AN: Hey there. I haven't really had much time to write for extended periods lately, and this probably wasn't what people were hoping for when they saw an update from me, so I'm sorry for that.
With that out of the way, I've had a few chapters of this story written already, and decided to post the first chapter on a whim. It's quite different from some of the stories I've seen in this fandom, but I hope at least some will appreciate what I'm going for. It features a male OC main character, and will be a bit more in depth on the actual sport than I usually see in KnB fics. The first chapter sets the premise of the OC, but have no fear, the vast majority of the story takes place in more familiar settings and features the characters we all know and love.
Depending on the response I might post more chapters.
Chapter 1
We're Moving Where?!
My heart pounded in my ears as I shook two defenders with a burst of speed, the tactile leather of the ball meeting my fingertips as I broke free.
Our point guard's passes have only gotten better as the season's gone on, all those extra hours after practice finally bearing fruit.
They still felt agonizingly slow.
I glanced lazily at the player marking me in triple threat, his eyes were a forgettable brown, a prominent brow line made even more so furrowed in concentration as it was.
He stared me down…
-Or at least he tried to. His presence wasn't intimidating in the least, and his hair steamed with the exhaustion of playing multiple quarters. I shifted my weight to my right, my eyes feigning the same way, picking out eight other players, a roaring crowd and my father sitting calmly in the front row. Removed from the situation I might have found the juxtaposition humorous, but as it was, dad's utter immunity to the excitement of the surrounding crowd merely brought a bitter taste to my mouth.
The guard with the thick brow fell for the bait as I cleanly crossed over to my left, dribbling swiftly past the off-balance defender. I paused momentarily with a satisfying squeak of my sneakers before blowing past the second that came to cover. A no look pass to my open teammate set up a textbook layup to bring our lead into double digits.
The crowd went wild, our small, no-name school taking games off of several tournament favorites tended to attract the attention of even the most casual basketball fan.
I jogged back to our hoop ignoring the glare from the beaten defender and absentmindedly bumped fists with my center. He'd been racking up buckets at the post all night thanks to my assists. Glancing once more towards dad, though I wonder why I even bothered at that point, I was not surprised to find him sitting rigidly in his seat, arms crossed in a defensive manner. He still managed to somehow ooze a judgmental aura.
Perhaps that was just my personal experience with the man.
You'd think that someone who never missed a game would show some enthusiasm for the sport, but at this point I think it was more about spiting my brother than any interest in my achievements. Saying he was upset when Chase quit basketball to play music would be an understatement. Understandable, at least from his point of view anyway. After all, he had spent so long grooming us into the powerhouses we were today. Even if I initially started playing simply from my fascination with the game itself, my interest had been waning a bit ever since my brother had stopped playing last season.
Incidentally, Chase was performing today as well.
I felt a twinge of guilt for missing his recital even as I kept a tight guard on my mark, taking advantage of his weak drive and penchant for forcing outside shots. I had considered skipping the game to watch my brother, but my team had put in the work to get to this point, ditching now would practically be spitting on their efforts. No, what mattered now was the opponent in front of me.
Marking the player was laughably easy. Say what you will about the man, but my dad demanded excellence, and my skills reflected that.
My hand darted out to tip away a pass our opponents tried to force through our defense, my point guard retrieving the ball in a fast break. I had already sped down the court, overtaking the furthest defender as I cut into the key from the right. A pass slapped into my palm with a healthy sting from just past half court, the defender I'd just passed catching up in the time it took to turn. I dribbled twice and leaped off my right foot, sailing under the hoop to avoid the opposing center that jumped to block me. A double clutch over the shoulder was just enough to clear the tips of his fingers.
I knew it was good the moment the ball left my hands. The spin was perfect, skipping with a satisfying hiss off the plexiglass backboard and slipping soundlessly through the net.
Off-balance from the awkward shot, I let myself slide harmlessly along the polished wood floor, grinning up at a group of my classmates going nuts in the stands
Hell yeah! Making a shot like that reminded me of why I started playing this sport in the first place. The echoing bounce of the ball and sharp squeaks of sneakers on wood stirred memories of simpler times, when Chase and I would beg our parents to stay just five minutes longer at the local gym.
When finally besting my older brother one on one was all I had on my mind.
A shadow blocked out the glaring gymnasium lights, a hand coming into focus as my eyes adjusted. I clasped hands with my center accepting his arm up.
"Leave some fans for the rest of us Leo!" the lanky player said, punching his fist jokingly into my shoulder. A decidedly feminine shriek from the crowd punctuated his point. Being the only sophomore on the varsity team did come with some perks.
I rolled my eyes as I shoved him towards the other end of the court. The game continued in such a manner for several minutes, our team scoring consistently, only letting through a few baskets here and there.
I received an inbound pass, dribbling leisurely down the court, giving my team a brief respite from the run and gun style we tended to favor. Eyeing my assigned man critically, I picked out several weak points in his defense, most glaringly favoring his left side. He must have been primarily used to opponents who drove to the right.
My brother would have eaten this kid alive.
I dribbled the ball a bit faster, lowering my center of gravity and switching up my leading hand. I faked several drives to test his balance a bit. As I thought, he had a habit of leaning to his left.
It was a minor flaw in his defense, but oh-so-easy to exploit.
As I seemed to commit to the right drive he was expecting I crossed swiftly over to my left in an abrupt change of pace.
I inwardly smirked, seeing my younger self in his place as my guard went sprawling, unprepared for the devastating crossover. To add insult to injury I immediately pulled up into a jumper that sailed right over the fingertips of the defender who'd slipped over for an attempted double team.
It was a pattern I was intimately familiar with having fallen prey to it hundreds of times myself. Being the player left standing for once certainly left a satisfying feeling in my gut. I turned away from the net right before the ball swished through the hoop, avoiding/ignoring the glare from my coach on the bench. To be fair, the action was arrogant as hell, but at the moment, I felt like I couldn't miss.
Another glance at Dad.
He appeared as stiff as usual, somehow coming off and even more disgruntled that normal. It wasn't until I saw the tall teen standing next to the man that I realized why.
Chase stood grinning good-naturedly next to our father, somehow ignoring the tension radiating from the man's posture. There were quite a few empty bleachers despite the high turnout of the game, my brother had obviously sat next to the man simply to irritate him.
It worked.
Our eyes met, and his grin seemed to say: nice play bro, but you've got a long way to go, or something to that effect.
Cocky asshole.
The first prize plaque from his recital clutched in his hands only drove the point home. If it wasn't for my brother's skill on the piano, I'd have said he was born to play basketball, but as it was, he had a gift with music. It'd be a waste for not him not to use it, not to mention piano was what he wanted to do, arguably more important than his skill.
A sudden pass from my point guard zipped into my waiting hands, breaking me out of my thoughts. I waved off his questioning glance at my inattention. Pivoting on my left foot, I postured for an aggressive drive on the same heavy-browed defender from before. All I could see was my brother's relaxed defensive stance in front of me, and despite knowing the player before me wasn't even close to Chase's level, I would be playing to beat him as usual.
My eyes darted to a passing teammate as a feint, before blowing past the defender's right side when he reached to intercept the ball. I noticed he was compensating for his earlier mistake with his left guard, but unfortunately for him my superior speed left him reeling. I took a quick step back, abandoning the drive to clear the three-point line and let the ball fly, cocking an eyebrow at my brother across the gym as it arced through the air, a beautiful backspin guiding it gently into the net.
My short bark of laughter at Chase's rolled eyes was entirely drowned out by the deafening roar of the crowd. I felt a grin tugging at my lips, fired up to finish out a game for the first time in months.
oooOoOoOooo
"We're moving where?!" I cried, not quite believing my ears.
"Don't be so dramatic, son, it's beneath you," My father said dryly. Chase leaned up against the locker room door as if Dad's news was of no concern. The rest of my team had already left to go celebrate our victory leaving the locker room empty besides our family.
"You knew about this?" I said, incredulous that my brother was taking the news so well.
He shrugged. "Not much before you, I figured you might want to play out your last game before I told you the ah… good news." He shrugged apologetically despite having no control over the situation.
"But… Japan? you didn't think to ask us before moving to the other side of the world?"
"Kaleo, enough."
He didn't really raise his voice, but I had enough experience with the man to know not to press the issue further.
My name was one of the few things I had left of my late mother. Dad had named Chase, while mine had come from mom's native language, after her Grandfather. It meant 'sound' in the Polynesian language used by Hawaiian natives.
It was a name that suited Chase much better, now that I thought about it, but I wouldn't give it up for the world.
That didn't stop dad from using it to reprimand me.
"What about Chase?" I asked, reining in my temper. "He's just finishing his junior year, it can't be easy to switch schools with this kind of timing?" I was grasping at straws by this point, but was still a bit disappointed as he shook his head impatiently.
"Your brother has… convinced me to allow him to attention a special program for gifted musicians in New York. He will be boarding there, while we will live in Tokyo, where I will oversee a new branch of my company." He answered evenly, but I could tell how difficult it was for him to speak positively of Chase's chosen career.
I wondered what Chase had done to convince him, god knows the man barely considered music a hobby.
"It's a college prep course that could lead to a full ride depending on my performance," Chase said answering my unspoken question.
Dad grunted irritably. "We leave Saturday. Pack only the essentials, the company is providing a fully furnished apartment for when we arrive."
Having said his part, the man strode from the room, the sound of the door closing echoed in the heavy silence.
"I just found out last weekend," Chase said to break the silence.
He knew me well, something as incredible as a full ride scholarship was not something he'd normally keep to himself. Though I supposed I knew why.
"—I was going to tell you but then Dad—"
"Don't worry, I get it," I sighed, grimacing at the pungent aroma of a public school locker room. "Congratulations… I guess?" I said, not quite sure what to say.
"Really, you're not mad?" Chase said. His normal air of confidence a bit more reserved.
"Shit, bro, of course not," I hurried to reassure him. "It's just… I'm gonna' miss you, man, but this shit's a once in a lifetime opportunity, right?"
"Right… it's just—"
"No way. Don't even go there."
He always did this shit. Putting a slight bit of loneliness I might feel over his own happiness. He was selfless to a fault.
"Don't sweat it," I insisted. "Plus, I've always got Dad to chill with if I get lonely."
He grinned at that at least. He tossed my gym bag to me before pausing once more as if unsure whether to say what was on his mind.
"Spit it out, man," I said.
He hesitated for a moment, "Just… don't mix up what you want and what dad wants for you."
With that said, he tossed my sweaty towel at me a bit faster than he had thrown the bag. Of course it nailed me in the face, exactly as he had intended.
I yanked it off with a scowl and chucked it back at his head as he escaped through the locker room door cackling madly.
The wet slap of the towel against the metal door seemed oddly appropriate for the situation, who knows what life in another country had in store for me.
oooOoOoOooo
I sat slouched in my chair, wedged between an overweight man that smelled like onion and a middle-aged woman who had spent the first ten minutes after boarding telling me all about where she planned to go while visiting Tokyo. I finally managed to get her to shut up by burying my nose into my complementary English to Japanese Dictionary, courtesy of the airline.
I didn't actually need it of course.
Japanese was one of the few languages in which I could speak more than a phrase or two. It was probably one of the reason's dad had accepted the promotion. My knowledge of Kanji was nowhere near a native-speaker's but I could hold a conversation well enough if they didn't speak too quickly. With a bit of brushing up I should be able to follow along in school to a certain degree.
Chase had left for New York the day before, and Dad had flown out ahead of time to get thing's squared away with his company. As strained as my relationship with the man was, I could understand the rational behind the move. The salary of a branch manager was significantly higher than what he made before, not that we were ever really struggling for money. But the prospect of the promotion alone would have been enough to convince him of the move.
I pulled a stack of paperwork out of my backpack, rifling through it until I found the information on the school I'd be attending in Tokyo.
Touou Academy huh...
To be fair I hadn't taken the entrance exam yet, but academics had never been too much trouble for me despite being more athletically inclined. The school was prestigious enough, but not to the point where I would struggle to make it in.
Despite arguing otherwise earlier in the week, japan had a significantly different school calendar than the US. The school year technically started only a few months earlier in April and went year-round, with a few larger breaks interspersed throughout. Transfers with this system weren't that uncommon an occurrence. I only hoped the process went off without a hitch.
I pulled out a sketchbook and began doodling to pass the time. The lines flowed from my pen haphazardly, the simple process helping me unwind as we taxied onto the runway.
By the time the plane's engines revved up in preparation for takeoff the page was filled with different characters, their appearance inspired by the collection of my fellow passengers.
I found sketching those around me extremely cathartic, though catching someone's eye as I tried to capture their likeness was always a bit awkward.
I glanced out the window past the larger gentleman, watching the smoggy LA skyline fade into the distance.