Chapter 1


Twelve year old Ryoma Echizen sat lazily on the couch, a chess board in front of him. It was hot. Really really hot. So hot Nanjirou wouldn't even let him play tennis. (Just cause he burned his skin earlier after four hours in the sun doesn't mean his dad gets to ban him from playing for the rest of the day!) Speaking of his stupid dad, he was on the phone, talking to someone and had left Ryoma alone for over an hour. Stupid old man, does he even realize he left in the middle of the game?

"DAD!" Ryoma yelled.

No answer. All was heard was a feint sound of conversation coming from where his dad was and the humming of the air conditioner. It wasn't supposed to hum, at least, the newer ones aren't. But sadly, his dad was too cheap to buy the more expensive, quieter ones. (But he said he got the old fashioned ones because they were the same ones from Japan.) Che, as if, Ryoma thought, he's just a cheap bastard.

"Dad..." he groaned. He felt like a cranky old man.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his dad returned to the couch.

"It's your move."

"Huh?" Nanjirou scratched his head. "Oh, right. We were playing, right. Haha..." He picked up his king and hovered it over Ryoma's pawns, then placed it several steps ahead where the king could actually move.

"...that's invalid." Ryoma stared at the impossibly stupid move his dad made.

"Eh? Oh, haha!"

Ryoma irritated at his dad laughing his ass off, frowned. Nanjirou moved his king to the right place and their game continued. Halfway through the game, Nanjirou went silent and looked in deep thought. Ryoma thought it was odd. His dad, in deep thought, and silent? What in the world?

"So who was it?"

"Hm?"

"On the phone."

"Phone...? Oh, it was a lawyer."

"For what?"

"Some legal stuff I gotta take care of...hey. Say... Ryoma, want to go to Japan?"


Ryoma grumpily sat on his desk. A giant textbook lay in the middle of it. Title: Japanese Characters. Subtitled: for dummies. Ryoma wanted to throw the book out of his window. Seriously, what the hell? Stupid old man suddenly wanted to go to Japan and because they are in the U.S. he didn't practice his Japanese a lot. (at all really.) And he forgot some of his writing, at least the little kanji he learned back in Japan grade school. (pretty much all of it) But Hiragana was like his english alphabet. Hard to forget this sort of basic stuff...maybe. Stupid old man, stupid old man, stupid old man!

He randomly flipped the book open.

Then immediately shut it.

No way in hell was he going to read it. He refused to. It was summer! He wanted to play tennis dammit!

After fuming silently, he opened the book again, this time to the index.

Stupid, stupid, stupid... ばか(baka). Old man, old man, old man... おやじ. (oyaji)

Baka oyaji.

He took out a sheet a paper and copied the characters for it. In under a minute, he filled up the front page.

There. Lesson for today.

He put it his name and date on the top right corner as his elementary school teachers taught him. He left his desk and gathered up his tennis gear to play. He went back to his desk, grabbed his paper, then promptly trudged downstairs to turn it in to his current 'teacher' .


"Hey Ryoma! I thought you were banned from playing today!" A green-eyed blond waved from the benches next to the school tennis courts. It was approximately three o'clock. And still, way too hot for tennis. Hey, like that'll ever stop Ryoma.

"Not a chance, like I'd listen to such nonsence coming from that baka oyaji."

"Hm? What's 'bad a oh whata'? Or did you say something else?"

"It's Japanese stupid... and bad a oh whata? That makes no sense at all. It's ba-ka-o-ya-ji." He pronounced the syllables slowly for the hearing-impaired friend of his.

The said stupid and hearing-impaired person gave Ryoma a puzzled look. "Ryoma, you're Japanese?"

Ryoma, in return, gave a dumbfounded look. But not one that look retarded like most people who are dumbfounded look like. "Kevin, in the four years we've known each other, how do you not know I'm Japanese? Don't I look like one?"

Kevin Smith, his best friend of elementary school and his first year in middle school. He was the first one to become friends with Ryoma when he first came to America. And now, well, he's the only person that's remained as his friend for that long. Ryoma's crude personality tends to drive people away in fear or hatred while Kevin's ...crazy...personality seemed to be drawn to these kinds of people. Sometimes, Ryoma thought Kevin was a little masochistic.

But, people say, everywhere they go, they were pretty much like this: and they show the middle and index finger interlocked.

Yep.

Best friends.

Whether Ryoma liked it or not.

Kevin laughed. "Oh right... I don't know really, it never occurred to me that you were. Man, but you're so white-washed I thought you didn't know anything but English!"

Ryoma scowled. "Of course I know. I'm not as dumb as you. And I am not white-washed-"

"Dude, you're as white as the blue-eyed blonde chick walking down street!"

As soon as Kevin said it, Ryoma whipped his head around to see this blue-eyed blonde chick. Kevin laughed even harder. "Bwahaha! I can't believe you thought there was one!" Ryoma's eyebrows slanted down. "Hahahahaa!" Kevin clutched his stomach as his laugh became almost uncontrollable. "Haaa...hehe, oww...it..hahahaa, hurts... to laugh..."

Ryoma just stared at his hysterical friend- no, hysterical stranger that he was to slowly back away from and find a... sane tennis player to practice or match with. He turned around and started walking towards the other tennis courts.

"Wait Ryoma..." Kevin pleaded, trying to stifle his laughing, "Sorry, sorry, I can play now."

Ryoma continued to stare blankly.

"C'mon, I already apologized. Warm up?"

Warm up in this weather? There was no need to. He and Kevin already looked like they just came out of a steaming house.

But Ryoma nodded anyways.

"Mini-tennis yeah?" The service line was the court. It helped with controlling. And it was fun... if the players were good.

"So, what's with the sudden Japanese?" A nice mini rally was going.

"My old man said we're going to Japan." The ball whizzed right over the net.

"What?" The ball went right pass Kevin.

"What are you what-ing for? I said, me and my dad are going to Japan."

"I know what you said! Why? What for? How long?"

"Hey. Say... Ryoma, want to go to Japan?"

"Why?"

"To visit your mother of course! Why else?"

Two weeks until school started. Plenty of time for a visit.

"Sure."

"Alright, well get packing. Our flight's tomorrow."

"Ehhh!? You already had the tickets?!"

Nanjirou smiled stupidly, "Yep. Oh, also there's a Japanese textbook on your desk. Go learn something."

"Dad. It's summer."

"Exactly why you need to do some homework. Now get packing Ryoma! Tomorrow, early morning!"

Ryoma groaned.

"I'm moving there." He said in a monotonous voice.

"What? When was this decided!?"

"Quite some time." Ryoma started the rally again.

"And you tell me now!? What the hell Ryoma!" Kevin missed the ball.

Ryoma kept an expressionless face as Kevin looked at it with horror.

And Kevin gaped.

And stared.

And if Ryoma looked closely, he could see a little water about to come out of Kevin's eyes.

"Che." Ryoma smirked, then laughed a little, "Just kidding. Why would I move to Japan? No point."

Kevin sighed in relief then wiped whatever was streaming down his face. "What a RELIEF! I thought you were serious!"

"As if, but my flight's tomorrow, so I gotta go pack. See ya when school starts." He placed his racket in his racket bag and zipped up his stuff.

"Wait, flight? I thought you weren't serious about going!"

Ryoma rose an eyebrow. "Didn't I say? I'm going to Japan. Just not forever."

Kevin looked at Ryoma with sparkling eyes.

"Ryoma! I'll miss you!" Kevin grabbed him and hugged tightly. Death grip!

"Alright, alright! Now stop being gay! You're killing me!"

Kevin let go. "Okay," he said, still teary eyed, "See yah."

Ryoma's lips curved upwards. "Bye."


"I'm back." Ryoma said to particularly no one as he entered his house.

"Tadaima! Means you're home!" Nanjirou shouted. "You ready for tomorrow!?"

"I just got back! Does it look like I'm ready?"

Nanjirou disregarded his comment, "Oh yeah, saw your homework!" He grinned. "Good job!"

Ryoma sighed at his dad. Was he drunk or something? He was way too happy. This was unusual if he wasn't drunk.

He sniffed.

Nope, no alcohol, beer, or anything. It was just plain old dad.

Ryoma headed for the stairs to his room.

"Hold on! Ryoma, what size are you? Medium? Small? ...extra small?"

Ryoma glared and growled. "Small is...my size."

Nanjirou ignored the glare and continued being happy. "OK! You're set! Long day tomorrow!"

The younger Echizen stomped up the stairs.