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A little fan fiction about a changed boy coming back from America. Please comment. Prince of tennis.

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They say you’re just like him.

I ask, are they blind or just stupid?

You are nothing like boy who left us all that time ago.

You might have those same golden eyes. That green tinted hair. That small build. That confidence. That annoying smirk.

You might look like him, but you are not the boy who left us.

He would never look us like you do – uninterested and distant. He would not look down at us because we failed to beat him. To him we were as close as a family, tennis was the connection, sure, but not the glue. I don’t even know you.

You might have his name. You might have his face. But I know him and I do not you.

You who rarely speaks to anyone.

You who ignores those who fail to challenge you.

You who refuses to see me.

You cannot be him. It’s impossible.

But you are him.

You are the one who left us.

You are the boy who we all once loved.

You are him.

But you are not the boy I used to know.

You are not my Ryoma Echizen.

And I won’t care if you leave again.

Go.