A/N: I've made some post-facto edits to chapters 7-12. Nothing major, I just wanted to resolve some inconsistencies, excise some content that didn't add anything to the narrative, and improve Sendoh's characterization. If the result still doesn't seem good enough, it's because I'm a crap writer.


Chapter 12

"This one's for Table 16, Miko. What? No, the one in the corner. Do I have to do cook and wait? Blasted kid. He can never remember his tables. You were saying, Sendoh?"

Sendoh sat patiently at the sushi bar, fiddling idly with a pair of chopsticks. Uozumi's restaurant was a lot bigger than he had led the team to believe when he had said that he was going to take over his father's business. Sendoh had been expecting something in the nature of a hole-in-the-wall—a little mom-and-pop affair that Uozumi would man entirely on his own as the occasional patron stumbled in, quite by accident. The reality couldn't have been more different. At first glance Sendoh had counted no fewer than fifty tables spaced comfortably out over the restaurant floor. Fifty polished wood tables, fifty sets of diners chatting airily over dinner in a not unpleasing symphony of human voices, one basketball-player-turned-sushi-chef conducting all the activity from the back of the room…

"It looks like you have your hands full."

"I'm just for show," Uozumi grunted. "I prepare the occasional plate of sushi, serve the occasional bowl of ramen, but the real champs are all at the back. Apparently my father doesn't think I'm good enough yet. This isn't for you, if you were about to ask."

Sendoh had been gazing covetously at the plate of sushi Uozumi was arranging. He pouted at the reprimand.

"I was just admiring your sushi making skills, Uozumi-san."

"Yeah, right. If you really want to eat something, you'll have to wait for Miko to come back around, though someone else might well end up with your order, knowing that fool."

"I already ate," Sendoh said pleasantly. He put down the chopsticks and gazed at Uozumi. Bandana around his forehead, brow furrowed with concentration, his massive physique at the service of a task requiring as much finesse as making sushi—it was almost comical. So different from the person who had once been at the helm of Team Ryonan, carrying their hopes and dreams on his broad shoulders like an Atlas. He had been the pillar of strength at the heart of the team, supporting them through thick and thin, even after he had announced his retirement. "You stopped showing up at practice. For a while it'd seemed like you were never going to leave."

"Yeah, well," said Uozumi. Sendoh thought there was a hint of bitterness in his voice. "Sometimes you need to know when to let go."

"I kind of miss seeing you there. I'm not sure I'm cut out to be captain."

Uozumi snorted. Sendoh had always had a way of downplaying his own achievements. He could make the most untalented person on the team feel special. That's what made him a natural leader. He could bring out things in his teammates that they themselves didn't know they possessed.

"You'll be fine without me," said Uozumi, shutting his eyes as he was momentarily overcome by emotion. He could almost hear the squeak of basketball shoes on hardwood floor, could almost smell the leather of the basketball. Strangely enough, he could actually feel the wind whistling past his ears as he slammed the ball into the basket. All too real. "Wait, what—? You idiot! I told you that wasn't for you."

Sendoh had grabbed a piece of sushi right off the cutting board when Uozumi wasn't looking.

"It was just one little piece." Sendoh looked hurt. "And it was really good sushi, too."

That idiot.

A vein throbbed in Uozumi's temple. Sendoh, for all his talent and leadership skills, was like an annoying little brother at times.

"You'll have to pay for that, you know?"

Sendoh was shocked.

"For one piece of sushi?"

"Of course. It didn't make itself, you know?"

Sendoh sighed and resumed fiddling with his chopsticks.

"Why are you really here, Sendoh?"

"The game against Kainan is tomorrow," said Sendoh. "Were you aware of that?"

"Obviously." Uozumi bridled. "Just because I'm a sushi chef now doesn't mean I don't follow basketball anymore. Game against Kainan is tomorrow. So what?"

"So I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do differently. Not having you on our team is like missing a tooth, and I'm worried Kainan's going to make shot after shot through that big, wide, gaping space that used to be you."

"You should write poetry," said Uozumi drily. "And I'll pretend you didn't just call me fat."

"It was a compliment, Uozumi-san." Sendoh smiled ingratiatingly. "Even I wouldn't be able to resist popping a piece of sushi into my mouth from time to time if I stood there making it all day."

A large fist landed on Sendoh's head, laying him flat against the surface of the bar.

"I have more self-control than you, idiot."

"That hurt!"

Patrons of the restaurant halted mid-conversation and turned to behold their six-foot-seven sushi chef assaulting a poor defenseless high school student for seemingly no reason. Uozumi resumed cutting vegetables with a vengeance, cheeks slightly red.

"Sugadaira's not good enough, is he?" he said after a minute.

"He's good in his own way," said Sendoh, still massaging his forehead.

"You can speak freely, Sendoh. I know he's no match for Takasago. So what does Taoka-sensei think?"

"He thinks we can manage with Sugadaira."

"Taoka-sensei." Uozumi shook his head and smiled. He would never forget the kindness Coach Taoka had shown him back when he himself had been so bad that he had wanted to quit the team. "If that's what Taoka-sensei thinks, then you have nothing to worry about."

"I sure hope so." Sendoh sighed.

"Takasago's a good center, but he's not in the same class as Akagi," Uozumi went on. His voice assumed a different quality when he talked basketball—none of the austere dourness of when his consciousness and field of vision were entirely occupied by rice, fish, and vegetables. Was it excitement? "Sugadaira should be able to salvage a few rebounds from under Takasago's nose. Maybe even make a couple of baskets while he's at it. The good thing about Sugadaira is that he keeps his cool under pressure, even if he's not always the most effective. They won't be able to foul him out."

Uozumi remembered the time Takasago had goaded him into fouling him under the basket, after which he'd got himself ejected for arguing with the referee. His grip tightened around the fish he was cutting as the frustration and the humiliation came back to him, causing the head of the fish to separate from the body with a pop like that of a champagne cork flying out of the bottle. The fish head slid across the bar and landed in the middle of the restaurant.

Once again, heads turned to look at Uozumi.

"Don't worry about it, Uozumi-san," said Sendoh. "You were just really into the game that time."

Uozumi sighed. As usual, Sendoh was trying to make him feel better by downplaying his past follies.

"As I was saying, Takasago's going to give you some trouble, but it's nothing you can't prevent by putting a little support behind Sugadaira. Maybe Koshino can put some pressure on Takasago alongside Sugadaira. The real trouble is when guys like Maki and Kiyota attack. They're going to see their opportunity and go for it. Sugadaira won't stand much of a chance against them. In that case there's only one thing you can do."

"Make sure they never get the chance to go for a basket head-on."

"That's right. It's a difficult job, but you can't expect anything less with Kainan."

"I know, Uozumi-san."

"You'll have to double down on defense like never before. As Taoka-sensei always says, everyone's got weaknesses. Even Maki."

"Yours is that you're too nice." Sendoh smiled winningly.

"Nice try. Still not letting you have any of this sushi."

Sendoh sighed. He knew a lost cause when he saw one.

"You were a much better captain than I am."

Uozumi snorted.

"What? Because I refuse to hand out free sushi to every wastrel who stumbles into my restaurant?"

"You're a lot more practical. I just sort of waft along on one stroke of good luck after another. No real leadership skills over here, unfortunately."

"Keep talking like that and I just might believe you."

"I'm being serious. Everyone thinks I've got some otherworldly ability to inspire the team with every decent play I make." Sendoh laughed. "Just because I tried my hand at being a point guard once and pass the ball around more than Rukawa doesn't make that true. If it was ever true, it was only your leadership that made it possible. Without you I get weighed down by the minutiae of the captaincy, and don't have much left over to do those very things that used to inspire the team in the first place."

Uozumi blinked.

"I don't know if you're fishing for compliments right now—though I suppose you'd be better at it than most—, but if anyone was better suited than me to lead our current squad of players to the Winter Games, it's you. You're Akira Sendoh, for crying out loud—a name that's all but synonymous with the Ryonan basketball team, even though the team's been around a lot longer than you have. You are Ryonan. You don't just have a responsibility to carry the hopes and dreams of your teammates—of Taoka-sensei—, but you don't have a choice, either. You have to beat Kainan, understand?" Uozumi jabbed his sushi knife in the air between him and Sendoh, prompting the more weak-hearted among his clientele to shriek in alarm. "If you don't— well, then maybe I was wrong about you all along."

"That's a lot of pressure."

"It's the only language you understand." Uozumi decided to put the knife aside before he had the police called on him. "It's the only thing that'll make you get off your lazy ass and work hard."

"I needed that." Sendoh brightened. "You always know what to say, Uozumi-san."

"Anything to get you to stop feeling sorry for yourself," Uozumi grunted. "Incidentally, what's this I hear about a dalliance between you and that girl from Shohoku?"

"You mean Ayako?"

"If that's her name, then yes."

Sendoh sighed.

"I thought there was something there, but it looks like I was mistaken."

"You've been played for a fool. I wouldn't be surprised if this was all an elaborate plan hatched by Shohoku to lower your morale."

"What?" Sendoh was affronted. "Ayako-san would never do that. And how did you know about it anyway? I only ever told a few people."

"A little birdie told me." Uozumi was sarcastic. "You idiot. What did you think? The ace of Ryonan goes chasing after a girl, and all of Kanagawa doesn't find out about it?"

The thought hadn't occurred to Sendoh.

"Hang on," he said. "Does that mean Miyagi knows about it, too?"

"I'd be surprised if he didn't. I'm telling you, Sendoh, you've been strung along."

Sendoh thought back to all the times he had spent with Ayako. Gazing into her soft brown eyes after the practice game, eating dinner with her not long after, bumping into her here and there, seemingly by chance, and spending a memorable evening with her afterwards.

Were all these "random" encounters not random at all, but part of a plan carefully put together by Miyagi and others at Shohoku to destroy his spirit?

If Miyagi had indeed known about him and Ayako—and it seemed to Sendoh increasingly likely that he had—, then there was no way he would have stood aside and quietly let him proceed—unless he was indeed part of a crooked design to take Sendoh down emotionally.

It was all becoming clear to him now. The way Ayako had initially demurred, but then had gone along with his advances. The letter of encouragement, followed swiftly by her laconic rejection—and now this. The way in which she had abruptly broken it off between them seemed to bespeak her guilt at having been part of so mean a subterfuge. She had realized that she didn't have it in her to go along any further with something so nefarious.

What a fool Sendoh had been!

"Hey, Sendoh," said Uozumi, concerned at the sudden stiffness that had come over the other. "Everything okay?"

Sendoh inhaled deeply and cracked a smile.

"Yeah, of course. Don't worry, it was nothing serious, Ayako and me. Nothing that will get in my way when we face Shohoku in the finals."

Uozumi nodded.

"Looks like you're back to your old self. I'd be worried right about now, if I were Maki."

He was caught off guard by a tight hug over the counter.

"I can't thank you enough, Uozumi-san."

Uozumi's features softened. He gazed down at the mass of spikey hair pressing against his bosom and felt moved to raise a hand and let it rest on Sendoh's head. He didn't even care that his hand was covered with rice and fish meat. It would be a while before Sendoh found out.

"There, there," he said. Was this what it felt like to be a… father? "People are watching."

Sendoh let go.

"You should come by sometime," he said. "Watch us practice."

"I will. Just as soon I'm through with all my college applications."

"College?" Sendoh couldn't conceal his surprise. "Weren't you going to work here full-time?"

"Don't be silly," Uozumi scoffed. "I'm not even an apprentice yet. First I have to go to culinary school, then… The point is, I'm a long ways away from a full-time career as a chef. Now get your ass back to the gym. I understand you've got a game tomorrow."

The warm feelings that his conversation with Uozumi had kindled inside him vanished the moment Sendoh stepped out of the restaurant into the street. The cool evening air blowing against his face felt icy in combination with the intense feelings of betrayal that filled his being. Everything that had passed between him and Ayako all these months had been a lie.

And what about Rukawa? Was his supposed warming up to Sendoh part of Shohoku's plan, too? Playing the part of a friend and confidant so that Shohoku could keep the wool over Sendoh's eyes long enough for him walk willingly off the cliff they were leading him to?

He began shaking as he trudged down to the train station. He had never been anything but nice to Shohoku, even after Ryonan's loss to them in the spring tournament. He had never borne any grudges or harbored any sort of ill will against them. What had he done to deserve this? To deserve having his heart ripped out of his chest and toyed with, and then tossed aside like a piece of trash. He would never have suspected Shohoku, even at their most desperate, to stoop to such a level.

It was cruel, it was invidious.

The revelation that Ayako was not really into him did not surprise him. That he could accept. Indeed, he had always had his suspicions, and Ayako had confirmed as much at the end of Shohoku's game against Miuradai.

What he could not accept was being taken advantage of—being the subject of so cruel a deception—and all for what? All so that Shohoku could maybe improve their chances at going to the Winter Tournament?

For the first time since he couldn't remember when, Sendoh felt angry. He felt a cold fury rising up deep within his system, before which all his doubts and anxieties turned to ash. He would see Shohoku in the finals, all right; and he would crush them.

Screw Kainan, and screw Shohoku.

tbc.


A/N: I took inspiration for Uozumi's restaurant and the dynamic between him and Sendoh in a large part from the fic "Fishing" by Laziness Incarnate - one of the best fanfics I've ever read. I couldn't possibly vary from their relationship as depicted in that fic, because it just seemed so right and so perfect.

As interludes go, I hope this wasn't a useless one. I guess there was that bombshell about Shohoku playing Sendoh all along, so this wasn't really an interlude at all.