Other Characters Featured In This Chapter: None (besides OCs)

Summary: Yoh's gym teacher pushes him to join a sports team after discovering his surprising level of physical fitness. Can Yoh rise to Coach's challenge and manage to impress Anna?

Rating: T for language, innuendo and suggestive themes.

Published: 1/8/2021.

Double Dribble

Kiss #39

"... the ball, launched, slung dexterously / with a slight backspin, slashes through / the basket's silk net with a small, / sonorous splash of completion."

-Garret Hongo, "The Cadence of Silk"

Yoh was surrounded by a field full of sweaty boys and girls. Some of them were doubled over, struggling to catch their breath. Others were stretching or rubbing their sore joints. Still others had given up on standing entirely, instead sitting on the grass or even lying down. All of them, however, were chanting at him, including one man whose stentorian voice seemed louder than all the students' combined.

"Twenty-six!" they yelled in unison, then after several seconds of watching intently, "Twenty-seven!"

Yoh took a second to catch his breath on the pull-up bar. His shoulders and lats felt like they were on fire. Still, he had to admit that having the adulation of the entire gym class numbed his pain at least somewhat and pushed him harder. He tensed his muscles once more, and…

"Twenty-eight!"

Yoh picked up on some of the murmurs that were rippling through the crowd. "This has got to be some sort of record!" "Did you see how many crunches he did?" "I'm not surprised, he got to the top of the rope before I even finished tying my shoelaces." "Would you ever guess the skinniest kid in gym class was also the strongest?"

"Twenty-nine!"

Yoh was absolutely spent, but wanted to get to an even thirty. He hung loosely from the bar for several seconds, trying to coax one more rep out of his overexerted body…

Saved by the bell! he thought, as the period ended and the school's bell sounded. He finally relinquished his grip on the bar.

"Yoh-kun, that was impressive!" one of his classmates gushed. "You're a lot stronger than you look," another said, giving him a chest bump that caught him off guard and nearly floored him.

"Asakura!"

Coach Sasaki's clarion voice cut through the smattering of compliments. Yoh looked up to find him rapidly closing on him, bridging the distance between them with smooth, swift strides. The orange whistle around his neck sashayed to and fro as he drew nearer.

"I want to talk to you in my office," he said, taking his aviator sunglasses off and parking them on the collar of his "Property of Shinra Private Academy - XXL" gym teacher T-shirt. "Come with me."

Yoh followed Coach Sasaki, whose office was on the far side of campus, past the football field, tennis courts and track and field facility. He stepped inside and was thankful it had an air conditioner.

"I gotta say," Coach said as he closed the office door, "that was impressive. Damn impressive. You aced every leg of the school's yearly fitness examination. I've never seen anyone do so well on every component." He looked at his clipboard and gave a low, drawn-out whistle. "11.59-second 100-yard dash. A mile in five-thirty-eight. Standing broad jump, 84 inches. 29 pull-ups, of course..." He trailed off. "I've had kids beat these numbers, once in a while. But no one's ever come close to being this well-rounded. You're an athlete, Asakura. That much is certain."

Yoh was unaccustomed to receiving such praise. He pawed awkwardly at the back of his head and looked at the floor. "T - thank you very much, Sasaki-sensei," he stammered, giving a bow for good measure.

Coach looked at Yoh, bemused. "Sensei? Teachers sit behind a desk and grade papers all day. Does it look like that's what I do for a living?" Yoh took in Coach's svelte and toned physique and shook his head.

"Just call me Coach. Anyway, Asakura, I have to ask," he went on, favoring Yoh with a narrow-eyed stare. "You're not on steroids, are you?"

Yoh, who was still wearing his sleeveless gym class shirt, merely pointed to his arms as an answer to the question. "Really, Coach?" Indeed, while they were nicely toned and defined, they were a far cry from the rippling, bulging muscles that might raise a red flag.

"Fair point," Coach said. "Which brings me to this: Have you considered joining one of our sports teams? We'd absolutely love to have someone of your caliber on just about any one of them. Track and field, swimming, water polo, football, soccer, tennis, baseball, volleyball...hell, I bet you'd even be a great bowler."

"Uh," Yoh hesitated, "I've never played any sports before."

"You're telling me that someone who can squat" - he looked down at his clipboard again - "nearly double his body weight got that way without any sports experience?"

"That's right, Coach," he nodded with one of his cheesy grins.

"So how'd you get so fit in the first place?"

"I've been training," he said. "With Anna Kyoyama from class 9-B."

"Ah, yes, Kyoyama. She's surprisingly strong, too," Coach mused. "But wait - you don't play any sports. Training for what?"

To be the Shaman King, Yoh thought, but didn't say, because he didn't want Coach to suspect that he was crazy. "Er … just training myself to develop healthy life habits."

"That's well and good, Asakura. But what is life, even a long and healthy life, without a little excitement? There's nothing like sinking a game-winning three-pointer at the buzzer in front of hundreds of cheering fans. Or swatting a grand slam down three in the bottom of the ninth. Things like that give you a rush like nothing else. There's living, Asakura, and then there's living."

Yoh thought about how nice it had felt to have all eyes on him for once during the physical fitness test. It had given him a rush. He had to admit Coach was kindling the competitive fires inside his usually laid-back body.

"So, whaddaya say, Asakura? We've got basketball tryouts next week. I know you've never played before, but honestly, our whole junior varsity team is inexperienced, and none of them can claim to be half the athlete you are. If you can get the fundamentals down by next week, a roster spot is as good as yours. If not - there's always the bowling team."

"But who's going to teach me these fundamentals?" Yoh asked.

"I will," Coach said, extending his hand toward Yoh.

Yoh hesitated for a second, then grasped it in a firm handshake. "Okay, Coach. I'll do my best."


"Anna!" Yoh called out as he spotted a familiar blond head of hair among the mass exodus of students leaving the campus.

"Yoh?" Anna turned around and gave a start. "I know you like to show off your bod, but I think wearing your gym clothes in the halls is a dress code violation." Her deadpan expression gave nothing away.

"What? No - it's not like that, Anna. Look, I'm gonna be home late today. Coach Sasaki is going to train me."

"I thought I did all your training around here," she said. "What's he training you for?"

"I'm going to try out for the basketball team next week," he said. Seeing Anna's reaction, he added, "I know. I'm as surprised as you are."

"Basketball?" Anna asked, her voice laden with skepticism. "You? All five-foot-nothing of you?"

"Well … Coach believes in me," he said, somewhat deflated.

"Next you're going to tell me Coach wants Manta to sumo wrestle," Anna snarked. "Whatever. More exercise for you, I guess. Can't be a bad thing." She waved a hand dismissively at Yoh. "Go to your training, then. I'll see you when I see you." With a curt nod, she turned around and disappeared into the crowd.

Yoh made his way to the gym and bumped into Coach as soon as he stepped onto the wood of the basketball court.

"Asakura! Hold it right there," Coach bellowed.

Yoh froze with one foot in midair. He felt Coach's eyes glaring with disapproval at his footwear.

"You need basketball shoes. Those sandals will scuff up the court. You don't happen to have a pair, do you?"

Yoh shook his head. "I'm sure I can find you some. In the meantime, headphones off, Asakura. Things are about to get serious. Get loose."

Yoh took off his sandals and headphones and placed them on the lowest row of bleachers. Unsure of how exactly to "get loose," he cast his eyes about the gym until he caught sight of a poster demonstrating a variety of stretches. He sat down and did his best to imitate the poses on the poster, and soon he heard footsteps approaching.

Coach returned, holding a pair of grungy basketball shoes at arm's length. "Got you socks, too."

Yoh suppressed a gag as he put the shoes on - they were soaked in disinfectant spray that was strong enough to make his eyes water, yet not strong enough to cover up the underlying reek.

"We've got a lot of ground to cover," Coach said. "I know you've never played, but maybe you've shot around a little? Like playing 'Horse' or just trying a few free throws?"

"No."

"All right, what about passing? Maybe you've thrown a basketball around a few times?"

"No."

"How about dribbling? You know, just walking around and bouncing the ball on the ground?"

"No."

Coach sighed. "Well, you're gonna learn today, Asakura."


"Anna?" Yoh called out as he closed the front door behind him. The room was darker than the twilight's last gasp outside. Yoh raised an eyebrow quizzically at the silence; the television was off too. "Anna?" he asked again as he made his way upstairs.

He saw light spilling out of an open door in the upstairs hallway. Oh, she's in the bathroom, Yoh realized. He approached the door, and stopped just short to knock on the wall beside it. "Anna?"

"Come in, Yoh," came Anna's flat voice. "I'm just tidying up."

Anna was on her knees before the toilet, a scrub brush in her hand. "Hmm, that's new," she observed, gesturing with her other hand towards the gym bag hanging from his shoulder. "Whatcha got there?"

Yoh shrugged the strap off his shoulder and unzipped it. "Shoes and a ball," he said. Yoh wrinkled his nose as the trapped stench of the shoes escaped from the open bag. "So I can practice on my own."

"Wow. Stylish," she said sarcastically. "How was your training?"

"Wait," Yoh said, staring at the toilet brush in Anna's hand.

"What? There are always chores to be done, even if you're not around to do them. Don't worry, I'm keeping a tally." Yoh groaned. "But as I was saying, how was it with Coach?"

"It - it was okay, I guess," Yoh said, looking away from her.

Anna looked up from the toilet and scowled as she bore her eyes into Yoh's. "Yoh, don't lie to me."

Yoh sighed. Anna's lie radar was always uncanny. "Anna, it was horrible," Yoh admitted. "I suck at everything. I was there for hours and I can still barely dribble a ball up and down the court without tripping over my own feet."

Anna rose from her kneel and put the brush back in its holder behind the toilet. She crossed her arms. "Doesn't surprise me," she said. "What did you expect, picking up a basketball for the first time?"

"Yeah," Yoh admitted, "I didn't expect to be any good. But I'm way worse than I thought. Damn, what have I gotten myself into?"

"Maybe you should just tell Coach you want to quit," Anna said with a shrug. "You can't polish a turd."

"Are you - are you calling me a turd?" Yoh looked genuinely hurt.

Anna flinched ever so slightly, but was back in stoic mode before Yoh could take notice. "No, Yoh. I just mean it's a bad situation and there's no way to make it better. Coach has delusions of grandeur for you. I get it - I whipped you into shape with my special training - but all the pull-ups and crunches in the world can't substitute for talent and experience. You're just not basketball player material, Yoh."

Anna expected Yoh to take the out she was giving him, and agree to tell Coach he was done. But she hadn't been there to see the determination in his eyes as he banged out the pull-ups before a chanting crowd. She had no way of knowing how Coach's words fueled the competitive fire within his soul.

"Not basketball player material? I'll show you," Yoh vowed, snatching up his gym bag and storming to his room.

He didn't turn around, and didn't see Anna, staring at where Yoh had just been standing, with a quizzical frown on her face. What happened to that easygoing slacker I thought I knew?

Under Coach's tutelage, Yoh made slow and steady progress, but he could see the handwriting on the wall: He wasn't improving as fast as Coach or even he himself had expected. He had nightmares where Coach's whistle and barking voice woke him up in a cold sweat. Tweeeet! "Traveling!" Tweeeet! "Double-dribble!" But he knew there was no backing out now. He had come this far, and tryouts were tomorrow anyway.

Yoh started his Sunday the same way he had spent most of his Saturday: alone at the park, in his smelly, ill-fitting loaner shoes and a worn practice jersey whose silk-screened numbers had mostly peeled away. He used the back wall of the tennis court as a second man to practice his passing. He had gotten decent enough at dribbling with his right hand, but his left hand was dreadful at it. He hoped Coach wouldn't notice. As for his shooting, Yoh's repertoire consisted mostly of layups. He couldn't shoot from the field worth a damn, and he didn't see that changing much in one day.

As he watched another one of his mid-range jumpers clang off the rim, he wondered who he would be facing in tomorrow's one-on-one tryout. Coach had told him he would pair him up with the weakest player on the junior varsity team, and he didn't even need to win. "Keep the score respectably close, and you'll get your spot," he had said. But Coach wouldn't say who the weakest player was. It had to be one of the bench players, but was it Kotani, the backup center? He hoped not; he was clumsy and unathletic, but his towering height made up for it. Maybe it was the power forward, Kagawa, who had good hands and court vision, but lacked speed? Or the point guard who was well-balanced but just not up to the caliber of the starters, Takamatsu? …


"Takamatsu! Get over here!"

Yoh took one last sip of his water and inhaled deeply. He felt the adrenaline that had been simmering in his veins all afternoon surge as Coach blew his whistle and turned in his direction.

"Asakura! Show me what you got!"

Yoh checked his shoelaces one last time and tucked his jersey into his basketball shorts. As he made his way to the tip-off circle at the center of the court, he saw the clock reset to five minutes. He tuned out all of the people on the sidelines and in the bleachers and focused on the ball that was in Coach's hands. Then, with one final tweet of his whistle, Coach lobbed the ball straight into the air. Yoh jumped as high as he could, nearly exceeding the vertical reach of the much taller Takamatsu, but his opponent's fingertips brushed the ball first.

It bounced into the backcourt. Both players charged after it in a dead sprint, but Yoh was faster. He recovered the ball with grace and started dribbling it as he headed toward the basket. As he neared the key, he remembered what Coach had told him about layups and did his best to put those words into action. The ball rolled off his fingertips, just the way Coach had shown him, and went on to graze the backboard and bounce into the basket. Yoh could hardly believe it.

Tweet!

"Two-zero, Asakura!" Coach yelled. I'm actually winning! Yoh checked the ball to Takamatsu and eased into a ready stance as he did his best to guard him, but he was just too tall. He planted his feet and, though Yoh attempted to block, easily shot the ball over his head from behind the three-point line. Yoh positioned himself for the rebound, but watched helplessly as the shot arced perfectly into the basket.

"Three-two, Takamatsu!" Yoh took possession of the ball and, almost immediately, his opponent darted in, trying to poke the ball away from him. He crossed his dribble over, and - oops, Yoh thought as he felt the ball smack into his ankle. Takamatsu pounced on the loose ball; Yoh gave chase as he charged the rim, but his lead was too great.

"Five-two, Takamatsu!" Yoh had the ball again, and this time he tried a more aggressive tack, moving the ball upcourt. Takamatsu's large frame was effectively boxing him out of the paint wherever Yoh went, and he knew his shooting was awful. But no matter what he tried, Takamatsu shadowed him, keeping him from getting any nearer -

Tweet! "Shot clock violation! Takamatsu ball, five-two!"

Yoh did a decent enough job keeping Takamatsu off-balance on his ensuing possession - that is, until Takamatsu bobbed his head one way and moved his body another. The ungraceful head fake wouldn't have fooled Takamatsu's teammates, but to Yoh it was a brand-new concept. He zigged while Takamatsu zagged, and Yoh could do nothing but watch as the ball swished through the net.

"Seven-two, Takamatsu!" Yoh wasn't backing down, but he knew this match was slipping away from him. He realized that he would have to take some risks to get back in it. Just outside of the three-point arc, he tried a head fake of his own. Takamatsu wasn't biting. He didn't want to run out his shot clock again, so he tried a long fadeaway jumper. Thwack! Takamatsu's palm swatted the ball down just as it left Yoh's fingertips. Yoh knew he couldn't recover the ball before Takamatsu did, so he stuck his leg out to impede him. Takamatsu's tall, lanky figure stumbled, giving Yoh time to recover his blocked shot -

Tweet! "Tripping! Takamatsu gets two shots!"

"Coach," Yoh said as he followed Takamatsu to the free-throw line. "I can't do that?"

"You can't do that," Coach replied, shaking his head. All Yoh could do was look on as Takamatsu went through his pre-shot routine and sank his first free throw, followed by the other. Yoh stole a glance at the clock. More than half his time was up. He knew he needed a miracle.

Yoh fought valiantly, but a miracle was not in the books that afternoon. Coach gave one last blow of the whistle just as Yoh heaved up a desperation three-pointer that fell well short. Tweet! "Time! Final score: Takamatsu twenty, Asakura two."

Not even close, Yoh thought dejectedly.

Takamatsu sprinted down the sideline to accept high-fives and congratulations from his team. But he had unfinished business. Takamatsu looped back around and gave Yoh a hearty slap on the back.

"Yoh-kun," he said, "you played your ass off today. If Coach hadn't told me you just started playing last week, I wouldn't have believed it. Really, you're a hell of an athlete. I've just had a big head start on you, that's all."

"I agree," Coach said, wiping his whistle on his shirt. "Asakura, I'm sorry I got in your head about becoming a star basketball player after one week of practice. I just got so wrapped up in your amazing fitness test numbers. I should have known that basketball takes so much more than just raw athleticism. The truth is, I set you up for failure."

"You sure did. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Huh?" Yoh knew without looking whose icy voice that must have been, but turned around anyway.

Anna was pointing a deadly thin finger into Coach's chest. "Kyoyama!" he said.

Her eyes became venomous narrow slits as she castigated him. "No sane person - especially one who calls himself a coach - should expect anyone to become good at a sport in a week. But Yoh doesn't think like that. The world "impossible" isn't in his vocabulary. If you ask him to bring you the moon, he'll ask you where he should drop it off. You gave him an impossible goal and he did his best to meet it. In the face of insurmountable odds, he never for one second doubted himself, or even considered quitting. He practiced on his own over the weekend, all while I knew full well that he would much rather be napping and relaxing. He fought to the very end, even when a comeback was completely out of reach. That's just the kind of person he is. I'm damn proud of him for that, and it's one of the many reasons I love him."

Takamatsu nodded in agreement. Coach stuttered out an apology, but Anna wasn't having any of it. "Save it for someone who cares, Coach. Yoh's too good for you." And before he could react, Anna grabbed Yoh's hand and stalked out of the gym.

Anna released her grip once she had led them around the corner to the side of the gym. Yoh was still dazed from what had just happened. At last he said, "Thanks for sticking up for me, Anna."

She shrugged. "I meant what I said in there, Yoh. Every last word of it. And I have to admit I was totally wrong when I told you that you aren't basketball player material." She shyly curled a finger around a loose fold of his jersey. "And even after I didn't support you, you stuck with it. You went out there and played. You proved me wrong. Basketball players don't always win, but they play hard. You played hard. I could tell you knew what you were doing. And you looked goddamn sexy doing it."

Yoh's cheeks suddenly felt very warm. "Well," he said, "at least some good came out of all this, huh?"

"It's not over yet, Yoh."

With that, Anna embraced Yoh in a tight grip. Her delicate blond hair tickled at Yoh's face as she inched her head forward to kiss him. Their lips met, and Anna tasted the dried sweat that was evidence of his hard-fought defeat just moments ago in the gym. But now, outside of the gym, Yoh was anything but defeated. He may have been a laid-back slacker, but he knew he would fight his hardest when it mattered, when a challenge arose and no one believed in him. He would channel his inner fire to tackle the obstacles that mattered most. He didn't need the adulation of a crowd of fans; it was enough of a rush just to have Anna rooting for him. He returned Anna's kiss, and tried to express just how grateful he was to have someone so understanding and appreciative in his life. From the way she started to explore the small of his back with her hands, he took it that she got the message…

"Should I keep going?" Anna asked mid-kiss. "I don't want to draw a foul."

"A foul? What are you talking about?"

"Well," she said, running a finger around the inside of Yoh's waistband, "isn't it a double-dribble if I put both my hands on your bal-"

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