Chapter 11: You Can Feel It

I can't believe in you.

-Re:make, ONE OK ROCK-

"Mikage, what grade are you going to give the girl?"

In the rare afternoon silence of the membrane of the teacher's faculty room, there lived two beings. They were a part of the faculty room, hidden in the shadows. Personal computers are open and running, two people on a desperate marathon to get the grades up and going as well as set up powerpoint presentations, tons of lesson plans to do and be checked by the school higher-ups.

A woman in her mid-twenties' frowns. She wore black all over, her hair cut short. Her face was a layer of smooth silk trembling facelessly on a bed of glass and wood.

"Who?"

"You know. Tanaka."

"Ah, your little pet. The one with the basketball player friend."

Mikage's lips twitched.

"Ahh."

"How did she do in the two performances? I want a good rundown. I hope she's not wasting your time. I think she'd do a fine job. You're keeping her busy. Your work has made her isolated from the world."

"Me? Why would I do that, Junpei?"

"You of all people."

Junpei ground his teeth in frustration.

"You know very well. Tanaka is just a high school girl. Her hands are clean. She hasn't done anything wrong."

"Done anything wrong? Have you or have you not looked at her records? Heard rumors? You know she does."

"There's been word that Third Year, the Basketball Club's vice captain had to calm her down. She was vandalizing some property last year."

"How would you even –"

"I have my spies. My spiders. I'm not interested in pretty words. I have her dirt, and none of mine."

"Past is past."

Mikage gave a cruel little laugh.

"That girl is violent. Did you not know? She was writing curse words on an upperclassman's locker. And you know what was she using to do it?"

"Mikage, stop-"

"Blood, Junpei! BLOOD!"

Junpei froze.

"Leave her alone. She's fine now. Much, much better."

"I don't care! She knows her place."

"Maybe you're the one who should."

"You're impossible." She pursed her lips. "But back then, you've always been. It surprised me you didn't even head as an Assistant Coach of the Basketball Club. Always rambling about that. That stupid game, the insipidity of reading and analyzing everything our Literature teacher gave us ahead. Now that I think about it, it's ridiculous."

Junpei grit his teeth, the mask called "Suwabe-sensei" slipping off with every second that came. Suddenly, it was a man who had once loved a woman – as well as basketball and books. A man with honor, and love.

"And you? I tolerated your nagging," he sighed. "I thought I knew you so well."

"For once, you're right."

"Huh?"

"Yes, you thought I did. And see what's happened? Past has happened. And it's going to repeat itself."

"Ah."

"That girl will be Tanaka. The idiot boy is that obstinate Third Year who can't dance to save his life."

"But he can sure shoot," Junpei smirked. "That boy, I tell you, will be big. If he goes to compete in the Winter Cup, then he'll be someone to watch. He can have the will. I was the same once."

"Tch."

"He can sing. He can rap. I bet my money on it." He frowned. "So how did Tanaka do?"

Mikage wiped her face with her pale hands.

"That girl…"

"Well?"

"She's a strong candidate." She scowls bitterly. "Happy? I meant to break her on purpose! I wanted her to fail! I wanted her to crack open like I did. I wanted her to die to her loneliness, to everything I lost. It's not fair!"

"Wait…"

"YES!"

"Huh?"

"She survived! She got a perfect score on BOTH performances! Her performances… They insulted me! She's been working her ass off just for my subject?!"

"How did her performances insult you?"

"Her first song was 'Hitohira no Hanabira.'"

"No wonder."*

He snickered.

"What about the next one?"

Mikage hit her head subtly on the desk before her. Her hair was now short, ever since the incident. She used to have so pretty hair – styled and curled, played around with. Her hair was very long, past her waist. He remembered loving her hair and admiring her hair, all in the yesteryears.

"The Boys by Girls' Generation."

"Excuse me?!"

The image of Tanaka garbed up and costumed to the SNSD song was hardly conjuring up in his brain. She didn't seem to be the image of what the SNSD stood for: cute, beautiful, graceful, long-legged, fierce and gentle at the same time. Tanaka was hardly that. Callous, grim, patient and steely, her will of a man's than a woman. A gloomy man destined to a tragic fate with the girlish cheer that made ghosts rise up from their graves. Her looks and personality was a sakura blossom looming between sudden death and happiness. Kushinada in a grim masculine girl.

She was fierce, but haunted by a darkness. There were times he could tell the sun shined on her, a long long time ago. Surely, she had loved once.

Basketball, included.

In The Boys, they were heroines. Glossed, glittered, their strengths evident in the garb of dress. Fierce. They were Daenerys Targaryen risen from the ashes. They were the Queens Militant of life, overcoming all their hurdles in one piece. Manly and feminine. Two in one. The animus and anima, yin and yang.

Tanaka?

"If you really can't believe it, then see."

Mikage produced her laptop and clicked on a file.

There.

She was there.

Tanaka didn't look like the sullen teenager he knew. She was awkward, gawky, robotic-faced.. But the Tanaka on the screen was living up to her name. Asian beauty, huh? She really proved herself to be a beauty, the kind of traditional beauty people failed to see in her whenever she was in her sullen and awkward state. Her hair was curled, like the SNSD girls, floating around her in a deep brown and black halo. Styled better than ever. It was nicer to see her so beautiful, her indigo eyes glowing. And she wore blue and black, all masculine. But the way she carried herself was the way a queen would.

Her style was masculine, toned down by her eyes, feminine.

She was not a queen.

She was a goddess.

Seeing her dressed up and styled, looking so neat and earnest in her song and dance reminded him of old memories.

Mikage with long hair, with the same tint on her hair.

Mikage eyeing a basketball like a child.

Mikage sleeping in his basketball jersey, on the train after her training was over.

The smell of basketball player sweat.

The ferocity of a performer.

Gangsters.

Nostalgia hit him like a wave.

His little Tanaka was growing up.

"She's no longer a girl, is she?" he whispered.

"I think so. The Boys seems a rather mature choice for her."

"Of course it is. She's no longer a writer, my dear," Junpei drawled.

"Then who is she?"

"She's the protagonist of her own life."

"A heroine?"

"Yes."

And Junpei felt relieved.

[-]

Waiting was for women.

Ami certainly felt its brunt today. She had been doing it, she realized. For a long time. It was time to take matters into her own hands. She was going to be a heroine for once. Nothing would stop her. She had to be in her peak form again. That way, she wouldn't be so alone. That way, she could stand on her own. No more waiting. No more pissing.

So when Toothless appeared, it cheered her up.

"Who's going to pay?" Ami asked, as the orders for miso and beef ramen came to their place. They were eating at mid-afternoon, the only two customers in the nearest ramen place by the school. The two of them. All alone.

All of a sudden, her heart was a drum.

"Me. I'm the man here. I owe you as much."

Ami blushed and looked away.

"I just felt like eating ramen. I was bored."

"So your training with Misaki-san is over?"

"Uh, yes."

"GREAT!"

"Huh?"

She frowned.

Wait.

Why was Toothless suddenly so interested in her?

"I wanted to hang out with you, you know," he began tersely. His eyes were shining. God. Why was he staring at her like that? It was kind of creepy.

"Hang out?"

"Yeah! I want to play and train with you! I feel stronger with you! I want to take you to an arcade. Hotta's always busy," he pouted like a child.

"Play?"

Ami feigned innocence.

"YES! I want to see you play! I bet your agility will be good!"

"I'm sorry, Toothless," Ami began. She took a deep breath. This had to be broken down. Could he feel it? Everything? The bitter truth? The beating of her heart? The depth of the train of her thoughts? It was time. Time and time again. She had broken so much hearts. She had to try.

Had he seen her fall?

"But what, Tanaka?"

Now longer Ugly?

"I-I don't play anymore," Ami declared.

To her surprise, he grinned at her.

"Easy. I'll get you playing in no time. I bet you'd do formless shots."

[-]

Mitsui felt her eyes on him. It was creepy, but somehow, his inner told him he was happy she was staring at him. When he passed the ball, there was the feeling of being watched – as well as the feeling of being admired. To be fawned on. To be adored. To be loved. Surely, how did Tanaka look on him? He knew Akagi's little sister looked at Rukawa, all smiles and love. But Tanaka was another breed of girl. Ayako was all sass; Haruko was sweetness and smiles.

Tanaka was words, rough and sometimes smooth.

Sullen. Callous, steely, stubborn.

Interesting.

The days to the Kainan game fell.

She was looking at him more and more.

As he shot his three-pointers, he wished she would notice everything. He wished she saw how hard he pushed himself. He wanted her to see him as a man. He wanted her to see how hard he fell at times. He wished that she would notice everything. He wanted her eyes on him, not just anyone else. To his disappointment, Kogure was someone she talked to.

"…has he been working hard?"

"Yup."

"Are you a couple?" Sakuragi called nonchalantly.

She shut him up with a stern look. Her hair was wavy, wrestled into a sideways ponytail on her shoulder.

"Shut your mouth or else."

Some things don't change.

And so, Sakuragi got a hit on the head.

"Rukawa?"

Rukawa looked at him oddly. "What?" The question came automatically, in his drawl.

"Why do you have Tanaka's photo with you? The photo taken when she was in her middle school?"

Rukawa wiped his face with his hand.

"Ohh… I see."

OH GOD.

Was he seriously monotone that way?

"Well?"

"She and I were childhood playmates. Our parents…were friends. We used to write to each other during middle school and she sent me her photo."

Okay…

"How were your parents even friends?"

Rukawa was still monotone.

"Her mother knew my father and mother. Went to the same elementary school as my mother, the same middle and high school as my father. Her father was my dad's good friend."

"So I see."

"I've heard you're going out with Tanaka."

"Not true."

"Then why do I see you sneaking with her last night to the ramen place?"

"Excuse me?!"

"It's not my fault, I suppose. You two… Are you even going out at all?"

"We're just friends. Good friends. And why ought you to care? I don't even notice you talking to her at all!"

"Because Misaki's her friend. And Misaki is my friend, too. And Tanaka? She's an old friend. Even childhood friends need to be concerned, especially with everything. Coach has an eye on her. Everyone is talking."

"Do you see her that way?"

"Tch. Never. Too me, she's always the same old Ami. If you ask, me she's not my type; I would rather go out wth Misaki."

Oh, God, That must have been the longest sentence he ever said spoken; the apocalypse must be today! Damn it; he hasn't prepared his survival kit yet!

"Wait…"

Ami?

"Don't you know? It's her given name!"

Weird.

[-]

"Yup, I'm pretty much running for the position," Misaki herself confirmed when Akagi asked her if the rumors are true. The Student Council Election was not yet on the brink, but here she was: suddenly announcing her affiliation and loyalty to her own banner. She would run. She would be an officer. Of course, she had a high caliber ethic and that seemed to make her think she was indeed worthy of such a great honor.

Her eyes shone, her skin glowed. She was looking the very picture of the Misaki Ayuzawa devil president. Said girl was starting to look creepier by the minute.

"Are you even serious?"

"Of course. I've been officer for years. Ever since elementary. Trust me. I can handle it. Everything."

"Prove it," the gorilla declared, not letting his ego get smashed by this busty freshman. "You're just a first year. You can't seriously do that. Some Third Years won't be happy about it. Usually, it's the Second Years who run for a decent position.

"Trust me."

"That's good!"

Gori's face twitched.

"What's your quiz average today?"

"Oh, I have 85%, I believe."

He nodded on.

"You need a 100% to get into the SC. I have 99.5%."

Misaki tossed her pretty hair over her shoulders.

"Bring it on, Gorilla!"

"NOT YOU TOO!"

[-]

At one point, he had to lose. Everyone, he supposed had to lose. Games were lost. Spirits were taken away, lost in the wave of defeat. Spirits crumbled down and took along morale with it. The game was over, and it was hell to pay. It was their first humiliation as a team. The loss to Kainan was terrible.

He couldn't believe it.

As he left the station, he felt so down. When was he last like this? Was it his fault? Did he bring the team down? What the fuck was even happening?

Whose fault was it?

He resented himself for it. He hated everything. His tears. Akagi's tears. Rukawa's silent sobs. Sakuragi's annoying wails. Miyagi's sniffles.

Gone.

Dead.

Blown away.

Deep doo-doo.

The balance was tipped, he thought bitterly. What happened to them? They had been so close. So close to getting to the Nationals. They had to do it, right? He had to give himself to it anymore. He couldn't believe it. Did he hate basketball now? Did his heart stop functioning when the victory was his? What was the thing wrong with them? He didn't want to think of it. What would he tell Tanaka?

Surely, it'd break her small heart. How much had her heart suffered?

Once upon a time, she had been happy. Once upon a time, she had loved basketball. One that time was over, it left her broken like this. It had left her angry. It had left her so weak and callous around her environment. It made her bitter, clench her teeth. He wanted her smile. He wanted her. He wanted her to laugh, to tease him, to give him the warmth that made her grin and tease him endlessly. Her colorful complains of Gori, her strength. Tanaka would be crushed.

"I no longer play."

The night light and the song of the crickets became the night. He was going home, right? But something caught his eye. The sounds of basketball sneakers squeaking against the floor. The thump of the basketball. And the wet and long sounds of three-pointers. Huffing. Puffing. Boyish ones.

Why did he go back? He loved basketball, he loved Anzai like a father. The old man meant so much to him. He respected the coach to the point he even cut his hair for it. He loved the old man, he loved the sport. And why did he hate basketball? Why? He had lost the will for it. He had lost his footing, keeping up all the time. But like a kid, he remembered how much he missed it. He loved it so much.

I love basketball. My dream is not for sale.

He smiled to himself.

What a parallel and what a paradox. He had gotten angry once on the beach because of basketball. He had realized how much he missed it.

He loved it.

Surely, Tanaka had loved it so much.

He started walking to the sound of the ball. It called his name. It wanted him. The red thread of fate, the paradoxical circrumstances. He wanted to laugh, but this occasion was not fun. It was serious. It was required. He wasn't planning to let his guard slip.

[-]

First day and accidents happened.

"OUCH!" A squeaky voice yelled. Meanwhile, a basketball fell to the floor, bouncing.

The owner of the yell was a small androgynous shape, with neatly cut short chestnut hair. A pair of indigo eyes shone with irritation.

"TANAKA!"

The yeller's eyes widened, making the yeller look helpless. The yeller was quite skinny, tall, clad in a jacket covering its uniform, and white pants – the one karatekas wore. Tied around the karateka's waist was a brown belt.

"Yes – Eh – Mitsui-kun?!"

Out came the tall player, all smiles and goofy grins.

Hisashi Mitsui was just a Second Year middle schooler at that time. He was fast. He was strong. And he knew the .

"You know him?" whispered a fellow basketball club member, shocked. How could a small karateka who seemed so squeamish know their good-looking captain?

"Y-Yeah!" Mitsui held up a hand. "We used to play basketball together when we were kids! I didn't know you were here for middle school, Tanaka!"

"Yeah! I came for the school's Karate Club," Tanaka laughed. The karateka grinned at him.

"Tanaka, join the club! You're good!" the captain begged.

Tanaka sighed.

"MITSUI-KUN!"

"PLEASE! We don't have a manager yet!"

"E-Eh?!"

For a moment, Tanaka smiled.

"Then I'll be your manager!"

"GREAT!"

[~]

Under the light, the player was lithe, sweaty. Indigo eyes blazed with the menace of a monster. Long hair the color of chestnut spilled from a loosening bun. Long legs, standing. Pale skin, indigo eyes. The person held a basketball.

"Tanaka?"

Suddenly, he had no idea whether to feel angry or happy or just pissed. Did she lie to him?

"I thought you no longer played basketball!"

Tanaka sighed. She was sweaty, hot and obviously scary. From the distance, there was something menacing about her. Her body was wet with sweat, perspiration flowing everywhere. Her eyes flashed. Her expression was fierce. And she had force. Speed. Force. Power.

"That's what I told you. You never asked. I was cooling off my steam." She wiped her face earnestly. "How about you?"

"Me…"

"You won?"

In the darkness, her eyes became much softer. For a minute, he didn't wish to break her heart. He had wanted her to be happy.

"No."

"Do you feel like hating basketball?" She tossed the ball to him, which he quickly got.

"No." He sighed. "Play with me."

"Excuse me?"

"I want to see how well you do. You have no idea how happy I am today. I wanted to play you."

She smirked, and then they got started.

[-]

A good two months into time, Tanaka changed. He also learned basketball. Because of his fierce blue eyes that changed during play, the team called the karateka "Aoi," after those mysterious indigo eyes. After two months, Aoi was taller. A little leaner, and much more warm.

"I want to see how well you've gone, Aoi!" called Mitsui.

"Me? I can only shoot short-distance ones!" Aoi pouted.

"No problem!"

When they got to court, their bodies changed. Around them, the ball was all running. It flew. It absconded in the power of the force of the sport.

Mitsui got the ball, and jumped.

A trump card.

It'll go in, he thought, as he jumped. He put his hands overhead, in the aerial thrill of the thing called shooting. His shoots were fast, accurate. Physical. Psychological. The thrill of the adrenaline, the sweat, the running. The smell. Basketball.

"Not so fast!"

AOI?

Mitsui smirked, and his feet hit the floor.

"A fake?" Aoi cried, his eyes fierce.

As Mitsui proceeded to go from the inner to the outer court to go score near the backboard, behind him, followed the squeaking of shoes.

"He's one of the best!" one huffed.

"I WON'T LET HIM!" yelled Aoi.

For the new five minutes that came, the players tried to keep up with him. They tried zone defense. They tried full court and tried everything. But no one could beat him. He was the best, the first to bloom. Even Aoi, he thought, wouldn't be able to beat him.

For the fifth time, Mitsui stole the ball, and came charging into the backboard.

"JEEZ!" huffed Kasamatsu, a First Year who played Point Guard. He had closely-cropped deep brown-black hair. Beside him, squinty-eyed Kazunari Jun sniffed in annoyance. Both First Years, both of them classmates of Aoi's.

"Guard him!" yelled Kasamatsu. His order was addressed to Kazunari.

"NO!" a third voice interrupted.

The two looked and saw Aoi grinding his teeth.

"Let. Me. Guard. Him," Aoi insisted. "I'm faster than you. I have better stamina than you. I'm a karateka, and I know him. I can jump as well as him!"

"Fine," huffed Kazunari.

As Aoi ran faster, Mitsui smirked.

"Think you can beat me?"

"YES!"

He sped past Aoi.

Weak.

He held the ball up, ready to do a lay-up.

"I told you so."

AOI?!

In the air, Aoi slapped the ball from Mitsui's hand. He was the first to land, and Kazunari managed to do a three-pointer from the slap Aoi had created. After the ball slipped from Kazunari's lengthy three-pointer, it bounced and bounced until –

Aoi charged in, and getting the ball, he jumped.

Suddenly everything became quiet. His eyes became focused, an intense indigo. He flew, existing in the basketball realm. His hand scooped, nearer. Nearer. The backboard.

SLAM!
The ball hit in, but many still gasped –

Aoi hung from the backboard, clinging. On the floor, his sweat fell in large mounds.

No one had done that before. No one but me, Mitsui thought. As he observed Aoi, he noticed the pile of sweat piling up. The effort to beat him and catch on him, he realized, had been a lot of effort. A lot of work. Aoi was losing gas, but it was amazing. A First Year, doing that! His buzzer beater was amazing, but his body wasn't exactly ready for it.

In spite of Aoi's brown karate belt, he was still a middle schooler. Surely, he had overexerted everything. He had forced himself on it. And the effort cost him twice as much force as he usually did. His moves… They were quick, smooth.. Catlike. Full of reflex and minimalistic strength. A samurai's cutting move. The move of a reflexive samurai. His basketball was refined, analytical and reflexive.

Aoi landed on the floor, his face wet.

"Aoi…"

Aoi scowled.

"I'm fine, Mitsui-kun."

Aoi suddenly became threat, a rival.

[-]

Weird.

How she played.

Catlike. Reflexes. Speedy. Fast. Quick. Sharp. Accurate. The play Tanaka made was familiar. A taste of basketball that was suited to copy and also run and gun. She had stolen the ball, but he had stolen it again. She didn't catch him so well – but after the second time he scored a three-pointer, she smirked.

Her eyes blazed.

She got the rebound and sped away. He tried to put up his defense, but she was too fast for him.

A screen.

A formless shot.

He got the ball and continued the mental skirmish.

He scored a three-pointer and once they two were on the floor, the stakes went higher. She got the ball, her eyes blazing, and ran.

He followed to guard her, and then she jumped.

He flew with her, and once he saw her raising up her arms, he knew what to do. He hit her, but then something made him irate. She had shoved the ball on her arms to her sides, still in the aerial view. Fake. Once they were lowering, her arm extended. From her back, she let her arm throw the red sphere in the air, every degree landing them closer and closer to the steadfast ground.

Another score.

He got the ball, and this time, Tanaka was stricter on her defense. She went around him, her movements quick and catlike. Then he jumped to score –

Tanaka followed.

He let the ball go, and it spun to hit the basket, falling right in. Far away from him. Far away from Tanaka, her arm raised so she could catch the ball. But she had never done it. For it had landed already.

She tried scoring another time, formless, like the one he did. For the next minutes, time was nothing. They all played run and gun, chasing and catching scores that kept alternating between them.

His time to shoot.

He jumped, eager to repay her her buzzer beater back, and then he saw her, jumping with him. He held the ball – then Tanaka was suddenly grasping it, too. Her eyes were manic, her eyes fierce, her body menacing and threatening and fierce. She was fire, and he was the cool waves of water, urging its waves to fan away the flames. Sweat poured from their bodies, urgent and angry. As they held the ball, their bodies wanted dominance.

He fought her – and he won, slamming the ball into the basket.

Suddenly, Tanaka was falling – and she hit the floor.

Suddenly, the recollection became so familiar.

What happened?

"TANAKA!" he blurted, and ran to her, where her body hung limp on the floor. The effort had broken her scrunchie, letting her hair burst in all directions, from one thick chestnut mane. Her eyes were constant, a creepy countenance of the deep indigo.

He extended his hand.

"Tanaka, you okay?"

She held his hand and took it. She stood up, and smiled.

[-]

"What made you hate basketball?"

They were walking together, his arm resting around her shoulders.

"Losing," she began. "And this guy… He hated it, so I started hating it, too. He made me love basketball. But then, it's a stupid thing. I realized I loved it, too."

"Do you still hate it?"

"No. I think it only made me love it the more."

She laughed.

For once, he was contented.

[-]

-*-What Suwabe-sensei refers to is the song's meaning. The song is actually about a girl reminiscing about her ex-lover among the sakura.

Notes: The one-on-ones were inspired by Kuroko no Basuke. XD Actually, a KnB AMV with the song Re:make made me do this chappie. I hope the readers will love Gori and Misaki's interaction and the basketball scenes.