Prince Of Tennis Fan Fiction ❯ Trapped ❯ Teaser Chapter ( Prologue )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

By: Enzeru

Trapped.

By: Enzeru

Disclaimer. I do not own Prince of Tennis.

Teaser.

No one ever said life was supposed to be easy and that was something Ryoma had learned the hard way.

At the young age of 12 Ryoma was invited to join the US open after having shown his amazing skill in tennis when playing in the school tennis team. Even though he really didn't show it he was happy. Okay so he had some problems with his conscious since he had to abandon his friends' right before the nationals. But his friends had helped him make his decision in the end.

But to be honest the feeling of getting to play in the US open was nothing compared to his last game with Tezuka. To beat Tezuka was the most amazing moment of his life so far. After that the two people left for him to win over were the tensai Fuji and off course his father. Oh those where the good days in life. Everyday was a game and he was enjoying every moment of it but yet again he didn't show it.

Oh what he wouldn't give to play against his old friends again, to measure his strength against Tezuka. To see if Fuji has developed more counters, to tease monkey king for his extreme diva behavior, to play doubles with Momo despite the fact that they really did suck at it. To train under the often absurd menus made up by Inui and get punished with his vile drinks. To be annoyed as Shinji held long monologues with himself in the middle of a game or discussion.

He wanted to see if Kaidoh had learned to say even one sentence without adding a Fshhhhh. And if Kawamura had quit tennis in order to work at his father's sushi shop. To see if Kikimaru was still making the cute little noises he was famous for and if he still did his acrobatic tennis style. To see if Taichi ever did start playing tennis instead of managing it.

To listen to the infuriating bragging of Horio and to help the very shy Ryusaki girl and yes he wouldn't even mind listening to that annoying screaming girl who could not go even one day without screaming `Ryoma-sama' at least ten times.

Hell even his father's perverted ways was something he would give anything to be close to again. Okay let's face it, he would do anything possible to turn back time and change the things that had happened since he left Japan for America. He missed being that kid who had incredible insight of things when it was about tennis but was ridiculously naive when it came to real life.

His childhood had been great actually. He had a mother that loved him and cared for him as much as she could, considering her job.

He had an adopted brother who looked surprisingly a lot like him. Even though he had actually forgotten his brother as he had just up and left some years after the adoption and as the years passed the young Ryoma had lost what memories he had of his brother. He had remembered him during a cruise when they had briefly been united again.

His father had given up his own professional tennis career to be able to raise his son. But he had started to train his son in tennis at such a young age that the tennis racket was almost the same size as Ryoma himself.

And after having been raised in America they moved to Japan and there his cousin Nanako moved in with them. She was a sweet girl who took care of him as well as his parents, well if you call confiscating his fathers photo magazines helping that is.

And soon after he started attending Seigaku he joined the tennis regulars and he got more friends than he ever had before. They taught him what friendship and caring really was. And he missed all the people from the schools they had played against.

But as much as he missed all that he wished more than anything else that he could just forget. He didn't want to remember things he could never go back to. He wanted to get his mind blank to just forget everything that had happened in his life. To forget the events that had led him to get stuck in this pathetic excuse for a life. It has been five long years since he last saw Japan and any of the friends he had there. And about four years and eight months since he had last seen his family.

Here he was, almost seventeen years old, still short for his age and still lithe and feminine looking.

Here he was, locked in the room that had been his for four years, three months, two weeks and six days, but who was counting?

Here he was, getting dressed appropriately for the night and his job.

Here he was, just waiting for the door to open so that he could begin what he had been trained to do.

Here he was, standing outside his room getting the leather collar with the tiny GPS chip in it placed on his neck.

Here he was, being escorted to his master to accompany him for the night.

Here he was, almost seventeen years old and forced into life as a sex slave.

XxX POT XxX

Enzeru