MOTOR CITY BABY
A Mitsui Story
by Peregrine Vision
"Tired...am dead tired..."
Mitsui wanted nothing more than a long sleep, preferably until next season. They had lost, but what a fight they'd put up! No one had expected Shohoku to make it past the first elimination game, let alone the Inter High finals. Well, next year they'd see the team go all the way. He clenched his fist tighter round his duffel bag and kept walking.
He wished the bus had dropped them all off at home one by one instead of only taking them from the train station to the front steps of school. He *really* didn't feel like walking tonight. His whole body ached from neck to toenails, and any minute now he was going to take a page out of Rukawa's book and go to sleep on his feet.
Reaching his street, he stared up with a groan at his apartment building. Man, five flights of stairs! How the hell was he going to get up five flights of stairs? Wearily he trudged up to the third building of the compound.
Okay now. One step at a time. C'mon, Mr. MVP, you can do it...
"Yo."
Mitsui blinked, and stopped. Automatically his legs folded, reasoning that since he'd stopped, he might as well pass out here. Which was why he found himself blinking up at an amused Tetsuo.
"Oi, what's with you? That how you greet an old friend?"
Mitsui shook his head. "Nah, sorry...tired..." he said vaguely.
"Yeah, I know." Tetsuo flicked away the end of the cigarette he'd been smoking. "I was at your little high school jockfest."
"Huh?"
"Your brain's not working. Here." Tetsuo took two more sticks out of his jacket pocket, lit up, and offered the other cigarette to Mitsui.
They sat on the steps leading up to the apartments. Mitsui took a deep drag, and sure enough, the fog of weariness began to lift--not enough to disappear completely, but enough so that he could actually process what Tetsuo was saying.
"You...went to the Inter High?"
The big man shrugged. "Hotta told me. I was bored. Figured, what the hell."
Mitsui coughed.
"Not used to smoking anymore, are ya?"
"Slows me down." Mitsui coughed again, and spat over the railing and into a clump of bushes. "I never even smoked much when I was in the gang. I guess I was always keeping myself in shape, even when I wasn't thinking about it."
"Huh. You were just born a jock, I say."
Mitsui chuckled. "Yeah, I guess."
For a while Tetsuo just looked at him, eyes narrowed. Then he burst out laughing.
"What?" demanded Mitsui.
"You look so--so CLEAN!" Tetsuo couldn't stop laughing. "Your hair is short and you got that jock sweatsuit and all your teeth are in...You really look like a jock!"
Mitsui went red. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he muttered. "They're not even my real teeth. I couldn't play basketball with big holes in my mouth, you know. That's just embarrassing. And I didn't want to have fake teeth that I had to take out. What if I kissed a girl or something? So I got some money, and had implants."
Tetsuo snickered. "Conceited jock."
"Will you stop calling me a jock!"
"Whatever you say, Micchan."
Mitsui leaned back against his duffel bag and took another drag. "Hardly anybody calls me that anymore," he said wistfully, watching the smoke trickle out as he talked and drift upward. "Hotta and the guys do, of course, but I haven't gotten to hang out with them so much lately, with the Inter High and everything..." He put the cigarette to his lips again, and sent out another curling gray wreath of smoke. "That stupid redhead calls me Micchi, and to everybody else I'm just Mitsui. Three-point scorer." He pillowed his head on the duffel bag and closed his eyes.
"Oi, don't go to sleep yet. I didn't come here just to listen to you whine, you know."
"Ah, what is it now?" Aggrieved, Mitsui sat up.
Tetsuo grinned. "You won't say that when you see what it is." He pulled a reluctant Mitsui to his feet and hurried him behind the building.
"It" was a bike. A big, shiny, brand new Kawasaki in metallic blood-red and gleaming white, with a helmet to match, leaning against the wall beside Tetsuo's own motorbike. A license plate under the back light proclaimed MR MVP. It was almost as big as Tetsuo's bike, and the engine looked almost as powerful.
Mitsui whirled on his friend. "You didn't *steal* this, did you?"
"Me?" Tetsuo tried to look hurt, but only managed to look greasy. "I don't want to get you into trouble. It's totally clean, license and all." He suddenly grinned. "The *money*, now, don't ask me where I got the money to pay for it."
Mitsui rolled his eyes. "Tetsuo..."
"Ah, c'mon, Micchan. Just 'cos you aren't around anymore to think up fun stuff for me to do, doesn't mean I can't go off on my own and find entertainment. I promise it won't be traced back to you, or me, or the group. Really. Honest."
Despite himself, Mitsui's gaze was constantly drawn back to the bike. The beautiful bike, with its 500 cc tank, 80 hp engine, four gears...and then of course it was very nearly in the Shohoku colors, only more badass...imagine what everybody in school would say when Mitsui Hisashi showed up astride this tooled-up beauty....
He grinned at the big gang leader. "Thanks, Tetsuo."
"That's more like it." Tetsuo tossed down his cigarette and ground it out under his heel. Then he took a keychain out of his pocket and handed it to Mitsui. "Well, I'm off. Enjoy your summer." He wheeled his bike out onto the street, flung a leg over it and roared off, causing several people to stick their heads out of their windows and others to draw their blinds hurriedly.
Mitsui watched the speeding figure take the corner at an impossible angle. He smiled and jingled his new bike keys. Despite all the regrets he'd had about skipping two years of basketball, he'd never had cause to regret the friends he'd made. People like Hotta and Tetsuo were rough-edged, but loyal to a fault, and actually kind of nice in their way.
He stowed the bike in the parking lot, locked it carefully, and went up to take a shower and go to bed. He was still grinning as he hit the pillow. He couldn't wait to see the look on his teammates' faces when he rode in on that gorgeous bike....
-end-
"Tired...am dead tired..."
Mitsui wanted nothing more than a long sleep, preferably until next season. They had lost, but what a fight they'd put up! No one had expected Shohoku to make it past the first elimination game, let alone the Inter High finals. Well, next year they'd see the team go all the way. He clenched his fist tighter round his duffel bag and kept walking.
He wished the bus had dropped them all off at home one by one instead of only taking them from the train station to the front steps of school. He *really* didn't feel like walking tonight. His whole body ached from neck to toenails, and any minute now he was going to take a page out of Rukawa's book and go to sleep on his feet.
Reaching his street, he stared up with a groan at his apartment building. Man, five flights of stairs! How the hell was he going to get up five flights of stairs? Wearily he trudged up to the third building of the compound.
Okay now. One step at a time. C'mon, Mr. MVP, you can do it...
"Yo."
Mitsui blinked, and stopped. Automatically his legs folded, reasoning that since he'd stopped, he might as well pass out here. Which was why he found himself blinking up at an amused Tetsuo.
"Oi, what's with you? That how you greet an old friend?"
Mitsui shook his head. "Nah, sorry...tired..." he said vaguely.
"Yeah, I know." Tetsuo flicked away the end of the cigarette he'd been smoking. "I was at your little high school jockfest."
"Huh?"
"Your brain's not working. Here." Tetsuo took two more sticks out of his jacket pocket, lit up, and offered the other cigarette to Mitsui.
They sat on the steps leading up to the apartments. Mitsui took a deep drag, and sure enough, the fog of weariness began to lift--not enough to disappear completely, but enough so that he could actually process what Tetsuo was saying.
"You...went to the Inter High?"
The big man shrugged. "Hotta told me. I was bored. Figured, what the hell."
Mitsui coughed.
"Not used to smoking anymore, are ya?"
"Slows me down." Mitsui coughed again, and spat over the railing and into a clump of bushes. "I never even smoked much when I was in the gang. I guess I was always keeping myself in shape, even when I wasn't thinking about it."
"Huh. You were just born a jock, I say."
Mitsui chuckled. "Yeah, I guess."
For a while Tetsuo just looked at him, eyes narrowed. Then he burst out laughing.
"What?" demanded Mitsui.
"You look so--so CLEAN!" Tetsuo couldn't stop laughing. "Your hair is short and you got that jock sweatsuit and all your teeth are in...You really look like a jock!"
Mitsui went red. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he muttered. "They're not even my real teeth. I couldn't play basketball with big holes in my mouth, you know. That's just embarrassing. And I didn't want to have fake teeth that I had to take out. What if I kissed a girl or something? So I got some money, and had implants."
Tetsuo snickered. "Conceited jock."
"Will you stop calling me a jock!"
"Whatever you say, Micchan."
Mitsui leaned back against his duffel bag and took another drag. "Hardly anybody calls me that anymore," he said wistfully, watching the smoke trickle out as he talked and drift upward. "Hotta and the guys do, of course, but I haven't gotten to hang out with them so much lately, with the Inter High and everything..." He put the cigarette to his lips again, and sent out another curling gray wreath of smoke. "That stupid redhead calls me Micchi, and to everybody else I'm just Mitsui. Three-point scorer." He pillowed his head on the duffel bag and closed his eyes.
"Oi, don't go to sleep yet. I didn't come here just to listen to you whine, you know."
"Ah, what is it now?" Aggrieved, Mitsui sat up.
Tetsuo grinned. "You won't say that when you see what it is." He pulled a reluctant Mitsui to his feet and hurried him behind the building.
"It" was a bike. A big, shiny, brand new Kawasaki in metallic blood-red and gleaming white, with a helmet to match, leaning against the wall beside Tetsuo's own motorbike. A license plate under the back light proclaimed MR MVP. It was almost as big as Tetsuo's bike, and the engine looked almost as powerful.
Mitsui whirled on his friend. "You didn't *steal* this, did you?"
"Me?" Tetsuo tried to look hurt, but only managed to look greasy. "I don't want to get you into trouble. It's totally clean, license and all." He suddenly grinned. "The *money*, now, don't ask me where I got the money to pay for it."
Mitsui rolled his eyes. "Tetsuo..."
"Ah, c'mon, Micchan. Just 'cos you aren't around anymore to think up fun stuff for me to do, doesn't mean I can't go off on my own and find entertainment. I promise it won't be traced back to you, or me, or the group. Really. Honest."
Despite himself, Mitsui's gaze was constantly drawn back to the bike. The beautiful bike, with its 500 cc tank, 80 hp engine, four gears...and then of course it was very nearly in the Shohoku colors, only more badass...imagine what everybody in school would say when Mitsui Hisashi showed up astride this tooled-up beauty....
He grinned at the big gang leader. "Thanks, Tetsuo."
"That's more like it." Tetsuo tossed down his cigarette and ground it out under his heel. Then he took a keychain out of his pocket and handed it to Mitsui. "Well, I'm off. Enjoy your summer." He wheeled his bike out onto the street, flung a leg over it and roared off, causing several people to stick their heads out of their windows and others to draw their blinds hurriedly.
Mitsui watched the speeding figure take the corner at an impossible angle. He smiled and jingled his new bike keys. Despite all the regrets he'd had about skipping two years of basketball, he'd never had cause to regret the friends he'd made. People like Hotta and Tetsuo were rough-edged, but loyal to a fault, and actually kind of nice in their way.
He stowed the bike in the parking lot, locked it carefully, and went up to take a shower and go to bed. He was still grinning as he hit the pillow. He couldn't wait to see the look on his teammates' faces when he rode in on that gorgeous bike....
-end-