Disclaimer: I don't own Slam Dunk or any of the characters - they belong to Takehiko Inuoe.(though duh! i wish i did)... so don't sue me...I've got no money anyway - so you won't get anything out of it.

Author's note: This one-shot fic was the result of too much boredom in English class. The idea...just kind of popped into my head, and I finished it in 1.5 hrs. So don't blame me if it's sucky... ;) Oh yes, and the reason why Mitsui's with Tetsuo in this fic and not with the rest of the gang is because I couldn't remember their names. sweatdrops... Bad, I know. Anybody mind telling me? Thanks. :)

The chill autumn rain lashed at him, sending his long hair into a raven frenzy. Dropping his head, he hunched his shoulders grimly, continuing his moody trudge along the street, concentrating on nothing in particular. He shivered as the icy wind buffeted him again. The weather was never good, he thought sourly. If it wasn't raining, it was cold; and if it wasn't cold, it was raining; or if not, it was an idiotic combination of the two at the same time... Kami-sama! He wished it was spring again, or even summer.

Tetsuo sauntered along besides him, seemingly nonchalant at his leader's black mood. That ever-present cigarette, lit as always, dangled loosely at the corner of his mouth. Casting an irritated look at him, Mitsui wondered for a moment whether Tetsuo ever got tired of smoking. No, it seemed, at Tetsuo took another lazy drag at the offending cigarette,"So, Mitsui-san... Where are we going?" Mitsui chose not to answer, instead hastening his pace. The truth was, he didn't know either. For the past few months, he'd been having a nagging feeling that something was wrong with him - missing, in fact. And it was ludicrous, really. He was powerful - the sole leader of an extremely notorious gang, feared by one and all... So why this hollow feeling then? a sly voice in his mind questioned him. Mitsui furrowed his brows frustratedly. He seemed to be searching for something, but what, he didn't know. And he hated it - the jibing, whispering doubt in his mind that he wasn't himself, that he was missing out something. Something vital.

The rhythmic dribbling of a basketball snapped him out of his reverie. Jerking his head up, Mitsui caught sight of a lanky, flaxen-haired boy practicing his jump shots. He was practically drenched through, but, undaunted, he continued, coolly disregarding the biting cold. He must be mad... To practice in such weather is...unthinkable! Mitsui thought, startled at the player's drive. He came unconsciously to a stop as conflicting emotions surged in his heart. Pride, regret and anger. The lone basketball player in the rain reminded him of someone he had known long ago - himself. He watched intently as the boy successfully slamdunked into the net, saw the fire of determination in his eyes, heard his hoarse yell of exultation as he landed.

Mitsui's lips curled in an ironic smile. He had been like that too... a long, long time ago, almost lost in the distant past. The much-feted Number One, Mitsui Hisashi, MVP of Junior High, and wanted by every high school basketball coach in the Kanagawa prefecture. A talented player - a bright future, full of promise. If only. Mitsui forced back a scornful laugh as his gaze fell upon his left knee. If only...what? That he hadn't injured his knee to the point of being unable to play again? You're a fool, Mitsui. A complete, utter, wishful fool. True, basketball had once been his all - his pride, his passion, his life even. Once... But now, it was nothing but a past, fading glory. Pointless, and all the better to be forgotten, for it would never be a part of him again.

But, as he remembered that blaze of determination in the boy's eyes, uncalled-for hope flared up in him. Maybe...just maybe... if he hadn't injured himself, if he hadn't given up, he'd be just like that boy today - maybe even better. At that, Mitsui smiled suddenly. Ganbatte, though I don't know who you are... ...

"Mitsui-san," Tetsuo, soaked and obviously bewildered by his leader's odd behaviour, drifted over. "It's late. We're supposed to meet the rest at the Pachinko Parlour. Let's go."

Mitsui tore his eyes away from the basketball court, turning to face his fellow gangmember. "Hai. Let's go."

Before long, they had vanished behind the grey curtain of falling rain.

-Owari-

Oh...kay.. Now you're done - almost. Just click on the little square button called GO and send me your reviews. C'mon... You KNOW you WANT TO! (cackles evilly and gets kicked away by Rukawa)

Rukawa: Do'aho. No one disturbs my sleep.

Author: (rubbing a bruised rear) Rukawa-kun... You're so evilllll... Never mind, I've still got Mitsui-kun. Right? (sniffles brokenheartedly and gazes puppy-eyed at the ex-MVP)

Mitsui: (yawns) Whatever... Do I always have to be so angsty? glares at author, who runs away