Slam Dunk is not mine.I is so jealous of Mr. Takehiko Inoue!!
Chapter 4
"Chihiro! Are you all right?" Mizuki asked anxiously running to her son. "What were you thinking of? You could have been killed!"
Chihiro's eyes started to brim with tears. "I-I lost my basketball," he sniffed. "I didn't see it coming. Go - gomen."
"You nearly died out there and now all you are worried about is your basketball! If this kindly person here," she gestured at Rukawa, "had not pushed you away, you would have been dead!"
Rukawa nearly smiled. That was exactly how his mother used to behave. She would get worried or anxious at the slightest mistake, and this was definitely a serious one. He got up and dusted himself, at a loss of what to say. He just stood and stared, contemplating whether to reveal his identity to her or just walk away. He had never been the kind to strike up conversations with people. What if she doesn't remember me? What if she rejects me as her son? What if.? His mind buzzed with doubt. Reluctantly he began to walk away.
"Wait!" called a voice behind him. His heart nearly skipped a beat. Did she recognize him? He hoped she did, and at the same time, he hoped she didn't. "Arigato. Domo arigato gozaimasu."
Rukawa turned round slowly. "It - it was nothing."
Mizuki stared at him. That face. Where have I seen it before? He seems so familiar. "What is your name?" she asked finally, after staring hard at his face.
"Um - I am - um. Hisashi Mitsui," Rukawa said the first name that came into his mind. "Hisashi Mitsui."
"Are you ok?" she asked concerned. Then her eyes widened slightly. "There is blood on your shirt. You must be hurt!"
Rukawa glanced carelessly at his shirt. Yes that was definitely blood. He had been coughing into his shirt. "It's just - just paint," he replied stupidly, not knowing what else to answer.
"Have we met before?" she asked softly in her ever so recognizable musical voice. "You look very familiar."
Rukawa was feeling more and more uncomfortable. He had never had long conversations with anyone for a long, long time, and he really did not know how to reply. "I - I don't think so."
He was about to turn to go when Mizuki said, "Do you need a lift home? My house is just over there." She pointed to the huge house across the road. Rukawa stared at her, then shook his head and walked away as fast as he could before she could ask anymore questions.
Damn. I had the damned chance to tell her. I had the damned chance to be her son again. But I didn't have the guts to tell her. I didn't have any courage. Damn it. Rukawa cursed himself over and over again. Then he thought again. Wait. Why on earth do I want her to love me again? What the hell was I thinking of? She was that damned bitch that walked away first and then came back with another family of her own. Why did I save her son? He might even end up like me, all alone.
As he reached his home, he kept repeating the same words inside his head. I don't want her back. I don't want any of them back.
Rukawa awoke in the morning after a bad night of sleep. He had spent the whole night coughing his lungs out. Beside his bed, was a waste basket, filled with bloodied tissues. This asthma of his, or whatever it was, was definitely getting worse. He stared at the clock. 9.00 a.m. He had never awoken from his sleep so early before without an alarm clock. . Especially not on a Saturday. His eyes fell on a calendar on his bedside table. June 12th.
June 12th. There was something about this date that was important and he struggled hard to remember it. Something about someone coming back. Oh yeah. Kiyomuri.
"Damn," he muttered to himself. He changed into his clothes and picked up a basketball from under his bed and proceeded outside. Kiyomuri was only arriving at 11.00a.m; there would be plenty of time to practice. The Ryonan match was drawing nearer and nearer. I have to beat Sendoh. I have to beat that bastard. I won't lose to him anymore.
The Shohoku gym would be closed on Saturday, so he rode to the public court in Kanagawa. It was empty as usual. Good. He then proceeded to dribble the ball across the court and then dunked it down the hoop. He practiced harder than usual. He eluded his imaginary opponent and swiftly ran across the court. He could almost hear Sakuragi screaming at him to pass the ball, which of course, he ignored. He did a three pointer. The ball arced in the air and with a swish, fell cleanly through the basket. Yes!
All of a sudden, his chest seemed to erupt with pain. He staggered into the bushes by the court. He felt like throwing up. But throw up what? He hadn't eaten any breakfast this morning, or dinner last night. He doubled over retching violently. He retched and retched, but nothing came out, except a few drops of blood. The scarlet drops spattered on the ground. His chest felt like it was on fire. He felt both boiling hot and freezing cold at the same time. When he finally stopped, he felt a bit light-headed, but he still got up and headed for his bike. He checked his watch. It was twelve o'clock already! Onii-chan might be back any minute now, he thought. Good, let him wait.
He rode back home, and for once he failed to sleep on his bike as usual. He still felt light-headed and did not concentrate. Suddenly, his bike seemed to swerve and he went crashing into something, or rather, someone. Then, he heard an angry shout.
"Hey, you! Can't you ride properly?" cried the man. A woman, his wife, Rukawa presumed, helped him up. Rukawa was sprawled on the ground not far from him. He did not bother to answer and was about to get up and ride on when.
"Kaede! Is that you?" cried the man suddenly.
Rukawa froze. Please, let it not be him, please let it not be him. He turned round slowly. It was definitely Kiyomuri. He had the same brown hair and brown eyes like the last time Rukawa had seen him. He was wearing a pair of baggy jeans, and an earring on his left ear glinted in the sunlight. And that small, slender woman with black hair next to him must be his wife, Harusumi. "O - onii-chan?" he said uncertainly.
The man smiled. It was a warm smile that lit up his well-chiseled features on his face. "I've missed you, Kaede."
Rukawa grunted in reply. He did not sound like he had missed him. If Kiyomuri had really missed him, he would have kept in touch with him, Rukawa, instead of just breaking off contact like this.
Kiyomuri chose to ignore that. "Kaede, meet Haru-chan, my wife," he said.
Harusumi blushed a little as she held out her hand. "Nice to meet you, Kaede." He did not take her hand, but just stared at her with cold, emotionless eyes. She flinched a little from his hard, cold gaze and slowly withdrew her hand, flushing slightly.
Kiyomuri seemed a little embarrassed and angry at Rukawa's strange behaviour. "You've changed, Kaede. Do you know that?" His slightly raised voice indicated that he was annoyed with Rukawa's cold attitude. "You used to be such a happy, talkative child, and now you're so.different."
"So?" Rukawa asked coldly. "People change."
Kiyomuri seemed a little taken aback at the cold behaviour. Harusumi sensed the tension between the two of them and finally said. "Kaede, won't you show us the way to your house?"
Rukawa stared at her and finally nodded, reluctantly. He wheeled his bicycle, basketball tucked under his arm. Kiyomuri tried to start a conversation with him. What's wrong with him? He's not the Kaede I used to know.
"We are staying at a hotel nearby. Since it's quite near to home, we decided to walk and enjoy Kanagawa before gong home," he said rather brightly.
Rukawa did not reply. Onii-chan doesn't even want to come home; he is staying at a hotel instead. And he still calls the house he used to live in home.
Seeing the basketball under his arm, Harusumi said, "Been playing basketball?"
What a stupid question, Rukawa thought. He nodded in reply. She tried again. "Do you play for your school?"
Another nod. This time Kiyomuri asked. " Practicing for a basketball match with another school?"
Nod.
"Which school is that?"
"Ryonan High."
"Oh, that reminds me, what school are you in now?"
"Shohoku High."
There was an awkward silence. Rukawa was obviously not making any effort to talk at all. Kiyomuri tried to change the subject. "How's otousan?"
Rukawa was silent for awhile. Then, "He's dead."
Kiyomuri stopped walking. "Dead? Otousan's dead? How did he die? When?" He bombarded Rukawa with questions.
"Last year. Car accident."
"Who are you living with now?" came Kiyomuri's now shaky voice. HE seemed indeed rather shaken up by the news of his father's death.
This guy has got to be kidding. Who would I live with? My fairy godmother? "I live alone," he said. After this, there was silence until the reached the house. Rukawa could feel the guilt Kiyomuri was radiating. Too late, he thought. The damage's done.
Mizuki was uncertain as she sat in the plush, luxurious living room. That boy. His face. Where had she seen it before? She gazed out dreamily of the window. He had finely chiseled features, pale skin, untidy raven black hair and the coldest, most expressionless face she had ever seen. She shuddered as she remembered his cold ice-blue eyes studying her.
He said his name was Hisashi Mitsui. She had never known a Hisashi Mitsui before in her whole, entire life. That she was sure of. But she was sure she had seen him before. Somehow, a long time ago. Where? He saved Chihiro's life. She felt ever so grateful to this strange person.
I don't know. Where have I seen him before? Who does he remind me of? Oh, wait, he reminds me of.me. Myself. He looks like me. Same hair, same skin. Then it hit her.
"Kaede!" she cried.
Tbc.
Dis is the longest chapt I haf eva written..whew.
BTW.
Jo, (it's jo izit??) teh tarik tastes very very nice..in my opinion. Does dat give u an idea how it tastes like? Maniacalcraze.good luck on ur pmr results. Yep, its definitely tuberculosis U guys better put me in the mood of continuing dis fic, by sending me lots of review...i dun feel 2 good myself
Chapter 4
"Chihiro! Are you all right?" Mizuki asked anxiously running to her son. "What were you thinking of? You could have been killed!"
Chihiro's eyes started to brim with tears. "I-I lost my basketball," he sniffed. "I didn't see it coming. Go - gomen."
"You nearly died out there and now all you are worried about is your basketball! If this kindly person here," she gestured at Rukawa, "had not pushed you away, you would have been dead!"
Rukawa nearly smiled. That was exactly how his mother used to behave. She would get worried or anxious at the slightest mistake, and this was definitely a serious one. He got up and dusted himself, at a loss of what to say. He just stood and stared, contemplating whether to reveal his identity to her or just walk away. He had never been the kind to strike up conversations with people. What if she doesn't remember me? What if she rejects me as her son? What if.? His mind buzzed with doubt. Reluctantly he began to walk away.
"Wait!" called a voice behind him. His heart nearly skipped a beat. Did she recognize him? He hoped she did, and at the same time, he hoped she didn't. "Arigato. Domo arigato gozaimasu."
Rukawa turned round slowly. "It - it was nothing."
Mizuki stared at him. That face. Where have I seen it before? He seems so familiar. "What is your name?" she asked finally, after staring hard at his face.
"Um - I am - um. Hisashi Mitsui," Rukawa said the first name that came into his mind. "Hisashi Mitsui."
"Are you ok?" she asked concerned. Then her eyes widened slightly. "There is blood on your shirt. You must be hurt!"
Rukawa glanced carelessly at his shirt. Yes that was definitely blood. He had been coughing into his shirt. "It's just - just paint," he replied stupidly, not knowing what else to answer.
"Have we met before?" she asked softly in her ever so recognizable musical voice. "You look very familiar."
Rukawa was feeling more and more uncomfortable. He had never had long conversations with anyone for a long, long time, and he really did not know how to reply. "I - I don't think so."
He was about to turn to go when Mizuki said, "Do you need a lift home? My house is just over there." She pointed to the huge house across the road. Rukawa stared at her, then shook his head and walked away as fast as he could before she could ask anymore questions.
Damn. I had the damned chance to tell her. I had the damned chance to be her son again. But I didn't have the guts to tell her. I didn't have any courage. Damn it. Rukawa cursed himself over and over again. Then he thought again. Wait. Why on earth do I want her to love me again? What the hell was I thinking of? She was that damned bitch that walked away first and then came back with another family of her own. Why did I save her son? He might even end up like me, all alone.
As he reached his home, he kept repeating the same words inside his head. I don't want her back. I don't want any of them back.
Rukawa awoke in the morning after a bad night of sleep. He had spent the whole night coughing his lungs out. Beside his bed, was a waste basket, filled with bloodied tissues. This asthma of his, or whatever it was, was definitely getting worse. He stared at the clock. 9.00 a.m. He had never awoken from his sleep so early before without an alarm clock. . Especially not on a Saturday. His eyes fell on a calendar on his bedside table. June 12th.
June 12th. There was something about this date that was important and he struggled hard to remember it. Something about someone coming back. Oh yeah. Kiyomuri.
"Damn," he muttered to himself. He changed into his clothes and picked up a basketball from under his bed and proceeded outside. Kiyomuri was only arriving at 11.00a.m; there would be plenty of time to practice. The Ryonan match was drawing nearer and nearer. I have to beat Sendoh. I have to beat that bastard. I won't lose to him anymore.
The Shohoku gym would be closed on Saturday, so he rode to the public court in Kanagawa. It was empty as usual. Good. He then proceeded to dribble the ball across the court and then dunked it down the hoop. He practiced harder than usual. He eluded his imaginary opponent and swiftly ran across the court. He could almost hear Sakuragi screaming at him to pass the ball, which of course, he ignored. He did a three pointer. The ball arced in the air and with a swish, fell cleanly through the basket. Yes!
All of a sudden, his chest seemed to erupt with pain. He staggered into the bushes by the court. He felt like throwing up. But throw up what? He hadn't eaten any breakfast this morning, or dinner last night. He doubled over retching violently. He retched and retched, but nothing came out, except a few drops of blood. The scarlet drops spattered on the ground. His chest felt like it was on fire. He felt both boiling hot and freezing cold at the same time. When he finally stopped, he felt a bit light-headed, but he still got up and headed for his bike. He checked his watch. It was twelve o'clock already! Onii-chan might be back any minute now, he thought. Good, let him wait.
He rode back home, and for once he failed to sleep on his bike as usual. He still felt light-headed and did not concentrate. Suddenly, his bike seemed to swerve and he went crashing into something, or rather, someone. Then, he heard an angry shout.
"Hey, you! Can't you ride properly?" cried the man. A woman, his wife, Rukawa presumed, helped him up. Rukawa was sprawled on the ground not far from him. He did not bother to answer and was about to get up and ride on when.
"Kaede! Is that you?" cried the man suddenly.
Rukawa froze. Please, let it not be him, please let it not be him. He turned round slowly. It was definitely Kiyomuri. He had the same brown hair and brown eyes like the last time Rukawa had seen him. He was wearing a pair of baggy jeans, and an earring on his left ear glinted in the sunlight. And that small, slender woman with black hair next to him must be his wife, Harusumi. "O - onii-chan?" he said uncertainly.
The man smiled. It was a warm smile that lit up his well-chiseled features on his face. "I've missed you, Kaede."
Rukawa grunted in reply. He did not sound like he had missed him. If Kiyomuri had really missed him, he would have kept in touch with him, Rukawa, instead of just breaking off contact like this.
Kiyomuri chose to ignore that. "Kaede, meet Haru-chan, my wife," he said.
Harusumi blushed a little as she held out her hand. "Nice to meet you, Kaede." He did not take her hand, but just stared at her with cold, emotionless eyes. She flinched a little from his hard, cold gaze and slowly withdrew her hand, flushing slightly.
Kiyomuri seemed a little embarrassed and angry at Rukawa's strange behaviour. "You've changed, Kaede. Do you know that?" His slightly raised voice indicated that he was annoyed with Rukawa's cold attitude. "You used to be such a happy, talkative child, and now you're so.different."
"So?" Rukawa asked coldly. "People change."
Kiyomuri seemed a little taken aback at the cold behaviour. Harusumi sensed the tension between the two of them and finally said. "Kaede, won't you show us the way to your house?"
Rukawa stared at her and finally nodded, reluctantly. He wheeled his bicycle, basketball tucked under his arm. Kiyomuri tried to start a conversation with him. What's wrong with him? He's not the Kaede I used to know.
"We are staying at a hotel nearby. Since it's quite near to home, we decided to walk and enjoy Kanagawa before gong home," he said rather brightly.
Rukawa did not reply. Onii-chan doesn't even want to come home; he is staying at a hotel instead. And he still calls the house he used to live in home.
Seeing the basketball under his arm, Harusumi said, "Been playing basketball?"
What a stupid question, Rukawa thought. He nodded in reply. She tried again. "Do you play for your school?"
Another nod. This time Kiyomuri asked. " Practicing for a basketball match with another school?"
Nod.
"Which school is that?"
"Ryonan High."
"Oh, that reminds me, what school are you in now?"
"Shohoku High."
There was an awkward silence. Rukawa was obviously not making any effort to talk at all. Kiyomuri tried to change the subject. "How's otousan?"
Rukawa was silent for awhile. Then, "He's dead."
Kiyomuri stopped walking. "Dead? Otousan's dead? How did he die? When?" He bombarded Rukawa with questions.
"Last year. Car accident."
"Who are you living with now?" came Kiyomuri's now shaky voice. HE seemed indeed rather shaken up by the news of his father's death.
This guy has got to be kidding. Who would I live with? My fairy godmother? "I live alone," he said. After this, there was silence until the reached the house. Rukawa could feel the guilt Kiyomuri was radiating. Too late, he thought. The damage's done.
Mizuki was uncertain as she sat in the plush, luxurious living room. That boy. His face. Where had she seen it before? She gazed out dreamily of the window. He had finely chiseled features, pale skin, untidy raven black hair and the coldest, most expressionless face she had ever seen. She shuddered as she remembered his cold ice-blue eyes studying her.
He said his name was Hisashi Mitsui. She had never known a Hisashi Mitsui before in her whole, entire life. That she was sure of. But she was sure she had seen him before. Somehow, a long time ago. Where? He saved Chihiro's life. She felt ever so grateful to this strange person.
I don't know. Where have I seen him before? Who does he remind me of? Oh, wait, he reminds me of.me. Myself. He looks like me. Same hair, same skin. Then it hit her.
"Kaede!" she cried.
Tbc.
Dis is the longest chapt I haf eva written..whew.
BTW.
Jo, (it's jo izit??) teh tarik tastes very very nice..in my opinion. Does dat give u an idea how it tastes like? Maniacalcraze.good luck on ur pmr results. Yep, its definitely tuberculosis U guys better put me in the mood of continuing dis fic, by sending me lots of review...i dun feel 2 good myself