Glass
This is going to be a slash fic. Do NOT read if you are going to have opinions about it.
Disclaimer: I don't own slam dunk
There are many degrees of power in the world,
and nowhere is the difference in degree greater
than in the case of human will and human desire,
just as water boils at one temperature
and molten iron at another.
-- Foydor Dostoevsky
Chapter 1: Walls
Night after night after night.
Sendoh would go to his usual basketball court and Rukawa would be there. He would be there before he came, and still be there after he left. Running, dunking, swerving, all with a frantic sense of urgency. Sendoh could feel the manic energy all the way from the other end of the court. And he never relented. Not ever.
Sendoh drew his knees up as he watched the younger player. Something was missing, and he didn't know what it was.
And not a word was spoken.
* * *
Nights and days passed. Rukawa played, while Sendoh watched.
Rukawa was too thin. He's much thinner than when he first started playing this way. The IH is over, why is he so /driven/?
He turned to go, when a cessation in the thumping of the ball made him spin around again, only to see Rukawa sailing towards the hoop, epitomizing…
Sendoh swore, then ran over to check on Rukawa. He had fallen short in a sudden loss of coordination; collapsed bonelessly on the floor. He's fainted. Won't wake. Shit, /now/ what do I do with him? I can't just leave him here, he'll freeze to death.
Sendoh looked down at the pale face, curiously vulnerable beneath the yellow glow of the solitary streetlight. Rukawa looked drawn, tense despite his comatose state. He felt an involuntary surge of protectiveness. It's a rough neighborhood. He looks far too feminine for his safety... I guess I had better bring him over to my place... don't know where he lives anyway...
Sendoh thought about it then shrugged. He doubted Rukawa here would blab to anyone about his apartment…it wasn't as though he was the /talkative/ type…
As the cab deposited Sendoh and his burden outside his gate Sendoh sighed, trying to find a way to hold onto Rukawa and press the lift button. He gave up, using his feet instead. He entered his apartment, then placed Rukawa in the guest room's bed, reconsidered, and lifted him to the sofa. He is far too light. And he's soaked through... he'll catch something... better change him.
Sendoh emerged from his own room moments later with his smallest T-shirt and draw-string pants. These had better fit. They /did/ fit... in a loose kind of way. Sendoh frowned worriedly at Rukawa's thin frame, then carried him back to the guest room. Better leave the air-conditioning off... I /really/ do not want any flu bugs in my house…
Sendoh considered a moment, then placed a can of Pocari and a Mars Bar on the bed-side table. I don't think he'll wake up before me, so it should be fine... I'm so /tired/…
* * *
Rukawa woke to the smell of pancakes and strong black coffee in an unfamiliar bed and unfamiliar clothes. He looked around him and was subtly reassured by the spacious room that seemed to follow an interesting motif – silvery-grey and the palest shades of creamy colors. He relaxed back into his bed and fingered the blanket – softest silk that followed the same decorative style as the room.
A can of Pocari and a Mars Bar stood on a side table, out of place in the refined atmosphere. Whoever it is... knows my taste…
Rukawa swung his feet over the side of the bed and padded soundlessly to the adjoining living room. Could this be /Sendoh's/ house? It doesn't /look/ like it... but he was the only one still there. No one in /that/ neighborhood possesses this kind of house…
Suddenly apprehensive, Rukawa moved to what he presumed was the kitchen, guided by the aroma and a cheerful whistling. His almost inaudible sigh of relief made Sendoh whirl. His hair was already gelled into his normal hairstyle and he was casually dressed in a Nike shirt and pants; he was surrounded by an amazing array of various implements…
"Good morning Rukawa-kun," Sendoh said, "I see you finally decided to wake up."
"Hello."
"Oh... you fainted and wouldn't wake up, so I brought you here." Sendoh said, correctly interpreting the questioning look on Rukawa's face.
"I'm sorry to be so much trouble," Rukawa said.
"Nah, no problem…" Sendoh said, "why don't you take a bath first, breakfast'll be ready in about ten minutes. Use the bath in your room's toilet and pick some clothes from the closet.
* * *
When Rukawa had finished his shower, luxuriating in the warm water, he found Sendoh had two heaped plates of pancakes on the table, accompanied by some kind of syrup and what looked like orange juice. Sendoh was reading the latest issue of the Economist with avid interest. Rukawa eyed his plate. I'll /never/ finish this... there's way too much... but it smells delicious…
He slid into his chair to be greeted by Sendoh exclaiming something about shares.
"Yeah, and did you know that it's already 10.45? Lucky it's a Sunday. So how are the pancakes?" Sendoh struck a pose. "I bet they are good... after all, I, tensai-basketballman Akira Sendoh made them!"
Rukawa couldn't help it... he had to say it. "Do'aho." He chuckled... Sendoh was just so /adorable/ to pout like that.
"Hahaha... got ya to laugh." Sendoh grinned unrepentantly. "Now eat!"
* * *
Sendoh stared. The slender boy in front of him had only managed to finish /one/ of his pancakes, albeit it was liberally drenched in syrup. He himself had eaten five or six... and his /own/ appetite was nothing compared to the rest of the team's.
No /wonder/ he's getting thinner and thinner... no one could play like he does on so little and remain the same... his skin is so translucent and his eyebags are still present despite a good 10 hours of sleep... and his eyes are like an impenetrable barrier…
Something happened to him... he isn't playing so hard to win... but to lose himself instead.
Unnerved by the way Sendoh was staring at his face, Rukawa shot him a look. Sendoh flushed, then tried to engage the silent boy in conversation once more.
"Is this the first time you've collapsed? You didn't look very surprised to be here... are you feeling better now though?"
"It only happened once before. I woke up with my discman and basketball gone, as well as my money."
"And you continue playing like this?" Sendoh was feeling rather indignant. How could anybody abuse their physical well-being like this and not care? But... he's not /my/ responsibility…
"Oh shit! You probably need to call your folks... don't let them worry…" Bastards! How can they let Rukawa continue killing himself like this…
"…dead."
"I'm sorry, what?" They're dead? It can't be... I saw them at the training camp last year... I must have heard wrong.
"They're dead. Plane crash two days after the IH." Some indecipherable emotion flashed across Rukawa's face. Loss, anger, sadness…
Sendoh cursed inwardly at his stupidity at not connecting the Rukawa here with the well-published deaths of Mr. and Mrs. Rukawa in a failed plane hijack. But the news never mentioned Rukawa by name... just that they left a son…
"Mine too." Sendoh blurted out. Then he flushed, as he realized what he had said... not even his teammates knew that. They would only recognize the ever-smiling face of Akira Sendoh, resident basketball genius with no problems at all.
Rukawa Kaede, second-year basketball ace of Shohoku and an orphan, was trying not to think. It still hurts too much. They were there, alive, proud of me, then they were gone. They were /all/ I had.
Sendoh was very worried. Rukawa was just sitting there, his icy mask still intact, yet... there were tears running down his cheeks... but his facial expression had not changed one iota.
Sendoh inched forward awkwardly. The boy /needed/ comfort, and... who else was there... He patted Rukawa awkwardly on the back. As though awakened from a dream, Rukawa lifted glistening eyes up to Sendoh's ones. Caught and held in the understanding and compassion there, Rukawa choked back a sob.
Sendoh drew Rukawa up with a hand. And just held him. "Shh... it's alright... you'll be fine…"
Rukawa could not hold back any longer. He let the last of his pride dissolve, releasing all the walls of coldness and indifference. Soon he was crying so hard he couldn't even think, just cling to Sendoh and sob. He didn't really hear what Sendoh was saying, only the tone of his voice registered in his grief, comforting, compassionate, caring.
He cried until his eyes were sore and dry; he cried until his whole body shook with the hiccuping sobs. And all the while, he shivered with the terrible emptiness inside.
Finally there just weren't any tears left – and he was warm – and more than warm, protected. And completely drained. Sendoh held him as carefully as if he was made of porcelain and would shatter at a touch; just held him. That was all.
It was enough.
* * *
"Done?" Sendoh asked a good while after the last of the sobs had gone. He tilted Rukawa's face towards the light with a finger.
"You're a mess, kitten." Sendoh chuckled, making it a joke to be shared between them. "Do you do this often?"
"No," Rukawa whispered faintly. Then, more strongly, "never before."
"It's alright you know, to let that icy mask of yours drop once in a while. It lets the others know you're human."
"…"
Rukawa had fallen asleep again, exhausted after his emotional breakdown.
Oh well... I guess he needed his sleep...
Sendoh thought wryly to himself as he placed Rukawa in the guest bed again.* * *
Rukawa woke to find himself back in the bed. Déjà vu... Only, this time there was a note next to the bed.
Heya Rukawa! I just went out to buy some groceries, be back soon. There's stuff to eat in the fridge and if you want to study, my second-year books are in the study room. (Turn left out of this room, second door on the right.) and now I have to hurry, shops are closing soon... am getting some nba tapes so do stay, ok? Gotta run, Sendoh.
Is it that late already?
Rukawa knew the grocery shops only closed around four to five on Saturdays; searching for a timepiece, he found that it was already 10 to five.Curious, he decided to explore Sendoh's house, at least partially. The study room was rather... austere, as though Sendoh could focus better without distraction. Extraneous items simply were not to be seen. But books were evident in their multitudes, covering any imaginable topics. Rukawa was silently amused; the basketball books were located furthest from the desk and next to a large, comfy-looking armchair. Remove temptation indeed…
Rukawa's eyes caught on a miniature placed almost out of sight, next to the computer. A younger Sendoh, about twelve or thirteen, just on the threshold of adolescence, coltishly long-legged and slightly awkward, beamed out at Rukawa, with a kind of innocence and joy that was reflected in his father's supremely prideful smile and his mother's tender look. The photograph had captured a truly precious moment, and Rukawa was abruptly somehow ashamed at trying to pry in someone's private life. "Me too." Sendoh's eyes had dimmed in the shadow of remembrance, and the normally smiling face had acquired a pensive look... Rukawa put the photo down again, replacing it in its original position gently.
He glanced ruefully at the second-year books; he had had practice the whole of Saturday, and had apparently slept this Sunday away... I guess I had better study; there /is/ a history test tomorrow…
Contrary to popular opinion, Rukawa usually /did/ study, and do relatively well. Only... he had spent the days before the IH playing basketball, and had inadvertently dozed off during almost every exam paper. Which had landed him in a study session with 3 idiots. Something that's not happening again if I can help it... Sensei had just let him sleep in class after he handed in his first few assignments with a 92% average. Although he was still /very/ exasperated about it, there was nothing very much he could do about it. Not to mention the bodily danger involved in waking Rukawa up in class... or anywhere else... that was a very good strategy... keeps idiots off my back and gives me an excuse to hit people.
He had tested somewhere in the 99th percentile in grade school. But after a while, it was just too easy. He didn't care about his results anymore by the time he got to Shohoku. Before his parent's death, they would at least force him to study for his major exams. Now, he did just enough to keep the teachers off his back and himself out of time-wasting remedial classes. Currently, he was on history probation after having fallen asleep during another test, which meant he had to display some credible marks not to miss practice.
Boring... even the cover is boring...
Rukawa stifled a yawn. K'so... I just slept. He reluctantly flipped open the book. He blinked at the veritable array of pictures before him... apparently Sendoh had an hitherto unsuspected talent for drawing comics – he had transformed the previously dry and boring test into a tiny comic series squeezed in the text margins, /full/ of innuendoes and humorous digs at politicians. Apparently I wasn't the only one being bored in history class…* * *
What do you do... when someone needs you help so /desperately/ that your barriers fall away... when you can't help but show a bit of /yourself/ in response to his pain... what do you do... when someone's shattered soul falls in pieces around you amidst your own cracked heart's barriers?
What /can/ you do?
* * *
Sendoh eased the door open, then brought in his haul of food. After putting the perishables away quietly, he went over to check on Rukawa. Finding the room empty, he went over to the study room.
Rukawa looked up, startled, as the door opened to show Sendoh's spikes, then the rest of his head.
"Aha! You're here! Look, I got the very latest match! Lakers vs. Wizards!" Sendoh exclaimed happily, brandishing a video-tape above his head.
* * *
Nothing had changed. Or had it?
Author's note:
In case anyone hadn't realized by now, I was trying to develop their characters /before/ jumping into the whole romance thing.
It's probably not gonna move that fast... so do be patient.
And yeah, this is my first fic, so constructive feedback is good ^_~ *hint*