Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Tennis.

Lady Monozuki: Huzzah for a new story! This idea came to me a little while ago, but I finally got it down to the point where I'm satisfied. It took many, many rewrites, but here it is! I hope you all enjoy! The pairing for this story is undecided! I will take suggestions as to who Echizen should end up with.

Beaten and broken. It was an all too familiar state for him. No matter how many times he got stronger, it was not enough. Nothing was ever good enough to surpass the legend set before him. No matter how many times he tried, the shadow that he could never shed cast him down and tried to destroy who he was. Every day he fought to stay alive, not be stifled, or even forgotten. He had worked so hard and desperately to escape the smothering air around him. There were days that he wanted to give up, but he was Echizen Ryoma. His pride did not allow him to get up. Even with that said, there were still times when the thought crossed his mind.

Then he realized that it would be what the man, who shocked the world before him, wanted. If he gave up, he would be proving everything that the old man had said about him. There would be no chance for him to supersede the legendary Samurai Nanjiroh. Forever would he be in the shadow of the man who degraded him and turned his life into a living hell.

Those who thought that being a legend's child knew nothing of the life that he endured. All they saw was the fame, extraordinary skills, and uncanny likeness to his father. The skills, the arrogance, and the look were all similar to his father's. In many aspects, they were different, but those who knew what Samurai Nanjiroh was only saw a brat trying to copy his old man. To his father, they were nowhere near good enough to be number one in the entire world. No matter how many times he dominated the courts and brought home medals from tournaments, they were worthless. They might as well been given to a corpse for all they value they held. On most days, Echizen Ryoma felt like a corpse.

All he did was repetitive. Even if there were new moves thrown in there, it was still not enough for his father. He was not good enough. Everything that he had done was an embarrassment to his old man. Every day, he was reminded of how little he had accomplished. While his triumphs had not gone unnoticed, they were often criticized by die-hard Echizen Nanjiroh fans and of course, his father.

A slap resounded in the living room. His mother and cousin turned around and left the room. His father stood in front of him, shaking with anger. The stinging sensation from his cheek brought tears to his eyes. He wouldn't cry, he had never cried before. This was no different from the other days. His father hit him again. The process repeated itself, but eventually moved to other parts of his body. Nothing was safe from his father's wrath.

"You are a disgrace!" his father shouted at him. "You are worthless. You can't measure up to anything that I've done and you are still trying to make a name for yourself. You're pathetic. I have done everything that I could to help you, but you have done nothing to try and excel. You're just a no good, lazy, disrespectful, brat!"

Somehow, his father had gotten a hold of a tennis racket and was now beating on him with that. He didn't try to block the blows since it would only serve to agitate his father more. If he took his punishment without saying or doing anything, then it would be over sooner. Every blow to his body hurt, but he was not going to break. He was not going to show that he was weak. Ryoma tried to block out the words his father shouted. Each one of them stung, but he couldn't let them become the truth that defined him. Even if he had to put up with this every day, he would not let that keep him from trying. His dream had always been the same. He wasn't going to let anyone take that away from him. Not now, he was so close to achieving his goal.

"Get out, you smug bastard!" his father shouted. "Get out of this house right now!"

It was the same routine. After they had fights like this, his father would kick him out for a few minutes before letting him back in. Despite all the harsh words exchanged, he knew that his parents needed him still. If they thought that he didn't know they were using him, he did. However, this time it seemed different. His father chased him out of the house, throwing his bloodied tennis racket as well.

Ryoma sat there and waited. It would only be an hour before they brought him inside once again. All he had to do was wait for them and it would all be over soon. They would fall into the old routine and eventually, he would leave this miserable life behind. During this time, he often dwelled on his plans for the future and everything that he still wanted to accomplish. He had to keep holding on and make it through.

"Get the hell off my property, brat! I'll call the police and make them haul your sorry ass to jail!" his father shouted from the window.

He stared up at his old man in shock. He stood and took his racket with him. Maybe if he disappeared for one night, they would let him back. He would come back tomorrow. Ryoma walked with no direction, straight into the heart of town. Even though it was starting to get dark, there were still many people on the streets. Many avoided him, but no one asked if he was all right. He knew he looked a mess and he didn't expect anyone to want to get involved with him. However, he secretly hoped that one person would extend kindness to him.

Maybe then, he would gain the strength to continue. No matter how many times he was beaten, it would give him the courage to fight. Instead of feeling like no one cared for him, there would be hope for tomorrow. Would there even be a new morning for him? Even he couldn't answer that question. Right now, he couldn't even see the light of the dawn. Everything was shrouded and suffocating. His legs gave out and he collapsed in the street. All he could hear were the demeaning and profane words his father had shouted at him.

What if his father was right about everything that he'd done so far? Could he live while knowing that every endeavor was fruitless and just another futile attempt? Was his life that pathetic?

A gentle voice penetrated his thoughts, "Echizen-san?".

He tried to ignore the call, but it kept growing more persistent. Ryoma looked up to see the face of someone who had once mocked him. Concern wore itself on the features of the pretty blue-haired person in front of him. However, he didn't know why someone would be concerned over him. He was nothing but a failure in the eyes of his father.

"Echizen-san," the person called once more. "Are you all right?"

How can I be all right when my body is bruised and my life broken?

"Yukimura-san," he whispered before everything went dark.