Hmm. Sleep. My baby. Ahh, yes...dear butterfly...you're back...please let me catch you this time...oh, you're so pretty...so yellow...you shine and you glitter...I love the way you look...no, don't turn into a moth! Not again! What is wrong with this dream? Please don't let me fall down again and hurt my poor behind...
A sudden slap on the cash register wakes me. Who in the world is stupid enough to dare disturb my sleep?
"Don't drool all over the counter!"
Damn. My boss. I don't like him. He's a real brute and he likes to throw his authority around. I hate men who do that. They seem to think that they are all that just because they have the power to make or break a person's career. I mean, what bullshit. They are just like the rest of us at the end of the day so what gives them the right?
I stare at my boss and I don't blink. This will show you what your payback is for thinking you're the shit when you're not. Idiot.
My stupid boss must be soaking in the iciness that I'm radiating for he suddenly turns pale. He removes his hand from the counter and averts his eyes.
"Um, just do your work," he mutters, and walks away.
So. My boss is a brute and a weakling. What sense it makes.
I would quit this job, but my mother and I need the money. The money that the court ordered the ex-paternal figure to send to us every month isn't enough to cover our expenses, which include food, electrical/water bills, clothes, and new bikes.
Which reminds me. I need to get a new bike after leaving my traitor one at the scene of the crime yesterday. I want a cool BMX mountain bike but it's too expensive, so I'll settle for a cheap, bland-looking but working one.
I'm about to go off into a fantasy involving a brand new bicycle when a loud and rowdy gang enter the drug store.
"Ore wa tensai!"
Oh darn. Is it who I think it is?
Of course it is. Who else would go around proclaiming shamelessly to unsuspecting citizens of Japan and the world that he is a genius? Who else has such a thick, conceited head?
"KITSUNE! You work here?"
I sigh. Sakuragi isn't contented with tormenting me in school. He has to carry that out to my workplace as well. Life is unfair.
"Do'ahou. I'm just relaxing behind the cash register because it's what I do for fun."
Wow, that has to be the longest sentence I've uttered in months. But Sakuragi's stupidity is too much for me to just battle it with something like, "Do'ahou. What does it look like?" He deserves my biting sarcasm.
Sakuragi narrows his eyes at me. He stalks towards me, his arms lumbering at his side, looking like the Incredible Hulk with red hair.
He pushes his face so close to mine that his nose is practically touching mine. Disgusting. I pull my face away.
"Listen up, kitsune," he growls. "Don't act all high and mighty just because you beat me in the Shoyo game. I'll kick your ass in our game against Kainan. You understand?"
I don't believe this guy. The Shoyo match was like a million years ago and he's still harping about it? Does this idiot even have a life? He seriously needs to get laid; at least then he'd have something else to obsess over.
"Get a life."
I ignore Sakuragi and start to play with the cash register. Cash registers are fun to monkey around with when you're as bored as I am. You can close it and it will go, 'ka-ching!' It's such a wonderful sound. Reminds me of that mock cash register I had for a toy when I was a kid.
I'm in the middle of slamming the cash register shut and opening it again when some girl suddenly snaps her fingers in my face.
"Hey, do you have strawberry-flavoured condoms around here?"
God, she has a loud voice. What few customers we have turn to look, including, unfortunately, Sakuragi and his friends.
Fucking idiot Sakuragi is gloating and smirking at me. Do'ahou. Let's see if he'd be able to keep that smirk if he were the one having to deal with this boyish-looking girl demanding for strawberry-flavoured condoms.
"Um," I say. Then, an idea hits me. A stroke of genius, you may call it. I glance at Sakuragi's self-satisfied mug and I'm convinced of what I have to do.
"Ask that red-head over there," I reply, pointing at Sakuragi.
His face immediately changes. I can almost see the thoughts that are running through his mind: What is going on? Why is the kitsune pointing at me? What is he saying? Am I going to die? Is this the end of the tensai?
"He's the one handling the condoms," I add as a final note to the butchy girl as she strides towards the now-pale Sakuragi.
Man, I need popcorn! This is great. It's the best show I've seen in years! It's even better than The Bachelor! I don't need just popcorn, I need a video camera to capture this fantastic moment!
This is what happens: Sakuragi's face turns redder than his hair as he begins to deny working in the drug store and 'handling' the condoms. Sakuragi puts both hands up to his face to ward off Butchy Girl's spit (she spits a lot when she talks). Sakuragi shakes his head fervently, to emphasise that he doesn't work here. Butchy Girl doesn't believe him. She is convinced that he does, because he, and I quote, 'looks like a total hentai with that red hair. Don't you know that red is a sexual colour?' Sakuragi looks desperate. He glares at me as he backs away from Butchy Girl. Sakuragi's friends watch the incident from a corner, laughing their asses off. Butchy Girl is pissed that she isn't getting her strawberry-flavoured condoms. She starts to yell. Sakuragi backs away some more, and then, unknowingly, he backs into a shelf.
Coincidentally, the shelf that he walked into is the condoms shelf. As soon as he made contact, a few hundred packets of condoms fall off the shelf and lie scattered on the ground. Sakuragi's eyes widen in shock, as if he's never seen condoms before.
What a loser.
Now Butchy Girl is picking up her goods from the floor. She glares at Sakuragi, and spits out, "What kind of a salesman are you? Is this the way you direct your customers to their products? By spilling everything on the floor? Idiot!"
I'm quite amazed that I can hear her voice amidst Youhei and gang's loud, obnoxious laughing. They are slapping their thighs and holding their stomachs. Those guys are insane.
"Way to go, Hanamichi!" Takamiya taunts. "Score! If you get what I mean! Muahahahahahahahahaha!"
"What would Haruko-chan think?" Noma pipes up. "I bet she wouldn't be too pleased to find out that you're Sakuragi, the condoms-handler! Bwahahahahahahahahahahah!"
"Yeah, Hanamichi!" Okusu adds. "No girl would ever agree to go out on a date with you once the whole school knows you're a hentai! Yeahahahahahahahahahahah!"
Youhei, on the other hand, says nothing. Not because he's too kind, but because he's laughing too hard to even choke out a word.
Butchy Girl is suddenly in my face. "Are the employees here usually that insane?"
I nod solemnly. "That'll be five dollars."
Butchy Girl pays up and exits the store, but not without giving Sakuragi one last withering glare.
Poor guy. I almost feel sorry for him. But it's his fault for being such an annoying pain in the ass.
Oh look, Bossy Boss is here. He must've heard all the commotion and is finally rushing out to check on his beloved drug store.
The look on Bossy Boss's face is almost as priceless as Sakuragi's encounter with Butchy Girl as he takes in the disaster scene. Packets of condoms are strewn everywhere, and some of them, due to lousy packaging, have popped open, revealing their contents. He then looks at the person standing over the disaster scene, and he sees none other than Sakuragi.
"DID YOU DO THIS?" he booms. "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU? GET OUT OF MY STORE! NOW! GET OUT!"
"But oyaji, it's the kitsune's fault!"
Bossy Boss clenches his fist and looks ready to punch Sakuragi is the face. "Who are you calling 'oyaji'! Do I look that old? And who is the kitsune?"
Sakuragi, that baka, points at me. To his credit, Bossy Boss gives me the benefit of the doubt.
"Rukawa, do you know this guy?"
"No, sir," I deadpan. "Never seen
him before in my life."
*****
My shift is finally over. I go into
the Employees Only room and retrieve my backpack. First thing I do is to
open it up and check if my trusty basketball is still in there.
It stares back at me, polished and clean. I zip my backpack up with satisfaction.
Call me paranoid if you must, but my basketball is my most prized possession, after my autographed Jordan jersey. I'd go berserk if I lose it. I thought I'd lost it once, when I cycled to the court near my apartment to shoot a few hoops and discovered that my ball wasn't in my bag. I panicked and everything, and was even tempted to hurl my body in front of the streaming cars, when I remembered I left it on my bed and forgot to bring it.
Since I don't have a bike, I'd have to walk to the court. It's a long way but I have no other choice. Besides, I'm getting my pay check tomorrow. I can buy a new bike immediately after that.
So I'm walking down the streets of Kanagawa, minding my own business when suddenly a flower pot drops in front of me. I stop dead in my tracks. I stare at the flower pot, now shattered into pieces. Then I look up. And see Mitsui's sheepish face looking back at me.
"What's the deal?" I yell. Yes, I am capable of yelling. Surprise, surprise. I could scream too if I'm truly boiling with rage at somebody. Believe me though, you wouldn't want me to scream in your face. It's not a melodious sound. Not at all.
"Sorry!" His voice drifts downwards. "Is Rukawa Kaede actually yelling?"
"I wouldn't be, if you'd come down and let me hit you," I mutter to myself. Instead, I glare at him and start to walk away.
Mitsui must've hurried downstairs, for he suddenly taps my shoulder.
"What?" I snap. Is it not enough that you nearly killed me with a flower pot? Or are you here to finish what you failed to start?
"Sorry about that, I didn't know you were approaching," he says. "I just wanted to see how a flower pot would look when free-falling five storeys down."
I stare at Mitsui. I don't know what I'm more appalled at: his morbid fascination with falling flower pots, or the fact that he knows what the constant ten-metres-per-second-square acceleration g is called. He is truly one of the freakiest guys I've ever met.
"Do'ahou."
I'm walking away now, but he isn't relenting. He sure is acting very buddy-buddy with me these few days. I wonder if he has any ulterior motives. Whatever he plans to do, I am not going into bed with him.
"So where are you going?"
Damn, he's walking with me. Just because I allowed him to accompany me home last night, doesn't mean we're friends. He was the one who said 'trust no one.' Talk about self-contradictory.
"To shoot some hoops."
"Oh." Mitsui stops to admire some weird-looking flower pot that looks like a cross between a cat and a dog in a florist. I roll my eyes but stop walking too.
"Would love to join you, but I gotta go for tuition. Hey, look at this flower pot. Isn't it pretty?"
Right. I'm supposed to comment on a flower pot? Right. The last I checked, I still had my sanity with me.
"Didn't say you could join me. And I don't do flower pots."
"Haha Rukawa, very funny," he retorts. He finally tears himself away from the flower pot and starts to walk again. "Are you always this witty?"
"Maybe."
"So where's the court?"
"Far away."
"Well, that's certainly comprehensive..."
I grunt in reply.
"So we're back to not talking, are we?"
I shrug. I cross the road, not waiting for Mitsui to catch up, but he does anyway. Argh, stupid, stupid baka. Can't he tell that I'm trying to shake him off?
"By the way, Rukawa," he says. "I heard that Sakuragi cursing you loudly a few hours ago when he went past my apartment. Yelled something about condoms and strawberries. What happened?"
"Trust me, you wouldn't want to know."
"As a matter of fact," he rebuts annoyingly. "I do."
I sigh. "Ask Youhei or Takamiya on Monday. They'd love to tell it to you."
Mitsui doesn't answer. He's counting something on his fingers.
"Thirteen," he announces. "You just strung together thirteen words in one breath. Congratulations! Is this a new record?"
I don't know what to say to that. It is so immaturely stupid and childish, and yet so annoyingly...well, true. If Mitsui ever wants advice on what his calling in life is, he should come to me. It's obviously to pick on vulnerable guys like myself and to try to make us his sex slaves.
All I can manage is, "Do'ahou."
*****
I let go of the rim of the hoop and land steadily on both feet. That was an awesome dunk, even if I do say so myself. I think I'm ready for the NBA. All I need now is a talent scout to attend one of our games to recognise me. And then, it's America, here I come.
I retrieve my ball. I dribble it around for a while, falling into the constant rhythm of ball against ground, and it's at times like these that I feel truly relaxed and at ease with the world. During this small amount of time, my worries, my sadness, and my awful memories all fly away with the passing wind. All that's left are me and my basketball. We're totally in sync and together. I love it this way.
I run towards the basket. I jump up, shift the ball from my left hand to my right, and, with a small flick of the wrist, lay the ball into the hoop.
Another point for Rukawa Kaede!
I'm about to do a three-pointer when somebody suddenly bursts into hearty applause. I whirl around to see who else is here...and my eyes fall on a familiar face.
Wait, correction. My eyes fall on a familiar, gravity-defying hairstyle. Then they fall onto the face.
Sendoh.
"Not bad," he says as he strides towards me. He's smiling his stupid 'I am a nice guy' smile that seriously irks me. "You've improved from the last I saw you play. Which was your match against Miuradai."
What's that supposed to mean? That smug, self-satisfied jerk! I'm not about to waste my time and give him the time of the day. Ignoring him, I go back to taking my three-pointer. I release the ball from my hands, my arms forming a graceful arc over my head.
The ball falls comfortably into the net. Swish.
Take that, Sendoh Akira. You can wipe that irritating smile off your face now and bow to the master. Me.
Did I just say 'bow to the master'? Damn. That baka Sakuragi and his self-praising, 'I am a tensai' talks are rubbing off on me.
To my absolute horror, Sendoh picks up my ball and spins it on his finger. His hands are on my basketball. My precious basketball. The nerve of him!
"Don't touch my ball," I snap. "I don't want you to dirty it."
Sendoh raises an eyebrow, but his smile doesn't falter. He drops my ball and flicks it towards me. I catch it easily.
"So," he drawls. "Want to play one-on-one?"
My initial reaction is, Of freaking course not! Then I think, If I beat Sendoh, I can treat myself to ice-cream without feeling guilty. And I really want ice-cream right now.
So my decision is: "Fine. Let's play."
"What, no longer afraid of me dirtying your precious ball?"
I narrow my eyes at him. "Don't push it."
He doesn't answer and simply flashes that annoying smile again. You know what I think of people who smile too much? They have super elastic lips that wouldn't snap back into place no matter how hard they try because they spend half their lives smiling like total retards. That is what I think of Sendoh.
I am not jealous. I just wish I'd been there to see the expression on his 'I'm always this cheerful!' face when Sakuragi crushed his hand after our practice game with them. That would certainly be something that I just might laugh at, and everyone knows I don't laugh.
"We'll play till twenty points, ten baskets," he calls out. "You start."
I roll my eyes. How benevolent and philanthropic. I am in absolute awe of his giving and unselfish nature.
Just so you wait, Sendoh. You don't know who you're dealing with.
A/N: I don't know what it is with me and condoms either. And that whole crap with Mitsui and the flower pot...that was my lame attempt at humour. Don't chuck tomatoes at me. I know, it's really dumb. Oh well. :)
I hope I spelled and got the meaning of 'oyaji' right. I don't dislike Sendoh. I think he's pretty darn cute. But I'm not the super rookie he challenged a match with, am I? (If I were, I'd let me win. Haha. Right. I can't even play basketball.)
sLL: Was tempted to make this yaoi (especially when I wrote out the Rukawa/Sendoh match thing) but sorry, I can't. Firstly, I don't read yaoi so I don't know how to do it properly. Secondly, this is primarily an attempt at explaining why Kaede is the way he is. Yaoi doesn't figure into any of it. Sorry. But you did get me to considering writing a yaoi fic. And also, I love Kiyota too, he's the Kainan Sakuragi! Hehe. Thanks for the continuous support. :)
unchained: Haha sorry for making
you salivate! Didn't know you're fasting. Thanks also for the continuous
support. (Funny, this sounds rather familiar...) I didn't know you took
your O Levels too. I didn't study much for it, so I'd be happy to get below
20 points...Anyway, where are you going for the first three months?
frozen female: Sure, I'll continue.
In fact, I've already written chapter seven. I just need to fix some parts
and think of a crucial plot twist...
everyone else: WHERE ARE MY FREAKING REVIEWS?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!
(Just kidding.)
