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http://www.lovemyanime.net/prince-of-tennis-eikokushiki-teikyuu-shiro-kessen-episode-1/ Login | Sign UpFanFiction.Net | unleash your imagination Browse Just In Communities Forums Betas Search Mobile 1 Browse » Anime . Books . Cartoons . Comics . Games . Misc . Movies . Plays . TV Just In » All . Stories: New . Updated . Crossovers: New . Updated Communities » General . Anime . Books . Cartoons . Comics . Games . Misc . Movies . Plays . TV Forums » General . Anime . Books . Cartoons . Comics . Games . Misc . Movies . Plays . TV Browse for Beta Readers Search » Story Go 1 Anime/Manga » Prince of Tennis » Extreme Streets Tennis Author: mel92 PM Not much is known about Echizen Ryoma‘s past before Seigaku, but what if there were more, something deeper and more dangerous, more thrilling… Like a secret past that comes back to bite him and everyone he knows in Japan? How then would the story unfold…? Rated: Fiction M - English - E. Ryoma - Chapters: 4 - Words: 42,199 - Reviews: 195 - Favs: 296 - Follows: 290 - Updated: 01-09-10 - Published: 10-09-08 - id: 4584830 1. Dare to Play A a AbcAbc Abc Extreme Streets Tennis Hello! So this story has been knocking around in my brain for several days now, and no matter what I do, every time I close my eyes – the idea comes back. So I figured the only way I can escape is to write the damn story… even if along the way… I create a few monsters… :D I don't speak Japanese, nor have I ever learnt it – so I'll try my best, but bare with me if I mess up the honorific's, or use one or two words in the wrong context. This story is a little… different, it's Ryoma centric, and focuses a lot on the notion of Super-rookie(s) and Ryoma's past – it's a little deeper look into how things could have been – and why they were… Hmm, that sounds a little weird… But it goes through his time at Seigaku too, through all the tournaments – and the Nationals – and then into something… else. There are a few unavoidable OCs, but don't worry as they won't take up the majority of the story. Most cannon characters are involved, but you'll find that I have changed a couple of backgrounds a little, resulting in twists throughout the normal plotline. It starts with a little background history for Ryoma, by about chapter 3 though, he'll be starting Seigaku. Anyway, here is a summary: If you think about it… Not much is known about Echizen Ryoma's past before he came to Seigaku, apart from what was public knowledge, such as winning four consecutive American Junior Tennis tournaments and hence becoming known as a tensai, or prodigy child; 'The Prince of Tennis'. But what if there were something more then just his father teaching him tennis his whole childhood? Something deeper, and more dangerous, more thrilling… Didn't he have friends in America? Why does he sleep so much during the day? Eat so much for a small body? Why is his personality so reclusive? What if it wasn't Nanjiro that he needed to beat so badly? What if Ryoma had a secret past that went much further then even he could imagine, and if it came back to bite him, and everyone he knows in Japan? How, then, would the story unfold…? I don't own P.o.T. or anything else you recognise. This is fanfiction, and no copyright is intended. Language warning! This story is rated 'M', there are a lot of themes in this story, if they offend you… I'll set Fuji on you. With a glass of Inui juice… And… SPOILERS WARNING! If you haven't seen or read the OVAs then you probably won't understand some of this. Also I reserve the right of creativity! Which means that while a few things in this story might seem a little… impossible at times… imagination makes it possible. :D EST Ryoma remembered when it began. He remembered all too well just how everything began. It was the last day of school, a week or so before Ryoma's tenth birthday in America. His birthday was on the 24th of December, so a layer of snow covered the ground, and the air held a frosty chill, warning the people of New York to wrap up tight. Ryoma, who hated the cold, was plodding home from school in a grey hoodie jumper – the school he went to didn't require a uniform. His signature hat blocked the glare from the white snow, and his tennis racket bag was slung over his shoulder. Currently his thoughts were on the nice hot bath at home, and on Karupin his beloved cat, waiting to cuddle at home, when – "Hey! Echizen!" a loud voice yelled from behind him. Started out of his thoughts, Ryoma turned around to be met with a boy about his age and size, with blonde hair and piecing blue eyes that seemed to burn with resentment. A tennis bag like his own was hefted on the boy's arm. Ryoma blinked. "…Do I know you?" he asked, when the boy just continued to glare at him. Somehow the boy seemed to take this as an insult, and he narrowed his eyes at Ryoma, lips lifting in a sneer. Ryoma was inwardly bewildered – he really had no idea who this baka joker was. "You will soon, Ryoma Echizen! I'll make sure you never forget my name!" Ryoma regarded him – unimpressed. "Che," he said turning away again, if the boy didn't want to speak sense then he wasn't going to stick around and listen. "HEY! Don't you walk away from me! I'm Kevin Smith, and I'm challenging you!" That stopped him. A challenge? Why, sure. It might be fun to play someone else, other then his baka oyaji. "Okay," the nine-year-old agreed simply, half turning to smirk at the mysterious Kevin Smith who looked like he held a personal grudge against him for some reason. The two boys walked in silence to a nearby street tennis court, took out their rackets and stood on the opposite sides of the net. "Which?" Ryoma asked. "Rough!" "Heh," was this guy for real? "Smooth." Kevin's mouth twisted sourly and he went to stand in his receiving position. Ryoma walked confidently to the base line, taking out a ball. Bounce, bounce. "Hey, when I win, tell me what this is about, won't you?" Ryoma said. "Just serve already!" Kevin snapped. Bounce. "Mada Mada Dane." Bounce, bounce. Ryoma threw the ball up with practiced form, easily catching it with his racket, and sending it zooming into the other half. The game had begun. Kevin smacked it back with pent up aggression, and Ryoma was surprised by the force behind it. Neither willing to let up, they rallied back and forth, getting faster and stronger with each hit, keeping pace with the other. Soon though, Kevin slipped on a slightly icy patch, giving Ryoma the first point. The game continued – swallowing up the minutes as the boys lost themselves in the flow. They discarded their warmer outer-garments despite the cold air, as the exertion quickly had them dripping in sweat. Kevin was actually pretty good, and as the score was levelled at three games all, Ryoma found to his surprise that he was enjoying himself. Usually he only had his father to play against, and he always lost as his father's skill was off the charts. This Kevin kid was practically a made rival for Ryoma, he had never played a game like this before, and somehow that made him want to win all the more. Little did the boys know, they weren't alone, someone was watching their game from the shadows. After another half and hour, Ryoma finally pulled a victory at seven games to five, and they both fell panting onto the cold bitumen court. "Wow," Kevin murmured, Ryoma's good ears catching the breathy words. "Father, was your opponent like this?" Ryoma frowned for a moment, confused at the comment, but then he dismissed it. "Look," Ryoma said, climbing up on his knees so he could peer over the net at the boy. "Kevin, I don't know what your quarrel is with me, but that was the most brilliant game of tennis I've ever played," he stated. It wasn't often that Ryoma gave out compliments, mostly because of the lack of people worthy of them. "Me too." Kevin smiled up at him, and then clamoured up on his own knees to face Ryoma, he suddenly looked sheepish. "Err… I'm sorry about being so rude and challenging you like that, I guess… I see now… my problem isn't really with you, so – err – yeah… I'm sorry," "Don't mind," Ryoma smirked at the boy's uncertainty, he offered his hand over the net, and Kevin gladly grasped it. Ryoma felt a strange euphoria erupt inside him as they smiled at each other. Was this what it was like to have a friend? "Oi, you kids," a new, older, voice called from off to their left. The two boys spun around, quickly springing to their feet in the shock of being snuck up on in spite of being exhausted. The newcomer was a handsome boy of about fifteen years of age; he had black hair that fell around his face, pulled into a tie at the nape of his neck, and calculating hazel eyes in a weirdly otherwise, emotionless face.