12th chapter! *grins* Thanks for reviewing and sorry for the rather late update :P Hope you like this chap – and thank you for all the wicked ideas you all gave me (which all had the common theme = butcher Ika and feed her to the cannibals)!!!
Renei: Hi! Thanks for taking the time to read this. If I could make Rukawa kick Ika out, I would – but hey, he's only a student (and not a very brilliant one at that too). Anyway, sorry because I won't be e-mailing you for this update – I'm actually rushing for time. Sorry, but I promise I'll try to e-mail you for the later updates, ok? : )
Tensaispira: I can actually imagine you prancing about cursing Ika while reading this story. *pictures it again in her mind* Hope u like this!
Poetic Pheonix: Thank u so much for the review – it must've cost u some effort and time. Do you review like that in EVERY story?? I can't imagine what your hands would feel like if you, say, read an average of five fics at one go *imagines a distorted hand and twisted fingers* It's really good that you ignore those people who make ur life a living hell. I must say I've experienced the same thing – I think we all do. It doesn't really matter anymore what ppl think of you as you grow older. : ) And yes, I have friends who spend as if money pour down from the sky. It makes me go blue in horror when they do that – because I'm a big saver-don't-waste-even-an-inch-of-that-tissue-paper-or-I'll-make-sure-you-burn-in-hell kind of a person. I'm still trying to find a way to get the romance started but I can't for my life think of how Rukawa would go around it. Let's just see what this pink organ I have in my head can come up with. BTW, the "humph" wasn't meant to be funny, so it's OK if you didn't laugh (if you did, I would've been wondering why). It's just because Akima gave a sarcastic reply and it was pretty obvious that she was going home, so Rukawa's kind of like: I knew it. Coward.
Get it?? It's kind of like when you see Ika approaching Rukawa, and she does this really stupid thing to get his attention and you go: Humph! How typical.
I like ur idea VERY much. I never really thought about adding anymore Slam Dunk characters because then the story would grow LONGER and it'll NEVER finish – but let's see what circumstances lead me. : ) (PS: I like all the aces of every team too – except Maki. And Jin IS cute) Thanks for sharing that little Marco story. What's with the guy? He should be FLATTERED. Good thing u got over him. Maybe you should throw the PS controller at his face too??
Joy: Heh heh, you sound afraid! Muahahaha! Thanks for expressing your anger towards the headmaster – I really like it when other people hate characters that I myself hate and SHOW it!! Keep on reading!!
Zackire : Thank you! Let's see what else she says about him ;P
Tiran: You okay??? Thanks for reviewing (and fainting!)
Girl_sport17: Man, you really love brothers. I love mine too, but it's TRADITION NOT TO SHOW IT!! Thanks for reading! I'm glad the last chapter touched you in some way. : )
Mistress of darkness: Why'd u think I named the title Poor You for?? :P Hope u like this chapter (and all the other chapters to come)
Maemi: I should make that the theme of this story, you know? 'The Unfairness Of Life'. Sorry, all my literature classes is getting to my head.
Nayomi-chan: Thanks! I really liked that fic you wrote – though I would've liked it better if it was for me! (Kidding) Fujima – girl??? Well, at least he's not gonna be gay – just lesbians!! Stay glued to the story!
Leika: *grins* Thanks for volunteering your ideas – I'll consult u if I need anything!! BTW, what makes you think it's going to be lemon?? I'll probably make it into apple or grape or orange.
Nellie: Well, believe it!
SLL: Quick update ur story – it's really cool, especially the kissing part (heh heh) *starts guffawing on the floor* Continue it!!
Twelfth chapter.
"Hey."
Akima looked up and placed a small smile on her face. "Hmm." It was him, sweaty and damp from his practice, standing by the soda machine and poking money inside the narrow slots.
He turned back to push one of the many buttons and waited for the can to fall. "You've got that look on your face again," he mumbled without looking at her. "What happened?"
"Everybody's a bastard from hell." She said simply and not without spite.
"And so is this machine." Impatient, he punched the side of the machine and it vomited a cold can of ice lemon. "What happened?" he asked again as he bent to retrieve it.
She stretched out her hands helplessly and sighed. "You don't want to know," she told him. "It's a long and frustrating story."
Opening the can with little force, he sipped. "I'm practicing," he informed, as if his clothes weren't enough proof. "Come into the gym and tell me." With that, he turned and left her to follow.
Deciding there was nothing more to lose, she relented and went after him. He was, after all, the other half of the crime, and she thought he had the right to know. Taking the usual spot, she watched him do a shot and then started the storytelling, right from A to Z. Her voice heated up and died down as she spoke to match her anger and disappointment, but he didn't show any sign of emotion, though his eyes widened a bit at the headmaster's reaction. He miraculously sent successful shots while listening, and sometimes Akima found herself distracted and straying away from the subject matter whenever the ball went through the hoop.
"Are you even listening?" she demanded once.
"Of course," he replied, sending yet another ball through the empty air.
She found it difficult to believe him, but continued on anyway. "So that's that," she ended on a dying tone, as if all the hopes in the world had disappeared. "Plan backfired. Evidence destroyed. Back to zero. Nice ending, eh?"
Oblivious to her disappointment, his first thought was: Too bad. Carrot juice wasted for nothing. Reminded of the carrot juice, he turned to tell her to pay for it. But then something stopped him.
She was looking blankly at the wall across her, eyes slightly downcast, shoulders slumped with an expression that cut straight through the heart. Sighing very deeply, she shifted into another depressed position. "That's the way it is, isn't it?" she said suddenly. "The rich always win over the poor."
Categorised in the rich level, he felt uneasy tugs of guilt. He stopped shooting, only dribbled the ball around.
"This is like in feudal times," she lapsed into History talk. "I mean, you'd think after about 4 centuries, things would've changed, but it's still the same. You have money, then you can do whatever you want – have land, be in the parliament, kick the King's butt off his throne even. But if you don't, then you can't even defend yourself when you get trampled on – which is most of the time." She sighed again. "I feel like a serf."
He had no idea what she was talking about or which chapter of the book that speech belonged to (as far as he was concerned, History classes are for sleeping), but he thought he caught her meaning and felt it.
"I never liked money," she continued, starting to talk to herself unconsciously. "I didn't like the fact that you need it. But it's really important, isn't it? You're nothing without it, are you?"
"Not necessarily." He offered, gearing up again for another long shot.
She watched the ball go in and then turned to look at him. "What's important to you, Kaede?"
It only took him a second to think. "Basketball. Being the no.1 player."
She'd expected nothing else.
He did two more shots. "What about you?"
"Hmm?" surprised that he asked, she blinked. "Me? Um, well… the usual, really. Happiness, family…" she listed, and then smiled wryly. "Survival." Shifting again, she looked up at the high ceiling. "I don't have either of those three."
"Hmm?"
At the questioning grunt, she looked down on the floor. "My life's in the pit. Am I happy? No, I'm not happy. Do I have a family? My family broke up years ago. I don't have any close relatives. So no, I don't have a family. I don't have money either. And in the next four months, if things don't get better, I won't even have a home."
"Survival," he summed up quietly.
"Yep," she said with an ironic smile. "Survival."
He did a few more shots, pretended to go against invisible defenders. She watched, as she usually did, fascinated and impressed. "Basketball," she said all of a sudden, "it's a beautiful game, isn't it?"
He was tempted to say: Duh but managed to refrain himself.
"I don't know much about it," she admitted, a little shamefully. She could almost see the disapproving crease on his smooth forehead. "But it's nice." She finished lamely.
He focused on the hoop. "Do you want to?" He sent the ball.
"What?"
"Know about it. Do you want to?"
"I – I suppose so," she answered awkwardly. "But it's a little too late for me to be good at it. Still… I'd like to know. So yeah, I want to."
He looked at her from afar. Ever since Ika had bluntly told him of Akima's crush on him, he couldn't get it out of his mind. It was stupid, really, to wonder if it was true and looking for telltale signs. But he was doing it.
It was very hard to confirm. She was acting abnormally. From his far and wide experience, when a girl likes you, she'd drop on your feet for an autograph and scream and primp up at the very sight of you. She'd jump into skirts with your name printed on it and cheer you to death. THAT'S when you know whether a girl likes you or not. (author's note: I know this is a narrow way of looking at his fans – I mean, not ALL jump around in skirts with pom poms, but let's just say those are the only ones he notices, and therefore, due to his narrow way of thinking, he concludes that all girls are supposed to be like that. OK?)
But she was doing neither one. She NEVER so much as cheered for him. Heck, she doesn't even come for the games. She doesn't fuss about her looks around him and doesn't even have a single alphabet of his name on any of her clothes – except for the letter 'K' on the school badge (Shohoku).
How was he to tell???
She was growing hot under his intense gaze. The depressing incident in the headmaster's room was gone from her memory. If she didn't take action and escape now, the blood boiling under her cheeks would explode out. She reached for her bag, stood up and made up an excuse that explained she had a night shift to work for.
The slightest of frowns appeared on his face, but he didn't say anything.
She was halfway through the door when he called her. Looking back and blushing all over again, she lifted an eyebrow in an attempt to act nonchalant. "Yes?"
"Come to the game," he had stopped practicing and was focusing all of his attention on her. "This Saturday." She felt little bubbles of excitement. He was asking her! Did that mean anything? Did it? Did it? She'd always wanted to go watch one. She'd concluded that if he was so good during practice, he must be a hell of a lot better on court – and wouldn't that be a something to see? Still, something always stood in her way. "I can't," she said, disappointment obvious on her face. "I have to work."
He frowned. "Do you work 24 hours a day?"
The sparks of anger he was sending at her surprised her. No, she thought dully, it didn't mean anything. "No. Just weekends. And certain weeknights."
He grunted. "When's your shift?"
Furious at the rude grunt she'd gotten from him, she snapped: "Not that it's any of your business, but it's in the morning."
"The game's in the afternoon."
"Oh. That's nice."
Damn her, he cursed her silently. "Coming or not?" he demanded.
"Yes. No. I don't know." Frustrated, she raked a hand through her hair. "Why are you getting mad anyway?"
He straightened. "I'm not mad."
Right, she thought sarcastically, and I'm not human either. "If I'm there, then I'm there. If I'm not, then I'm not."
He glared at her, unsatisfied. "Fine."
Feeling she didn't deserve that, she glared back. "You know, if you keep on glaring at me like that, then I definitely am not coming."
He glared harder. "Fine."
She seethed. "Or maybe I WILL come and throw rotten eggs at you."
"Fine."
Akima decided she was right earlier on. EVERYBODY was a bastard from Hell. Storming out of the gym, she made oaths about not stepping into any game in the world. However, five metres away, she was already counting the hours and figuring the means of transportation to get there.
He watched her go, his teeth gritted and grinding against one another. That girl better be there by the sidelines on Saturday, he told himself. And WITHOUT rotten eggs.
Why, though?
Why did it matter so much if she was there or not?
Sensing confusion, he quickly pushed it out of his mind – only to be replaced by something else. Images of Akima started to play in his head. He understood, of course, that she was disappointed that their plan didn't work as they would've liked it to. But it had all been fun revenge as far as he was concerned. Something to show – what's her name again? – Ika that she wasn't going to get her way without a fight.
He was all for fighting.
But somehow, now that he thought about it, it seemed to go deeper than that. Perhaps Akima's struggle wasn't with Ika alone. Maybe she's up against life itself.
Happiness. Family. Survival.
She sounded so serious.
Well, now things are probably going to go back to the way it was. There wouldn't be any reason for them to have further contact. He'd continue practicing daily and she'd continue watching – unless Ika and the gang showed up, he supposed. She was going to go on working at the stupid restaurant in that uniform. He didn't like that idea, for some reason. And he didn't like the fact that after his interference and efforts, nothing has changed at all.
I can't do anything else about Ika, he silently said. But maybe there are some things I can fix for you, Akima.
Review!!