© March 2004 Copyright Himitsu Star
Disclaimer: Fanfic. By a fan. For fans. Slam Dunk created by great mangaka Takehiko Inoue. This work not at all associated with Takehiko-sama. This work not associated with anime version of Slam Dunk. This piece of fanfiction work belongs solely to Himitsu Star (see Berne Convention and other copyright laws and international treaties).
Warning: This is a yaoi fanfic, which depicts romance and love between males. If you do not approve of homosexuality or bisexuality in any shape, size or form, please desist from reading this tale. Thank you.
Himitsu_Star's Notes: *redder than Hanamichi's hair* Wow. I'm truly bowled over by the reviews for the story so far. ^^I wish I had time to thank everyone personally, but until it's late April, I haven't got much time to myself...and oh, yeah, this story is going to stretch there probably because I will be out of commission from next week to late April...mid-terms and end-semester exams for college are due where I am. _
Just to answer the questions generically, Kyoko isn't a major character really... lots of other folk are involved, as you will see in part 2 (we're at part 1 only). And the reason will probably surface later, but it's no biggie. =) This story is just an idea I had...there are so many ways RuHana could have gotten together...and one of them is about to unfold!!!
P.S. This is really PG-13. Really. For language and certain other descriptions. I was inspired by this yaoi mangaka called Youka Nitta.
Title: Most Likely Couple
Rating: PG-13
Part 1: Mangaka, Mangaka, Draw Me Some Manga…
"OH-RAY-WAAAAA, TE-ENSAH-YEE~~~"
Mitoi Youhei winced automatically as the off-key singing pierced through the air. He managed a slightly unsteady grin as a steady circle of students opened hastily around the source of the singing. He himself was safely ensconced several metres away on the pretext of getting a drink from the water-cooler. Old words, brand new tune. Lately Hanamichi had been changing his 'Tensai Song' just a little, so whichever happened to be the popular ditty of the moment was invariable adopted as the Tensai Tune of the Day/Week/Month. This time, Hanamichi had chosen the jingle from a washing detergent advertisement that had been playing with infuriating frequency on television. Youhei much preferred his friend's previous Melody of The Moment, a Western tune which he had disliked, but which was ten thousand and one times better than this bloody aggravating song conjuring images of scrubbing housewives with one detergent Youhei was never going to buy in his life if he could help it...
Wholly unconscious of the effect he was having around him, Sakuragi Hanamichi sang at the top of his voice as he rummaged in his schoolbag. It was a stupendous morning. He had awoken without Youhei's help, the old back injury had not troubled him despite the cold morning, he had arrived in time for the morning school assembly with minutes to spare, and to top it off, his voice had never been in finer fettle. In fact, he could feel the reverberations around him as his notes ripped powerfully through the school. Joyfully, he raised his voice just one notch louder, and was flattered to find that the solid-looking, one-litre water-bottle that had been left on the floor near him wobbled shakily in response. Ah, the power of lungs—not just anyone's lungs, mind you, but the Tensai's lungs!
"Ohayo, Sakuragi-san!"
For a wonder, the soft words cut right through the loud singing noises he was making, and Sakuragi halted abruptly in his song, looking up. He blinked in astonishment. Two very pretty girls were standing right in front of him, smiling widely, twirling their hair, fidgeting with their skirts, blinking admiringly upwards, etc. He immediately blushed almost as red as his hair; he did not know their names, but recognised them as being in the year above him.
"Ah, AHAHAHAHAHAHA, ah, ohayo!!!"
They were looking at him with very bright eyes, and one of them even put a hand to her mouth to giggle, not at him, Sakuragi realised, but in a friendly sort of response to his greeting.
"We just stopped by to congratulate you," said the giggly one between her giggles. "We think it's so sweeeeeeeeet!!!!!"
Sakuragi scratched his head, feeling just a little puzzled. He wasn't quite certain what was going on, but two beautiful girls had just called him sweet and congratulated him! The day was getting better and better! A broad grin swept over his face. "Ah, domo arigatou, AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—"
"It's so romantic!!!" squealed the other girl suddenly, interrupting him excitedly, hands clasped. "You're the perfect pair!!!! Oh, I'm sooooo excited!!! Sakuragi-kun, we support you totally!" she exclaimed, jumping up and down. "Oh, and when you see Rukawa-san, please, give him our congratulations too!"
"AHAHAHA—awk—" Sakuragi choked in mid-laugh. Wait—what did the kitsune have to do with—
"Hanamichi!"
Sakuragi turned anxiously. He recognised Youhei's voice, and the urgency of the tone in it—his friend was in some sort of trouble! Sure enough, Youhei was waving frantically at him, trapped and cornered by the crowd gathered in front of the notice board at the end of the corridor.
Sakuragi's eyes flashed. "YOUHEI! NEVER FEAR, THE TENSAI IS ON THE WAY!" he roared, making preparations to head-butt his way through.
Youhei opened his mouth to protest—he was about as much in danger as a scrubbing housewife with that damned detergent—but then gave up as he saw his best friend plough through the hallway mercilessly. He shrugged his shoulders resignedly and limited himself to cringing in sympathy every time his best friend's head made contact somewhere.
Sakuragi panted upon reaching the edge of the crowd. On hindsight, he should have paid a little more attention to what was going on around him, for as soon as he appeared, the buzz in the crowd skyrocketed, as people around him giggled, nudged and whispered to each other while stealing glances at him.
Trapped somewhere within the confines of the crowd, Youhei perspired feverishly. He had to get to his friend before anyone else did. "Eh, Hanamichi—" he called out nervously, and was upset to find that his voice was pitched at a high, tetchy squeak. Horrified, he cleared his throat and tried again. "Eh—"
"Sakuragi-san!"
This time, the female voices were not soft, pretty and encouraging, but shrill with anger. Three girls stood in Sakuragi's path, arms folded and lips pursed. One stepped forward.
"How could you!" she shrieked, stabbing one shining, perfectly polished nail at him.
A second girl put her hands to her face and a slow tear trickled down one cheek. "He's Rukawa Kaede!!! You—you bitch!" She began wailing at the top of her voice.
Sakuragi Hanamichi's eyes nearly fell out of his head. Were they addressing—him? He didn't even know who these crazy women were!
"You—you stole him! What was rightfully ours!" screamed the third girl, arms flailing about wildly. She hissed furiously at the redheaded boy, who took a step backwards, growing more bewildered by the second.
There was a loud wail from the second girl, followed by sobs. "You corrupted him, you—you—freak!"
Sakuragi gaped soundlessly, blinking. What was going on?! Slowly he began to increase his acceleration...backwards, away from the three crazy girls.
"Hn."
The sound was a familiar one, a snort that managed to convey derision and hauteur all in one, and there was only one person in the school who could possibly express human emotions in the language of snorts and single-syllable, one-word mumbles.
For the third time that morning, Sakuragi Hanamichi found himself swivelling in yet another direction, but this time, to face someone he knew only too well. His hackles rose as he automatically fell into the Dial-An-Insult mode. "Kitsune—" he began in heated tones, lips falling open in the time-honoured insult—but Rukawa Kaede wasn't actually looking at him. In fact, Rukawa was staring at the three girls...and now Sakuragi realised they were the noisy members of his fan club...and the three girls were backing away very slowly.
Sakuragi tensed, but the tall, dark-haired boy did not say a word. Instead, Rukawa turned, and his eyes met Sakuragi's for a split second, and then inexplicably, he turned his head very slowly to stare pointedly in another direction.
Hanamichi never knew why he did what he did next, but instead of swearing loudly at the kitsune again, his gaze followed Rukawa...and stopped at the notice-board. And for the rest of his life, he would never forget what he saw.
There was a picture on the board. It was a huge picture, every detail strikingly life-like, and at first glance, it looked terribly like a photograph, except for the fact that the colours, upon close-up, were evidently a matter of paints. It was a picture of Sakuragi Hanamichi with Rukawa Kaede...in an astonishing pose.
Hanamichi was lying on his back, slightly turned towards one side, naked to somewhere below his waist, wearing nothing but a pair of extremely tight, low-slung jeans riding somewhere around his hips, with the top button undone. His bare torso was hairless, rippled with muscles, and his flat stomach had the beginnings of a six-pack washboard to it. His hair, a vivid, lustrous shade of red, fell messily, attractively into his eyes...which had a certain sultry, come-hither bedroom gleam in them that was accentuated by the tip of the tongue that poked from between his half-parted lips. And his head was resting comfortably in Rukawa's lap.
The Rukawa in the picture was similarly attired, in mouth-watering skin-tight, hip-hugging jeans, and like Hanamichi, he was muscular—every curve of his biceps could be seen, and the way the corded muscles strained in his lean neck, and the flat, hard stomach. One of his hands was running through the hair of the redhead; the other was draped casually over Hanamichi's body so that the fingers were splayed over Hanamichi's lower abdomen, entwined with one of Hanamichi's hands...and about as close to the unbuttoned top part of the redhead's jeans as one could get. And Rukawa-in-the-picture's gaze was a hot, hot blue.
They made a beautiful couple, the one so vibrant, with red hair and golden-tanned skin, and sultry brown eyes, and the other, white skin next to the golden-brown one, dark hair falling into blue eyes whose gaze was heated instead of the familiar ice, and bespoke passions untold.
It was an unsurpassable piece of work. The brilliance of the artist's handiwork was beyond doubt. It was beyond lifelike. And the crowning touch that made it so clear why the drawing was up there—just above the drawing, neatly tacked to the notice-board, was a teeny little banner of red cloth, with words in glittering, multicoloured sequins on it: "VOTE RUHANA AS YOUR MOST LIKELY TANABATA COUPLE! RUHANA 4EVA!"
The real, living Sakuragi Hanamichi's eyes bugged out. His jaw dropped, mouth falling open in every expression of shock, horror, and general similarity to prudish Victorian ladies. Several times he tried to speak, but failed, for no words could describe the feelings crashing over him at that moment, or the deep, bright hue of the blush that was rapidly advancing from his face to the rest of his body. Nobody could have mistaken the intent of the picture.
"Hn."
For the first time in his life, Sakuragi had nothing to say—indeed, no voice to give vent to it either—as his blue-eyed, black-haired team-mate moved past him coolly. And as Rukawa's arm brushed his in passing, Sakuragi stumbled back sharply as if he had been electrocuted, nearly tripping over his own two feet as he did so. But not once did he dare to look at the dark-haired boy.
It was Youhei who came to his rescue at last, and who gently took the arm of the stricken redhead, propelling him away from the notice-board. But even Youhei had to turn for one last look at the picture.
Those jeans were very tight.