Ch.2

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Now, fast forward 2 years later, we were going to Japan. Leaving behind the sunny state of California and being forced to enter an entirely new culture.

And Ryoma was all for it. He smirked as the old man told us the plans, while my mouth curved deep into a frown.

"Why?" Came from me.
Apparently no one else cared why.

Last year, Ryoma had earned 4 US grand titles. While this year, I was a runner for the Hertz prize in graduate-level physics.

Yes, the Echizen children were coming along very well.

So why were we moving now?

But it was decided out of my control. Later, the contents of my and Ryoma's room were packed into boxes, and suitcases. And in a week, our apartment in LA became a hazy, grey, memory.

Our new house was two-floored, big as hell, with four bedrooms.

Outside, there was a small rugged tennis court, and part of a temple, bell and all. What the hell? My old man is certifiable, I swear.

In Japan the air smelled slightly sweeter, the oxygen cleaner than in America. There were Sakura petals everywhere, scattered haphazardly across the streets, and inside houses.

What a bother. I was happy in America.

Now, a few years after I quit, Echizen is winning grand slams. My theory was right. It weighed down on me, but I steeled my eyes, opening the door, and stepped through the frame.

As I waked in, I brushed away my anger at moving and started settling in.

Upstairs, to the left of the staircase, there were two bedrooms. One of them sported a large window, overlooking the city.

It gave me a full view of the surroundings, and my eyes automatically zeroed in to the courts a few blocks north of us.

As I laid down, falling into the twin-sized bed, I heard the crunching of paper.

But my head, still hazy from the airplane, took a few minutes to process that I was laying on a note.

I rolled over, took the note in my hand, and started reading. I smirked, it was written in Ryoma's messy scrawl, in Japanese.

Hey, Akira. I knew you'd want this room, because of the window, so I took the one next door. I'm probably at the courts. Dad and I have been here for a week now, so we have everything sorted. Your boxes are in the closet, so you can put your room up.

I put the note down, opening the closet, and finding five boxes in my closet. Giving a sigh, I decided to do that later. (As in never) and looked back to the note. Father and Ryoma had come here a week earlier than mother and I, so they could unpack and check out the area, as well as so Ryoma could participate in an upcoming tennis tournament.

I think one of the boxes is just your work, notes and rolls of paper. Next time, you're carrying your own boxes! If there is a next time. I really like it here. There is a huge library a couple blocks away, not that I really care. The idiots at the courts can barely hit a straight ball. And they all think they're such big shots. Idiots.

I rolled my eyes, skipping the next couple of lines, full of Ryoma's tennis rant.

Anyways, I hope you'll start playing again. I think high school were going to has the one best tennis teams. It's the one dad went to before. It's a select school called Seishun Makuen, or something. I didn't really care. We're applying in a couple days, so be ready. I think mum wanted to talk to you about something, so be ready for a lecture.

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