In His Shadow

"I will win. And you will forever be in my shadow."

Harsh words, even for Rukawa. Even at the time, even during that grand practice game between Shohoku and Shoyo-Ryonan, Sendoh had registered a chill run up his spine at the sound of them. He had tried to convince himself that they were just words, empty of meaning, that Rukawa was still green and had much to learn about humility. But then it was Rukawa who had gone to the Inter Highs, had beaten Sannoh, not he.

Of course, Sendoh would never let him win. He practiced hard late into the night, and pretended whenever they faced off, as they often did these days, that it came to him naturally. Rukawa, on his part, never betrayed the numerous nights he stayed awake, clenching his fists till his palms turned red, as if doing so would crush his eternal rival.

And their one-on-ones seemed friendly enough, insofar as neither of them ever seemed able to defeat the other decisively. If Sendoh emerged the victor in one game, then Rukawa stole his crown in the next, leaving Sendoh to smile bemusedly. This had gone on for many weeks now; and with both Sendoh and Rukawa showing visible signs of improvement elsewhere, at their own schools, it had become apparent that they were asymptotically heading toward the same level.

Wasn't that a comforting thought? Sendoh would never be surpassed after all. But why had that line suddenly irrupted into his consciousness like some painful childhood memory long repressed?

"You will forever be in my shadow."

Surely it oughtn't bother him anymore, now that he was satisfied that their skills were identical and destined to be so forever? Unless in a technical sense Rukawa had foreseen that Sendoh's skills would become eroded in some distant future sooner than his own, owing to the year's difference between them. Or perhaps he had been looking forward to this particular day, when Sendoh would be indisposed for rigorous physical activity because of a sprained ankle – at least until the weekend.

A curious craving for ice cream took over Sendoh at that moment, perhaps because of the sprained ankle, and he reached for the telephone. He dialed Rukawa's number, and waited until the receiver was picked up at the other end.

"Hello." It was a statement.

"Hey Rukawa. Meet me at the park in ten minutes."

"Is your ankle better already?"

"Not really. I just wanted ice cream."

"Call me when you want to play basketball."

"I really want ice cream right now."

It was awkward at the ice cream store when the girl at the counter mistook the two of them for a couple, but a toothy smile from Sendoh restored the balance of the universe. And then they sat on a bench outside in silence, licking their ice creams and staring at a vandalized brick wall. The shapeless graffiti and rude words spray-painted on it brought back with renewed vengeance that one nagging thought Sendoh had tried in vain to shove to the back of his mind since morning.

"You will forever remain in my shadow."

Rukawa looked up. A blob of ice cream fell on his lap, and soaked into his pants, but he didn't notice. A squirrel nearby, however, did, and stared longingly at Rukawa from the bushes.

"What did you mean by that?" Sendoh turned to look him in the eye. He was in a candid mood. "I thought and thought and thought, and wasn't able to make any sense of it."

Rukawa idly brushed the cold spot on his pants that had begun smelling strongly of vanilla with his thumb.

"It's an idiom. It means that I will surpass you."

"I know what it means." Sendoh turned ninety degrees on the bench to attain a position of greater candor. "I just don't know why you would say such a thing to me."

Rukawa averted his eyes.

"If it hurt your feelings, that's not what I meant to do."

"It did seem pretty harsh."

Rukawa bit off a chunk of ice cream, and said, "I don't see why you'd think it was harsh. I don't think Fujima would start crying if, for instance, Maki said that to him."

"I think he would."

Both of them remembered vividly Fujima's tear-streaked face when Shohoku had beaten Shoyo. It was hard to believe that someone with Fujima's emotional constitution wouldn't burst into tears at the slightest challenge to his abilities.

"Fine, I'll give you a better example. Captain Akagi and Uozumi. I've heard them say far harsher things to each other."

"We're not like them at all."

They continued licking their ice creams in silence. The squirrel had long given up and disappeared. If it hadn't been for the wall, a beautiful sunset might have been visible at that hour.

"How about Jin and Mitsui?"

"H'm," Sendoh nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Yes, I can certainly see Jin saying something like that."

"But Mitsui wouldn't let that get to him. He would train hard to reach Jin's level of accuracy." For someone who was so completely absorbed in himself, Rukawa certainly did observe a lot.

"But you see," protested Sendoh, "we've both been at the same level whenever we've played lately."

"Then you should be even less affected by what I said back then." He could also be very levelheaded. Unless it was the ice cream talking, in its infinite wisdom.

Sendoh sighed, and rose, wincing a little as he put his weight on his injured foot.

"Maybe you're right."

Rukawa followed, tossing his balled-up napkin into the trashcan ten feet away in a clean arc.

"Sunday."

Sendoh raised an eyebrow.

"No later than that. One-on-one on Sunday."

Sendoh smiled and shrugged.

"I'll do my best."

Curious kid, he thought as he lay in bed that night, injured foot resting on a pillow. Sometimes he wondered whether he would really mind if Rukawa surpassed him. Sometimes he imagined that he might even feel some kind of paternal pride at seeing him go from sour, arrogant youth to a true and mature ace – in being, in some sense, the catalyst that had brought about that remarkable transformation.

But these thoughts – these thoughts were for a different time, when the calendar finally caught up with him, and his beautiful hair became gray and thin. (Would he be in a wheelchair, or would he retain the use of his legs?) For the present, Sendoh was glad he had kept up his training and not allowed himself to be beaten. And he would always give it his best.

The phone rang.

"Hello?"

"It's me."

"Rukawa."

"Listen, I'm sorry for what I said that day. It wasn't nice."

Sendoh smiled broadly.

"Thanks. But you were right, I was being dramatic."

"Saturday," and he put down the phone.

end.

A/N: I can't do romance, so I decided to do this. Feel free to interpret it in any way you like, but I'm telling you, no romance was intended.

The pivotal line repeated throughout this story is what I think Rukawa said to Sendoh during that particular game in the English dub. I recall feeling bad for Sendoh - about as bad as when Maki was gazing at him after Ryonan's defeat to Shohoku. But I've already written a fic about that.