown eyes quickly did a double take at the lanky youth as Fuji Syusuke stared after Ryoma's retreating back.

"Ryoma?"