reedit version: 12/19/2016

Some changes:

[1] Ryoma came to Japan entering her tertiary education (high school) at Tenryujin Academy [1] and is thus fifteen. She had competed in women professional tennis league only. Unlike in the canon however, she has played doubles with her older half-brother Ryoga and her childhood bestfriend Kevin Smith, and has more experience in it. In this story, Ryoma will not be the scrawny, unappealing tomboy who has appalling taste for fashion. She likes fashion and dressed as accordingly to her gender. No changes in Ryoma's name. It is implied that her parents prefers unconventional names for their children.

[2]A few changes from the original storyline are as follow, Tezuka Kunimitsu didn't go Pro yet in this timeline. But his elbow had fully recovered. Kawamura Takashi hasn't quitted playing tennis when he graduated from middle school. And Yukimura Seichi has fully recovered from Guillain-Barré Syndrome. All highschool students from The New Prince of Tennis shall appear and they will be in the same age as the middle-schoolers.

[3] Solange Federer, a newly introduced OC. Younger sister to tennis superstar, Roger Federer. Ryoma's rival in the women's category.

[1] Tenryujin Academy - Located in Tokyo. An elite escalator boarding school.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Prince of Tennis and The New Prince of Tennis. Also, mentions of real tennis players and their fictional profiles are not meant to alter or tarnish their glorious records.

chapter one: relocation

It was the finals for the French Open women singles division. The sun was scorching, unforgiving and unyielding, yet enthusiastic tennis fans and sports analysts and media men still flock around the stadium to witness the most anticipated match in women tennis circuit between two uprising tennis superstar, the Swiss twenty-two-year-old Solange Federer, and the American fourteen-year-old Ryoma Echizen.

Although both are too young for the world, they've both displayed a rare talent only seen in ten years which can comparatively challenge men tennis circuits all over the world if not for the jarring discrimination between gender credibility. Therefore unless they take the major break of bagging the Grand Slams in their career record, the both of them will remained overshadowed by the skyrocketed careers of Solange's older brother, Roger Federer, and Ryoma's father and half-brother, Nanjirou and Ryoga Echizen instead.

They both knew full well how ugly prejudice can be. They've breathed and live through it for years, even more as they decided to take up the sport.

For Solange, it was pure admiration for her brother's achievements and the desire to reach to her brother's footsteps that made her start tennis. For Ryoma, tennis was her first love- a characteristic shared fervently by everyone in the Echizen household. And as the days and years went by, the feeling only grew stronger and lasting, morphing into something like a life line- her life line. Because before she knew it, tennis was everything she lived for.

Regardless of how they took up the sport, they both can agree that tennis for them meant more than just being able to play. It was something natural. Something that comes to them naturally. Like how natural breathing was or how blood continually runs through one's veins like a never-ending cycle. Tennis was something that blows life and if taken away shall snips off the single string that attaches them to the world.

However no matter how much talented they appeared to be, they were always ostracized by the glaringly gap between men and women tennis. Even if they were to prove their credibility to the men, they will never be accepted as someone equal…or even closer to that. Half-scorns, piteous glances and hesitant blows thrown as no one took them seriously. Whether it was the men's pride of not wanting to go all out to a woman or the misogynist thinking of not wanting to lose to the fairer sex, these prejudices doesn't change even in the era of the new.

Since Solange started earlier as she was older, she made it her goal to conquer the women's division before taking over the men's. Her goal after all was to someday stand in an official court against her brother whom she had admired since she was young.

However, taking over the women's was barely a competitive feat.

Although she had encountered and played against many players all over the world, they were just not the kind of matches she sought for.

Winning easily, without even an excuse for poor play, was just an outright slap in the face for her. It was a front mockery of her skills!

She was one who plans to dominate the entire tennis circuit, men and women's legion alike. In order to do so, she needed a strong rival who could give her a match truly worthy of her skills or go even beyond hers. Someone who'll quench her thirst for victory and power, but at the same time, make her feel the thrill of the game and have her playing until the point of exhaustion or until both of her feet collapse and her hands numbed enough to even hold a racket. She wouldn't settle for anything less if her beloved sport was on the line.

It has been too long- she thought no one can be procured as her rival not until the appearance of the year's junior champion of the US Open. A kid who same as her was overshadowed by the brilliant careers of her father and brother. A kid who may even share the same aspirations as her.

For once, she felt she had an ally. Although she doesn't know if the rumors were true or not, or if this kid was a commendable player worthy to be called a rival, she began to hope.

How they met was but of course in the tennis courts but Solange never thought they'll meet in such circumstances and playing as a doubles team.

It happened on one of her tours in the US. At the age of twenty, she was confident- too overconfident that she exhausted her time visiting tennis courts to challenge random locals- women or men alike, instead of enjoying a much-deserved break.

It was on a neighboring tennis court she had passed by one afternoon where she met the young Ryoma Echizen who offered to be her doubles partner after being leered and taunted by some American street tennis players for carrying a racket with a skirt on.

'Seriously, what's wrong with wearing a skirt when I'm a woman? It's a tennis skirt for God's sake!' she grumbled contemptuously at the offense. She was wearing appropriate tennis apparel the last time she checked. And if it doesn't make anyone better, she was wearing spandex shorts underneath.

As much as she wanted to blow up this moment, she heavily resisted the provoking urge by remaining tight-lipped as they droned on their pathetic attempts of underestimating her.

Not yet, she repeated, trying to soothe her ill mood. Not before she completely pummeled these dumb fools off the courts to the point they'll be wishing not to play the sport ever again. She'll definitely make them eat back their words and regret ever making a fool out of her.

It just so happened that they agreed to settle their terms through playing doubles- yet a dilemma for Solange since she obviously was by herself and knew practically no one other than herself, in this foreign land. She was considering asking anyone from the crowd. It didn't matter if he or she doesn't know how to play tennis; she just needed a person to stand by the court while she does the job. Besides, they should at least knew the basic rules of the game if they came here to watch, since if they don't, she didn't had the time to go over it.

And then she appeared.

A girl with golden eyes shaded by a white cap, she approached her and offered to play doubles. Solange only gave her a brief thorough scan from head to toe, noting that she at least worn the appropriate tennis gear. That alone was enough.

Not one on giving a second thought about this impromptu doubles, she gave a nod, easily accepting the partnership. If the girl proved that she cannot play, she will just have to step up and cover for her. Easy as pie.

At that time, neither of them knew each other nor their achievements in the sport. For them, the other was just some stranger who plays tennis, and now they stand on the same court to prove these men wrong and defeat them.

Exactly ten minutes later, the score ended with an overwhelming six games to zero, in Solange and the unnamed girl's favor.

There were sharp intakes of breath and collective gasps as both women won their match with an overwhelming margin, it's hardly considered fair really. Heck, it's heavily a one-sided match.

Both women severely outclassed their opponents, beating- no, obliterating them in a brutal manner. It was humiliating enough that the two bunch of losers were the strongest pair around this area, and here they've been beaten by two unnamed women in a matter of minutes.

"Holy cow! Those chicks are beasts! They're insane!"

"The game didn't even last long. And here I thought, no one can defeat Tim and Kyle."

"Didn't they joined this year's US Open and seeded fourth? How disappointing. To only be defeated in street tennis like this."

Solange adjusted her previous stance, still surprised by the outcome of the game herself. Despite the loud murmurings of the enormous crowd that had gathered around the courts after taking interest on the game, she had her eyes solely on the shorter girl, interest coloring her eyes.

She had to admit. This girl was good. Really good.

Although they've formed a temporary doubles team in such a short time, they've worked too well together- if she disregarded the little mess-up at the beginning of the game where she accidentally tipped their rackets- it seemed like being completely strangers weren't true.

'Just how was that possible?' She wondered, her brows furrowing in perplexity. Even she wasn't that expert in playing doubles. Actually, she hardly do doubles, preferring singles since she's not really the type to cooperate and do coordinated plays. She liked being the only one in control of the game. And she's quite stubborn like that.

Replaying the plays the shorter girl did in the past few minutes, she slowly found the answer to the unexpected brash outcome of the game. How can she possibly have missed it when it was just right before her eyes!

It was her all along. This unnamed American girl had been the one in control of the entire game! She made them play well together.

Every shots and returns were calculated and adjusted to match her pace and tempo. Even her noncommittal habits were unbecoming minimal and she found moving with a partner lighter and easier despite being more comfortable with the baseline rather than the net- a major influence from her brother who despite being an exceptional all-rounder was occasionally seen at the baseline. And she didn't noticed the difference not until the match has ended and pondered upon the mystery of their successful doubles.

It kind of peeved, more of curiosity really, her a little how she haven't shown anything special beyond regular basic shots. Aside from noticing how she always used a similar ball toss the entire game whether she chose to serve top spins, flats or slices, making it rather difficult to read her, her serves were nothing that spectacular at all too. Anyway, she was probably a master of the basics or was reserving something more and wasn't laying all her cards yet. Still she can't deny how exceptional her grasp of mastery over them. She swore that that alone was in a caliber on its own.

And then there's their defeated opponents. She swiveled her gaze on them who were currently on their knees, sweating like they've ran a marathon instead and gasping back air from having to run and chase balls they were never been able to return or if they did, it didn't manage to cross the net.

She'll give them a little credit. Thanks to that sexist mockery that led into a challenge over a set, she had accomplished an acceptable round of light warm-up enough to feel her muscles starting to coil and pump. Although if she would be honest, it was still rather lacking her normal amount of warm-up because this hardly made her sweat, really.

Still, it was pitiful how miserable they've become after this game. They tried to fight back until the end even at the face of an unparalleled score. And she was sure they've played at their best as well based on those heavy returns, frustrated faces and display of vulgarities when they're unable to return a shot. All these people know was to talk big. They weren't even worth a second of her time with their poor skill set.

Golden met hazel brown in its brevity.

But this girl, she'll acknowledge.

Solange stick out a pale hand towards the younger girl, gesturing for a handshake.

This person was different- her scent and the aura reeking from her told Solange that she wasn't any ordinary player that can be easily judged by a single game. Hardly, on that ten minutes. There had always been a great disparity between the scent of the strong and the weak. With this girl, all she can smell was the scent of a sleeping beast, ready to pounce and unveil her claws any time.

The shorter girl slowly blinked at the offered hand before a conceited smirk painted her dainty lips. She tugged the brim of her cap further down, shielding her eyes, but the smirk on her face never left, "You're still not good enough." She declared in arrogance, intentionally ignoring the offered handshake, and left, walking passed Solange towards one of the benches where she'd last left her tennis bag. She easily hoisted the item to one shoulder, not once looking back at the Swiss woman- she recognized the familiar Swiss German accent- before sauntering away for the court's exit point.

Solange bit her lower lip, fighting the urge to laugh. Oh how she loved pompous attitudes! Being cheeky was okay in her dictionary too.

"Hey! What's your name?" There was a running doubt in her mind if the unnamed girl would be willing to give her name so easily. After turning down the handshake, she can confidently conclude that the girl wasn't the friendliest lot. Either way, if she can't have her name just like what she expects of her, she will just have to hunt her down tomorrow and the rest of the days after that if needed. She won't return to her country empty-handed without knowing that girl's name.

Surprisingly, the unnamed girl stopped on her tracks just before she reached the exit. She didn't turned but at least left her name, "Ryoma Echizen."

Solange paused, blinking at familiarity of the name. She swore she'd heard of it before. But where? Where did she heard it?

"Hey Solange! Have you heard?"

Solange lifted her gaze from her stimulation game, albeit a bit out of it as her focus remained entirely in her game, "…About what? I'm not hearing anything I don't need as of the moment."

"…I really hate that side of you." A pause, "Echizen's daughter's been the highlight of the news recently."

"Nanjiro Echizen? That sensational Japanese tennis player?"

"Why of course you knew. I tend to forget about your maniacal obsession for strong tennis players. History included." Another pause, "You should have heard about his son as well. Roger played against him at the ATP World Tour Masters 1000."

"…Yes… More for me to beat."

A laugh, "You're crazy! Anyway, the focus of the media seemed to incline towards the sister now. Haven't actually seen any of her games but sources tells me she's good. Plus she's in the women's league too."

"…Beats me. I don't want to be disappointed. Again."

"Hey, cut that out! You haven't even seen this kid. Give her a break will ya?! Her name's Ryoma Echizen. Don't you forget it..."

Her eyes slowly widened when realization dawned into her, 'Did she just say her name was Ryoma Echizen? That Ryoma Echizen?' A smile lit in her face; her eyes shimmered aflame. 'So this explains why she's good.'

"I'm Solange Federer." A notable number of eyes- if not all, widened in recognition of the famous name. Some exchanged shocked gasps and looks of incredulity at the sudden appearance of the woman who stood at the top during the WTA Premiers last season. Who knew that a tennis superstar- a Federer of all people, would chose a shabby rundown neighborhood tennis court of all places to play?

On the other hand, the two losers who dared messed with the top dog of the women's tennis league had their jaws slackened in disbelief at the astonishing revelation- a stupefied look on their faces, it was almost comical.

The person in question though never bothered acknowledging the little bout of fame as her eyes were solely trained at the capped girl.

"Let's meet again, Ryoma."

As long as they play tennis, their paths will inevitably crossed one day.

'I'll wait for you on official courts, Ryoma Echizen.'

After that encounter, Solange left for her country and competed in various tournaments and premiers. Ryoma, on the other hand, competed for another Junior Tournament and won yet again, sealing her fourth win. That same year, she and her half-brother, Ryoga flew to Australia to participate for the Australian Open as a doubles pair and won the championships by a huge landslide. The media had a massive field day that day, and the news was all over the headlines that it lasted for a week.

They didn't meet for another year, not until the Summer Olympics that year's month of June which was held in Brazil. They stumbled on each other during the opening ceremony, although Ryoma doesn't appear to remember who Solange was or was just feigning not to know her when she approached her. It sure hit a nerve but Solange knew she had to be at least patient about this.

Solange immediately inquired Ryoma's participation, a bit at her toes at the anticipation that the younger girl will affirm her Olympic participation. But she only received a disappointing no and the information that it was the brother who was competing instead. This slightly upset Solange since she absolutely wanted to play against Ryoma in an official match.

Still not willing to be denied after the year and a half since they last met, she proposed to have practice games every day, carefully citing on the benefits for both sides specifically Ryoma's since she appeared half-convinced or was she just unimpressed again? Needless to say, she pressed this offer to her very firmly that Ryoma had no room to decline so she agreed under the condition that the loser pays for a meal- and that she gets a can of Ponta for every match.

Oh how she regretted proposing that.

She did mildly worry for the condition of her wallet in the next few days. Only mildly. She was rich enough to not worry about things like her pocket money when she can just swipe the bill clear with her exclusive black card.

But what she couldn't completely understand was how a petite girl like Ryoma eat like a boy stuck in the peak of his puberty. She eats like a buffoon…no…probably a cow would cut it. Just how could such a tiny body need all those food for?

Solange, on the other hand, strictly regulates her meals, consuming only what she needed as she was under strict dietary plan (and has to maintain an acceptable weight and slim built) and in which Ryoma would put as women's shameful diets wherein a woman forcibly starve herself just to have a slim bombshell figure. She would then sourly retaliate that her reasons were neither of whatever gibberish things she was thinking, and Ryoma would just carelessly shrugged, munching on one burger after another in rapid succession, commenting lightly on how her burger's portion has lesser tomatoes and pickles than the previous one.

Sometimes however, she's forced to cheat whenever the cocky brat tosses a greasy patty burger at her as a reward for keeping her entertained- She tried not to think about it too much really. She should exercise her saint-like patience at all times no matter how cheeky of a brat this child was.

But wallet aside, she was truly grateful for her practice matches with Ryoma. It helped her fully conditioned her body for the tournament a lot more than she can initially achieved by training in the facility by herself. She can also practice and polished her special techniques without worrying of being too powerful or overwhelming for her opponent because Ryoma would undoubtedly intercept her no matter what ball or plethora of different techniques she threw in and still would give her a satisfying match worthy of patiently awaiting for this critical moment. All those games that would have lasted a lifetime against worthless players haven't been a complete waste after all.

Before the day of the Olympic semi-finals, they've tied to fifteen games all but Solange had her doubts about Ryoma not showing her full potential yet.

The only special move she'd ever shown her was her signature Twist Serve- Nothing else. Although she had pushed her to the limits to gauge out any other techniques, Ryoma only produced a special drive which she only used once the entire succession of thirty games they've played.

She didn't know if Ryoma was mocking her or was just playing around.

But she knew one thing.

Ryoma was clearly in a different league than the rest of the players she'd played against in the past.

The kid was insanely strong even with that boring methodical limited-to-basics playing style. But she got a feeling that she was something else entirely behind that front she was currently letting her see. It was like a calm before a storm. A foreboding feeling, she couldn't exactly wrap around her finger.

It gave her chills with every exchange; her adrenalin was pulsating and pumping with every blow. She never felt the same way playing against others. This thrill… this anticipation…this mad sense of euphoria, was all new to her. She had almost forgotten this burn settling in her chest whenever she's driven to the edge. The only one who had successfully made her feel this way was her brother- The very person who pulled her into this mad world of tennis.

After then, she knew. Ryoma was the person she was waiting for all along. She was her destined rival.

Ryoga Echizen ended up winning the men's singles, bagging up the Gold for the US, while Solange Federer won the women's singles for her home country, Switzerland.

While Ryoga was away busy entertaining the crowd of voracious reporters and the paparazzi (with an amused Ryoma watching in the background), Solange snatched up the younger Echizen to a less populated area and persuaded her to play for the French Open the following year where she'll be competing as well.

Ryoma gave her a raised brow, clearly unimpressed again but said nothing. She smiled though, and walked away the same time the camera lights went flashing, momentarily blinding Solange and leaving her for the mercy of those notorious reporters.

They were a handful alright! How dared she ditched and openly fed her to these wolves?

But setting her budding irritation aside, she was excited for next year knowing her rival was finally competing. After all, an official game was still different no matter how many matches they've played. Oh how she'll finally put a conclusion to their scores to 16-15 and make sure Ryoma wouldn't clinch another frustrating win from her again.

To say they've become friends was only mildly putting it. Or probably it was just Solange who likes to think that they've become one. At least….after all those last night trips to a local fast food chain for greasy patties and sugary sodas, she thought they finally did.

They've exchanged emails during the Olympic season- Under the strict agreement to never send the younger girl a text since she was too lazy to read and reply back and call only if necessary- Solange barely agreed, and had been in touched since then despite the expensive international phone calls that's been cutting down most of Solange's paychecks.

Although she was used to Ryoma's lack of interest to mobile phones and emailing, she still can't believe one can harbor such animosity to such lengths for the technological advancement.

Once she'd sent her a text, just to know if she'll reply or not despite the aforementioned warning, but never got a reply. Not even an acknowledgment.

On another occasion, she asked her if she gives the same cold treatment towards her friends and what did she said? 'You don't need to worry. I only have five numbers in my contacts. My family, my bestfriend and you.' She seriously feared for this child's future. The kid needs serious social education and intrapersonal skills as far as she's concerned.

Although she must admit that she herself doesn't understand the allure most people see on smart phones, she at least thinks Ryoma's attitude towards them were abnormal.

It was a long process- a seriously steep one- but she finally persuaded Ryoma to at least read the text sent to her even if she's not willing to reply. For a person like Ryoma, that was a huge progress. Ryoma personally didn't like the slightest changes but she yielded or at least Solange thinks that the younger girl was finally getting softer on her.

When they met during the Open's semi-finals- naturally being the top-seeds in the Open granted them immediate spots passed the preliminaries, Ryoma didn't act like she doesn't know her anymore. No more subtle skew of the brow and amused smirks, although her greetings proved to have no likely improvements at all. It's a serious waste of the younger girl's pretty face if she only planned to give blank looks her entire life.

This however doesn't change anything. Their relationship might have escalated from mere acquaintances into something mutual like friends with a common bond over tennis for the past year, however once they stepped in the courts, they were enemies trying to covet a ticket to the Grand Slams.

Solange entered the clay court, shielding her eyes from the sun with her free hand. It was finally the day. A big smile played on her dainty lips as she waited for Ryoma to make her entrance. She glanced over to the spectator stands and saw her older brother, Roger sitting on the first rows alongside with their father.

She'll make them proud and win this. That goal of hers from back then never changed and she's all too willing to make it happen this time.

However, that day of the finals for the French Open women singles division, Ryoma Echizen failed to appear.

[11 months later]

If there was a word to describe where she was now, it was foreign.

Standing in the alleyway of the busy international airport, all she could hear was foreign tongues speaking their native language. She clasped her hand firmly on her luggage, determined to mill out of the crowd as soon as possible.

How strange it was hearing Japanese instead. Although they were taught and encouraged to exercise the language inside their home, it was still a bit difficult to get used to.

"Hey wait up, Ryo! You're walking too fast!" coming to a halt, Ryoma whipped her head towards a blonde boy who was catching up to her from a fair distance.

When he was just a step behind her, he gave her a dirty look, "For someone who walks on heels, you make these loafers look shameful to wear." He lifted his branded shoes to compare to Ryoma's three-inch stilettos. "Is it a model thing?" he pressed in lightly, making it come off as a joke.

Ryoma gave him a withering glance but said nothing. Her childhood friend, Kevin Smith was certainly adopting the male members of the Echizen family's attitude. Heck, he can passed as one right now.

"Oh yeah Ryo…are you sure no one will recognize your face? You're a hotshot model after all."

"It doesn't matter if they recognize me or not. If it comes to that, I trust you to run, Kev." An amused smirk curled on Ryoma's lips, eyes glinting with full of mischievous implications. Kevin snorted, getting used to Ryoma's nonchalance about popularity and fans.

Ten months ago, Ryoma was offered to model for an ad of a popular clothing line back in the States. To say it was successful was an understatement. The ad became really huge and soon, Ryoma was asked to model for bigger projects and eventually led to signing up a contract with many clothing brands and magazines. Since then, his bestfriend's life changed.

Well, not all of it changed.

Ryoma stayed the same even as popularity surged in.

The only thing that concerned him was his best friend's indifference towards tennis. She never entered any competition or tournaments after what happened a year ago. Although when he asked her to play with him, she'd unspokenly comply under the- almost incessant- condition that the loser pays the meal.

Seriously, the only thing that might never change in her is her endless penchant for food. Those were unparalleled. Not even he or Ryoga could compete side by side against her in an eat-all-you-can. Her personality haven't changed at all too if not a little quiet now.

Her appearance, on the other hand, was an entirely different story.

To say she bloomed was a bit mild… She was beautiful to begin with. He even had a crush on her when they were little but it died out since he'd only see her like a sister and nothing else.

One Nanjirou Echizen had it rough though. Her overprotective kind of a father had the trouble warding off his daughter's relentless suitors ever since first grade. Even Ryoga had to join in guarding- more like barricading- his little sister away from local perverts (and pedophiles).

It was only Ryoma who stayed unfazed and clearly disinterested by the affections thrown to her and thought her father and brother were ridiculously dramatizing things over nothing.

It made Kevin smiled a bit from the memory. He can trust Ryoma to take care of herself. He personally lost count on how many times had she outsmarted her abductors alone, eventually turning them to the police without them even noticing.

"Oh I trust you not to get mobbed by your fans. You've always had this peculiar talent of hiding in places where no one can find you anyway. " He threw back sarcastically.

He mildly remembered never to ask Ryoma for a game of hide-and-seek ever again. He almost ran to the police the moment he realized he couldn't find her anywhere after a whole day of searching the whole neighborhood. Twice. Those were not fond memories to remember.

Ryoma smiled in recollection of a memory from long ago. Her quirks back then were in their prime condition, and it's a bit amusing to give Kev a heart attack once in a while. "You're being ridiculous, Kev." Kevin laughed good-naturedly.

They've reached the cab stop and he immediately hailed one. The airport attendant helped them load their luggage in the trunk, easily tucking the two giant suitcases in. With their luggage safely tucked in the trunk, they climbed in the back seats where they were greeted by a kind-looking middle-aged man.

His features were clearly Asian, with dark hair and eyes, only aged with few crow feet on both of the corners of his eyes and prominent laugh lines on his slightly sagging skin. They returned the greeting politely, remembering to switched back to Japanese.

"Where shall I drop the both of you?" Kevin pulled out a piece of paper from the side pocket of his pants and showed the written address to the driver.

Ryoma rested her back against the leather seats, legs crossed over the other and an arm draped on the side window's arm rest. She stared at the view from outside the tinted window, finding everything too foreign in her eyes. Even the very bump on the road would probably be foreign to her.

She pressed her lips together in a tight line. She still has this unsettling feeling about moving to her old man's homeland but she'll try to be a little optimistic for her parents. Moving might be a rough thing but it won't probably turn out bad.

3/2/2016