Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Tennis but I wish I did.
A/N: Ok this is my first ever P.o.T. fan fic so please treat me well! Bows also give me positive and negative feed back on any thing in the fic including suggestions etc. Also excuse the bits of OOC
Chapter 1
Welcome to America
"Oi Ryoma!" the voice caused the emerald haired teen to turn Ponta left forgotten half way to his mouth. Only to see a blonde blob attack him from above. The can slipped from his grip and hit the ground about the same time he was hit with the impact. Bodies crashed to the ground as the purple Ponta pooled soaking into Ryoma's jacket while his blonde teammate, and oddly enough best friend, straddled his hips. "Lookie! Lookie, lookie, lookie!" and a package was shoved in his face sadly it was to close for him to read the fine print.
"This is what?" he asked flatly and the silver eyes pouted as he fixed a disinterested look on their owner.
"It's a package from the Sponsors. Their planning on bringing some people from Japan." Ryoma stared he got tackled for this? Two girls passed and he remembered where they were: In front of the post office. They giggled as they passed and Ryoma's eye twitched. "Something wrong Ryoma?" asked the blonde curiously.
"Get off me." The blonde leaned closer so they were nose to nose. Just like he and…no! He placed a firm hand over his friend's face and yanked his friend off him peeling away his soaked summer workout jacket. The blonde whined rubbing his face as he sat on the ground and Ryoma's golden eyes flickered from him rolled once then looked to the sky. Were they still a team?
Meanwhile in Japan
The sun baked the tennis courts and the doubles pair continued relentlessly. They were all in college nowadays but only half of them continued Tennis. Tezuka did a little bit but not much, Fuji seemed to drop into some void somewhere between college and high school. Inui had taken up hacking in replace for his juice creations and actually bottled the stuff as it made a killing, in some cases literally in the Unite States. The others, well they hadn't talked in a long time with any one else. As for their hot headed, stubborn, near annoying teammate, he had gone back to the U.S. when his dad was offered a job over there and had only heard of him winning tournament titles, surprisingly one in doubles. But they were US titles and thus they hadn't paid much mind to them. Then someone from their team ran over yelling over the machine. Osihi shut off the machine and waited, took the envalope from their team mate and stared open mouthed at the writing. Never had anything been so vague;
Tokyo National Airport, noon on Friday August 9th, pick up tickets at check in.
Sure enough on that Friday they stood at gate 16 with a bag on their shoulders.
"Oishi."
"Yeah?"
"Why are we here again?"
"Good question." Familiar voices were heard and they turned. Momo and Kaido came each pushing a cart full of bags behind them the rest of the old Seigaku tennis team. The eight old teammates stood face to face, six facing Kikmaru and Oishi. Silence then an explosion of noise and everyone in line turned alarmed as they began talking loudly, shouting and exchanging hello's and lastest personal updates with each other. The big question.
"Where are we going?" asked Momo and they all fell into thoughtful silence. The speakers clicked on when the flight attendants held the mic to her mouth.
"Flight 183 is now boarding. I repeat flight 183 bound for San Francisco now boarding." And she politely began roll call as the eight Japanese tennis players stared at her in mortified shock as she called for first class and they handed her their passes. They were going to the United States!
Back in America
"You invited your old teammates?" asked a brown haired 19 year old looking to the youngest team member in front of his with a bit of surprise. Ryoma had never done anything along these lines. In exchange for playing how he wanted he had to inform them of all his little plans or at least that was the deal.
"The sponsors asked me to pick players from Japan for the match." Ryoma answered the captain simply. "Is there a problem with it Austin?" he added Austin shrugged.
"No. I just don't want your old feelings of loyalty to shift." He stated coldly and the others looked up from what they were doing. As much as a loner Ryoma was he was just as big a team player, or at least he was nowadays but that's how their team operated, everyone was a singles player who didn't want to lose.
"There's no problem."
"Are you-" Austin stopped as a arm wrapped around Ryoma's neck in a friendly manner and the blonde with silver eyes smiled but there was a dangerous look to them as though the captain was prey to a hawk. "…Mitch…" he muttered in a requesting manner.
"If Ryoma says there's no problem there isn't going to be. Think about it over the past 2 or so years when has he proven his word false?" a mutter agreement and the captain shrugged he'd lost again to his vice.
"Very well, but if anything happens your taking the fall."
"Fine." Said Mitch and went back to his locker Ryoma following, ever since they were young er it was always Mitch pushing Ryoma's choice into the 'ok'. As the blonde stripped his shirt Ryoma's eyes flickered to the scar on his ribs he shook his head and busied himself with changing.
"Ryoma." He glanced to Mitch as the blonde pulled on a t-shirt. "Don't make my words false ok? What you do in your private time with them is your business but when you're on the court your playing for the United States, not the memory of some Middle school Tennis Team. No matter how good you were." Ryoma nodded after his long friendship, if you could call it that; with Mitch he still understood nothing about him. Just that he was someone who like Tezuka pushed, and in some cases unlike Tezuka drop kicked him, foreword. Lower jaw locked and he glanced at his face in the mirror on the far wall. Determination and confidence was written all over it. Soon enough he'd settle this unease in him that had manifested for the past five years. He was going to prove to those in Japan who had beaten him he wasn't the 'short skilled seventh grader' in fact he was now about the same height as Fuji was and that wasn't the only change…
Somewhere over the Pacific
"I want off!" cried Kikumaru pawing to get away as Momo and Oishi tried to strap him back to his chair. Sudden he stopped his wild motions and face paled.
"Kikumaru?" asked Momo hesitantly and the red head turned suddenly and Momo found out what he had for breakfast. "Oishi your doubles partner just threw up on me!" he exclaimed obviously Kikumaru didn't do well on planes. Other first class passengers shrunk in their seats. This was going to be a long ride. Which was confirmed when their ringleader commanded push-ups since he lacked a court.
About 6 hours later
Odd they'd left in mid afternoon and been on the plane long enough it should be dark out and yet…sun light exploded through the glass windows and they dragged themselves to the front. Passing the checkpoint their move foreword halted. Everything was in English. Then Kikumaru found their ride, a blonde was shouting something lazily holding a sign with messy kanji scribbled on it as though he had just written it. There was flashes of cameras as they walked foreword a bit hesitantly this guy was taller then Inui. Not by much but it still was a bit weird. The blonde turned blinked, blew a bubble with his gum then tackled the group, successfully sending the entire squad to the ground, after all none of them had gotten any sleep on the plane.
"Down Mitch they looked wiped." Commanded a voice that made the six tennis players on the ground, except Tezuka, Inui, and Fuji, jump a bit. The blonde, I.D.-ed as Mitch, bristled and he leapt to his feet with a movement and grace similar to Kikumaru's, who seemed to see that as a challenge of some sort for he jumped up only a bit flasher and the blonde blinked at him like some numb minded child.
"Why do you always tackle people? Can't you just say 'Hi'?" asked one of the approaching boys with hair like Mitch's, but unlike the silver eyes vice captain he had blue eyes.
"But Ari," Mitch pulled a puppy face "I wanted to show how happy I was…." Ari mean while twitched in purest annoyance and was about to give something sort of an explosion to Mitch's response but he was cut off before he started.
"Forget it Ari he's physically unable to do so. Don't you know that already?" And the Seigaku team turned they all knew that tone and voice. Mitch flittered over with a speed possibly surpassing Fudome's (sp) speed ace, and wrapped arms around a ignoring Ryoma who had given up brushing him off for the moment, hands in the pockets of his sweats with the team name and logo one them. Almost a spitting image of him a few years back. A signature smirk reached his lips as the rest of the Seigaku team picked themselves up.
"On behalf of the United States Tennis Association-"
"What's that?" interrupted Momo shoving bodies off so he could stand. Mitch piped up.
"Its our pro league here." A few glances were tossed to Ryoma neither out of surprise nor shock it was an odd thingy they had partly never expected him to go pro on a team.
"-I would like to welcome you," He held a hand out to Tezuka who shook it and more cameras from the local papers flashed like flicking spotlights. "To America."
Mitch leaned close to Ryoma's ear with a smirk darker then Fuji's. After all the glances the young member had thrown to the Seigaku captain did not go unnoticed.
"Why don't you go give a proper hello?" he asked and before Ryoma could react Mitch had been set in motion shoving Ryoma across the small space between the teams straight into Tezuka.
Chapter one End
A/N: The chaos will ensue! And I think I might team up Mitch and Fuji…just to make things interesting Neh? Hope you all enjoyed it like I said some of them are a bit out of character but it's my first fic. I'm not going into to much detail with the American team. PLEASE REVIEW!
Coming soon/ chapter two; America's signature foods / yes this next chapter is basically one long 'welcome to America' party with to much food and way to much sugar for some people. Also see just how completive these tennis players get at DDR.