Author's Note (1): I don't have my memory stick with me today so I can't work on any of my fics (namely "A Ripple in the Ocean). And I really don't feel like doing work right now so I wrote this little drabble. Maybe I'll make this into a really short series of drabbles and not just of Ryoma. sigh I guess this shows you that I really don't want to work right now.

Author's Note (2): Inspiration just came as I was remembering the time when Ryoma was about to leave the house to go to a tournament and his father stopped him in order to have him sweep the steps and assess his strength. I can't remember what episode it was but I do believe it was before Seigaku met up with Rokkaku.

Title: Ryoma, An Obedient Son

"Oi! Seishonen! Get over here!" shouted a voice from the yard. "You were supposed to clean the yard!"

The seven-year old Ryoma stuck his head out from his window and looked down at the man who claimed to be his father. "I'm doing my homework!"

Nanjiroh Echizen scowled as he looked up at his son. "Oi! You were supposed to do it after you came home from school today!"

"I'll do it later!" Ryoma shouted back. "I'm busy!" With that, Ryoma slammed shut his window.

Nanjiroh's eyebrow twitched at his son's insolence then took a deep breath and calming breath and went inside. He went straight into the kitchen and went to the refrigerator and pulled out a cold soda.

Moments later, his wife came into the kitchen, a bit annoyed and unaware that her husband was there. "Oh, that boy!"

Nanjiroh looked at his wife's heated cheeks curiously. It was odd to see her that annoyed at Ryoma. "Neh, Rinko, what's wrong?"

His wife gave him an annoyed look then she grabbed his drink and took a hefty swig from it. He waited patiently as Rinko took another swig and then another. "Hey! Don't drink it all!"

Rinko handed to bottle of soda back to him. "Sorry, I needed to cool down."

"So what's wrong?" Nanjiroh asked as he looked at Rinko. "What'd the boy do?"

"It's more like what he didn't do," Rinko corrected. "I told him to clean his room yesterday and he still hasn't done it!"

Nanjiroh lifted an eyebrow. "He said that he has to do homework."

Rinko gave him a scathing look. "He's not doing homework- he's up there watching a video of Pete Sampras while correcting his backhand."

"Well, I suppose that can be seen as homework," Nanjiroh grunted as he sipped his soda. "The brat has a lousy backhand."

Rinko grabbed the soda from his hand. "Go do something about it."

"Do what? It's only a room and he really does need to practice that ugly backhand of his," Nanjiroh shrugged as he tried to get his soda back from her but she kept it away from him.

"Nanjiroh, I heard you yelling at him for not cleaning up the yard when he told you to," Rinko argued. "Lousy backhand or not, he has to learn to mind what we say. This indulgence to let him do whatever he wants just because it's related to tennis is not good."

Nanjiroh frowned. "There's nothing wrong with a little indulgence here and there."

"And there's absolutely nothing wrong with him learning to mind his parents," Rinko shot back. "I don't want a spoiled son that thinks of nothing except tennis. I already have a husband like that!" She grabbed his arm and started pulling him towards the stairs. "You go talk to him."

"Hey!" Nanjiroh scowled as he dug in his heels. "If it bothers you so much, why do I have to do it?"

Rinko stopped pulling him to face him. "Two reasons: You're his father and if you don't, you're sleeping on the couch." When that didn't faze him, she added, "After I burn your collection."

Nanjiroh stared at his wife then slapped his hands over his mouth in horror. "You wouldn't!"

"Try me!" Rinko challenged. Her husband took one look at her face then started towards the door. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to take care of it," Nanjiroh shouted back.

Prince

Of

Tennis

Ryoma adjusted his grip on the racket and tried to swing it backwards. He looked at the frozen position of Pete Sampras and adjusted his stance once again.

Suddenly his room door burst open and his father came in throwing leaves, weeds and such all over his room.

"Hey! Oyaji! What are you doing!" Ryoma shouted then he coughed when a batch of leaves were thrown at his face. "Oyaji!"

"Oi! Seishonen! When your mother tells you to clean your room, you clean it! And when I tell you to clean the yard, you clean it!" Nanjiroh shouted as he glared at his son. He pointed at his son. "You will mind what I say because I am the father! Your mother because she is your mother! Got that, seishonen?"

"Ha-hai," Ryoma answered with a chastised glare. Then he added heatedly, "But you didn't have to bring all this garbage up here!"

"Sure I did," Nanjiroh shot back as he tossed the garbage bag at his son. "My magazine collection was in danger. Now clean your room. It's a real mess now."

And with that Nanjiroh Echizen, the father, left his son's room.

"Baka oyaji," Ryoma grumbled as he opened the garbage bag and glared at the offending trash.

The door opened again and his father popped his head in. "And your arm has to be angled more for a better backhand. Mada mada dane, Seishonen. Now clean first and then work on your backhand."

"Baka oyaji," Ryoma shot back as he glared at the door.