Introspection
Kiccho Fukuda generally liked to think there was some level of balance in the way humans worked. Not necessarily fairness, he wasn't that naïve, but he liked to think the phrase "No one's perfect" generally holds true. Take for example, Shohoku's Kaede Rukawa. Oh sure the guy was talented, more talent then he could even imagine, and prettier then a basketball had any right to be, but he was hardly Mr. Perfect. If the ace rookie had an excess in athleticism and looks then he was absolutely bankrupt in personality and academics (thus neutralizing any jealousy Fukuda might have felt for the forward).
As for himself, while he wasn't as extreme as Rukawa, he also felt his virtues compensated for his flaws and vice versa (or atleast he used too). Oh sure he wasn't exactly easy on the eyes (as much as it pained him to admit) and was never the most cheerful person to be around, but he was also hard working, perceptive, and a fast learner. So for the most part, he felt he he didn't much to complain about.
Until he met Akira Sendoh.
He knew every rule had to have its exceptions, but did that exception have to be on his team? Why not some place like Kainan or Shoyo? It just wasn't right. Athletics, academics, looks, Akira Sendoh had it all. Sports? Star of the team. Tests? The top scores. Popularity? The guy had girls throwing themselves at him. And had it just been those areas then Fukuda could've atleast written the guy off as some isolated, over-worked perfectionist. But no, what really ate at Fukuda was how casual Sendoh was about it all. While any other guy in Sendoh's position would've at least grown a little big-headed if not downright conceited, the broom-head just smiles his easygoing smile and responds with a lazy "Oh it's not that big a deal," as if it were nothing. Forming friendships as naturally as breathing, he opened himself to others with little hesitance or prejudices. As if everything he did and everything he had was just a norm that he assumed extended to everyone. If he only knew how hard people like Fukuda or Uozumi had to work for every bond of friendship or shred of respect they had.
So when Coach Taoka began picking apart Fukuda's every flaw as a player with stinging harshness, all the while showering Sendoh with high praise (the Akira Sendoh who already had everything), something in Kiccho snapped. And before he realized it, he had nothing.
Author's Note: Although the next chapter will focus mostly on Sendoh's feelings towards Fukuda, this is mostly a Fukuda-centric story. Why? Because he and all the less conventionally attractive characters need more love.
