A/N: The amount of feedback I'm getting is truly astounding. None of my stories have done this well on the first day, or week for that matter! Please continue giving me your support, and thanks! I also appreciate constructive criticism, so don't hesitate to comment!

BTW: I'm trying to do weekly updates, so Mondays are the days to look for.

Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis. That belongs to a bunch of other people I don't know.

Warning: In case it wasn't obvious, this is AU. Also, there is some family fighting, so be warned.

Ryoshi wandered down the stairs the next morning, only to see his parents still downstairs. He noticed that they were still wearing the same clothes as they were at the bad place – he refused to call it anything but; how could it be good when it took his brother? His mother was still hiding behind that wrinkled cloth of hers, and his father was staring blankly into the TV screen, though nothing flickered on it.

As he moved down the hallway, he noticed the smell of something burning.

He tried to move quietly, and it apparently worked, because they never turned to look at him once, but as he snuck into the kitchen, his brother whipped to face him. His eyes were rimmed in red, and there many little stains on the front of his shirt. The burning smell had magnified, and now Ryoshi could see why; there was a stack of burnt toast in the trash, and another two pieces popped out of the toaster, also blackened beyond edibility.

Ryoga turned to them and quickly cast them into the trash with the others. With his back turned to his brother, he finally felt it safe to talk. "You hungry, squirt?" If his voice was a little higher than normal, well, then, it was just the heat messing with his voice. Noticing that they were currently out of bread, Ryoga reached for an orange. At least it seemed as though Ryoshi had gotten some sleep; he couldn't say the same for the rest of the family.

"Uh…" What could he possibly want to eat? How could he possibly think about food when his twin, his mirror image, his other half, could no longer taste anything? His eyes begin to drift with the guilt that he couldn't help feeling. "No, not really…" A squishy, wet sound drew his wandering eyes back to Ryoga. The orange he had grabbed was flatter now; it seemed this too was annihilated by his sibling. Maybe he wasn't hungry, either. The food certainly didn't want to be eaten.

Ryoga sighed; food just wasn't agreeing with him today. "I'm going out. If they ask where, say the beach." As he headed towards the backdoor, he saw his brother still standing in the doorway. "You want to come? Mom and Nanjirou are just going to be moping around here at the house; getting out of it will probably be better."

A split second decision was all it took. "If we can play tennis."

Ryoga blinked. "Uh, sure, if you grab your stuff." Maybe a good game will get his mind off of his other brother.

"Ryoshi! Dinner's ready!"

"Uisu!" Rinko Echizen felt her eyebrows furrow at the word. Since when had her baby boy had a deep voice? He was only eight; he shouldn't sound like Ryoga so soon, right?

Footsteps drew her attention to the door. "Are you okay, Ryoshi? Do have a cold?" She placed a hand on his forehead; he didn't feel particularly warm. Maybe he was just pretending to be an adult, then?

He simply ducked under her arm. "I'm fine, mom." He glanced at the table, and then his cool, teenage attitude dissolved. The whining in his voice wasn't quite on Ryoga's level just yet. "Can't we have Japanese food for once?"

Rinko shook off her confusion at the change and chuckled. "If they sold the correct ingredients, then of course, but for now you're just going to have deal with American food."

Later that night she told her husband about it. Right after she got rid of his magazines.

Nanjirou shrugged, then looked sadly at his magazine. "His birthday was a few days ago; maybe he wants to pretend he's older?" His wife looked dubious, but it was all he could really come up with. Kids were always pretending to be something they weren't.

His boy's voice rang out from the kitchen, the same deep one that had his mother concerned. "Hey, old man, after dinner, can we play?"

"Sure, kid. Now hurry up and eat."

"Are you sure you want to do this, Ryoshi? Your tennis has improved a lot, really, but I don't think you're ready for an official tournament." Nanjirou still couldn't get over the fact that his son had suddenly demanded to participate in the junior tournament. That was just too arrogant, even for him.

"I'm nearly nine, dad, I think I can handle a little tournament."

"Just let him do it dad. I think he's a little better than you give him credit for." Ryoga was angry, why were they even arguing? Ryoshi could handle anything the other twerps threw at him. He was stronger than he pretended.

They would watch as Ryoshi completely destroyed his opponents. It was a mock tournament, with only a fifty dollar prize for the winner and no title, but they saw his potential in the sport through the way he decimated the competition.

As Ryoshi walked towards them, Ryoga nudged the adult. The smirk on the boy's face wasn't anything like the usual, sweet Ryoshi. It almost reminded them of Ryoma, dead for over two years. Ryoma was the arrogant one, so why was it Ryoshi wearing that smirk?

"Congratulations, brat. You-"

"Still say I'm not ready, old man?" The smirk grew a little.

Another door slammed. "What do you mean, you're leaving?" Ryoshi, in his bedroom, winced. Ryoga's room was right next to his, and the sound went easily through the walls. His father and brother were really going at it; his room was the only safe place from the feuds that had been happening more and more often.

"What do you think I mean? What else could I mean? I'm sick of this house!"

"Come now, you two. Can't we discuss this at all?"

"I wish, but this brat's not having any of it."

"That's because you guys aren't paying any attention to Ryoshi! He's changing, impersonating Ryoma more and more, and you guys aren't doing anything about it! I can't stand to see my only brother impersonating his dead twin, but what I can't stand even more is how you aren't doing anything about it!" I need out! Was what went unsaid.

There was a crash as something was thrown down the stairs. "You're only seventeen! What on earth can you do in the streets! How are you going to support yourself?" Najirou was infuriated. He blamed them for Ryoshi's behavior? Wasn't it just a preteen thing?

Silence, then Ryoga spoke up softly. "I got an offer that would support me, playing tennis for some rich tycoon's team. I play, he supports me." It wasn't the total truth, but if it got them off his back, then damn it all to hell.

Ryoshi could hear his mother crying, just outside his door, where she obviously decided she couldn't take it anymore. "If we could -hic- do anything, we would. But it c-could very well just be s-something else!"

"Then take him to a doctor or something! Get a diagnosis! But what he's doing isn't right! Ryoma's possessing him, and he's letting it happen! There's nothing right about that!" A pause, as Ryoga huffed for air. "Ryoshi! You can hear me, can't you, bud? Listen, I'll stay if you stop. Just be yourself; you don't need to pretend to be someone else!" The house was silent as it waited for its youngest occupant's response.

The door opened. As he thought, his mother was against the wall opposite his door, eyes red and tears falling off of her face. His father was on one of the middle steps, and his brother was glaring up from the landing. They all seemed to be saying Make the decision, already.

Ryoshi felt the pressure begin to weigh on him. He was only eleven! How was he supposed to make a decision that could tear apart his family? They'd already lost a son because of him, and what he said next could cost them another. What was he supposed to say to make it all better?

He still didn't understand, he would always think in hindsight, because whatever he had said next had forced his only other sibling out of his life. Possibly forever.

"Fools! Don't you even know your own grip?"

Swing!

"If you want to do top-spins, you use the Western grip." Shuffle. "It's done by holding the racket like you're going to shake someone's hand." Whoosh! "Here!"

"That's why you're the ace at the Kitagoe tennis club." Hoo… The racket nearly hit her in the face. Again. Suuu…

"Stupid! Its common sense!" Nearer, advancing, closer came that racket. She didn't want to see it coming.

"Hey." What? "You guys are too loud." Who's he? He looks my age.

"Heh, I can't believe I just got told off by a grade-schooler…"

"Bingo." What's bingo? "Taking a racket from the ground is the correct western grip." Oh, so he plays tennis, too? But should he really be correcting these upperclassmen? They look really mad, especially the one picking up his racket.

"What?"

"Oh, by the way, the handshake grip you were referring to is called the Eastern grip." The strange boy shrugged. "There are some who mix them up." The train chose then to come to a stop. He was getting off here, also?

"Hey, you! Wait up!" Is he really gonna ignore him?

"Haha. Sasabe, you got dissed!"

"Yo, we better get off too!" No, they're coming as well?

"Ah, me too!" Ryuuzaki Sakuno dashed off the train, hoping to find the arrogant boy and thank him.

"Fool. I wasn't playing seriously. I can beat you if there was one more set."

"Sasabe… Just stop…"

"Just admit that you lost…" The sound of a throat being cleared drew their attention to the invincible squirt.

"It's fine with me if you want to play one more set…" Then the old lady watching on the sidelines sighed.

"Don't you get it? You stubborn fool… You can't beat Ryoma Echizen no matter how many times you try."

"What are you talking about?" Ryoma took the chance to switch hands.

"He's left-handed…"

"No way…" The pompous teenagers watched in awe as the green ball was tossed high in the sky, then hit with dangerous accuracy, bouncing from under Sasabe. It rolled harmlessly until it came in contact with the wire fence. It wasn't even all that special, but...

"I-I quit." Never had any tennis player fled with their tails between their legs after a match. Sasabe was out in three seconds flat. His friends right behind him.

Coach Ryuuzaki chuckled. "Ryoma Echizen, he's a monster… It'll be fun from here on."

A/N Fixed the line break issue; FF deleted what I had. Thanks to the reviewers who told me about it.