Thanks for the reviews once more. I'm now boiling down to the final paces of the story. Today's my last day at work. My absorption is in limbo, that's why I'm rushing the typing to get this done and over with.
5
Shobuda! (Showdown!)
The persistent beep of the alarm clock permeated into his sleep-fogged consciousness. He opened one eye just enough to take aim and slapped his alarm shut. The light outside was fairly dim, not usual at that hour. Just a few more minutes. He rolled over to one side. After some minutes of contemplation, he swept back the covers and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Raking a hand through his tousled curls, the side of his lip curled up.
It's show time.
He turned on the shower at full blast. The cold water revitalized him, waking his senses. He shook his head vigorously against the downpour and shook the final cobwebs from his head. It will be a fine day.
A fine day, indeed.
* * *
In another household in the district, another youth let out a jaw-wrenching yawn, his arms stretched everywhere. He looked around him numbly to reorient himself with his surroundings. With a grunt, he heaved himself from the futon, stretched again and scratched at his belly. It growled back at him in response.
Better take a big breakfast today, he determined as he headed for the kitchen. Because, today, we beat some Kyuuzen butt!
He plastered a smile on his face as he waited for the kettle to heat up the tea. Then his smile grew wider, with a mischievous glint in his eyes as a thought came to mind.
And I'll show you, kitsune. I'll show you and Kyuuzen what I'm made of. Just you wait and see!
He cackled, tickled by his brilliant wit.
* * *
His eyes slowly opened to his dimly lit surroundings. It was just moments ago when he recalled falling asleep. Looking at the bedside clock, it was still eighteen minutes before sounding off. He never recalled waking up before his alarm went off, either.
He's not himself, alright.
The wave of dizziness hit him the minute he sat up, perspiration forming on his brow despite the cool temperature. I hope this won't last long, he prayed.
Gripping the headboard, he hauled himself up slowly. He couldn't keep from letting out a gasp at the painful sting from his injury. He gritted his teeth. He guided himself slowly towards the door, swallowing back the nausea. Upon reaching the door, he clung to the doorknob in relief. Breathing raggedly, he cast a determined look at the door across the hall.
"I'm going to make it through this day, and our team will win," he said under his breath as he staggered out the hall. Even if it kills me.
This was what he lived for.
It was a wonder why he never remembered it in those two years of his life he wasted. The air in the locker room was charged with intensity; he felt the battle aura in it. He looked around the people getting prepared. Ah, yes, they were ready. His fist struck against his palm. He was more than ready, too.
And yet–yet–just beneath the crackling atmosphere, something didn't feel quite right with him. He felt it in his insides: a tiny, niggling warning of something bad about to happen. He learned the hard over the years to never ignore his instincts.
He sauntered over to the other side and sat beside his teammate without a word. He, too, wore Shohoku's jacket and sweatpants, but not his jersey. He would have played with them if not for the sling on his arm and a busted rib. Looking him over, he was relieved to se the heavy gauze over the other's left brow was replaced by a lighter one.
"All set, Mitsui?" he was asked.
In return, he flashed a smirk before replying, "You kidding? You bet I am!" A pause. "So how are you feeling?"
The other tilted his head in a so-so gesture. "I'm not the one you should ask that."
Their gazes automatically rested on one other player. He was wearing a dark red shirt under his jersey, which was unusual in itself. Mitsui frowned.
"I don't think I'd get a decent answer out of him," he declared. "You're worried about him, aren't you?"
"Of course I am," he replied. "You remember what happened in our match against Kainan, don't you?"
"You know how bull-headed he can be," admitted Mitsui. He nudged his teammate gently. "Don't worry! He knows how to pace himself. And the rest of us won't just be standing around."
The eyes behind the glasses looked thankful, gave a small grin. But still, Mitsui's uneasiness wouldn't go away. He stole a glance at their teammate.
You better deliver today, kid.
It was ten minutes into the first half. Players on both sides were very much in the thick of the game. So far, Shohoku is taking control of the pace, Akagi noted with satisfaction. The first ten minutes were like a dance, testing the waters. Now they were taking the lead.
As he ran towards the opponent's goal, the Shohoku captain took stock of the situation. They were waxing hot on their shots, and even Miyagi made occasional penetrations in the loose defensive line. Their defense, from his standpoint, fared better than their counterparts. Even Rukawa, who was yet to score, provided tight defense by the low-post area.
"Rebound!"
He leapt up, reaching out for the wayward ball. Basketball in hand, he hugged it tightly upon landing. Two defenders quickly shadowed him. Through the gap, Akagi saw Sakuragi already running half-court.
"Gori!"
He scowled, but gunned the ball towards the impertinent redhead.
"Ryochin! Take it home!" Sakuragi whisked the ball towards the point guard. Miyagi blazed past the only Kyuuzen guard and scored a lay-up, upping their lead by four.
"Yes!" He jabbed a finger in the air, acknowledging Sakuragi's pass with a grin at his teammate.
The other team called for a substitution, taking out their small guard. He approached their point guard, and whispered in his ear. The other grinned and looked at the Shohoku players with renewed fire in his eyes.
"Heads up, team!" Akagi called out. They're up to something.
"Yes!"
They lowered their stances, signifying their readiness for any assault.
Their onslaught began.
They made their basket courtesy of the newly- fielded number eight. Then it was Shohoku's possession. Miyagi passed it off to an anxious Sakuragi by the basket when a blur of white passed in front of the redhead, taking the ball with him.
"Damn!" Sakuragi scrambled back.
"Go after him, Miyagi!" Akagi bellowed, watching in dismay as the diminutive guard lagged behind the Kyuuzen cager. He was wearing a mocking grin as he landed on the floor.
Then things began to make no sense.
In one moment, they were up against a not-so-strong team. Now, in the next instant, they were walking all over Shohoku. Even before they reached their own field goal, the ball gets snatched. They were forced to quicken their pace, leading to forced shots and errors.
"K'so!" Mitsui spat as his second shot bounced off the rim.
"Forget it!" Akagi urged. "Get back to defense!"
What lead they had was taken away. The tables were now turned to Kyuuzen's favor, with a 10-point edge over Shohoku. Akagi looked towards the bench. Anzai-sensei was placidly looking back. Why wasn't he calling a timeout?
Three-and-a-half minutes to go, and the score loomed to a 14-point lead.
"It's impossible!" Mitsui cried as he ran alongside Akagi. "How could this happen?"
"They're forcing the transitions," he tried to explain as they hurried to their posts, "to wear us out. They can do this all throughout the game since they have the manpower to spare."
"Dammit!" he spat. Akagi was beginning to notice the ploy was slowly exacting its toll on Mitsui.
"We have a long way to go," he reminded the shooting guard. "It's not over yet!"
He jockeyed for a good position under the basket. The point guard was meaning to pass on his marked. He didn't let him. When he was about to pass to the right, the ball was tapped out of his hands.
And into Rukawa's.
"Go Rukawa!"
The audience cheered in anticipation
"Here!" Miyagi called for a pass. Rukawa obliged. Miyagi made the basket for Shohoku after having been held scoreless for more than two minutes.
"Nice pass!" Mitsui slapped him on the back. Rukawa merely answered with a grunt.
Opponent's ball once more. They didn't rush this time. But a misread pass opened another opportunity for their team. Thankfully, Miyagi was quick to sense it.
"Our turn again!" he said cheekily at the stunned guard. The clock was winding down to twenty-eight seconds.
He crossed half-court in four seconds.
Kyuuzen rallied back to defensive. They've learned their lesson, and won't be stung twice.
Nineteen seconds.
Rukawa took the ball. Looks like he'll take the last shot.
"Pass it here, kitsune! Don't waste that shot!"
He ignored him, still dribbling at the top of the three-point line. He was looking in Akagi's general direction. Akagi tensed in readiness, alert for anything.
He saw Rukawa fake to the right. His man fell for it, and he made a short jump shot.
Akagi struggled for dominance under the basket. He can tell it will bounce off the ring. Without thinking, he jumped up and sealed their score with a nerve-racking dunk, to the delight of the crowd.
"Sugoi, Gori!" Sakuragi cheered.
"Thanks," he said, then approached Rukawa.
"I'm glad to know you're still with us," he told him wryly.
"Just checking if you were awake," he mumbled, and turned away towards the dugout.
Akagi followed, receiving back pats from his other teammates. When he entered the locker room, Anzai-sensei stood up.
"You might have already guessed that they're trying to tire you out by running full court," he began. "You must step up your defense. They only have three main scorers, and they haven't even been fielded in at the same time. Mitsui, you take player number eight. Rukawa, you take their number twelve player."
"What about me, old man?" Sakuragi cut in, to the consternation of the others
Their coach laughed roundly. "Ah, you have a special purpose, Sakuragi-kun." And he proceeded to explain his strategy. It seemed so absurdly simple to Akagi, but it made sense.
"This means the rest of you would have to take turns taking on two opponents," Anzai-sensei went on. "But I believe they won't be much of a burden to you. What's important is to eliminate the easy shots."
"You think you can handle it, Hanamichi?" Miyagi asked.
"Ah, Ryo-chin. Losing faith in the Tensai?" he asked airily.
"He's just afraid we'd lose because of you, d'ahou," Rukawa muttered as he passed by.
Immediately, Sakuragi's face turned a deep red as he watched the other whisk by him. Akagi intervened, putting his hand on its usual spot on the redhead.
"Let him go," he said. "We have a game to win."
Sakuragi grinned up at him.
"Okay team, let's do it!"
"SHOHOKU FIGHT!"
They took their places on the court at the buzzer. Their faces, except Rukawa, were set in a small knowing smile. It's their turn this time.
"Something's wrong."
"What is it, Kogure-sempai?"
"Eh? N-nothing."
Kuwata looked a little doubtful that Kogure gave a shake of the head. He didn't mean to say it out loud, but he wasn't able to contain himself.
Anzai-sensei's strategy worked. With Sakuragi manning the opponent's goal while the others worked the offensive, they were able to stop the rally. Seeing a defender in the low-post area made them hesitate and wait for the rest of their teammates to regroup. This provided a perfect opportunity for his teammates to force their own turnover and convert a field goal. Five minutes in the second half, and Shohoku was now only down by eight points. Rukawa was leading the offensive, but the others weren't far behind. It seemed the rookie ace chose to come alive at the precise moment.
It was a scoreless two minutes for the other team as Shohoku tightened the defense. It also produced four points in their favor as Rukawa defied Kyuuzen's defenders with a difficult lay-up. And Sakuragi, not wanting to be outdone, scored with his second camp shot in the game. It was looking up for team Shohoku.
But that Rukawa's play bothered Kogure. After witnessing with awe how he remained suspended in the air, he came back to the floor with a slight stagger. He stood there momentarily before running to the defensive side.
For some unknown reason, his strange conversation with Dr. Tanigawa came to mind. What does he know?
The referee's whistle blew; Kyuuzen called for a timeout.
"Good work," Anzai-sensei commended warmly. "Just maintain your guard. We are not out of it yet. Sakuragi-kun, keep up the guard under their goal."
"Hai!" was his exuberant response.
"Rukawa-kun, can you still carry on?"
He was panting heavily, bathed in sweat. A marked pallor tinged his face, but he answered his affirmation in the usual undertone.
Kogure wasn't convinced. He caught his look, communicated his concern with a stare of his own. Rukawa just looked away. He was about to voice out his misgivings when Miyagi cut in.
"Oi Rukawa," he saif after taking a quick drink. "Better watch out. They have eyes for you now." He wagged his eyebrows suggestively.
"Hn," he retorted, brushing off the comment. "Just they try." He ambled to the court.
Kogure went after him, but sat back unhappily as the buzzer sounded the resumption of the game.
* * *
Akagi was forced to agree with Miyagi's casual remark. Kyuuzen's defenders were now double-teaming Rukawa. But they weren't completely held powerless, though, with the presence of himself and the others being scorers. But it bothered him to see his teammate struggling with two guards. He always had a way to elude his opponents. That is, if he ruled out exhaustion and illness.
They were playing a different set of players now, all revitalized and ready to bring them down. Their strategy was also replaced, shifting from a run and gun play to a half-court press.
We're not that easy, Akagi thought grimly, watching in dismay as a three-point shot widened the gap by nine points, 52-61.
Shohoku was back in possession. Sakuragi provided a screen against Mitsui's larger defender as their long-range shooter posed for a shot. The crowd exploded in appreciation as the balled cleared the rim.
"Nice going, Micchy!" Sakuragi offered with a toothed grin.
"You!" Mitsui shot back, pointing at the redhead then turned up a thumbs-up sign.
But it seemed that their retaliation wasn't done. Rukawa shot out from his post and snatched the ball at mid-pass, surprising everyone.
"Not this time, freshman!" Akagi heard Kyuuzen's burly center as he took off running after him.
He sprinted after the two. There was an underlying premonition in those words that made him pump faster. He's not going to…!
"Rukawa!" Akagi shouted his warning. "From behind!"
Damn! The rookie charged on, unmindful of the warning and the giant at his heels. Then the center caught up beside him just as Rukawa made the leap.
A sound emanated from him as he and the other player collided midair, his arm still stretched forth towards the goal. The whistle blew. The orange sphere rolled in. But to Akagi's horror, he saw Rukawa crash to the floor and skidded a few feet under the basket.
He distantly heard the referee count the goal and awarded the center a deliberate foul. But he didn't stop running. He'll deal with the idiot later. His concern was for his fallen teammate.
"Rukawa, daijobu ka?" he inquired after the writhing form, a hand on his arm. His clammy skin was also burning. Akagi gasped. Just underneath the trembling palm, there was a dark stain on Rukawa's jersey.
He was instantly brought back to reality when he heard his kohei's speak in a quavering undertone.
"Don't… let them–see…"
* * *
The Shohoku bench was up in arms. Shioichi, Kakuta, and Sasaoka were yelling at the opposing bench, while Ayako was having a field day screaming at the offending player. Kogure didn't bother placating them. His gaze was fixed at the figure under the basket.
He's not getting up… Akagi reached him, saw him look about him. The referee came, then declared an injury timeout.
Ayako stopped in her tirade and turned to him, alarmed. "Rukawa…"
A general wail came somewhere from the courtside bleachers, followed by a loud murmur from the rest of the audience.
He struggled to quell the reeling sensation as he stood up to meet Akagi, who bore Rukawa on one shoulder.
"How is he?" Kogure asked at seeing the freshman unresponsive.
Akagi glared at him, signifying that he save his questions for later.
"What happened, Akagi-kun?" Anzai-sensei asked calmly from his seat.
"He collapsed from exhaustion," he answered promptly, then turned to Ayako. "Come with me, and bring the medical kit." The last words were spoken in a low whisper.
"Kakuta-kun, go in and take the shot for Rukawa-kun," Anzai-sensei said.
"H-hai." The other removed his shirt, revealing his jersey underneath.
Kogure made to follow Akagi and Ayako, feeling he was more needed there somehow. When he reached the hall leading to the dugout, he heard Akagi's voice.
"You have to remove your shirt."
He came to the open door. Akagi was standing behind Ayako, who was kneeling in front of Rukawa. He was slumped against the locker doors.
Rukawa was breathing raggedly, but slowly shook his head in response.
"What happened?" Ayako demanded. Getting no reply, she turned to Akagi. "What's wrong with him?"
"He wouldn't tell me," Akagi said without hiding the annoyance in his tone. He and Ayako looked up at Kogure's approach.
Kogure stared in return, then at Rukawa. His arms were clutched about himself, a hostile look in his dead-white face.
Three stubborn heads won't accomplish anything. "You have to get back to the game, Akagi," he reminded him.
Akagi only gaped at him but said nothing. Kogure drew beside him and laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't worry," he said. "We'll take care of him."
There was a rumble in Akagi's throat. He turned towards the door and closed it. They could hear him bellow out orders to someone to get back to the bench.
Kogure turned his attention towards the two. Ayako was looking beseechingly at him, Rukawa looking curious and apprehensive. He reached out a hand towards the lockers and gingerly lowered himself.
"You're not helping anybody, especially yourself this way," he told Rukawa. "And this is not going to get you back in the game." He didn't have to look stern; Rukawa knows the truth behind his words.
He took one grudging look at Kogure before lowering his arms. The senior's eyes widened a fraction at a dark blot on the freshman's uniform. He helped Rukawa out of his upper clothes with one hand.
"Oh my… Rukawa…" Ayako's hushed tone was laced with alarm. A gauze dressing was plastered to his side, half-soaked with blood. Kogure had to nudge Ayako twice to get her started on giving Rukawa first aid.
Whatever discomfort he was experiencing, Rukawa bore it quietly, though the closed eyes would tighten from time to time as Ayako pressed a gauze against the wound. As soon as the bleeding stopped, she began cleansing it. Kogure felt him tense under his hand. He gave his shoulder an assuring squeeze.
"Are you going to tell us how you got that?" Ayako asked after while as she taped the bandage in place. Rukawa just glanced away.
Kogure saw Ayako's fist tighten in her lap and the frustration struggling in her face. He knew he had to do something. Anything.
He beckoned her aside and took her to the other side of the dugout as Rukawa looked on.
"You can go back out there for now, Ayako," he instructed.
She lifted puzzled eyes at her upperclassman. "But what will I tell them? And Anzai-sensei?"
"Tell them, " he said, with a glimpse at the figure half-sprawled on the floor, "that he collapsed from his illness. They can't know about this–not yet, most especially Anzai-sensei."
She was shaking her head. "But why?" she finally asked.
"I'll explain later," he said in a whisper. He gave her a gentle push towards the exit.
Upon closing the door, he turned to Rukawa.
"I hope now that we're alone," he began, "you would be more forthcoming."
Rukawa's head came up slowly, gazing at him with a clouded expression. He didn't speak.
Kogure exhaled slowly. "It was that boy who came up from behind you, wasn't it?"
The other just blinked in surprise.
"I saw him, remember?" Kogure stepped towards him. "He struck at you. With a knife." He hunched over in front of him. "He had a knife. I wasn't sure, but this confirms it."
The freshman merely scowled at him, but the apprehension stood behind his stare.
Kogure hung his head with a sigh. "Just rest here," he spoke dejectedly as he stood as he made for the door. He wanted to try to convince him some more, but saw no point in prodding further. He thought he would have more luck than Akagi or Ayako.
"He did."
He paused in his steps and turned around, doubting to have heard the rasped reply. He stared at Rukawa questioningly.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he implored. "My doctor never told me about this!"
"I didn't want him to," he answered simply, lowering his gaze.
"But why, Rukawa?"
"I wouldn't be allowed to play."
That's it? "All this secrecy just to play?" he said in mild irritation. "Have you ever thought how you might have endangered yourself?" His hand massaged his temples gently. Does this boy ever think of anything other than basketball?
Rukawa's stare flicked away with a shamefaced look. The dugout echoed with his shallow breathing.
Kogure ran a weary hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I know how important the game is to you, I really do. But—what are you doing?"
The question came at seeing Rukawa push himself off the floor. He shot out a steadying hand behind the lockers.
"You're not thinking of going back there…?"
"What else?" he panted, taking a step. Kogure moved to put himself between the door and his advancing teammate.
"Let me pass, Kogure-sempai," his gruff request came in a whisper.
"I can't let you continue, Rukawa-kun," he said quietly. "Not in your state."
The rookie's chin tilted up defiantly. "Why not?" he asked. "Akagi-sempai played on against Kainan despite his injury, and you never stopped him. Why should this be different?"
He didn't answer at once. "I admit I should have done something," said Kogure slowly "But this is also different because I'm partly responsible for what happened to you." His eyes automatically lingered on Rukawa's wound. "I can never forgive myself if something happened to you due to my own neglect."
He saw Rukawa's stern gaze soften. The silence grew until the roar of the crowd attracted their attention. Kogure was worried at the determination and urgency returning in Rukawa's expression.
"Don't do this, Rukawa-kun," he stressed, a hand on the other's arm as Rukawa took another step.
Rukawa lowered his head with a sigh. When he looked up, there was a tinge of regret in his face.
"I'm not going to let you stop me, Kogure-sempai," he voiced softly. "I'm sorry."
In height and strength, Rukawa had the advantage, even in their respective conditions. Kogure knew he won't be able to keep him from playing any longer. The desire to win still sparkled in the younger man's eyes. He, too, wanted Shohoku to win badly. But what can he do? Between the two of them, Rukawa was still capable of making that possible. The look about him said it all.
"Then play for the both of us," Kogure spoke in granting his hesitant permission. He handed the shirt and jersey that slung on his shoulder. "But be very careful."
The light of gratitude briefly shone in the other's eyes before he slipped into his uniform. The scarlet patch was almost dry, blending discreetly with Shohoku's color.
As Kogure opened the door, they were greeted by the deafening roar emanating from the court. They glanced at each other, nodded in unison.
"Rukawa-kun?"
"Hai?"
"Could you do one more thing for me?"
The rookie looked on in question.
"You and I are going back to the hospital to have that wound treated after the game. I hope there's no argument on that."
Rukawa regarded his upperclassman without a word before a tiny tug at his lips formed, he nodded his assent.
Kogure clapped his kohei on the back. Then the two walking wounded tread their way towards the court.
Tsuzuku...
Just came back and made those little changes (thanks, Araiey!). I'm just a little surprised that some of you guys didn't get who was who there, so I dropped in a few more clues. You guys do know who they are, right?
Last chapter next. I think…