I don't own Slam Dunk
Summary: Hanamichi finally finds the guys who helped "kill" his father, unfortunately, an accident causes him to lose his memory.
Short chapter, lots of grammatical errors….
Angel, you had better stay away from him!!!!! Oh, happy semestral break! I'm still stuck at school…
Requiem for the Dead
Chapter III
Beyond Control
It started raining but Hanamichi didn't seek shelter under the bus stop. He continued staring at the four, eyeing them carefully as they laughed and continued to drink from cans they probably pilfered along the way.
How dare you be happy after what you had done…
He clenched his fist tightly as the guys spotted his ball and started playing ruefully with it. They let out loud guffaws as one of them attempted to throw the ball into a trash bin, exclaiming, "Three points!"
Hanamichi's heart started beating faster, urging him to lunge at them to beat the pulp out of their spineless bodies until they writhe on the ground and die. With the adrenaline pumping into his veins, he shouted at them, "Hey you f*ing bastards!" They sneered at him, ridiculing him for his impossibly red hair. This made his anger flare to the point that his eyes had that menacing glint that had his opponents before scampering away. He walked calmly towards them, half-expecting them to charge at him like before. They did, but before Hanamichi could land a single punch, one of them pushed him onto the middle of the street. He heard the screech of the tires scraping against the asphalt, then…nothing.
White. It glared at him, making him squint. Clawing at the sheets entangled between his legs, he tried to make out where he was. He was in a hospital near his house, the one that he hated the most. I need to get outta here… was the thought that popped into his head, which by the way felt like splitting due to the headache he was desperately wishing to get rid of.
Hanamichi felt like an alien, with his radical appearance clashing with the muted sullenness of the room. Everything was immaculate, sterilized, and just so damn cold. He shivered as the blanket slowly fell off him onto the floor. Twisting to reach for it, his side was shot with excruciating pain. He groaned then felt someone push him back to the bed and cover him with the runaway blanket. His vision blurred, but he could still make out the color of the eyes of the person who helped him. They were piercingly blue. Then everything went black again.
It was like a dream, with the whole world moving in slow motion. Nurses and doctors seemed to take forever to move down that hall. Their faces were blank, as if God had erased them for fun. Hanamichi made his way slowly to the washroom, almost entering the ladies' facilities, thanks to his groggy state. Turning left, he found the door he was seeking and pushed it with all the strength he could muster. The washroom was empty, with one dripping faucet making the only sound to be heard in the room. He opened the valve and let out a gush of water that gave his hands a cool shock. He splashed it onto his face and looked at his reflection. He wondered how other people saw him. Do they think of me like those guys before?
The whole basketball team of Shohoku had visited him earlier, of course with Anzai-sensei and Haruko in tow. Hanamichi stared at them without any flicker of recognition registering in his mind. Strangers. They laughed nervously at his silence and unaffectedness, disappointingly different from the Hanamichi they knew. He didn't mutter a single sarcastic remark for Ryochin or Mitchy, nor did he show any signs of blushing when Haruko leaned towards him to check his temperature. There was no boisterous laughter, no fighting with the other members, no Gori punch lines. It was just a tall person lying down in front of them. A person with flaming red hair.
The doctor explained to them that the car accident caused him to lose his memory. "Amnesia?" the ever reliable intellectual, Kogure asked. The doctor replied with a curt nod. Ryota laughed and told Hanamichi, "It just took a car to scatter what's left of your brains, you baka." Mitsui joined in with, "Maybe you need glasses already. What was the size of the car, as big as this?" He held his index finger and his thumb about four inches apart. There wasn't any reply from him. He blinked at them, trying to make out what reply he could give them. Am I supposed to get angry?
Hanamichi scanned their faces, desperately trying to figure out who they belonged to. He was rewarded with nothing but the stupid migraine he'd been having since he woke up. He gritted his teeth as he clutched his head, trying to make the throbbing stop. They quickly filed out of the room as the doctor asked them to leave the room. He stared at them helplessly as the doctor took out the syringe to administer his sedative. He felt his eyelids slowly droop as he watched the concerned looks they gave him from the glass of the door.
He cast his eyes downwards to his wet hands. Why can't I remember anything? He tried to recall anything from the past, but his headache bothered him.
He saw a blade left carelessly by the sink, probably a visitor who used the washroom as a refuge for a quick, cheap shave. Hanamichi was amazed as his hands were familiar with the feel of the metal. He automatically flipped his hand so that its palm faced upwards. With one fluid stroke, he sliced at his wrist, the place where a scar faintly stood out against his lightly tanned skin. It was painful alright, with the blood rushing out in a crimson flood onto the floor. Leaning against the sink, a small curve formed on his lips.
At least I remember this.
To be continued…
I know, long overdue. You're probably going to ask, "Where's Youhei and the others?" And of course, "Who's the blue-eyed dude?" the question whether it's going to be yaoi is still in the air.* It could just be his doctor for all you know. Angel thinks it should be SenHana. This fic seriously needs feedback (thanks to those who reviewed the earlier chapters, promise to mention you next chapter). By the way, told ya it's going to be a long while before Hanamichi chooses between basketball and revenge for his dad. By the time I get to that, this story might have already taken a different interest.*