Chapter 1: New Faces

"You're not playing," I state casually, rather than asking. After months of spending time with the 208 cm man, I had learned never to question his actions because a.) He had a crazy reason for it, or b.) He was too lazy.

Pulling open my pantry, I begin to rummage around until I find the large box with his name neatly printed on in my mother's handwriting. Along with spending time with him, it had occurred to me that since he came over so much, it was best to shop not only for my family, but for him as well.

I yank out the box of junk food and place it gently before him on the wooden table. Not that it would matter. He'd devour anything as long as it had sugar as its main ingredient.

"I don't wanna play against Aka-chin," he grumbles out, his voice lost within the sea of goodies I had placed before him. He carefully opens up a bag of potato chips, making sure not to drop the delicious, baked good. He takes one out, inspecting it cautiously before he opens wide, engulfing the chip in his mouth.

"You said he was the Generation of Miracles' captain, right? Something tells me he won't be playing either, so what's the-"

"Neh, Tora-chin?"

"Yes?"

"Have you ever looked up to someone so much, that it made you hate them?" asks Atsushi, as he slowly places the bag of food down before him. It was something I rarely ever saw him do.

Pulling out a chair, I take a seat beside him and cross my leg one over the other. Yes. In fact, there were two people who I envied to the point at times I'd find myself squeezing my arm in pain; one of those two people being of course Atsushi. Although he claims to not like basketball, he was the best at it. Everything he did was without effort, passion and yet it always came out looking flawless, experienced. I grew to envy and despise people who didn't fully use their tremendous power.

Secondly, there was him; the one who I had grown to love, to cherish and to consider as the only one who could break me down. Although we hadn't been in contact for nearly two years now, the ring around my neck continues to symbolize our love and friendship. We both loved basketball to its very core. It was originally my thing, but then it became ours. He grew and grew and before I knew it, all the kids wanted to play with him than myself. I was happy. Happy that the once quiet, distressed child in the corner had became the center of attention for all the good reasons. Back then, he was most likely better than me at basketball. So I decided to test that theory all on our 50th game. But he failed not only me, but himself when he decided to purposely miss the shot: all because he couldn't stand to lose the title. The title of calling me his big sister.

Sighing at the sudden onslaught of childhood memories, I dig my hand in Atsushi's bag, ignoring his murderous gaze. I had bought the bag of chips specifically for him, so me eating his food didn't make him the least bit happy.

"I suppose I understand now," I mumble quietly, right before popping the oily matter into my mouth. Tossing it in, I notice that all I did was toss air. Glancing out of the corner of my eye, Atsushi places my chip into his mouth.

"You're welcome," I mumble softly, as I begin to reach into his bag once again. He holds it above his head, a sly, small grin tugging at the corner of his lips. Frowning myself, I throw the thought of eating his food out the door. Instead, I find myself tapping my fingertips aimlessly on the wood, creating a specific rhythm in my head. One downside to playing the drums as a kid. If my mind wasn't filled with thoughts of problems, basketball or my social life, I found myself tapping any surface I could find. Including my thighs.

"Didn't you want to go watch a game today?"

"Hm? I wanted to watch the match between Touou and Kaijou. Which starts in…15 minutes? Why didn't you remind me sooner?" I ask accusingly, but he and I both knew that I wasn't upset as much as I was letting on to be. Grabbing the edge of the table before me, I extend my arms back, causing me to push out of my chair. Atsushi beside me begins to snicker lightly.

Since I was very short, and my parents were both tall, it was two against one. So when they had ordered in the new chairs, they matched it towards their height. So unfortunately for me, my feet were about eight inches from grazing the hardwood floor. So pushing out of my chair always seemed to be someone else's amusement. Especially Atsushi's.

He continues to stuff his face, as if he hadn't been just laughing at my misery, "I don't wanna go," he chokes out, through a hefty mouthful of mashed food.

Rolling my eyes at him, I briskly walk to the pantry, rummaging around for the other box labelled, "dynamite". It wasn't literal. By dynamite, I was referring to Atsushi's favourite foreign foods from America. With any of the goods in the box, it was more than enough to have Atsushi follow and do whatever I wanted. Sometimes it saddened me that I had to force, what would possibly be one of my best friends, to go out with me with a box of sweets.

Picking out one of his favourites, I close the pantry, making sure to tuck away the box in a secure location. Last time I had carelessly left it out in the pantry and, when I had came home from work; all that was left were wrappers.

"Let's go, Atsushi," I chime happily, as I grab my black cell off from the counter top. Walking towards the door, I begin to slip on my brown, suede ankle boots. I hear the large man pull out from his chair, listening to the sounds of his crunching rather than his thunderous footsteps. He stops at the door frame, his tall shadow casting over my much smaller frame.

"Why? I'll tell you who'll win. It's gonna be-"

I shake the box of Twinkies in the air, as I casually slip on my other boot. Immediately Atsushi is beside me, hastily shoving his shoes on. He's the first one out of the door, waiting patiently for me. Or I would like to think so. Heck, if it came down to it, there's no doubt about it that he'd place the safety of the Twinkies before my own life.

Locking the door of the house with the ring of keys I had, I toss the box behind me, not bothering to see if he caught it or not. The gentle sound of the box being ripped apart had me to believe that he caught it.

Oh how I loved the child within him.

xxx

"I must admit, the Generation of Miracles is something to be feared of," I muse out loud, as I watch the match between Touou and Kaijou come to a bitter end. I can't say that I was rooting for both teams. There was something about Touou's ace and Teiko's former one that struck a nerve within me. The way he played was so raw, animalistic and heart wrenching. It wasn't like any normal basketball plays that he was making. It was the type of movement and game you'd play in street ball. Something I knew well because I had played it much of my life.

Atsushi groans in response beside me, crumpling the empty box of Twinkies in his large, rough hands.

"But, my Atsushi is nothing more than a hungry teddy bear," I giggle jokingly, as I reach up to pinch his cheeks. He lets me do so, not really caring that I was. It was something we did often to one another.

This was our relationship. I found myself always with him, talking, sitting, and laughing. I occasionally made fun of him, due to his, well not strange, but interesting appearance. But it always back fired upon myself seeing as how he'd come back twice as hard. Not only in basketball, but life in general. Atsushi didn't try and he came out on top. He was a force to be reckoned with.

"At least I don't look like one," he mutters lazily, as he pinches mine back. He flaps my face back and forth, laughing at the horrified expression on my face. I overhear the people above us beginning to laugh at Atsushi and myself.

"At least I- Atsushi, look! Kise can't get up," I point out, as I find myself shooting out of my seat to get a better look as to what was happening on the court. No doubt about it, Kise was struggling to get to his feet. Seems as though holding a copy of Aomine was more of a hardy job than a simple task.

Atsushi gets up as well, his soft, lavender eyes peering at his two former team mates.

"C'mon, let's go."

Atsushi disappears from my left, his tall form retreating towards the exit.

I'm about to ask him if he wanted to go and speak with them, but I knew better considering that he had decided to abruptly leave. Atsushi had no words, nor time for the weak.

He pushes the exit door, ducking in order to get out. As a gentleman, he holds the door for me, ushering for me to hurry up.

"I really did wish you'd play tomorrow," I sigh out, as I begin to tighten my pig tails that lay high upon each side of my head. I gently run my pale fingers through the fine hair, brushing it past my small bust.

"Hm? Why?"

"Coach likes it better when we're on the court together."

"Really?"

"I asked her why and she had said that her mind is put to ease when she sees your tall, intimidating frame besides my lesser one. She thinks that you protect me," I answer truthfully, as I lead us both through the sea of worn out spectators. Today was the end for Inter-High matches. Tomorrow would be Yosen vs. Rakuzan, and then whoever won that would go on to face Touou. As much as I'd like to confidently say that'd it be Yosen heading to the finals, it was anyone's game considering both of the Generation of Miracles' players were not participating.

"Don't I always?" he asks, as he lazily drapes a long, lean arm around my shoulder. I hated whenever he did this. I felt even more pint sized whenever he did. Truth was it wasn't just Atsushi who was the interesting pair out of us. Both of us were. It was a clear cut given that Atsushi was tall and intimidating, with his almost serpent, wide-like eyes staring off into space. Usually vacant due to his constant thoughts of goodies. And there was his intense hair to also take into account. Shoulder length, straight and a vibrant, soft lilac. He was an interesting character indeed.

And then there was me. I stood at 168 cm up against his 208 frame. Since I wasn't much tall, it didn't help when I had matured into a thin girl with barely any breasts. Some would think that living in America would instantaneously ensure of some colour to your skin; but that wasn't the case. I was extremely pale and frail looking, and with my raven coloured hair against my ivory skin, I looked like a porcelain doll. A term that many would use to describe me. Plus, it didn't help my self-esteem that I had wide, cerulean eyes. As much as I did show my emotions, Atsushi would always make fun of me by saying that whenever he looked at me, it was as if he was staring into the eyes of a doll; eerily vacant.

I assume that I also supported the porcelain stereotype when I preferred to wear my hair up in two, high pig tails. The coach would sometimes joke about wrapping me in a box and gifting it to her five year old niece.

Atsushi would have to coax me to ease whenever she or any of the other team mates made jokes like that.

"I suppose. Don't forget. There was the time when I asked to join the team and you had said, 'Are you looking for your mother?' with that stupid looks of yours," I grumbled in annoyance, as I recalled my first day at Yosen High.

I had come back to Japan after a week school had started. I remember walking into the gym, my chest and head raised up high. The boys were already in practice. Due to Atsushi's size and mine, he ploughed me down when he was catching a pass from a team mate. Knocking me to the ground.

"Eh? A kid? Where's your mother? Shouldn't you be at day care?"

"I'm not a kid, I'm a high schooler. What about you? Shouldn't you be in a forest? I thought trees couldn't move,"I huff out; as I watch his, and feel my cheeks burn bright red towards the laughter around us.

Ever since then, we had walked home together, practiced together and spent our days by each others' side. At first, my female friends would constantly ask how our "dates" had gone. It took them a few more days after that for them to realize that the reason why Atsushi and I meshed so well together in and out of basketball was because of the friendship we shared. That was it. We were just two friends who managed to balance the other out. No strings attached. It was nothing more than that and Atsushi knew that better than me. We were like brother and sister.

"I was kidding. Y'know I love you."

"Me or what I have to offer?" I snide in remark, as we begin to walk down a flight of stairs.

"Tora-chin, I hate it when you're grumpy," he whines out, as he places a soothing hand on top of my hair. It was odd, really. Whenever he did this type of action, I found my mood drastically change into complete calmness. A state of zen.

Remaining silent by his side, I continue to lead the way out when I feel Atsushi beside me perk up.

Following his blank gaze, I realize that the team of Touou was walking towards us. Their change room must be on the first floor then.

"Would you like to stop?"

"Don't have a choice, really. Sa-chin's with them," he states, as he nods towards the bustling, pink haired, large breasted beauty in front of us. I stare blankly, not thinking much of her appearance. Being with Atsushi had made me learn to not focus my attention on one's exterior, but their interior. I had realized this when I first began hanging out with him. We had, and continue to do so now, get strange looks due to the drastic comparison between us both. I remember we were walking by a group of middle school girls and they had said something terrible about Atsushi's height. I was ready to turn and defend him, but he grabbed me by the pig tail and teasingly tugged on it, focusing my attention on him.

"It's funny. You look nothing like a Tora (Tiger), but yet you're always so ready to pounce."

Ever since that, I had learned to take upon Atsushi's carefree attitude as one of my own traits.

"Muk-kun!" yelps out the Generation of Miracles' former manager, Momoi Satsuki. The two greet each other, quickly catching up. I stand off to the side, not wanting to eaves drop on their conversation. But I can't help but feel the eyes of Touou's boys on my appearance.

"Hm? Aren't you Hayashi Tora?" asks a loudly ragged, almost amused voice. Looking up from my coal coloured bangs, I stare up at the tall, muscularly tanned man. He peers back at me with slanted, dark eyes. A light grin plays on his face.

I nod my head in response.

"That's Hayashi Tora? No way…"

"The magazines did a great job at portraying her size! She really is tiny!"

"I hear Sports illustratedis making her next month's issue?"

"You mean that huge magazine in America? That's so cool!"

I meet the watchful eyes of passer by's as they hear my name and suddenly recognize myself. I'm more than taken a back. I mean, I had some, some fame due to my basketball skills and size in America. I mean, they had plenty of girls' team in America, so a girl playing basketball wasn't anything. But by no means did I think that outside of my homeland did others know of my name. When I first joined Yosen's basketball team, no one had heard of or seen me in any magazine before. It was odd now that I was suddenly beginning to become noticed. Not that I didn't appreciate the attention. I just found it relaxing to walk on a court where no one but my team knew my name and story.

"Eeeeeh? You're Hayashi Tora? I didn't know you were the girl who played for Yosen!" interjects the large breasted girl, as she pushes Touou's ace to the ground. He lands on his rear, growling out a few, incoherent insults.

"Please, don't make me sound like I'm famous," I blush out, as I try to wave off the matter.

"Isn't that a little conceited, Tora-chin?" muses Atsushi, as he pinches my cheek, waving me back and forth. A common thing we both did to each other to try and put some sense into the other.

"Seems like you and Muk-kun are really good friends," she smiles out, as she hugs her clipboard closer to her chest. I try to ignore the fact that her breasts looked twice as big now.

"Really? He treats me pretty badly," I whisper out, my voice disdain and sadly broken.

Momoi suddenly pulls me into her, cuddling my frame into her taller and curvaceous one. "G'yaaah, I can't get over it. You are so cute," she chokes out admiringly, as she comfortingly strokes my raven hair.

Atsushi grabs the sleeve of my crimson coloured dress, pulling me to his side. That was the other thing about Atsushi. He was a brother figure towards me, and didn't really appeal to the thought of just anyone grabbing at me like I was some sort of prize you'd win at a fair.

"Is it true that you were invited to an opening game in the NBA?" suddenly asks Aomine. I watch as this time he pushes Momoi out of the way.

"Eh? Yes-"

"Is it true that you won New York City's AAU street ball tournament?"

"Yes. But I also had a team who helped-"

"Is it true that when you were 5, yer' mom had to dress you in doll clothes?" he asks, as I watch him try to hide his smirk. Behind him, I hear the laughter of his team mates. Even Momoi and Atsushi.

I feel my cheeks begin to flame red out of embarrassment. Well, I suppose it was my fault for admitting to the shameful fact in a basketball interview for a magazine. But that was during middle school. I didn't think people would actually read about my interview! I had barely even made a name for myself!

"H-How did you know?" I stammer out, as I gently clasp my hands on each side of my face. For some reason, I thought this would cool down the hot sensation.

"Hm? I-"

"Neh, Mine-chin has an obsession with idols," says Atsushi, as he flashes Aomine a laid back smile. I watch as the two begin to argue about what would seem to Aomine as a secret of his.

"But, I'm not an idol."

"Well, maybe not in America. But everyone who knows of basketball knows who you are here, Tora-chan," says Momoi, as she rubs my head in response. I look up at her and she flashes me a smile in response.

"Thank-"

"Tora-chin really is conceited."

I wedge myself between Aomine and Atsushi, ignoring the fact that I could feel Aomine's abdomen pressing into my head. I understood that it was I who decided to invade his personal space, but what I didn't understand was why he just didn't take a few steps back to give us both room.

"Murasakibaka," I insult casually, as I bunch up fistfuls of his hair, mimicking the pig tails on my head. I begin to flop them up and down.

Behind us I hear Momoi laughing.

"I just noticed. The two of you side by side make an interesting pair!"

Atsushi and I's eyebrows' twitch in annoyance.

xxxxx

I wait patiently by the double headed doors labelled "exit" above them. I wasn't sure how it happened, but amidst our conversation, I had somehow found myself agreeing to go out for a bite with Momoi. She had asked if I could wait for her by the exit as she had a small meeting with her team. I had nodded in response and continued to walk out with Atsushi. I asked him if he wanted to come, pointing out that with Atsushi with us, it'd make things seem less awkward.

"It isn't Sa-chin that'll make things awkward. It's you that's awkward." After implying, no, stating that I was an odd person at first, he had insisted that he had much better things to do than eat "junk food". Ironically enough, Atsushi didn't consider candy or sweet, baked goods to be classified as junk food. He only used the term when he talked about fast food.

Now here I was, standing like a lost child without Atsushi by my side. But I suppose it was good for our relationship. We really did rely too much on each other's company that when we were apart, we found ourselves to become lost and confused. Well, I wasn't sure about Atsushi but I knew it true for myself.

Continuing to stand by myself, I watch a few stragglers still making their way out of the gym. I flip open my phone, checking the time.

"Cute background," mutters a perceptive, un-amused voice from behind. Turning around, I look up at Aomine, noticing that he changed out from his black and red uniform. He was now dressed casually in a loose, sleeveless white tank with beige cargo pants for bottoms. He keeps his basketball bag slung across his chest by his side.

Looking at Aomine, I look back towards my background. It was a picture of a little kitten in a basket.

"Eh? Really?!" I gleam in response, as my eyes glaze over with admiration towards Aomine. He was the only boy I knew that would openly admit that cats were-

"Idiot. As if I'm actually serious. Cat's are gross," he mutters out, as he casually crosses his arms behind his head, beginning to walk past me.

Standing rooted to the ground, I find myself shaking in horror. H-He didn't mean that. Cats were so innocent. Precious, adorable, lovable. He didn't mean it! "Hm? Tora, are ya' coming? Satsuki's meeting is gonna take longer so she said for us both to go on-"

I turn towards Aomine, clenching my cell phone tightly up against my chest as tears begin to slide down my face. People walking by us begin to give Aomine strange looks. Almost blaming him for making a girl cry with their steely gazes upon him.

Aomine quickly walks towards me, digging his hands into his pockets in annoyance.

"Why the hell are you crying?" he hastily whispers, trying to keep his voice quiet so he wouldn't draw anymore attention to us.

"B-Because you don't like…c-c…cats," I sob out, as I wipe my tears in distress. Just saying those words made my heart ache. I really did love cats. It may be because when I was five, my dad had ran one over one with my mom and I inside the car. I tried to take its dead carcass home so I could fix it. Ever since then I couldn't take anyone speaking ill of the innocent fur balls.

"A lot of people don't like cats. If I said that yer' ugly, that doesn't mean everyone thinks yer' ugly. It's just my opinion."

The tears suddenly stop and for a moment, I'm deathly quiet. I wasn't even sure if I was breathing or not. I watch a small smile form on Aomine's lips. "Good girl, now let's-"

I begin to sob even louder, rubbing my eyes like a helpless child. Even more attention was being drawn on the two of us.

"I didn't even say anything about cats!" yells Aomine, as he rubs the back of his neck in annoyance.

"You said I was ugly!" I whimper out, as I furiously wipe my tears on my sleeves. Thank goodness this dress was long sleeved. Or I'd have to use Aomine's shirt to blow my nose.

"What a jerk."

"Does anyone else want to punch him?"

"Forget that, I want to give the little girl a big hug!"

Aomine begins to look around himself in confusion and panic, as on lookers give him judgemental looks.

Sighing, he grabs both of my pig tails, flopping them up and down. Wiping my face on my sleeve, I sniffle up my nose and stare up at him through blurry eyes.

"Cats are…cats are…damnit, they're cute and I guess yer'….alright too," he mumbles out, with a great deal of effort. I watch the small blush beginning to form on the apples of his cheeks.

I find myself smiling at his effort to cheer me up. "Eh, really? In all honesty, I wasn't that upset."

"Shut up, brat! I thought you were gonna drown me with those tears!" yells Aomine, as this time he forgets to try and hide his voice. People around us completely come to a stop, and I watch as some begin to enclose on Aomine. Well, seems as though the people of Japan really didn't appreciate rudeness towards a girl at all.

Aomine and I eat our food silently, not saying much to each other. It wasn't as if there wasn't anything to talk about. It's just that I was quieter than what people would be let on to believe. It was Atsushi who brought the talkative side out of me, mainly because of our opposite point of views on things that caused us both to be outspoken around each other. Other than, I was told that with my doll like appearance, I bared the similar personality with one. Not saying anything, but there as a pretty face. I hated that comparison the most.

"Yer' much quieter than you were before. Y'know, with the whole fake tears and-"

"They weren't fake," I quickly correct, as I reach over towards his tray, placing a fry into my mouth. He stares blankly at his tray, a gruesome look washing over his face. Well, I suppose just like Atsushi, he wasn't for anyone taking his food.

"Sorry," I quietly say, as my voice becomes meek and almost child-like. Aomine sighs out, grabbing a hold of his fries. He dumps them out on my tray, crumpling up the outer bag it had come in and tossing it into the nearby trash.

"Go ahead. I don't mind."

"Thank you," I say graciously, as I begin to eagerly nibble on the fries.

"It's surprising how much you can eat," infers Aomine, as he lazily rests his head upon the brim of his knuckles. He peers at me, almost analyzing all my movements.

"And it's surprising how little you eat," I point out, as I nod towards his still, half uneaten burger.

"I'm not usually hungry after games. I'm more tired than anything." He yawns out, proving his words to be true.

"Maybe you wouldn't be tired if you ate after each game," I counter back, as I choke out my words through a mouthful of fries.

"Brat, you'll kill yerself before tomorrow's game if you keep eating like a little piggy."

"Is that my new nickname?" I ask, as I ignore the shot at my eating habits. It wasn't my fault. I believed that if people were hungry, they shouldn't try to present themselves neatly in front of others. They should just worry about their well being and eat to their heart's content.

"What? You mean pig- you little-" growls out Aomine, as he clenches his fist on top of the table.

"I'll kick you again if you insult a woman ag-"

Aomine scoffs, wrapping his hands behind his head. "A woman isn't what I'd use to describe you-"

I try to kick him again from underneath the table, but he stands up with his tray in his hands.

"Done, brat?"

Well, it was better than piggy and doll face.

Disposing our trays, we exit the fast food joint and into a breath of fresh air. It was around 3 o'clock in the afternoon when we were done.

"Thanks for the company," I say.

"Hm? You should be thanking Satsuki. She's the one who wanted to come."

"Well, I'm hoping you'll thank her for me. Which I know you will. See you at the finals, Aomine."

I flash him a sincere smile before I turn to walk in the opposite direction.

"W-Wait! Why…why-"

"So sudden?" I ask, trying to finish his poor attempt at stating his feelings.

He nods his head in embarrassment. Smiling, I look up at the clear, blue sky in thought.

"I have a game tomorrow. I wasn't born with greatness like you, Aomine," I laugh softly, as I wave at him once again before I turn to leave. What a troublesome, helpless boy he was.

xxxxxx