Prince Of Tennis Fan Fiction ❯ If Wishes Were Horses ❯ Chapter One ( Chapter 1 )

AN: Hello, y’all! Before you begin to read, please take the time to look over my author’s note.

To Rinko fans: I would recommend turning away now if you do not like the fact that Rinko will be my antagonist. I do not know her character very well (it’s not really explored very well in the manga or anime) and have thus manipulated it to fulfill my needs. She will be OOC, and you will probably hate me for what I am going to have her do. Do not flame me, for you have been warned.

Dedication: This story was inspired by chapter 48 of expendable’s Changechildren.

Standard Disclaimer: Sugarpony does not own Tennis no Ohjisama. It belongs to the brilliant Takeshi Konomi. No copyright infringement is intended.

Warnings: Angst, child abuse, psychological abuse, OOC.

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If Wishes Were Horses

Chapter One

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If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.
If turnips were watches, I would wear one by my side.
    And if "ifs" and "ands"
    Were pots and pans,
There'd be no work for tinkers!

-“If Wishes Were Horses,” a Mother Goose nursery rhyme

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Echizen Ryoma, Samurai Jr., Tennis no Ohjisama (The Prince of Tennis), Seigaku’s star rookie, and three-time champion of the US Open was currently sitting in a fast-food restaurant and shoving burgers into his mouth as quickly as possible. Sitting across from him was his best friend and resident burger buddy, Momoshiro Takeshi. The two were engaged in a thrilling eating contest, one that had been ongoing for the past four years.

The young tennis star had returned to Japan nearly seven months earlier at the beginning of April in order to join Seigaku Koto Gakkou (Seigaku High School)’s tennis team, and it was no surprise when he was once again placed in a regular position and helped them fight their way to a victory at the Japanese National High School Tennis Tournament. His senpai-tachi (senior classmates), including Kawamura-senpai, who had been urged by his Otou-san (father) to continue tennis throughout high school, had all been surprised yet highly enthusiastic about his return, and when they asked him what had prompted it, the only response they received was “I got bored.” They all knew that despite his words, though, their Ochibi had missed them as much as they had missed him.

Ryoma, his parents, and his beloved cat Karupin had all resettled into their family’s temple, which had been upheld by his cousin Nanako. She, however, had only stayed long enough to cook them all a welcome home dinner (Japanese style, of course) and pack her things before moving into her and her new husband’s apartment. The young boy had begun school the very next day, while Nanjirou had resumed his duties as a monk and Rinko had returned to the Tokyo branch of her law firm. Things were slowly but surely returning to a state of normalcy.

Or so it seemed. Along with his temple duties, Nanjirou had also resumed his laziness and spent most of him time reading porn magazines or playing with Karupin. Without Nanako to help with chores and keep her Oji-san (Uncle) in line, Rinko had become increasingly agitated with her husband. On top of this, she was being overwhelmed by work and desperately in need of stress relief, which she could not seem to find at home. The couple, who had been happily married for sixteen years, were now always tense with one another, and Ryoma was caught in the middle of it. He always seemed to be grating on his Okaa-san (Mother)’s nerves, no matter how carefully he tread. He was finding that he was dreading his return home from tennis practice each day, and he therefore attempted to waste as much time as possible once dismissed by Tezuka-buchou (Captain Tezuka).

Thence was the reason that Ryoma was eating as many burgers as he possibly could, despite the fact that he had offered to pay the bill in order to persuade Momoshiro to join him.

Eventually, though, the two of them had eaten all they could, and Momo gave his friend a ride home. They parted ways at the temple, and Ryoma entered his house.

“Tadaima (I’m home),” he called quietly as he slipped off his shoes, hoping to avoid any response.

There was only a short pause before Echizen Rinko ran to the front door and slapped her son across the face.

“Where had you been?” she asked, her voice raised to an angry pitch. “You kept us waiting and now dinner’s gone cold!”

Ryoma kept his head bowed and muttered a soft apology. The events had become routine. “Gomen nasai (I’m very sorry), Kaa-san. Practice ran late.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you take that tone with me! You should be grateful that I always have dinner ready when you’re supposed to arrive home! You should call if you’re going to be late!”

The boy tugged his hat over his eyes and whispered another apology only to receive another slap across the face. “Also,” she continued, “show more respect to your Okaa-san! And take off your hat when inside my house!” She raised her hand to strike once again only to have her arm caught in a firm hold.

“That’s enough.” Nanjirou’s strong voice rang out soft but clear, and the air tensed even further.

“Let go of me, Nanjirou!”

“Yadda (No way).” She struggled against her husband, but she was no match for his well-condition tennis grip. “You will not harm our son.”

Rinko narrowed her eyes at the man in a glare. “Of course,” she whispered furiously, “you would take his side. You always do. Do I even matter to you anymore, Nanjirou?”

The man hastily let go of her arm and took her into a firm hug. “Of course you do, Rinko-chan,” he told her. “Aishiteru (I love you).” He then lifted her chin to look her in the eyes. “But I will not allow you to continue hurting our son. He does not deserve this.”

The woman abruptly pushed away her husband, angered by his words. “Lies! All lies! I never mattered to you, Nanjirou! All you ever cared about was tennis!” Hurt shone in her eyes, and tears began to form. The Samurai felt a pain like a knife had been stabbed into his heart and viscously twisted. “I tried, I really did! I thought I meant something to you, and you even retired from tennis for us! But then, he was born!”

Rinko raced to the young teenager and grabbed his arm, causing him to drop his tennis bag. His hat, already abandoned, was unable to hide his pain and fear. “Nothing I did mattered anymore! You were always with him, and you still are, playing tennis, teaching him new tricks, encouraging him, being in his life more than you were ever in mine! You took him away from me!” She was yelling at Ryoma again, a dangerous glint in her eyes, squeezing both his arms now hard enough to make him wince while shoving him into the door. “You took away everything I ever had, everything I ever wanted! It’s all your fault! If it wasn’t for you, I would have my husband! If it wasn’t for you, I never would have had to come to Japan! If it wasn’t for you, I would be happy!

“But instead, I’m forced to take care of this family, working myself to my grave every day, and for what? To come home to a husband who would rather look at a stupid magazine than his own wife? To an ungrateful brat who never shows any thanks for what I’ve done for him? To a monster who takes my husband away from me?

“No more!”

Nanjirou hurried forward, afraid of what his wife might do, but she had already thrown Ryoma across the room and into a wall, off of which he hit his head hard. Before he could move, Rinko was at his throat, long, manicured fingernails digging into his neck, hands clenching and cutting off his air supply. “You’re a monster! A demon! You deserve to die a slow and painful death! I wish you had never been born!”

In less than a second the former tennis champion had crossed the room and thrown his wife off of their-- no, his-- son. “Get out.” His voice was dangerously low, and he was practically growling at the woman before him.

“Demo (But), Anata (Dear)!”

“Get. Out. Now.”

Rinko looked her husband in the face with heartbroken eyes, and she let out a muffled sob as she stood. “I really tried,” she choked, tears on her face that was already red with anger. “But it wasn’t enough.” With no more words, she grabbed her purse and raced out the door onto the dark temple grounds.

Nanjirou wasted no more time on the woman and hurried to where his son sat still on the floor. A haunted look was in his usually bright golden eyes, and he made no move to get up from his spot. The monk wanted to cry, but he knew that he needed to be strong for his son. Gently, he took the broken boy into his arms and carried him up the stairs to the bathroom where he set him on the toilet seat. He then grabbed the first aid kit out of the medicine cabinet, bandaged his head and neck, and left to retrieve ice for his bruises. When he returned, Ryoma still had not moved.

Sighing, Nanjirou carried his son to his bedroom, where he laid him on his bed and tucked the covers around him. Karupin curled up next to his master, sensing the boy’s sadness.

Echizen Nanjirou had always been a strong-willed person; after all, he had been a world champion before he had retired from his tennis career. He had always been optimistic, even though he rarely showed it. He had high hopes for his son, and he wanted to help him to achieve his full potential. He supposed, however, that Rinko had been right, in a way. He had been too focused on Ryoma to see his wife’s unhappiness. She had never been one to display her emotions, but to his credit, her husband had noticed the subtle changes in her behavior. She had, as of late, become more and more irritable, and Nanjirou had tried to approach her about the subject. She had always shrugged him off, however, and muttered an excuse about stress from work. Never would he have dreamed that his wife had been jealous of their son!

How long had this been going on? Was it a recent development, or had it been growing inside of her for months or even years? Ryoma was a symbol of their love, and Nanjirou had always seen and treated him as such. Rinko, apparently, had seen him as competition for the man’s affection, and she had reacted accordingly.

Whatever the reason, though, Nanjirou would not- could not- forgive his wife for her actions. She had brutally attacked their only son in numerous ways, with only the intent to hurt and destroy. She was no longer the woman with whom he had fallen in love.

The Samurai, now feeling less worthy of his title than ever before, gazed sadly at his son, who had not even closed his eyes yet. Not knowing what to say, he decided to speak without thinking.

“Nothing she said is true, Ryoma,” he said. There was no reaction from the boy in the bed, but he continued anyway. “You have done nothing wrong. You are the best thing that ever happened to me, and I would be lost without you. Rinko...” He swallowed hard at a lump forming in his throat. “She is not worthy of being your Okaa-san. She was, once, when she was the woman I loved, but something changed. I don’t think anyone could have prevented it even if we had noticed. This is all her problem, and she’ll see that she’s wrong, some day.”

Ryoma had turned onto his side by now, as if he wanted to block out the words of comfort. “Ryoma,” his Otou-san said, “do you understand? You did nothing wrong. None of this is your fault.” The young tennis champion, looking anything but at the moment, laid still for several moments before slowly nodding. Nanjirou breathed a sigh of relief.

“Good.” They both remained where they were in silence for what seemed like hours but was really only minutes before the elder spoke again. “I’m going to call the school tomorrow morning and tell them that you’ll be staying home. You need to rest now, and we both need to figure some things out.” He then turned to leave the room, hesitated in the doorway, and turned back to kiss his son on the forehead before retiring to his own bed for the night.

Ryoma laid in bed, unmoving, for the rest of the night. He could think of nothing but his Okaa-san’s words. He had failed both of his parents as a son; he had forced his Okaa-san to leave because he had been selfish, and he had disappointed his Otou-san by being unable to defeat him in tennis. They had both sacrificed their time and worked hard for nothing. And now, his parents had both lost the love of their lives because of him.

At that moment, Echizen Ryoma, Samurai Jr., Tennis no Ohjisama, Seigaku’s star rookie, and three-time champion of the US Open wished for nothing more than to make everything return to the way it was.

At that moment, Echizen Nanjirou, the original Samurai and former tennis world champion wished for nothing more than to ease his son’s and his own pain caused by his wife’s betrayal.

At that moment, Echizen Rinko wished for nothing more than the death of her son and the love of her husband.

But if wishes were horses, then beggars would ride.

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AN: I hope you all enjoyed this new story of mine. The worst has yet to come, my dears, the angst hasn’t even yet begun- not by a long shot. Please review and tell me what you think.

-Sugarpony

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Completed: 4/02/07
Edited: 6/20/07
Second Edit: 2/09/08
Third Edit: 3/25/08