Every Prince needs a Knight
Written by an avid ATP and PoT Tennis fan.
The Knight of Tennis
Ryoma Echizen was the future of Japanese Tennis. Ranking as world number 1 on the ITF junior circuit, he was labeled as a star. Ryoma's game was incredibly well rounded, his whipping forehand which was constantly compared to Nadal, his bruising backhand, his spectacular net play, and who could forget of his incredibly consistent and powerful serve. At 17 years old, Ryoma was given a wild card into the main draw of the Rakuten Japan Open Tennis Championships; his first ATP tournament and an ATP 500 tournament as well. Ryoma was slated to begin his life as a true professional tennis player in the major leagues, on the ATP World Tour.
A lot has happened since Ryoma and Seigaku won Nationals. Fuji moved on to college, and currently was a freshman playing Division I tennis for Stanford. Tezuka followed suit, and took a full ride to Notre Dame, earning a role as captain in his freshman year.
Sumire Ryuzaki was recognized by the USTA (United States Tennis Association) as a master class coach, not only raising both the Prince and the Samurai, but coaching multiple college players and leading a team to national tournaments consistently. She was offered a role as chairman of the board of the USTA. Naturally, she accepted, but where did that leave her granddaughter?
Nanjirou Echizen was a cocky man, a pervert, and one of the greatest Tennis stars of all time, but he was not one to forget who raised him into who he was, or to forget a favor. He insisted that Sakuno stay with the Echizens in order to continue living her Japanese life, and to avoid any major changes, as she was slated to attend Tokyo University. Ryoma would later question as to whether his father actually found some emotion cowering inside his mind filled with playboys and girls, or if his dad simply wanted to annoy the crap out of Ryoma and bring clumsy Ryuzaki even closer to him. Not that he minded. Gah, he did mind. Did he? More on that later.
Nanjirou realized that his son needed to find his own path in the tennis world, without him. Ryoma needed someone to guide him, like Sumire guided him. As Ryoma was about to leave for his cab to Tokyo, he caught his father on the phone just before he was about to say goodbye.
"Yeah, he'll be there tomorrow morning... What do you think?...Hahaha, thats the spirit...I know that, why did you think I called you?... I look forward to it, he'll be better than me, thats for sure. Alright thanks, bye."
Nanjirou hung up the phone. Ryoma gave him a questioning look and asked "Who was that?"
"You'll see Seishounen." Tomorrow morning you're practicing inside Ariake Colliseum.
"Hn"
Ryoma was used to random practice partners. Infact, he preferred it. The constant challenge of playing someone new only refined his skills and technique in his eyes.
Just as Ryoma was about to step out of the threshold of his home, a girl came stumbling down the stair to wish him good luck. Ryoma expected a quick stutter and a blushing face looking down at him. But that's not what he got.
Sakuno hugged Ryoma. And both of the two teens didn't thank that she had the lady balls to do it.
She looked up at him and said "Good luck at the tournament Ryoma, I'll be watching on tv."
After a couple seconds, minutes, maybe hours? Who knew? Ryoma looked at her and said
"Hn...thanks."
A small chuckle was heard from the samurai behind them, and the two 17 year olds jumped apart.
"Time to go Ryoma."
Ryoma looked back at both his father and his um, friend.
"Hn"
And just like that Ryoma was soon on his way to Tokyo.
At 8 in the morning inside Ariake Colliseum, Ryoma expected to see another young player, perhaps in his early twenties, also as hungry as he was for a chance to make his mark on the tour. What he didn't expect however, was another Japanese man just as tall as him standing at 5 foot 10 inches. However this man was known for his many accolades on the pro tour. A former number one in the world, this man was considered to be one of the greatest baseliners in the history of the game. His name alone would spark an inkling of fear into his opponents. He would wither away at your legs, run you for hours, make you so nervous and tired you might as well give up. He could hit the same shot for hours and hours, in the same spot, with more and more topspin every time. However, Ryoma was no newcomer to playing with former pros. The prince was often selected as a hitting partner for former pro's such as Lleyton Hewitt, Roger Federer, Novak Djokovic, and more. He was comfortable no matter who he played, but perhaps too comfortable.
What everyone could see, especially his father, was that Ryoma was constantly growing too cocky on the court.
His Hubris, would eventually shatter his game.
"Hello Ryoma."
"Hn"
"Lets begin."
Ryoma and the former number one quickly took opposite sides of the court. Warming up their groundstrokes, their volleys, their overheads, and finally their serves. After simply hitting back and forth for a good half hour, Ryoma was getting bored. Ryoma knew who he was, what he'd done. And he was more than excited to challenge him. To overcome yet another milestone. Defeating this former pro would get him closer and closer to conquering the world, or maybe his father. Maybe more.
He thought he would win easily. Without trying even. He was younger, faster, stronger, hungrier.
"Lets play a practice set, this is boring." Said Ryoma.
"Alright, you can serve." The Man said.
'Che, this will be easy, and good practice for whats to come in the main draw' Thought Ryoma.
Boy was he wrong.
Ryoma planted his feet right behind the baseline. He threw the ball straight in the air while completing a graceful arc of a preparation of his racquet, before striking the ball down hard into the service box. The former champion unfazed, prepared his backswing, and returned the ball with serious topsin crosscourt to Ryoma's lefty backhand. After a viscous rally, the man, out of nowhere, smacked the ball with ferocious pace into the inside-out corner from his righty forehand. 0-15. Ryoma was unfazed.
Ryoma decided to hit his left serve out wide, and come into the net. But the man was prepared. One slice serve out wide was followed with a beautiful crosscourt pass. 0-30. Ryoma again, was determined to hold serve.
Ryoma began to panic howerver. The man simply wouldn't miss. The prince realized that he was an aggressive baseliner, with incredible consistency. He would need to put away points, hit winners quickly, and shorten the points to move the match away from the man's comfort zone. It would require some risky shots, but Ryoma could do it. Hell, of course he could. He could make anything, He was Ryoma Echizen. Or so he thought. Ryoma served up the middle, and was met with a short ball with topspin which bounced just inside the service line.
Perfect.
Ryoma set himself up, and prepared to uncork a huge inside out forehand.
After crushing the ball, Ryoma expected to walk back to the baseline, and serve the next point.
Boy was he wrong.
His opponent guessed exactly where Ryoma was going to hit, and returned the ball past Ryoma twice as fast as the ball was hit to him.
This was the moment when Ryoma began to panic. Nothing was working for him.
His strokes became rigid. His arm choked up. His footwork became floppy. He was not accostomed to being dominated so intensely. Not even by his father.
The Prince nailed a kickserve high to the man's forehand, but was met with a flat beaming winner from the baseline down the line and into the corner. Again and again, the former pro found an answer to every single shot Ryoma would hit his way. Precise cross court angles. Huge down the line winners. Exquisite passing shots. Booming serves. Ryoma lost the practice set in a little under 21 minutes. 6-0.
Ryoma was in absolute shambles. No one, and he meant no one, had ever did that to him. Not Tezuka, not his father, not Federer, or Djokovic, or Nadal. Not any junior or any peer on the ITF tour. His cocky pride was crushed after losing quickly to this man. The Prince was sweating profusely. The former pro however, was not even tired at all. He walked over to the prince, and was met with a look that meant both "What. The. Fuck."
"How in the hell can you play so perfectly. Your strokes were nothing short of perfect. Everything angle and winner bounced cleanly off the lines, and your passes were completely out of this world. That shouldn't be possible. How!?"
Ryoma was getting angry. He was infuriated. He was the prince of tennis. He could only lose to the king of tennis. He was supposed to be great, but he lost to an old retired pro in his late thirties. And worst of all, Ryoma thought he had played well. He played great even. But the man, no, the legend, played even greater.
"Why did you lose Ryoma?"
Ryoma was baffled. When he lost to his dad, he would get a 'Mada Mada Dane.'
When he lost to Tezuka the first time, or when he lost to Sanada, he was never asked anything of the sort.
Being questioned after a loss was completely new to him.
He was at a complete loss for words.
"I, uh, um, I don't know."
"I think you do know."
That very response annoyed Ryoma. A lot.
This was NOT, the conversation he was expected to have. Ryoma Echizen was not supposed to lose. And if he did, he'd just train even more and more. He would not be interrogated by this man who he would DEFINITELY not lose to again.
"I was off. You got lucky." Ryoma answered. His cockiness, perhaps was even elevated by the loss. His inflated ego, infuriatingly acting to block his mind from accepting that his mentality was his own downfall. But the former legend saw threw the facade which Ryoma had no idea was occuring.
"Want me to tell you why? You're too cocky for this sport Ryoma. You expected to crush every shot, you expect to sit on the winning side of every risk you take. Your mentality is weak to the point where the first inkling of your defeat brings your game to a near nervous breakdown."
What was worse, was that the man said it completely unemotionaly, and an angry Ryoma was only infuriated more.
However, Ryoma gathered himself. Perhaps his opponent got lucky. That was all, nothing special right?
Ryoma looked his opponent dead in the eye, and quite ironically said
"Mada Mada Dane. Lets play a second set."
Ryoma lost even quicker in the second set than the first. And so the cycle repeated. The Prince's adversary would constantly inform him that his mentality was his downfall, and Ryoma would have none of it. After playing seven continuous sets in this cycle, Ryoma was tired, beat, and sweaty. He needed to sit down, shower, and sleep. Instead of telling Ryoma how immature and foolish he was, the man walked over to Ryoma who practically collapsed on a bench, squatted over, and looked at the budding tennis player.
"Hello Ryoma. My name is Kei Nishikori, and i'll be your coach. Welcome to the pros. I'll see you here, same time tomorrow."
As he walked away, Ryoma, who didn't even have the energy to formulate sarcastic response, simply stared off as the legend walked away. Ryoma lost. Badly. His psyche and mentality on the court shattered by a man who was likely no powerful and talented than he was. Ryoma was angry, confused, irritated, but above all else, he felt something else in the back of his developing mind.
Ryoma was excited.
He was excited that the former Japanese legend was about to show him the door to being greater than what he thought great was.
Kei Nishikori had just presented Ryoma Echizen with the door to the ATP World Tour, but Ryoma knew, that without his help, there was a higher chance of hell freezing over than Ryoma overcoming the professional Tennis world without Kei to help him. A man with shining consistency, agility, grace, and power, who had showed Ryoma that once again, there was a long way to go.
The Prince, had just met the Knight.
Kei Nishikori:
No. 10 (2815 Points) as of 5/22/13
Emirates ATP singles rankings.
The story is set where Kei had become number one in the world, and has retired.
Thanks for reading guys. This idea came into my head when I was watching one of Nishikori's matches. I couldn't resist.
Read and Review, and tell me if I should continue the story, or leave it just like that, because in all honesty I can see this idea as both a one shot and multichapter thing haha.