Gone

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I pulled the piece of paper Ryoga had handed me before and then looked at the address. I got on my bike and then followed the way to the address. 5346 Oakway Dr. Huh. I thought that was the area where all the mansion and rich people are. Even the tennis star Nanjiro.
I pulled into the driveway of the address and then knocked on the door after setting my bike down, waiting for an answer.
I heard yelling inside. It was in Japanese. Maybe I was at the wrong house. I turned around to leave when the door opened and I saw into the house. There was a cat at the door. Huh, must've opened it for me. I petted it for a second before three people came into view shouting at each other. I recognized Ryoma and Ryoga immediately.
And then the cat jumped on Ryoma and pulled him so he would face me. He smacked his hand over Ryoga's swearing mouth and then pointed at me with a frown.
"How do you know where we live?" Ryoma asked.
"He gave it to me," I said, pointing at Ryoga.
"Well, hello there," the older man said. Probably only in his middle ages. I'd guess bout 40 years old. He had tanned skin and short, dark brown hair. "How about I find you a nice thin bathing suit and we go swimming together, eh?" He stepped closer to me in a monk's robe. I frowned.
"Dad!" Ryoma shouted with a scowl on his face. He grabbed my wrist and led me to their backyard where Ryoga stood waiting for us. He must've slipped away when I was staring at the man. He reminded me of someone.
"Oi!" Ryoga called, waving his racket in the air. "Here. We'll start with the basics."
"No. No. No," the man said, coming back out. "I wanted the girl. You two can't share her."
"He's a pervert, right?" I drawled out.
"He's not the only one," Ryoma muttered, glaring at Ryoga. I frowned and looked up at Ryoga. He was only a few inches taller than me. He bounced the tennis ball on the edge of his racket while walking around and looking for something.
"Chibisuke," Ryoga shouted. "Where's the extra rackets?"
"I'm playing too," the man complained. "You can't hog her to yourselves."
The two boys sighed, annoyed and then picked up their rackets and tossed one to me. Ryoga fixed my stance while Ryoma studied from afar and the man was whistling with a tennis ball in his hand and a plain wooden racket in his other hand.
I swung the racket and got a feel for it before the old man served. It was fast. I missed it, but hey, it was my first time playing. Well, first time in three years. The first time since my mom died. The man hit it again and this time I managed to return it, but it was hard, took me two hands.
Ryoga stepped in to give me examples and demonstrations. I let him play for me as I sat on the sidelines to observe and study them.
When the set was at 5-love, the man in the lead. Ryoga managed to get himself a game but then the man took it back with his eyes closed.
I jumped out of my seat.
"You're Nanjiro Echizen!" I shouted loudly. Everyone turned to face me. I laughed nervously. Whoops.
"That's right," Nanjiro said. "Sayonara!" He walked away and picked up a magazine on his way out.
"That makes you two Echizen's, right?" I said.
"Yeah," Ryoga replied. "Echizen. I take it you're a fan of the old man?"
"Well, my dad is. He watches it all the time. He even rewatches Nanjiro's matches. He thinks they're that good," I said with a shrug. "I like watching junior matches. They're more entertaining."
"Hai," Ryoga agreed.
"My dad should come over next time. Could he?" I asked.
"Eh, sure," Ryoga shrugged. "The old man loves fans. Especially girl fans."
I chuckled. "I can see that." They both laughed and for another two years, we trained repeatedly in tennis every chance we could. I spent most, it not all, of my free time with the two of them playing tennis and practicing Japanese so I could learn their native language.
And then Ryoma went away to play in the Junior leagues.
Ryoga got sent away for being a trouble maker.
And Rinko Echizen and Nanjiro Echizen went to Japan to live.
And I was left alone in America with no more friends I could trust, and no more competition to play.

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