Lotus Flower
August – Gladiolas, Sincerity

Sendoh opened his eyes very slowly to the darkened room. He lay in silence and stillness for a long while. Nothing stirred. He wondered what had woken him. No alarm had rung. No sunlight yet crept over the horizon or through the dark curtains. There was no noise except the very soft sound of breathing coming from the bed nearby. Sendoh listened for a moment, and then slowly turned his eyes towards the edge of the bed. He could see the wooden side of the bed frame supporting the mattress that was lifted off the floor, higher than where Sendoh was sleeping. If he turned his head to the right, he might look straight under the bed and see the few storage boxes and miscellaneous items stored under there. For now, however, his eyes focused on one pale hand that was dangling out of the blanket while the boy to whom it belonged continued to breath peacefully in sleep. He gazed at it for a while, contemplating its form, with nails cut neat and short, fingers all long, elegant, although slightly bent with the perils of playing the sport they loved. He wondered if he should extract his hand from the warm of the blanket that covered him and perhaps brush his fingers over the back of that hand. But then Rukawa shifted his position with a soft noise of breath, and the hand vanished from Sendoh's line of sight.

Sendoh shuffled himself a little deeper into his blanket and closed his eyes again, hoping to go back to sleep, but sleep would not come. He fished blindly for his phone that he'd tucked beneath his pillow and checked the time. Just after 4am. He sighed and rubbed his eyes a little, turning his body to the left, and then to the right, seeking a comfortable position but finding none.

He had been dreaming, he guessed. Perhaps his dream had roused him. No doubt he had been dreaming of the game. The game had certainly been occupying most of his thoughts over the past week or so. He listened again for Rukawa's breathing, closing his eyes, letting the sound wash over him.

Today was the day, he reminded himself. The last game. The last chance. He'd run out of time to do whatever he'd needed to do to get his head in the right place. Whether or not he had been successful, he was going to find out today.

He was feeling… good. He'd mostly managed to come to terms with it, he thought. That Rukawa wasn't interested in such things as romance, or relationships, or love. Nothing he'd ever said, or done, or indicated had suggested that he had any interest or curiosity towards girls, or boys, or anyone at all, for that matter. And even if he had, the likelihood of him accepting Sendoh seemed remote in the extreme. And even if it wasn't, as far as Sendoh was concerned, the nature of their relationship meant that he could do nothing. Realistically speaking, it was a complete impossibility. Even just an attempt at making some kind of approach, some kind of 'move' towards him, would feel like a betrayal.

Rukawa was… well, he sighed a little to himself, Rukawa was different. Rukawa found it hard to express himself most of the time. The power balance between the two of them, Sendoh felt, was a little unequal. Rukawa seemed so rarely to be confident or self assured, except when he was on the basketball court, or else perhaps… doing something relating to flowers. And so Sendoh couldn't do anything, no matter what he wanted, without feeling like he'd be forcing Rukawa into something he might not want. Taking advantage of his position, his influence, over the younger boy. Fracturing this strange friendship that they shared. It was a totally hopeless business.

And so, he reconciled himself, they could only remain as… friends.

And he could live with that. He could be happy with that. And as he slowly came to terms with it, the pressure he'd put on himself gradually lessened. Slowly. Not gone, not completely, not yet. But today, at least, he would walk onto the court with the intention to win. He owed himself that much, at least.

He twisted once again in the sheets, until he was facing Rukawa's bed again.

He'd stayed overnight, on account of the early start today. He and Rukawa had planned to take the train together to the community sports stadium where they would be playing on opposite teams. It was close to Shohoku, just a few stations down the train line. They'd eaten dinner together – Rukawa had cooked, of course – and Sendoh had enjoyed relaxing at home with him. Watching trash on TV. Discussing whatever small talk came to mind. Rukawa had asked him about his plans after high school and Sendoh had been sheepish about his unsurety in the matter. They'd set up Sendoh's camp bed, a thin mattress on the floor in the small space between Rukawa's bed and the kitchen area. They'd taken turns to shower and brush their teeth. They'd spent a simple, pleasant evening together, steadfastly managing to talk about anything except the upcoming game. Sidestepping the topic of neatly anytime it had threatened to come up.

And now he lay in the semi-darkened room and was unable to think of anything else.

Finally, driven into action by his mind that refused him any chance at further rest, he pushed himself out of the sheets and took a moment to look down at Rukawa where he slept.

His breath stilled.

He really was quite beautiful, he thought. Comfortable against his pillow, soft and cradling, his black hair thrown carelessly about the cotton and away from his face leaving his expression wholly visibly, unhidden by any fringe. His lashes were long against his cheeks, his lips and mouth soft and gentle with peaceful breathing. He was totally unguarded, his usual mask of coolness and indifference washed away with sleep and instead he seemed so young. Sixteen years old, Sendoh remembered. Living alone here, like this. Without parents, supporting his daily expenses with his part-time job. No one in the entire world to rely on. He was, Sendoh thought to himself, so strong, so admirable and yet, at this moment in time he seemed so vulnerable and delicate. Why? Why was he formed of such conflicting contradictions? Why was everything about him in such strange and appealing opposition to each other?

Rukawa seemed neither male nor female nor anything in particular, laying there with such unguarded innocence, deep in his sleep and his dreams. Just a creature, delicate and strong, all at once. Heartbreakingly beautiful, perfect. But wild and untamed. And not… something that Sendoh could ever hope to… possess or… own or claim. Sexless and genderless. Something far beyond.

He shook his head a little, reminding himself that he wasn't supposed to allow himself to be this invested, this attached, this… close to him. But, despite everything he'd told himself severely, and even in spite of the respect that he held for his treasured friend - his desire not to betray his trust or do something Rukawa wouldn't want him to do - he still found himself attracted beyond the limit of his capacity to resist. So he leant down. Bringing his face close, nervously. Closer. Closer to Rukawa's unguarded face. He held his breath. A little closer still, until he could see the fine pores of his skin even in the darkened room. Then he relaxed very tentatively so that the scent of him, musty with sleepiness and comfort, touched his senses. He breathed him in, not making a sound, not daring to touch him nor even to lean his hands or knees against the mattress incase it would wake him, strangely terrified that Rukawa might wake and see him there in this strange position and yet destructively hopeful that he might all the same.

"Kaede?" he whispered, his voice little more than a breath of air that brushed Rukawa's cheek. But the boy didn't stir. Sendoh swallowed quietly. He closed his eyes briefly, breathing only. What was he doing? Why was he tempting fate like this? What was he hoping to achieve? And yet it was intoxicating. The rush, the fear, the pleasure of being so dangerously close to him. He parted his lips once again. "Do you know?" he whispered to him near silently. In the silence of the early morning apartment, his words seemed heavy and meaningful, despite the softness of his utterance. It was as if something alien had settled into his chest. A strange solemnity, as if he were making vows or whispering in the silence of a grand old church instead of this tiny room.

Heartened by the fact that Rukawa gave no response at all - he really did sleep deeply, Sendoh noted - he drew even closer. Close enough that Sendoh's limp fringe brushed softly against Rukawa's skin where it fell. Just an inch more and he would be able to set his lips softly against his skin. His heart was thudding in his chest frantically, in concert with the butterflies that were whirling in spirals around his chest and stomach. He had to stifle the anxiety of his breathing in case it were too loud. He focused his eyes on that pale, sleeping face, straining towards him but holding himself back. A mere breath away. Too close and yet so far. "Do you know how much I want to… hold you?" he confessed, his voice hoarse. Then he waited, in case there was a response. In case Rukawa's eyes would flutter open and see him there. Perhaps smile at him. It was too much to ask and yet he waited, anxious and excited, stiff with nerves yet thrilled by his own daring.

Rukawa let out of a small breath of sleep, his head turning and falling carelessly to the side, his hair splayed against the pillow, heedless to Sendoh's words and his proximity.

Unsatisfied, Sendoh took a final anxious breath. "Could you ever… accept me?" he asked him.

After a moment, in which he gained no response from Rukawa, he struggled with the temptation to kiss him; a gentle kiss against his forehead, his temple, perhaps his cheek. But in the end he resisted, knowing it would be a transgression too far, and he was forced to straighten with a sigh.

This was it, Sendoh decided. The closest he was ever going to get to a confession. No more. No more than this. This would have to be enough.

Though he didn't want to step away, he managed to take a step back, and then another, and another. Finally, freeing himself from his self-inflicted spell he stumbled a little drunkenly away from the bed, unsteady in his mind, and made his silent way into the tiny annexed bathroom in order to take an early shower.

He dragged off his clothes lethargically, his body feeling heavy and strangely numb, and then stood under the hot spray and closed his eyes with a sigh.

After a few minutes, he forced himself to move. He ran his fingers over himself, lathering soap, noticing the shape of his body. Strong and fit and athletic. He focused on the task, admiring his form for a moment. Not in a narcissistic way, but just an innocent surprise that he was lucky enough to be able to compete among the strongest basketball players among his peers on account of it. He took care to clean and care for his body gently, getting it ready for the tolls he would demand of it today. It was real, and simplistic, and easy to comprehend. It loved, it desired - both men and women. It had heat in it, something that drove it, made it want, and love, and need the touch of others. It wanted to hold hands, cuddle, share warmth and heat. It was physical and sensuous and pleasure-seeking. It seemed so different from Rukawa who was always distant, a little uncomfortable with physical contact, and unmoved by passions or desires towards others around him.

Perhaps they really were just incompatible, Sendoh wondered unhappily.

He forced himself to push Rukawa to the back of his mind, and instead brought to the fore his teammates, the strategies, his coach and the smell of the court, the squeak of the shoes, the feel of the ball in his hand. That was what he needed to focus on now. In the twenty minutes that he spent showering, he managed, somehow, to bring his mind around to it. He stepped out of the bathroom having already changed into his school sports uniform, feeling good. Feeling confident. Feeling ready for the day.

Rukawa was awake by then, already busy cooking breakfast for the two of them. The scent of miso floated through the air as he prepared to poach eggs in boiling water on the stove. He was still dressed in the clothes he'd slept in, a simple t-shirt and cotton shorts, his hair was tousled with sleep. The sight of his slim waist and long, pale legs in simple slippers was nearly enough to shake Sendoh's new-found concentration. He forced his eyes up towards his face.

Rukawa glanced round at him at his emerged from the bathroom.

"Good morning!" Sendoh said brightly in response to his look, his voice and expression as cheerful and friendly as always, completely hiding his feelings behind his usual mask.

"Morning..." Rukawa muttered softly, as usual his voice was low and underused. He turned back to his task straight away.

Outside it was still dark, but the room lights were on, filling the space with artificial white brightness.

Rukawa did not offer any small talk, and Sendoh moved forward to help him with preparation of the food silently.

They shared their early meal quietly together, and once finished, Sendoh rose to take care of the cleaning up while Rukawa let himself into the shower that Sendoh had recently vacated. The sound of the streaming water drifted through the door and Sendoh forced himself not to imagine what was behind it as he worked to wash the plates and utensils and set them aside.

By the time he was finished, Rukawa had still not emerged, so he turned his attention to the temporary bed he had been using and decided to start packing it away. He bent to tug at the sheets, balling them up for the laundry. As he lifted the mattress to fold, his eye caught the edge of the box under Rukawa's bed that he had noticed so many weeks before, the first time that Rukawa had cooked for him. A box of basketball magazines. He pulled it out now, for reasons he couldn't really explain, and once again leafed through the volumes, finding nothing except innocent sports publications.

What sort of sixteen year old boy would have nothing but this kind of magazine hidden under his bed? Was it merely innocence, or was it truly a personal choice, a genuine disinterest in sex and sexual relationships? Was Rukawa one of those people for whom sex simply held no attraction, or no relevance? The thought made him sigh a little and shake his head to himself. Surely… surely there ought to be something…? Something a little more… illicit? A secret collection somewhere. A cutting from a page in a newspaper, even. Someone with breasts. Dressed in a bikini. Even just a beautiful smile and a little red lipstick would have done.

Still half done with folding away the bedding, Sendoh sat himself cross-legged on the floor a little dejectedly, and lifted his eyes lazily to Rukawa's now-tidy and neatly-made bed. And that was when he saw it. Just a corner, a tiny piece of something poking out from between the mattress and the bed frame. His eyes widened in curiosity. A magazine? It couldn't be…?

His hand moved towards it without even thinking about how what he was doing could be an encroachment of privacy. Too curious to consider what Rukawa would think if he knew that Sendoh was snooping around his things. This… was too much. Too fascinating. He just had to. He just wanted to know so badly.

His fingers grasped it, and before he could stop himself or wonder too much, he'd pulled it out and into his lap and was staring down at it.

And… staring.

It was an issue of Badi. He recognised it. He… had the same one at home. It was about a year old. Nonetheless, he began to flick through the pages as if he couldn't be sure. The same stories, the same manga printed there alongside lifestyle articles and editorials. The same full colour photographs. It was… all the same. Pictures that he'd looked at. Enjoyed. Even… touched himself to. He swallowed in disbelief. Could this be real?

Finally, not only some evidence that Rukawa even thought about things like… like sex... but… a magazine that was not populated by pictures of women... but rather… men.

Could it be… that Rukawa… actually liked… guys?

A noise from just beyond the door of the bathroom startled Sendoh into action, and realising that he was sitting with what was effectively a gay porn magazine in his lap, he hurried to push it back into its hiding place before Rukawa could walk out and find him browsing it. He turned his hands back to the task of folding the mattress just as Rukawa stepped back into the room, his hair damp from the shower, dressed in his sports uniform just as Sendoh was. He turned his eyes on Sendoh crouched there on the floor and struggling with the sheets, his eyes noticing Sendoh's slightly flushed cheeks, clueless as to the cause of such an expression on the face of his friend.

"Are you… all right?"

"Huh?" Sendoh looked up at him quickly. "Er, yeah. Yeah. Of course I'm… fine." In reality, he felt like all his thoughts had scattered every which way in surprise. He hadn't expected… and yet he'd hoped… and now… now he… what was he going to do now? Could he…? Maybe…?

I could tell him that I… I also have a sexuality that most people would consider… deviant. I could make a connection with him. I could reassure him that he doesn't need to hide these things from me but… how? How do I tell him without outing him against his will?

All his well collected thoughts, decisions, the game – the goddamn game – scattered around him like petals and there was only anxious all-consuming confusion left in its wake.

This new insight ought to have made things easier and yet somehow it didn't seem to do anything of the sort. Rather, he began to second-guess himself. If Rukawa was interested in guys… why had he never done anything to even remotely suggest that he was interested in Sendoh? Quite the opposite, almost, he had seemed rather keen to avoid him at first. Didn't that mean that even though he might like guys he… didn't see Sendoh in that way? Was he perhaps attracted to someone… else… instead?

Sendoh's flushed expression rapidly paled at that thought.

Rukawa tilted his head a little to the side in curiosity over the odd behaviour of his friend, but he said nothing more.

The two of them prepared, picking up their bags with their gear inside, and headed out the door into the early morning.


Ayano slid into the empty seat beside a familiar, short-haired girl carrying a camera.

"Yayoi?"

"Ah!" The young lady turned towards her at once. "Ayano! It's so good to see you!" She leaned forward and pulled her friend into an embrace. "Come to watch your brother's big game?"

"Something like that. How are your parents? How's Hikoichi getting along?"

"Ooh," Yayoi smiled brightly. "Everyone's fine. But a bit nervous today, to be honest with you. How about at your house? You know I just love to see your brother play. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, he is the most talented high school player I've ever seen. Watching him is my personal dream."

Ayano gave her a small sideways smirk. "Don't get any crazy ideas now," she teased her gently.

Yayoi laughed aloud at the implication, her face friendly. "Of course not. But really, I want to see him go on to one of the big university teams. He could really make it professionally if his stars line up right..." she gave a small frown, "...if he wins this game, of course."

Ayano glanced at her uncertainly. She'd listened to what her brother had said about the importance of this game but she'd dismissed it as a way to cover up his real nerves about playing against Rukawa's team. Had she not really fully comprehended what Akira had meant? Was this game really all that important for his future in basketball?

"Uhm, and what if they don't win?" she prompted Yayoi, suddenly a little anxious that she hadn't given him the best advice.

"The scouts will be at the inter-high competition. They don't come down to small district games like this. If he wants to be seen, he needs to go to the big stage. I tell you, it would be a tragedy of high school basketball if he never had the chance to attend the inter-high or the nationals."

"Oh..." Ayano frowned a little, "...and do you, uhm, think they can win?"

Yayoi sent her a glance from the corner of her eye. "I'll tell you this for free. When it comes to basketball, there's nothing Sendoh Akira cannot do. He is a one-of-a-kind genius."

"Oh..." Ayano recalled her brother's unusually disarrayed state of mind last week and felt a sudden well of anxiety. Was he going to be able to perform to his usual level considering…? She suddenly felt like she understood just a little of the pressure he must feel himself under.

"But..." Yayoi continued, her eyes moving to the court below where the first players were appearing to the excitement of the gathered crowd. "Shohoku has more than it's fair share of genius too, and that's a fact."

Ayano copied her, and looked at the players and coaches coming out from the changing room doors, making their way to the team benches set at the side of the courts. The players were dressed in their team jerseys. Blue and white for the Ryonan team, their opposition dressed in striking red and black. The tallest players stood out from their teammates. Sendoh Akira, of course, smirking confidently as usual amongst familiar faces that Ayano recognised from the times the team had come to the house or she had seen them practising together at the public courts. Fukuda, their powerful attacking force. Koshino, the vice captain and reliable shooting guard.

But the members of the other team drew her eyes more insistently. They looked… dangerous, unfriendly, rough and boisterous. At the forefront was an impossibly tall and broad man with bright red hair, a slightly manic smirk and an arrogant stride. Beside him, although head and shoulders shorter than the red-head was the captain of the team, with a gangster-like hair cut, an earring in his ear, and a challenging sneer across his expression. Ayano felt herself a little taken aback. That… was Rukawa's team? They didn't look like sportsmen but rather like trouble-makers. Her eyes sought the familiar face of her brother's shy friend. He followed along at the back, his eyes down as if hoping to avoid notice, despite the fact that he was taller than most his teammates. He looked a little out of place, like he didn't quite belong there. He ought, Ayano felt irrationally at that moment, to be on the other team. He ought to be playing beside her brother. He ought to have been someone her brother could rely on… depend on… and not some opposition force seeking to keep him back from his dreams. It wasn't… fair. It wasn't right that they had to fight against one another like this for the chance to go on to greater things. She twisted her fingers together anxiously.

"There..." Yayoi pointed towards Shohoku, "Those are the two your brother will need to handle somehow. Sakuragi Hanamichi, and Rukawa Kaede."

Ayano swallowed a little. "...are they really that good?"

A small, commiserating smile flickered at the corner of Yayoi's lips. She looked, Ayano realised, a little sad. "Oh, yes. They really are."

The players warmed up at opposite ends of the court. Ayano watched her brother's lengthly strides, his powerful hops, his practise plays together with his attacking partner Fukuda. She tried to draw comparisons with Rukawa Kaede on the opposite side of the court. The way he moved. The elegance and intensity of his attack. To her inexpert eye, it was hard to see which was better, stronger, more able. They both seemed quite exceptional.

When the game began, it was the red-headed Sakuragi who stepped up to participate in the throw-up opposite Sendoh. A confident, arrogant smirk lingered on his lips, while Sendoh only smiled back peacefully at him, unintimidated. When the whistle blew, Sakuragi out-jumped Sendoh by a huge margin, his fingers making contact with the ball at the perfect moment, tapping it out towards…

Ayano sucked in her breath. Sendoh hadn't jumped at all. Instead he had, just as Sakuragi's fingers brushed the ball, landed and moved off to the side, positioning himself somewhere between the red-head and Rukawa Kaede to whom the ball was clearly intended to go. The result was that Sakuragi tapped the ball almost exactly into Sendoh Akira's hands.

Explicit curses fell from the tall centre player like rain, drowned out only by the roar of the crowd as the game truly got underway as Ryonan took the first chance at a break, storming down the court lead by Sendoh, while the Shohoku team scrambled to keep up.

Ayano pressed her fingers together as if in prayer, her eyes fixed intently on the play unfolding before her eyes. She had originally intended to watch Rukawa play out of sheer curiosity, but now that she was here and caught up in the pressure and the excitement, her whole being strained with anxiety in support of her brother. "Come on," she whispered, pleaded, prayed. "Come on, come on, come on..."

Despite their explosive start to the game, Ryonan soon found themselves trailing in points. Their attack was strong, led by Fukuda, supported by Sendoh and Koshino, they were dynamic and fluid and well-practised. But they were not unbeatable. Sakuragi was a powerful force under the basket, his sheer athleticism making up for whatever weaknesses in judgement he may have had playing as the central pillar of defense. But his rebounds were nothing to sniff at. Every time the ball left Koshino's hands, arching towards the basket in a beautiful curve while the rest of the players pushed and blocked each other under the rim, Ayano's fingernails went to her mouth in anxiety. Often the score would go Ryonan's way. Sometimes, though, the ball would come out and then that monster of a player would rise like a mountain to claim the loose ball. And then the vicious counter-attack in Miyagi's hands would spin like lightning across the court. And Ayano got to see time and time again just what her brother had meant when he had described the cool and softly spoken Rukawa Kaede as a demon.

In concert, coming up the court like a wave, Shohoku's attack was as good as unstoppable.

She watched Sendoh position himself in Rukawa's path as the younger boy received the ball from his point guard, running at the spear-head of the fast break down the court. Sendoh's body was low, his eyes intense and serious. Everything about him was in perfect form. He didn't shy away. He didn't seem unfocused or, indeed, any different to normal. Was it true, though? Ayano had the compulsion to close her eyes, but instead she leaned forward with desperate eagerness to see two so-called geniuses coming to clash right in front of the key.

Rukawa stopped short, a couple of feet in front of Sendoh, his toes behind the three-point line, his eyes fixed intently on the basket. Sendoh moved forward at once to neutralise the threat, his hand reaching out in a block, two steps and a jump at the very same instant that Rukawa also began to rise into the air, concentration in every facet of his face, aiming carefully.

His arms rose, straightened, the ball secure, the tilt of his wrist delicate, accurate. But Sendoh was there, his hand large and determined, directly in the path of the ball. It looked to be a comfortable block. But Rukawa's eyes did not leave the hoop. Was he really going to shoot from such a position? What was Rukawa thinking? The crowd seemed to hold its breath. Were they going to see something special? An unblockable high-release? A fade away? The two players rose, and at the very peak of the jump, without a single flicker of his eyes, Rukawa's wrist moved to launch the ball…

...down…

...sideways…

...dropping it blindly, right into the hands of the player who seemed to materialise from behind him.

By the time Rukawa and Sendoh's feet had returned to the floor of the court, Sakuragi Hanamichi was well past Sendoh's defensive line, deep into the key, tipping the ball gently into the hoop for an easy two points.

Sendoh's lips formed the shape of a quiet curse. Rukawa turned away to head back into his defensive position. The crowd screamed.

Yayoi leaned closer to Ayano. "That boy," she told him, having to raise her voice to be heard above the crowd, "never passed the ball last year."

Ayano nodded mutely.

The game continued to spiral slowly out of Ryonan's reach. The partnership between Rukawa and Sakuragi was obvious to see. The hours they'd spent playing together showed clearly in their accurate plays, their blind and total trust for one another, at such odds with the past in which they'd been more like enemies than teammates. They still bickered, and argued. Sakuragi still launched insults and overreacted to Rukawa's muttered provocations. But they also exchanged praise, high-fives, casual thumps on the shoulders. Sakuragi threw him eager bare-faced smiles and Rukawa didn't seem to particularly mind. They shared… something.

Sendoh Akira saw all this. His eyes went to the scoreboard as the whistle blew for the end of the third quarter, and saw the deficit of points. Twenty points down. Twenty points. And he still didn't have any strategy for coming back. As his teammates dragged their tired way towards the benches, he hesitated for a moment, standing alone on the court.

Alone.

He felt totally alone.

Brushing past him, Sakuragi's arm dropped around Rukawa's shoulders as he leant in to whisper into his ear as the pair of them walked away. No doubt some plan or strategy for pushing Ryonan further into the ground. Sendoh bit the inside of his cheek as he watched them go. All those days he'd spent together with them, the two of them, watching their bond forming. Helping them, even. He'd wanted to be near Rukawa but had he inadvertently facilitated… something else? This new relationship between the two of them. Sakuragi and Rukawa. Could he deny that what he felt right then was huge and awful jealousy?

He wanted to beat them. He wanted to beat them so badly. To snap this thing that they shared. To throw it into their faces.

But his eyes went to the scoreline once again and he felt a black hole in his stomach. He dragged his feet to the bench, feeling like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

He sat silently and listened to the coach explaining, planning, inspiring. His teammates discussed and commiserated and encouraged one another. Sendoh did nothing, and said nothing. He stared at the ground and wondered why he was letting his personal feelings of jealousy get in the way of his performance on the court? He thought he'd got this under control, so why? Why was he feeling like this? Like he was heavy, and lumbering and stupid?

A brush of fingers, feather light, almost accidental, touched his shoulder and he looked up abruptly, startled out of his revere.

Behind him, someone had walked by and touched his shoulder briefly. Sendoh stared after him, Rukawa's retreating form as he made his way back towards the changing rooms, presumably to visit the bathroom. He turned his head slightly, and caught Sendoh's eye for the shortest moment. Just the smallest look shared between them, before he turned back and carried on.

It had been an invitation, Sendoh realised. He got to his feet.

"I'm… going to use the washroom..." he muttered to his coach who nodded vaguely. "There's only a few minutes. Don't be long."

Above him, Ayano saw the minute exchange, and also got to her feet.

"Are you okay?" Yayoi asked her.

"Yeah I erm, just need to pop to the restroom."

She dashed out of the stands and headed for the stairs down to the lower floor as fast as she could go.


Ayano pressed herself into the corner behind a drinks machine, out of sight of the two boys, listening to their voices. She had come in hope of supporting her brother, thinking she could perhaps give him some more encouragement, more understanding, even just to let him know that she was there and that she was there for him. But seeing them together had compelled her momentarily to wait and see what was going to unfold.

Nothing had been said. Rukawa was staring at Sendoh silently as if demanding an explanation. Sendoh said nothing.

A moment of quiet, just the sound of breathing. She could almost imagine Rukawa's eyes at that moment. Piercing and bright with the thrill of the game. Her brother… uncertain, concerned, troubled by what was unfolding on the court and going on in his mind.

"Did you..." Sendoh's voice was not it's usual self-assured timber, "...need something from me?"

She risked looking out, her face appearing around the humming machine; neither boy was looking her way and didn't notice her there. Sendoh was leaning back against the wall, his hands thrust into the waistband of his shorts, a characteristic casual slouch in his shoulders belied the uncharacteristically defeated tone of his voice. Rukawa was standing right before him, his arms relaxed by his sides, his face turned to look directly into Sendoh's accusingly.

"You know..." Rukawa began, his eyes narrow, his voice soft and yet with a slight edge that Ayano had never heard before. "One of us will win and the other will lose."

Sendoh glanced up at him, confused by this seemingly obvious statement of fact.

Rukawa frowned. "That's… the way it is," he elaborated.

"I… I know that," Sendoh protested, "is that all you wanted to say?" He pushed himself up and away from the wall as if intending to leave. "If so I need to get back to my team."

Rukawa leaned forward to stop him going, his eyes intense. "Do you think it matters? To me or, uhm… to... us?"

"What do you mean?" Sendoh retorted, his manner a little ungracious, clearly keen to leave.

Rukawa sighed, and Ayano realised quickly he was genuinely out of his depth, struggling visibly to explain himself.

"Winning or… losing… doesn't… mean that..." he floundered for a moment. Then he gave up and his shoulders slouched a little. "I just… I mean… even if you don't win you are still..." he fixed his eyes firmly on the floor, "...really strong."

Sendoh eyed him in cool disbelief, then shook his head. "That's easy to say when you're twenty points up," he muttered.

It was an unfair comment, and he knew it. Rukawa always played to the last second, regardless of the scoreline. Hadn't he done so at their last practise game? Then why was Sendoh so ungracious now? He didn't like himself like this, but he couldn't seem to regain control of himself.

Rukawa looked up at him. "I know that both our teams can qualify for the interhigh if you win this game. And in fact I… I…" he took a breath, and forced the confession out as if it were the hardest thing he'd ever said, "...I want you to win."

At that, Sendoh was genuinely taken aback and met Rukawa's gaze in surprise.

"But even so I..." Rukawa set his eyes a little more firmly. "I'm still not going to lose."

There was a strained and awkward silence. The two boys stared at each other, Rukawa's expression a little ferocious, while Sendoh's was slack in astonishment.

Finally, Rukawa folded his arms and sighed a little. "I want to help you. I want you to... play… the way that you… do."

Sendoh's hands balled into fists by his side. What could he do? Rukawa wanted to help but Rukawa was… the cause. How could he even begin to explain? And yet… rejecting him at that moment would have been hurtful beyond reason. Rukawa had come here, out of his way, to help him even though they were on opposing teams. How was he supposed to just ignore that, or refuse him? "I… I can't..." he muttered unhappily, "...my mind is… just everywhere right now. I know it's… stupid. I know this game is important but I just can't seem to… to..." he shook his head. "I can't really… explain."

Rukawa raised one brow. "If something is bothering you, you should confront it, head on."

Sendoh sighed. "I can't. If I… just do what I want then..." his eyes lingered on Rukawa's unhappily, "I might… lose something that has become… precious to me."

Rukawa seemed to consider this for a moment, his eyes fixed on Sendoh thoughtfully. "I see," he said after a moment, his expression serious.

Sendoh dropped his gaze. "I'm sorry, Kaede I..."

His words were cut off as Rukawa abruptly leaned in, stepping closer, bringing himself within the circle of Sendoh's warmth. It seemed for a moment a repetition of that tantalising moment of closeness that they had shared last week in the clothes shop. But it was… different. Sendoh's eyes widened in surprise. Rukawa's face was not down, hidden to him, fiddling with his clothes. Instead he was looking up, his eyes open and determined as he, without warning, pressed his lips softly against the corner of Sendoh's mouth. Sendoh froze in astonishment. It was just a moment, a fleeting brush of contact and Rukawa stepped back again.

"Is... this... what is bothering you?" he asked.

Sendoh's eyes were wide. All words temporarily fleeing so that he could not even vaguely hope to say something coherent. A weird sound emanated from his throat. Away behind the drinks machine, Ayano clamped her hands over her mouth to hold back her exclamation of surprise.

Rukawa was still considering him as if trying to work out a puzzle, as if he hadn't done anything extraordinary in the least.

"If it is..." he shrugged, "...then you shouldn't worry about something like that. If that's what you want to do then… win or lose… this game won't really matter, will it?"

Sendoh reached out in astonishment to grab his upper arm tightly in his hand. "What… what are you saying?" he demanded hoarsely, his eyes still wide and belying his complete and utter astonishment. "Why did you…? Why would you…?" he was completely incapable of forming a coherent question.

Rukawa shrugged. "I... want you to play. Don't think about other stuff. Just... play. That is what is in front of you right now."

Sendoh shook his head. "No. No. You are what is in front of me right now."

Rukawa frowned a little and tried to step back but Sendoh did not let him go.

"And that… that wasn't enough," Sendoh informed him, his hand tightening suddenly. "Kaede, that wasn't nearly enough."

"What are you talking abo-?"

Abruptly, Sendoh pulled his arm, dragging him closer, turning him around and pushing him hard back against the wall. The exclamation in Rukawa's throat died as Sendoh's hands cupped his face securely, tilting it upwards and without hesitation bent down and kissed him. This time it was Rukawa who froze in astonishment.

Sendoh's eyes squeezed closed. His mouth was hot and eager, pressing open and hungry against Rukawa's lips, his body large and possessive as it trapped him back against the hard surface of the wall. Relief. A release of what had been tormenting him for so long. How long he had wanted to do this How much he had wanted to do this. How difficult it had been to hold it ack and now... now he was... here. And it was finally... real. Surely there couldn't be any feeling greater than this total and blissful relief after having being caged for so long.

Stunned, Rukawa only gazed at him, his face so close by was difficult to focus on but everything else... his hands at his jaw and his neck were large and warm and firm, his body trembled slightly as he kissed him, his tongue reaching out to brush warmly against his mouth, asking, asking for entrance which Rukawa was momentarily too astonished to permit.

Rukawa's hands lifted from his side… hesitated… moved cautiously forward to seize hold of that white and blue silk, twisting in it tightly, holding him as, uncertainly, he allowed his head to be tilted to the side, his mouth finally opening tentatively, his eyes fluttering closed as the whole world disappeared and Sendoh filled him.

This… this was… wholly new. Wholly beyond anything that he could have imagined. So much better than he had expected. The feeling of being... wanted. Sendoh's attention and his deep and eager adoration like Rukawa was the only person... the only person in the world that mattered to him. He'd never before felt so... valuable as he did as Sendoh kissed him. So warm so… intimate so… filled with heart beat and butterflies and astonishing feelings of… pleasure… of desire… of want… of… being… held and… possessed, feeling strangely… helpless and yet…

He felt like he was melting. Like he could sink into Sendoh's body and drift away on a tide of emotion that seemed to rise in his chest and demand and demand and demand that he seek something… some release some… action… something more and… push himself further… give himself… more… and...

A loud noise in the corridor nearby made them startle apart in shock.

They turned their heads simultaneously to see Ayano standing beside a nearby drinks machine that she had just kicked with her foot, a slightly smug look of amusement on her face.

"I… hate to interrupt you but..." she tossed her head towards the doors of the main stadium, "...the game's going to restart. Don't you two need to get back?"

At her words, Rukawa shoved Sendoh back and away from him ferociously in surprise, so strong that Sendoh was sent staggering backwards. Rukawa's eyes flashing towards the doors. "Oh, oh no… how long have we…?"

The sound of a loud klaxon startled both of them once again. They shared a quick, anxious look and, without another word, Rukawa broke into a run, anxious to get back in time, disappearing from sight.

Sendoh meanwhile took a short second to stare flabbergasted at his sister, almost unable to believe what had just happened. She, however, looked utterly delighted.

"I told you," she teased him. "I told you that he liked you. Although I don't know why he does, what with you being a big baby about the whole thing."

"Hey, I wasn't being a-"

She lifted a hand. "He's got twice the backbone you have, ototo, you damn lucky boy, honestly," she smirked. "But I'm glad, you know. I'm… really, really glad."

"Yeah..." Sendoh couldn't resist smiling. "Yeah me… too."


When Sendoh rejoined his team, they all looked at him in surprise.

"Where the hell have you been?" Koshino demanded, infuriated. "You missed everything. Coach's strategy and..."

Sendoh reached out a hand and ruffled his hair with a broad grin plastered across his face, causing Koshino to jerk away and scowl at him. "Upset stomach," he explained casually, placing his palm against his gut in explanation. "I must have eaten something bad. I'm feeling better now. Much, much better..." he lifted his arms up and meshed his fingers behind his head, kicking out his feet in his usual confident, borderline arrogant way. "Are you ready to win?"

Koshino stared up at him in astonishment. The rest of the team nearby heard his words and walked closer to him to listen.
"Win? There's only twelve minutes to play and we need to score at least..."

"Hahaha!" Sendoh burst into laughter. "You don't need to worry. Just pass me the ball." He shot a smile all around. "I'm sorry I've not been playing well so far. But really. I promise. I've got this now."

The look on the faces around him heartened immediately.

"Just watch," he smiled at them all. "Right now I feel like I could save the whole world."

But whether or not Sendoh Akira could really have single-handed turned the game around in such a short time remaining was not ever to be known because after a mere two minutes of play, the unexpected happened.

An awkward landing following a brilliant rebound sent Sakuragi Hanamichi crashing to the floor of the key, with concerned faces all around as he nursed his ankle. Though he wanted to continue on, the logical conclusion was that he should sit out and rest because he would be needed in the up-coming tournament games and since his team had already as good as qualified – even if they did happen to lose this particular match, they were still likely in first place - it would be pointless to injure himself further now.

This meant that only one half of the tornado of Shohoku remained in play and the balance of the game then shifted rapidly Ryonan's way. Sendoh could mark Rukawa tightly, shutting him down half the time, pressuring him into errors the rest, bringing Shohoku's formerly unstoppable tsunami of an attack back to a manageable wave.

Ryonan's new-found determination, and what could only been described as the intelligent and brilliant plays of their resident genius saw, as Sendoh had promised, the gap disappear. Not only disappear. They took the lead in the final minute, putting them two points ahead on Shohoku's last possession of the game.

The hard game had taken a toll on everyone on the court. Every player had put out their best, such that they were to a man hot and panting and close to sheer exhaustion. But Rukawa played to the last minute. Rukawa always played to the last minute. And as he came up upon Sendoh in that last moment, his last chance to even the scores, his eyes were blazing with determination.

Sendoh grinned excitedly, ready to face him. Two points down. Doubtless Rukawa would look for three points. Would he seek to draw a foul? Would he attempt a three-pointer? Or would he settle for two points and look to put the game into overtime?

No, Sendoh knew. Shohoku were already on their last legs. Another quarter to play and the game was as good as guaranteed to go Ryonan's way. Three points then. But from where was he intending to get them?

Rukawa stopped at the three point line, as before, his eyes fixed on the basket.

No you don't… Sendoh moved in to block him. Rukawa rose, Sendoh wasn't taken in by the feint, moved his foot as if he would dash around him into the key – no, you won't… you need these points – rose again, desperate to shake Sendoh off in that moment, but Sendoh wasn't going anywhere.

Take you chances, Sendoh told him mentally. But I'll shut you down. I have no intention of losing to you now.

The time on the clock was rapidly drawing down to nothing. Five more seconds. Four.

Rukawa needed to make the shot but he was trapped with nowhere to go and Sendoh in front of him ready to block. Three.

Rukawa jumped finally, perhaps driven to desperation, and Sendoh jumped to match him, his fingers spread wide, ready to block the ball. He'll probably take a chance on a high-release, Sendoh guessed, putting his hand in the best position to stop such a thing, but his accuracy will suffer for it.

Two.

Instead of flying upwards as Sendoh expected, the ball flew sideways in a sharp snap of a pass across the court, to the far side of the key, into the hands of the young junior player Hikoichi had mentioned. What was his name again? Yamagi, 50-50 on three pointers, who looked momentarily astonished to even find the ball in his hands.

Shit.

Sendoh hadn't honestly expected that Rukawa would ever in a million years pass on such a critical shot. He moved Yamagi's way immediately, a little of his surprised desperation visible in his face. He couldn't lose. He couldn't possibly lose now.

The younger boy rose into the air, graceful and focused.

One.

The ball left his hand and cycled silently through the air. The whole world seemed to be holding its breath.

Zero.

It hit the rim, and fell out.

Ryonan had somehow… won.

The crowd began to scream. A mob of white and blue shirts fell on Sendoh in celebration, and he found himself on his back on the floor being patting and congratulated and cheered while Rukawa Kaede stood at the line where he had been and stared blankly at the rim as if he couldn't understand what had happened.

Sendoh was close enough to see and hear when Yamagi approached Rukawa nervously.

"Sempai..." he looked miserable enough to cry, "...sempai I'm… so sorry I..."

Rukawa's hand, pale and tired, lifted and a little awkwardly patted him on the shoulder. "You did... good," he said tiredly.

Miyagi appeared beside them at once. "Are we still through? What's the deal? Aya-chan? Aya-chan! Are we through?"

For a short moment, nobody was quite sure.


Only two teams could go through to the interhigh, and only the first placed team would continue on to the nationals. But as three teams were now tied for first place in the district, each with exactly one loss – Kainan had lost to Shohoku, Ryonan to Kainan, and Shohoku to Ryonan – the decision was made on the grounds of score differences.

Shohoku, took first place, as they had lost by the smallest margin, a mere 2 points.

Ryonan came second following their 3 point defeat by Kainan.

And for the first time in over a decade, Kainan failed to make it to the interhigh competition after losing to Shohoku by 6 points.

Two underdog teams, Sendoh mused in amusement, still unable to keep the ridiculous smile off his face as he received the certificate for regional MVP and the presenter pressed a fancy bouquet into his hand. Brilliantly coloured flowers in a uniquely straight and strong stem that put him in mind of a sword. His eyes sought Rukawa's in the crowd of lined up teams, but Rukawa looked determinedly away.

Thank you, Kaede. You... are the reason I am here.

You're so strong. On the court and also… in so many other ways as well. I should never have underestimated you.

Next year, when you lead your team - which I have no doubt you will – I very much expect it will be you standing right here whilst I…

...watch you from the stands and perhaps afterwards, thanks to you, I might now be able to…

...kiss you to celebrate your… victories.

As I fully intend to do as soon as we get out of here.

Rukawa's eyes flickered shyly up to him again and Sendoh felt like he was smiling so much his face might spontaneously combust.

-tbc


Not sure how this ended up being so much about basketball when I know nothing about basketball. But I guess that's the price you pay for writing in canon hahaha. This is half-edited. I wonder if you can tell the difference between the bits I worked on, and the bits I basically vomited onto the page LOL, ew.

PSA: I don't want to beg for reviews or anything but... if you are reading and enjoying even a little bit, you honestly make my day if you take a moment just to say so. The same goes for any fics that you read in this very quiet category. Writing to a silent audience is a very painful experience, especially when it takes us so many (many!) hours of work. We don't get paid for this, it's a labour of love. Your time to write is a review is literally the only acknowledgement or vindication we receive for our efforts.

If you want to continue to read new stories about Slamdunk, please make an effort to support the creators. Readers and writers are so few in number in this fandom, we really must support one another. Thanks ._.

(I'll post this same message to my other on-going fic as well).