Chapter 2: Bounce To You!

I'm so bad, bad

Then I'm so good, good

Can't nobody hold us down

Nothing's gonna stop us now.

-Can't Nobody, 2NE1-

Tanaka is my property. XD I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's meant for a little fun. By the way, guess who the shopkeeper is. Brownie points for guessing who the person Tanaka is talking to in her cellphone and also for piecing the relationship between Aoi and Tanaka. So far, I've seen in the reviews of Shojo S, it looks like a lot of people adore Tanaka. Thanks for the reviews! If you have suggestions, please pm me.

-Nikki

"So you talked to Tanaka?" Kogure asked cheerfully, pushing up his glasses with the flick of his large and long tapered fingers. His smile lit up his whole being. It was a natural grace that went with his usual actions. The light that he emitted as a person was something Mitsui did not see often in other people easily. Kogure was gentle, and kind, and when he offered advice and help, he meant it. He wasn't the best in the court, but you couldn't help but overlook his gentle aura that you took him for granted. He was a gem of a person and a player, irreplaceable and someone very easy to get along with.

"…"

Silence erupted.

Mitsui and Kogure were walking on the way to school. They had crossed paths on the route and it was funny, too. But hey, it was rare he went with someone to school like this. Better make the best out of it, too. He needed a nice talk with someone after all the messes he had whacked. The latest one being the legendary Tanaka girl with the monotone face and awfully violent temper that surpassed those of gorilla lookalikes and red-headed idiots who thought they owned the world. But man, he had really ended up getting whacked by this girl. She was Jeanne d'Arc, all in the fire of her fury, beneath the Japanese deity he found himself wondering at. When he had abandoned her at the street after the verbal word war, he had hidden beneath an alley and continued following her around for the next minutes until she actually found her house.

"I did talk to her."

"So, how was she?"

"She was violent and annoying and is capable of only one emotion and it is anger."

Kogure chuckled. His eyes were fixed on the road as the staccato of footsteps grew more distant behind them.

"Why would you say that?"

"From what I've seen so far, Kogure. The nerve of that girl!" He cringed at the thought. "Very hotheaded, very grouchy. She's too brave. Too unstable. Too troublesome. I don't think she'll be really worth my time, honestly."

"Well, why do you want to talk to her in the first place?"

"She reminds me of something. Besides, I don't think I've chosen right to actually bring it up, too…"

"Well, what really happened?" Kogure's eyes were full of concern. "I still think it'd be better you try to get to know her better, in any case? Maybe she's not warming up to you that well."

"I called her bossy and annoying."

Kogure nodded.

"What else?" he prodded, intent to get to the bottom of the whole mystery.

"And I told her she was a huge hypocrite. I said she was acting like my mother, and I told her to stop bossing me around. I made fun of her," he admitted, feeling a tinge of guilt at his actions the previous night. Why was Kogure like this? Did he like Tanaka, too? Kogure didn't normally have many girl friends. He just got along very well with people, and he wasn't scared to be honest, even if it meant getting hit in the face. How come Kogure knew what to do and he didn't? Was it because he was dealing with a girl?

Maybe.

Okay, Mitsui had to admit it to himself. He had never been one to check out the girls. He suited himself to hope and work and play. Never batted an eyelash at the females who yelled your eardrums out of your ear so much that the screaming ravaged your balance and it would go off. Never one to skirt-chase and get dumped. Never one who talked of the girls he liked, because he never had a girl friend he was close to and talked to a lot. Basketball was his territory, never the opposite gender population. He didn't even talk to girls.

And barely even knew how to get along with them.

Okay, maybe that was the problem. He had treated her like she was your gangster in the street. It crept the hell out of him. What would he act if she passed by now? Would she beat him up? Would she collar him and yell his ear off? Curse him till her saliva ran out and her throat scorched for liquid?

What would Kogure really say? Sakuragi might as well could laugh at him. Inwardly, he cursed the latter for even knowing how to talk to girls. He had had fifty girls who dumped him. For these days, the redhead was absolutely besotted with the captain's little sister, who obviously was crazy about Rukawa. Even he knew how to get along with females better than him! Ryouta, the punky point guard, had Ayako as a close friend and ten girls who dumped him. What would Anzai say? He felt his face heat up at the thought of Anzai and Ami, his train of thinking suddenly trapped in a Labyrinth of possibilities.

Akagi would preach.

And Tanaka. Tanaka. Tanaka. The girl with the awful temper. The wild but lonely look in her eyes that the despair of monotony tried so desperately to mask. Tanaka, the girl who beat boys up. Tanaka. He was finding himself remembering her voice, the magnetism that made him curious of her. The texture of her hair, the iridescent smell of her girly perfume.

He wanted to talk to her badly. She annoyed, amused and drew him.

"Well, I think you did an approach that offended her. At least you didn't make her cry."

Kogure patted his shoulder. "If you really want to talk to her, you should make her feel a wee comfortable around you. Try to tease her a bit, it won't hurt you, you know. Joke around. Just be a little more sensitive, if it won't work. If you really want to talk, then do it. I think it'd give you some fresh air, you know. You need quiet company."

He smiled.

"Besides, nothing's taking you down. She's a hard one to get personal with."

"I won't give up. If Anzai will hear, then I have to make it up," he responded. Agh, the fire of piety in the face of the dear old coach who made things right for him. He didn't want Anzai to doubt his new change of reputation.

He had to get Tanaka.

"Think win-win!"

"Win-win?"

"A situation where both of you benefit," Kogure explained cheerfully. "She gets company and a little less lonely. You get your talk, some company aside from Hotta. Not that Hotta's a bad influence. If you like her, then be her friend."

"So you want us to be good friends?"

"Why not? You just might."

He blinked, and blurs of pink scattered through the wind. Adjusting the angle of his head, he saw the sakura trees. Shohoku. They were at the school now. Along the side of the trees, he noticed a wave of bushy and nicely-textured hair, so long that it stood out.

Tanaka.

She was standing against a tree, her eyes a strong indigo that stood out. Her hair was tied, and fussed with as if she was trying too hard. Her skin was neat and she looked good. The monotonous expression of hers were always so hard to decode and read. The indigo orbs wandered around for a while – and met his.

His.

Shoot.

At the alarm, her eyes widened and she quickly looked away. Her skin pinked, as if she was suddenly a blushing bride.

He looked away, feeling the same surge of blood and heat at the eye contact. Ugh. It was so frustrating but he had to try.

"How much do you like her?" Kogure inquired. His voice was relatively lower. An amused grin graced his face.

"A bit."

"Oh. I see."

And he chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"Ahh, that Miyagi and Sakuragi tried to place bets on her being your girlfriend. Akagi, of course, tried to stop it. Most of the team has heard. Even Ayako's starting to have her suspicions."

"And Anzai?"

"Ahh, he just laughs. He's amused. No worries; he's happy, actually." Kogure strained to look around for Akagi.

"So how do you think she sees you?"

"Tanaka?"

"Yep."

"I think she hates me already."

Kogure shook his head.

"It might look like it, but who knows, maybe she doesn't at all."

I think I'm ugly

Nobody wants to love me

Ami shut off her mp3 player in frustration to the song that was blaring lowly in her ear. Ugly by 2NE1. How appropriate.

Running a hand through her hair, she felt her cheeks heat up at the recollection of the event. He had met her eye contact. And he actually looked pretty sorry. It was just so weird. He annoyed her, and amused her, but she had to admit, she liked him a bit.

Lunchtime once again, and she was seated all alone under the sakura tree all by herself. It was her personal tradition to eat under those soft pink petals that made her dream girl dreams as per usual daydream. Tucking away the headphones she had, she unplugged it off the mp3 player and inside her pocket. She had had eaten a bento she made herself, but for some reason, she had to make another extra one. Her typical meal was an onigiri with tempura, salad, soup and vegetables and sometimes katsudon, but this boxed lunch was not your typical boxed lunch. Seaweed soup, no meat at all. A rice ball and dimsum, with the former having a seafood flavor.

Lunch for an old man.

"Do you have an extra lunch?"

Ami scowled. She didn't need to look to see who it was. The arrogant sharpshooter with the scar in the base/bottom of his pointed chin. The guy with the BandAid. He was staring at her, a clueless typical guy with his school coat unbuttoned, showing his clean white shirt underneath. For a moment, he looked pretty cute and adorable. It amused her monotone cave of a heart.

Poor boy.

"Here." She gave it to him. Eagerly, the boy opened the cover. "I hope it is to your liking," she added, hiding her amusement as she saw him scan the contents. An old man's lunch for a toothless boy. A pretty amusing combination.

"Yeah, it is," he admitted as he took a few bites of the meal. "Well, the meal's not bad, Tanaka, I guess."

"It's not the food that makes the meal, Senpai. It's the company."

"You're probably right." Here he was, drifting off. Here, he took a look at her shyly, sizing her up.

"Do you like basketball, -?"

"Tanaka. Just Tanaka."

"Tanaka. Why not Ami?"

"Because we're not close. Just because I gave you a meal doesn't mean we're friends, dude. If you want a meal everyday, then drop by. The company makes a good meal."

He grinned at her.

"So, Tanaka, you like basketball?"

"Y-Yes," she admitted, reluctantly. She did. She did. She loved it. The intensity of the guarding. The beauty of the three-pointers. The speed of the alley-oops and the grace of the dunks that Rukawa so nonchalantly placed on the backboard. "I used to play myself on the team of my middle school. It was pretty fun, too. I had a lot of friends, admirers. I managed fine myself."

"It doesn't seem like it. You don't look like it. I really can't imagine you having admirers, honestly."

She gave him a bitter little glare. "Of course, I don't. I grew my hair out, too. Trust me, you wouldn't recognize me in my middle school days."

"Oh really?"

"Shut up."

He actually did, but not without his bug-eyed look that would later be meant and reserved for her.

"So, you still have that injury?"

Her words were monotone. They were heavy onomatopoeias formed in the wind. No hints of emotion. It was a group of words to voice out a certain ideal.

"How did you know?"

She shrugged, quiet and still. "Everyone knows," she remarked, avoiding eye contact. "Besides, if you want to join me for lunch every day since Kami knows you cook, then it means something. I'll be giving you boxed lunches – but they're not for free."

"Free?"

"Yeah. I demand a price."

Damn. What price was it now? First the bento, then the price. Why was she like this? She was a hard tough nut to crack.

"What price is it then?"

"I want you to listen to me and be a good boy for the rest of your third year. It's your last year so make it count."

"Excuse me?!" He felt his features twist. Was this a more ferocious form of his mother?

"I don't offer my company for free." She offered him a cup of tea, and he took it reluctantly. "Going back to the subject, I suppose your stamina will be weaker than before. You're still readjusting yourself to play. I know your knee's healed and blah blah, but I think you and I need to go out."

Go out?

Was she –

"Don't get any wrong ideas," she declared, smacking his cheek. It sent his face almost slamming into the nearest wall. Patting his own cheek, he glanced at her furtively. Against his hand, the cheek she hit was hotter than ever. He rubbed it, half-furious, half-confused, a traveler who got blocked by a challenge in his new road.

"Go where?"

"To buy you a new leg guard, some basketball stuff. Unless your old stuff from Takeishi still fits you, of course." She snorted, as she twisted and closed the container of her tea.

"What if my mother asks me where I'm going? She'll make assumptions," he grumbled. "She'll assume it's the gangsters. She'll never believe me."

Tanaka's face creased boyishly. "Then I'll pick you up –sa!"

-Sa?*

"Do you even know where my house is? Besides, when will this happen?"

"I'd say Friday, sometime you're not busy. I'm going to your house, no sweat. There. Get it?"

"Y-Yeah."

"Are you and senpai dating, Ami-san?"

"Excuse me?"

"I saw you giving a boxed lunch to him. You know…"

"That's a poor excuse for assuming such a thing. You know very well I am asexual," Ami grumbled. "I am not attracted to men. Never! They. Are. Pigs. Get it?"

"Come on!"

"Ayako, Ayako, why are you so desperate to learn who I like? I told you already, I'm not interested in dating."

"You are NOT asexual!" called Misaki, Ami's friend. She was athletic, tall, with a good head on shoulders. Attractive and blessed with intelligence. Your elegant socialite in the making.

"Why am I NOT asexual?"

"Dude, I know you had a crush."

"It was in middle school. Past tense."

"Whatever. You know what the proof is? It's proof you are NOT asexual. Your crush is a guy. Thus, you are not asexual."

"I doubt that," she muttered.

"Are you sure he's changed? I don't trust him."

"I'll make sure of that. I boss him around. Don't worry so much. Do you seriously want to die?"

"I don't want to die yet!"

"Good. Don't worry. I'm fine. I'm going to the basketball court right now. I just got from Karate practice."

"Great. That's good to know. If he tries to do something to you, then –"

"I can manage fine."

Snapping the cellphone shut, Ami haggled with her feet across the winding walk that intersected the Shohoku buildings together. From Karate to Basketball, it was a relief that the buildings were built fine and well-suited to the needs of the specified athletes of the said teams. Talking to this guy who had goo-goo eyes whenever she saw him was more different than talking to him on the phone. He was calm, but when he talked to her in person, he always blushed.

Poor little Kazushi, she remembered his other friends tease him before. Your crush doesn't notice you.

She never took it as an offense, just smiled and said she wasn't his crush. He liked her, she was fine with him and that worked out a lot for both of them. They were friends, and they saw each other a few times in weeks, as not to arouse the curiosity of the other schools. Her, some schoolgirl, sneaking around with a Shoyo player, was not something Ami wanted to see in her JKA application sheet for a Karate scholarship. Her sensei believed in her truly, and promised her one day, she would surpass everything, become a star in martial arts.

With the arrogant ex-MVP, she felt warmer than usual. The magnetism was mutual, though neither of them would admit it. Spending time together sharing bentos and tea together was the activity they employed in their break. Reading, storytelling – anything to keep themselves amused. It was a simple scene – her telling him to eat his bento if he valued his life. Too willingly, he would put on a docile face and eat and smile as he savored the flavor of the boxed lunch she made for him.

It was a friendship stranger than the ones he and she had had. No more bawdy jokes, no more stealing swipes of cigarette sticks, just some hitting and poking him, the solace and the mild humor that accompanied every step they took.

As she raced steadily, she found her cheeks flushing in delight. It had been so long since she had been like this. Two years, to be exact.

Going to the mall with her was something he felt awkward to be thinking of. His mother had quickly pried her nose into the affair when he had accidentally let slip he was leaving the house to meet a friend. She was demanding and when had spotted the petite and monotonous shape near the cherry blossoms, had deduced and assumed it was his girlfriend. With a last loud whine that Tanaka was not his at all, but rather, someone else's, he had ran as far as he could.

"What if people see us?"

"Then we better look discreet," Tanaka quipped. Mitsui stole a look at her. A beige coat that reached until her hips, a skimpy gray minidress, boots, beady earrings and a lavender scarf made her look very girly. She wore her hair in two perky and fat braids, and she held two cream-colored gloves. Her long legs were very visible. How ironic – she had the talk and the personality of a boy, no matter how monotone a boy she would make at all.

"Discreet?"

"Yup."

"What if people will talk?"

"People always talk!" she snapped, dragging his arm and herself towards the nearest sports store. "Besides, no one will know we went here together –"

Oh, shoot.

In the sports store, three girls were there. Pale and feminine, even way girlier than the way Tanaka dressed. Rukawa's trio of hoarding fangirls. They were hounding around the store, practically squealing around, pigs. They would know.

"Oh, they won't notice us."

"I HOPE RUKAWA-SAMA WILL LIKE THIS!" One huggled a large Nike bag to herself. "I WANTTT TO BUY HIM THIS!"

Rolling her eyes, Tanaka went up to the store owner. It was a mustached man with black eyes and ebony-colored hair. He had tanned skin and was polishing a shoe so carefully, almost lovingly.

"Sir?"

The man looked at her and smiled pleasantly.

"I want to buy a leg guard for –"

"For him? Your boyfriend?"

At the last word, Mitsui felt his cheeks redden. He was her boyfriend? No way. He couldn't imagine him being the guy she went out. Besides, she had told him he was too annoying and too troublesome to actually be considered a potential love interest. Tanaka's face was pale, and yet her monotony was something he admired. The calm features and the ironically scary tones she delivered threateningly.

"Boyfriend? We're not. I have another –"

At the sound of her voice, the Rukawa fangirls eyed Tanaka with interest. In other words, the green-eyed monster just popped out of nowhere.

"Isn't that Tanaka?" one asked. Another smiled evilly at Tanaka.

"What are you doing here? Buying something for Rukawa-sama? Sorry, but the fan club is full," she sniffed. She glared at Tanaka hard. Yep. It had to be the green-eyed monster. Compared to the way Tanaka dressed and the way she herself chose her clothes, both looked feminine, but Tanaka seemed more natural. She moved with the ease of a man under a woman's clothes in Kabuki. The other fangirl was obviously very girly, very much fangirling and very female. The dark side of human psychology.

"I didn't say –"

"You're denying it. Get out! No one wants you here!" squeaked another, and pushed Tanaka out of her way.

Tanaka's face didn't crease but she continued to push her way. "I need to buy something and you are only blocking my way. I need something here. You are annoying, so get out of my way."

"Maybe I should say the same to you!" This time, all three of them joined to push Tanaka out of the store.

"Tanaka," Mitsui hissed. "Tanaka! Are you going to buy or not?"

She was against the door, her eyes dull with her anger. The girls were covering her, and he could see her hair was getting messed up. A few strands frizzed out of her way, but she was silent.

"I am. Just chill, Toothless." Hands from the girls tried to pin her, but she quickly got one of the hands. Her hold was a tight grip from a fighter, and her eyes were still dull. Her fingers tightened more, and for a moment, Mitsui's blood chilled. Her eyes were no longer of this world; they blazed.

I am the best.

"HEY! OUCHHH!"

She tried to wriggle free, but Tanaka shrugged and let her. Once the deranged girl tried to grasp Tanaka's hand, something happened. Tanaka twisted her forearm. Her forearm. Her hand. It twisted, and her fist made contact with a collarbone.

A loud BANG! And it was followed by another thud.

Tanaka had attacked the girl who tried to assault her. Frantically, the other Rukawa fangirls edged away from the girl.

So Tanaka could actually fight. Somehow, her style was familiar.

Wiping her hands, she waved to the shop owner, who was staring at her with wide eyes.

"I would like a red and black leg guard," she pronounced, trying to sound polite. The gleam in her eyes convinced you that nothing happened. The flustered owner looked at Mitsui and winked.

"You're a lucky guy. She's cute – and a badass, too," he mouthed.

Tanaka nodded at him curtly as she scanned the price.

"Who's going to pay between us?"

"I do; I don't need a girl to pay for me."

"Are you serious? You can't even have your own teeth fixed"-at this, the shopkeeper burst into laughter-"at this rate. So I will be the one who pays. I can't have a guy pay when he can't even afford to get his own teeth fixed, Toothless."

His nerves twitched. Again, with the Toothless little joke. She always called him that. Toothless. It made him annoyed at her. She had to rub it in his face.

As she set her bills on the table, she paid, and the shopkeeper kept grinning. He was amused. Of course he had to be; a tall guy being bossed around by a monotonous girl with a notorious temper.

"Thank you," she said coolly.

The shopkeeper beamed, showing yellowish teeth. "So what's your name, Miss? You're a girl who fights like a boy. Where do you study?"

"I'm Tanaka. Tanaka Ami. I study at Shohoku, but after high school, I'm planning to go JKA."

What was JKA, seriously? Mitsui racked his mind. The JKA sounded really familiar. JKA… JKA…

"Why are you leaving? Didn't you said you wanted to play with me?" he asked the quiet boy who always sang to himself that enigma of a song. The hum of a mysterious karateka who brooded and said things bluntly yet with life, the subtlety of a baby crying. The team manager who never took offense, the boy who girls wanted, an unofficial part of the Takeishi sextet. He wasn't the sun to his team, like Mitsui was.

He was a boy who shone in the darkness for his toughness and gentle ways. His smiles, his looks. The way he estimated stats and the way his fingers curled into fists, the smile he reserved for his team.

"I said that, senpai." He grinned. A bevy of girls started to scream.

"AOIIII-KUN!"

Aoi was what everyone generally called him. For the blue shirts he wore and his deep blue eyes.

"But what?"

"JKA."

Aoi-kun laughed.

"I have JKA."

When he looked back at her, he found himself amazed at her deep indigo eyes.

Areumdaun Seoul City
Sikkeureoun eumaksori
Kkaman nun galsaekmeori
Ddarahagin too slow
Taedoneun hwaksilhage
Jasinkam haneul hyanghae
Ppeon ppeon dangdanghage
Wanhanda haedo
Can't touch this

To his surprise, by his side, Tanaka was rapping the last two lines. Her voice was monotone, but to his surprise, it wasn't all dull and dead. She had a nice vocal range. But something struck him: she lacked the emotions to perform it.

"So are we done now?"

"Yup."

Tanaka lowered her head. Her bushy and pretty locks splayed down her shoulders. The other strands were unpinned. Her cheeks were ruddy from the earlier skirmish and it gave her a flushed look that made him think of a rose in the bloom of the summer. The texture of her skin looked less fragile; a trickle of sweat poured down her cheeks.

"Anything you want to say, Toothless?" She looked expectant of him.

"Thank you –"

The loud eruption of hunger came from her. Her belly was aching. She was hungry. Great, Mitsui, he thought. He had to pay her back now. She was buying him a leg guard and this was how he treated her. Not giving her food to eat. He sure didn't know how to keep a female friend close, besides Ayako.

"You're hungry," he stated. "I should treat you."

"No." Her negation was confirmed. More beads of sweat. She shook her head stubbornly. "No. I don't give a damn. I don't want to eat, Toothless." Her hands groped for the wall, and there was something that seemed off with her. Limply, the girl tried to push her lips into a thin line. "I'm fine, Toothless. Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself. So now."

"You're not okay!"

She stroked her forehead. She was skinny.

"I told you, don't worry so much! You should worry about yourself, Toothless! Any more than I could."

"Women are the darkest continent of psychology," Kogure told him as they were in the locker rooms.

"Says who?" Mitsui pulled his shirt off his head.

"Says Sigmund Freud in a Psychology book. Theory of Personality, an Asian textbook for Psychology students."

"Well, he's certainly right."

Kogure laughed.

"Well, I side with him," Miyagi chimed in as he slipped off his school shoes. "Women are the strangest creatures in the planet. But not Aya-chan!" His gleeful cheer at his last sentence reminded Mitsui of Tanaka and her monotonous but amusing ways, the coldness of her personality. The mischievous point guard grinned at him slyly. "Maybe Tanaka is the most suspicious little specimen of them all!"

Sakuragi and Miyagi cracked up.

"She's monotone – but feisty! Almost gave me a black eye when I tried to get her name and number!"

"That girl is a Yankee!"

"No wonder no one wants to run after her –"

"Even Micchi here"-Sakuragi patted Mitsui's bare shoulder warmly-"is her toy!"

"Is it true she calls you Toothless?" called one of the bench players. Miyagi and Sakuragi kept on laughing, further humiliating him because of the way Tanaka and he interacted. Always arguing, fighting verbally. Yet strangely, exchanging words and lunches. Days and time. Walks. It was one of the strangest relationships they had seen.

In the eyes of many, she seemed to be a very bad, bad girl. Then to Mitsui, she would be so good. Her own haters never seemed to run to her, but they were too slow. She ran her own show: she was on her own pace of monotony and observed and jested. Boys thought she was too troublesome, but to him, she was a little mystery he had to solve. Kicking and punching, hammer fists and nimble outfits, the Korean music she rapped monotonously in a deadpan that destroyed her own rhythm, the deep blue color of her eyes that he started to love, the gentle way she balled her fists that reminded him of his close friend Aoi-kun.

While his own dreams were for sale, he was trying hard to be good. He was good, but he was so bad. He had yet to find a purpose for himself, much less try to get fresh air. He loved basketball, heart and soul and he blazed with it every time he met Tanaka. He loved talking about it to her. Describing his old days, his current practices, these times when she would listen and nod, a fragment of the memory of Aoi.

She and Aoi and he loved basketball.

Together, nobody could hold them down. Tanaka sure looked like she missed basketball. If he'd call her to practice, she would stubbornly insist on watching him and telling him that toothless guys didn't and never played basketball with her. Ah, if only he could see her try. Her word playing, her words, her monotony, her basketball passions. He could read it when she would watch him.

The look in her eyes. The slow line on her lips. The same look Mitsui knew he had assumed when he lost his Basketball for a time. He knew it was painful, to be shut down like this. He wanted to fix it so bad. He wanted to break that painful look in her face and tell her to go play basketball again.

Nobody had to hold them down.

After practice, he made a decision. One day, he'd make her smile. He'd throw her the basketball, bouncing to her and tell her to play. Nobody had the right to hold her down.

If her love was basketball, it was a love not for sale. It had to be a mirror, and its reflection had to bounce back to you.

*-Sa – A verbal suffix assertive men use to show their assertive nature.

*JKA – Japanese Karate Association – the main headquarters of karate where the best students train to be teachers of karate.