Chapter V

Disclaimer: I don't own SD boys, Inoue does. The events that follow are not Included in the original plot but enjoy anyway.

A/N: Readers, 1000 times sorry for the delay. I've been on salary for the last few weeks and I just couldn't allot enough hours to write. You should know how I suck in time management. Anyway, this chappie is a little too mawkish even for my taste (and to think that I'm a pathetic hopeless romantic). There's just too much heart in it that I can't throw a nice quip between the lines to make you guys laugh at least. Oh well, here it goes.

Warning: language and mushiness.

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7:15 PM. Somewhere along a winding avenue in the city of Kanagawa...

...Hisashi Mitsui strolls aimlessly among the enormity of the capital's skyscrapers. Alone and in the binge of self-pity, he feels like a stray kitten in an anthropocentric world of hypocrisy and Asiatic hedonism where Fridays are tremendously glutted with the most socially well off couples savoring their get-together weekends. This isn't how it should be for Mitsui; while he is the undisputed Casanova of all philosophers (or loving men for that matter) on regular weekdays, today he's no more than a diffident loner combating hopelessness and boredom. Needless to say, the infuriating picture torments him; Kissing lovers hugging one another in tight clutches, their hands slyly exploring the most intimate extents of their entwined bodies, their skin rubbing against one another's in a heated friction of erupting passion, desire-Darn! Yes. His fridays are vacant; No Fujima, no Maki, no Sendoh, and no Kiyota to sidle up to him and tell him 'I love you very much' to which he'd mechanically reply 'I love you too,' when in fact he's still groping between 'I don't' and 'Maybe.' Cheating is one thing he can't do without in this colorful, young adulthood stage. But hey, what gives? Not much. These boys are over their heads for handsome Mitsui anyway. Now that's much.

He then pushes a furlong of robust strides to reach the heart of the city; the wire and steel fenced street ball court. So much for expecting it to be empty, he almost jumps back upon witnessing a skyward rolling 180 slam from that someone who's occupying the otherwise crowd-less court and strutting his stuff in front of a non existent audience. Who else among Kanagawa boys can cover that spire of vertical distance in a normal leap? He probably knows who this kid is. True enough, Kaede Rukawa lands soundlessly underneath the orange rim. The nearby lamp post casts its revealing light on him; he's flung with his gray, walking shirt and dark blue Shohoku jogging pants. It seems to Mitsui that destiny hinges them together by the centrifugal force that sets itself in motion, the same feeling desperate suitors own when they're in the verge of getting ditched.

'Kaede,' Mitsui calls as he putters forward the freshman.

'Sempai?' Rukawa says in his customary stuffed-in-a-coffin tone as he wheels around to face his senior.

'Uhmm,' Mitsui falters to thread up anything interesting to say, 'There's a regulation regarding curfew hours and play time. I think you've gone out of bounds balling after 7.' Kanagawa does inhibit playing basketball after 7.

Rukawa just hands him a don't-know-don't-care look and clasps the ball to his hampered fingers to snipe an open 13 footer jumper inside the paint. Swack. Ok, here he is again tottering with his typical I'm-the-best-rook in Kanagawa nonchalance, and not even the authorities can tell him off. Cold blood he's got.

'Ok. Hisashi, don't clam up. A snobbish nod won't kill you,' Mitsui admonishes himself as he watches Rukawa smoothly glide off the midair expanse embracing him. Now what exactly comes to mind when all you've been looking for in a state of dejecting solitude suddenly materializes before you in an optimum view of perfection? Forget that he's panzer in a slew of heavy clothing; he looks fiery! Here you are on a mean, hazy evening when all of a sudden the inimitable captain of your dreams appears before you as if to offer his un-owned proximity to you. And to cinch it all, both of you are alone. Period. It doesn't matter if there exists the biting paradox; you desire him, he despises you. what counts is that an unhindered, omnipotent gravity holds you stable against a raging whirlpool of contradictory feelings. At last for Mitsui, his longstanding dream is no far cry from where he is; in fact. it's just a wink away now.

'But this isn't the time to make a pass at him or to even cook up a sweltering conjecture on how good it feels inside him,' Mitsui muses. Of course, it's still a little too early to hit a go with someone who's downed you for Christ knows how many times. It's high time he drives things to the friendlier slope of the plane; take it a little smoother, gentler, softer...make him feel you deserve the potential pleasures in store for you.

Mitsui then plunks himself down on the courtside benches; a mental fatigue is drying the blood out of him. Rukawa, however, goes on plugging away with each drive to the bucket attack. After awhile, he grows dead wrung out skittering around with the ball on his hands, and decides he can make do with a quick time out. He lolls himself beside Mitsui; he's pretty much able to retain his dull complacence even when the other's around though.

'Alright, Hisashi, make your move now or remain busted for good.' Mitsui mutters to himself as Rukawa's ensconced body is fully emblazoned for him to see. Wow. This sure slaps awake your outgoing energy; if Rukawa gets any hotter than this, Mitsui will sure be a smoking crimson lobster freshly hot off the grill.

Mitsui then distills himself from where he's been sitting on and canters across the court. He picks up the ball Rukawa has left earlier, positions himself on the central 3 point mark, bends his knees on a 45 angle, raises his ball arm, and releases a twirling, so and so mph jumper that barely shakes the net as it grazes the still basket. Rukawa's eyes steal into those beautiful, subtle moves. On the surface, he maintains his I-don't-fucking-care pace quite impressively, but deep inside is another story. True, this very same Hisashi Mitsui is a serious pest, a noxious criminal who's getting an unnecessary stand-up and motorized arousal at the sight of Kaede Rukawa. He's unquestioningly detestable. Period. All neatly strung in a thread. But hang on; there's a slight nuance in Rukawa's genuine feeling of disgust for Mitsui. Not just that, an anomaly is lurking between these sentiments and he makes a neglected oversight of this; under the layer, his breath is taken away by this lady/lad killer when the latter is out there working on his business of nailing down countless threes and soft shots. Something's simply got to give.

Mitsui calls to Rukawa who seems to have dozed off in an unfathomable reverie. He's just found a solution to their problem.

'Rukawa,'

'One on one?' Mitsui says. It isn't a request; it's more like a general's order to the marine corps.

'If I win, you're mine. If you do...' Mitsui breathes deeply. 'I won't be giving you hell anymore. Promise.' He finishes, half expecting a no-means-no answer from the freshman.

But Rukawa remains motionless. It's not his lot to turn down a one on one game unless he intends to be the next day's certified craven. But acceding to Mitsui's proposal is like falling on either side of a double edged knife; if Rukawa loses, he becomes the possessed or even a--gulp--sex slave to this magnetic hottie, if he wins, then maybe he'll regret it later on not putting the make on someone like Hisashi Mitsui. For Rukawa, this isn't the sort of job that's done in a once-over trial. Clearly, nothing's settled in a one on one game; the matter of love must not rest on the battle of skills. It should be broached in a thorough and open minded talk and not in some medieval approach of solving the problem like a head to head match.

'I'm not game. Go play alone,' Rukawa says suddenly, feeling the urge to leave on the spot. He doesn't want to talk but he'd rather do it that way than go one on one to settle something so crucial.

'No.' Mitsui interjects sternly. 'We have to come to an understanding and this is how to do it. Either you're mine from now on or not ever.'

'Let's talk then,' Rukawa answers, finally voicing himself out.

A protracted silence reigns undisturbed. Something subliminal is provoked by Rukawa's reply; for the first time, he offers to talk and this may be a forerunner of other changes in his ill disposed character. Perhaps a spiritual evolution is taking over him. At last.

'What more can I say to you?' Mitsui bursts out suddenly. 'Do I have to go through ancient history discussing how much I'm turned on by you? Rukawa, I'm sure you know those lectures by heart without flipping through the pages, and as always you're turning a stiff neck to me. Fuck knows what I've been through with all your don't-fucking-care retorts, and both of us are already stuffed being fed up with it. Now don't tell me you want to talk it over for damnation's sake! I've been hustling my ass off all these months to communicate but all you've been doing is to look at me like I'm a filthy rat and walk out. I didn't just try to talk to you as in try to seduce you with my coaxes, but I made a point of making you FEEL that I'm all for you. How can we start a nice friendly conversation here when you can't even volunteer a syllable to me? Can't you see it's time to take matters my way? I know this isn't what you and I have bargained for but I don't think we can afford another solution to this shit. Just get it on with me and hit it off. Please. (Phew, I never got this much hell from Fujima or Sendoh or Kiyota. Maki's a little hard though.)'

'And if I win?' Rukawa asks absentmindedly.

'Like I said; You're go, I'm not stalking you anymore.' Says Mitsui. There's enough conviction in it to pass for sincerity. He's serious and looking ready for a loss.

At that precise moment, Rukawa's heart changes, its stiffness leaching away in a nameless void. A resounding quietness rests itself between them as Rukawa's insides suffer from an unremitting commotion; the symptoms of frailty are now ruling the realms inside his body. He tries to deny the feeling, but his heart continues to misgive him as it draws near to the person before him. He isn't sure if it's pity or love that's clouding around him but at that very second, he learns not to look at Hisashi Mitsui as a stranger, and he wants to be with him for the time being.

'Okay.' Rukawa starts. 'You win the game.'

TBC