Varsity Reunion

Disclaimer: I don't own Slam Dunk.

Summary: Ten years later, Rukawa looks like a happily married man and Mitsui a tamed wealthy gentleman, both separately enjoying their lives. But something in the past holds them together, still. MitRuMit. On going.

A/N: By the way, this is very mushy and retarded. And it's not very well-written, nor is the wordplay constructive and artful. I have to grant it that. But if there's one thing to redeem this, I suppose, it would have to be its length. It's quite long, you know. Bear with me.

Prologue

For Rukawa Kaede, victory is at hand. For so long as he stayed with Shohoku, the latter was safe from degrading losses, critics and defamation in general.

For Mitsui Hisashi, on the other hand, life had already passed him by, taking away all the good things in his youth to hide them somewhere he could never find. If he would be permitted a single metaphor, he'd most probably say: It was like a whirlpool that swept everything I believed in on their feet. He supposed his life was over, which made sense if you take into account his accomplishments, or lack thereof. No college with a basketball team to speak of made him offers. It was like he needed first to declare to the world that he existed before one person took notice of him. At that instant, he decided that his talents, whatever they might prove to be, were a colossal bluff, an oasis which made him rely on something that he could never make come true. Being a star, of course, should be left to people like Akagi, Sakuragi, Rukawa...especially Rukawa, who was bound for a great journey as an international athlete. Mitsui didn't want to see that happen, to be fixated in that spot for good; he didn't need to because they were all in his mind anyway.

So he submitted his resignation in the last term of his third and final year. His team accepted it gracefully, even with some kind of honor only due to members of the hall of fame. They gave him a standing ovation, then a spate of tears followed, which only made Mitsui feel even sorrier for them. He walked out of the gym then, not knowing the weight of the heavy heart he bore, nor the expanse of the void he left behind.

On his graduation day, eerily, the sky assumed a darker shade of gray. It seemed that all around him, from the stones on the ground to the floating celestial bodies in the sky, were willing to grieve for him for the years coming. It was just an illusion, typical. No one grieved that much, at least not enough to drop on his feet and beg him to stay. He would just be another year that passed Shohoku by, fading from its face all the way down to its history, slated to retain its place there in endless oblivion. If, by accident, someone of the younger generation asked who the scarfaced guy in number fourteen was, no one would've been able to give a readily-made, less than vague answer. For in truth, nobody knew who the real Mitsui Hisashi was. Nobody remotely knew what he went through all those wild years.

He resignedly traipsed away from the ceremony a little before it had ended and his batch mates had bidden each other farewell. He doffed off his toga, flipped his hat away and folded his diploma inside his suit. Tucked with provisions to face a brazen new world, he fought his way out. In that moment in time, the heavens didn't seem any emptier for years afterwards. As he was about to take his last steps on the vicinity, and when he least expected it, there at the exit gate was Rukawa. His face was all set in graveness; it was reposeful and quiet. And yet, something in those eyes contained a kind of defiant violence, which, to Mitsui, could not be translated into some plain anger any more than a cat can learn how to swim on its own accord. Rukawa's look was intense with sympathy. But more significantly, he looked pained beyond repair. Mitsui was quick to overlook this, or rather, he wanted to forget that disheartened expression on Rukawa's face the moment he took his last look at his alma mater, where, as he was sure Rukawa knew, countless memories were locked and fated to haunt the idle hours.

But Rukawa spoke and as he did, it seemed as though Mitsui's heart would break in shattered, microscopic pieces.

"You're going away, sempai."

"There's nothing for me to stay for. This place threw me out a long time ago." Mitsui muttered, staring down at his feet as though the soil he was toeing would provide rationality for his succeeding actions.

"It doesn't have to be like this." As Rukawa said this, he just knew Mitsui would never come back.

Mitsui only grinned in response. Though he was aware that he was ruining not only his own heart in deciding it, he kept a straight face on, countering doubts with such blowing potency that no one could have interpreted his meaning other than a fierce and hardly false resolution. To Rukawa's credit, he didn't discourage the senior, let alone stop him. He chose, in this, to destroy that link along with Mitsui's disappearance. He chose to hurt himself, if only that would make him feel a tenth of what Mitsui had gone through. He then absorbed the senior with his eyes. His was the only number he dared dial on the occasion of emotional crises, breakdowns and the like. His was the only smile he yearned to picture over and over again. His was the only affection he was willing to receive and received it with gratitude, he did without failing. And when Mitsui had gone, his was the only heart that was going to break. He knew it, no more, no less.

Mitsui moved away, refused to say another word and left Rukawa to muse after his shadow. He was gone from sight the moment the rain, far too much in quantity, came whooshing down on the whole Kanagawa. It darkened quickly, as if a thick tuff of cloud blocked the sun, making everything else black for a period of time. Soon, the wind began howling, mourning it seemed, and the trees swayed on their trunks. Man-sized puddles began stretching out on the ground, as if to sunbathe under the inclemently weathered skies. Hence making the scene more like a funeral than a graduation celebration. The irony could almost be tasted in the rain, which glided on and on. It was almost funny that Rukawa was sure he could shed more tears than the rain poured that day, if only he had given himself the chance to allow it.

He never saw him again.

Until...

TBC

A/N: Fucking corny. Come on; I wanna hear you say it. The idea has been rife in me for over a million years. During those times I just didn't have the heart to put this to words and yeah, talentless as I am, I think it would be a waste not to write about it. Tonight, in between typing an entry for my blog, the words just found me. I don't know how else to put it; for all I know there was the sense of urgency. Should I push through? Thanks for reading.