A Prince of Tennis fanfic.
SanaYuki pairing.

Rating: T - I'll write something more romantic when I have time.

Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis belongs to Konomi Takeshi.

Author's note: I really don't know what inspired me to write this. However, the idea of success in the story is very much based on my view and Yukimura's feelings are written based on some personal experiences, so I was really into writing this. Anyway, I hope you don't see my view on Yukimura as pity, because I believe that he is still the BEST tennis player in the PoT world and he is more mature in terms of thinking and appreciation of tennis and life than Echizen. And... Yukimura will beat Echizen next time they play. 100 sure.

Btw I suggest you read this in 3/4 or 1/2. And... review

Chapter.1 – Downfall of the Divinity

Success is the result of countless failures you've done in order to attain it. It was compared to a child learning to walk. At first, he will continuously fall, until one day, he will be able to walk and run.

However, the admiration you get from being able to walk and run is considerably insignificant when compared to the glory you are showered with when you have broken the world record for the 100m sprint. Both were success, simply on different scales. The downside was, for the exponentially greater accomplishment, downfalls tend to be worse and thoroughly shattering.

Yukimura Seiichi consolidated this idea in this mind all his life. It was a vulgar analogy, one that he accepted as a fact, but one that did not matter. Tennis was his life and to lose in a match was, simply metaphorical, to lose his life. Living by this fact, Yukimura had never lost a single game. It was merely impossible to beat anyone who lived with tennis as much as him, and his opponents, panting and trembling under the supreme power of the Child of God, acknowledged so.

He lived in the upside of this theory, only acquiring the honour and magnificence without having to writhe through the falls and grief. But just as the seasons' rotation, spring did not last immortally for Yukimura. As no matter how hard you try to prolong the life of the birdsongs or the blooming orchids, the blazing heat and withering leaves will always replace spring, followed by the fierce winter. One can only live so long on the positive aspect of an idea; eventually, the mentally-crushing demise will crash down.

This prospect of losing, occasionally crossed Yukimura's mind and truthfully, he knew that one day he would be replaced at the apex. But not so soon. He had always thought of himself as an objective person, one that was able to criticize himself constructively. He was able to evaluate his abilities with a clear and unbiased mind, and with that capacity, he did everything to ensure his throne at the summit. If he needed to play a dead net cord, he would practice until he could do it with his eyes closed. If being ambidextrous was going to ensure his victory, he would use his left hand for every action until it was as good as his right. Everything he did was for a purpose and the purpose was to sit at the pinnacle of the tennis world.

Winter – symbolically described the length of time when he was trapped by his fragile body. However, his motto – you cannot know the warmth of spring without knowing the cold of winter – applied to his passionate pursue of life after his close encounter with death. Spring, on the other hand, could allegorically represent Yukimura's triumph in the field of tennis. Every match he played was purely another blossom flowering among his undefeated frame of mind; and he had yet to experience the chilling fingers of the creeping winter.

Nevertheless, the seemingly eternal spring came to an end unexpectedly at the national's final, with Echizen managing to beat the once insurmountable Rikkai buchou 6-4. Suddenly, the postponed winter consumed him and he was shattered. At the time, he had found himself smiling at the little brat, shaking hands with him, then going on to congratulate the Seigaku buchou for their victory; but deep inside, he was tore into fragments.

Afterwards, he gradually recalled the past year and clenched his fists as he saw – what some might call the calm before a storm – the signs which signalled his downfall.

The fading of spring came along with his sudden collapse and hospitalisation. He should have known then, that he was never going to be the same as before. But even then, he did not realise it and although the omen flashed before his eyes during the finals, played out by the jacket falling from his shoulders, he did not think much of it. The jacket was simply there to keep him warm and if it fell during the game, then so be it. It had nothing to do with the game.

He had continued to showcase his tennis, decimating Echizen and taking away all his senses. It was exhilarating and it aroused him to be dominant after the long, lifeless slumber in the white cage of his physically weak state. His heart pounded quickly and he felt excitement surging through his body. He decided to play with Echizen a little more – his blood was pumping with awakened lust – and entered a much more aggressive play style.

But his stirred-up state was brought to a halt and thrown into chaos as Echizen smirked, and asked him if tennis was fun. After that, everything seemed to have gone by like a blur. Before long, the legendary Yukimura Seiichi, had lost his first ever match, demolished and pulverized.

He had tried to convince himself that – like the motto he lived by – he would be more satisfied with future victories because of this loss, just as his appreciation for life increased dramatically after his return from the white hell of Kanai General Hospital. But he could not. Every time he held his racquet, his hands would tremble and flashbacks of the match would play in his mind like a video rewinding at double the speed it should be.

He had never thought much of those fancy counters that Fuji Syuusuke used or the flashy acrobatics Kikumaru Eiji used. Tennis in its core was a ridiculously straightforward game. The objective was to hit the ball back to a spot where your opponent cannot return it. He had stood by this objective and had claimed victory in all his matches by this objective. Yet now, the objective seemed to be nothing but a mere, beautiful mirage; for Echizen had won against him with the fanciest tennis possible – Ten'imuhou no Kiwami. Everything he had once followed, everything that he had once lived by, everything he had once believed in, was now crushed, crumbled and shattered.

Yukimura Seiichi, a fourteen-year-old boy with an ambitious aspiration, had been annihilated under the precise dreams he had strived to achieve for. It wasn't Echizen Ryoma who had defeated him. It was his unacceptance for losing which was plunging him downwards, towards the abyss of desolation.

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