Chapter Nine

Friday morning, the last day of school for the year, found the general population of Shohoku High School missing from class. The occasional breeze whispered sadly along the empty halls and peeked into the strangely quiet locker rooms, bypassing the abandoned canteen for its non-activity.

Everyone was at home preparing for the dance, buying various flowers or dresses or shoes or tuxedos, and doing the things that people did before proms.

Well, almost everyone, that is. In a messy bachelor's pad, unread textbooks lay forgotten in a corner behind a large chair that had been oh-so-accidentally put there, and the blueberry curtains flapped open in the early wind, oblivious to the blanket-wrapped body underneath a huge cotton white pillow.

It was a brilliant night. The glitter of the painfully large disco ball in the middle of the gym winked an iridescent shower of colors, and the air was filled with murmuring, laughter and chatter. He stepped into the fray, and something brushed against his hand. Looking down, he saw to his utter horror that he was clothed in a shiny green spandex and black lace dress shirt, tucked into fuschia pants.

Suddenly, he was holding a glass, filled with punch the color of rubies. He stared suspiciously at the glittering specks inside the liquid, feeling indescribable warmth flood his veins. Yes, red was the color of roses; red was the color of—

A heavy tap on his shoulder made him whirl around, and he caught sight of a flash of scarlet curls under a pristine white veil. A silly grin spread across his face as he set the glass down and moved forward, bringing his hands up to lift the veil, his heart thumping as the action slowly revealed the dark, tanned, beautiful face of…

Akagi Takenori.

"Run five hundred laps!" the gorilla thundered.

Rukawa jolted awake, severely traumatized. His heart was palpitating furiously as he sat up and gasped for breath, grabbing the sheets and twisting them in his sweaty palms.

"God." That was horrible. Horrible, horrible, horrible.

He slid out from between the covers, walking quickly outside to the counter that served as a kitchen. His hands still shaking, he poured himself a glass of cold water, throwing his head back and downing the contents of the entire container in one gulp. The cool water soothed his parched throat, clearing away the last cobwebs in his head as he calmed down marginally, leaning against the counter and exhaling deeply.

Setting the glass down, he stumbled drowsily towards the balcony, squinting at the bright sunlight that peeked out from behind the drapes. Could it be noon already? He had scheduled a private lesson with Mrs. Takuhiro today, because she was still the expert after all. In fact, the lessons he conducted with the beginners stemmed from the very basics Mrs. Takuhiro had taught him, and now, she choreographed his more challenging dances and corrected his techniques, refining them and his "dancing temperament", as she was fond of saying.

His mind nagged at him, telling him that there was something else he was forgetting.

What day is it today?

Oh, right. It was tonight, the prom. He would have taken the opportunity to stay in the whole day and sleep, really, but the memories of the dream haunted him cheekily from the recesses of his sleep-fogged mind.

Hn. Should I go?

He didn't feel like going. Much. There were only so many things you could do at a high school prom, and there were only so many people you didn't mind seeing, let alone the people you actually wanted to see.

Hanamichi would be there, though, together with that silly cackling twit from the cheerleading squad. He extinguished the dull twinge in his heart as he set the glass down and turned to go back to his room.

I wonder if he's really going to show off. The thought made Rukawa smirk inwardly as he opened the closet, grabbing out a random change of clothes and nearly stumbling over a hairbrush on his way to the bathroom. Dumb idiot.

He considered his options as he made his way towards the bathroom, flicking on the heater switch. Closing the door, he set the clothes down, stripping off his perspiration-drenched shirt and boxers and stepping into the shower adjacent to the bathtub.

He could stay at home, of course, avoiding the barrage of his female (and male) admirers, risk falling asleep, and take the chance of letting his ex-captain's face show up in his head again.

Or he could just go after his dance class. Go there, see how his boisterous protégé was faring on the dance floor, take a drink, and mingle around with the walls.

It was an easy choice.

*** ***

After his shower, Hanamichi tossed the towel into the overflowing laundry basket at the corner of the room, shrugging on a pair of ragged looking track pants and grabbing an orange plastic comb. He was halfway to the other end of the room where the dresser was when the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hanamichi-kun!"

He winced at the shrill, grating voice that blasted through the speakers, automatically holding the phone two inches away. When he judged the reverberations to be over, he gingerly replaced the handset to his ear.

"Eh…Yumiko-san. Good morning."

She laughed merrily, beginning to chatter about her dress. Hanamichi unsuccessfully tried to pay dutiful attention, but his mind was occupied on something else. Namely, the lingering traces of a dream he had had the night before.

It was dark, but it wasn't cold. In fact, as he raised his head and opened his eyes, the glittering spotlights that flashed colors from green to blue to red and yellow gave the place a comfortable, fuzzy feeling.

The music playing softly in the background was an old song that he recognized was by Bonnie Tyler. He felt strangely detached, letting the smooth voice of the vocalist wash over him like water.

I need you now tonight, and I need you more than ever

If you'll only hold me tight, we'll be holding on forever

We'll only be making it right, 'cause we'll never be wrong

Together

He was holding someone. Warm breath tickled his ear, and he pulled back a little trying to get a closer look of who it was, but it was too dark and he gave up, moving forward and cradling the slim body tighter. They swayed, lost in another universe where the world was an unending rainbow of changing colors, and the rich crescendos of the music swallowed them up in a tireless rhythm…

And then they were apart, and he could see clearly who it was as she stood there, staring at him. Long black hair curled softly past her shoulders, and delicately lined blue eyes, the very epitome of ice, looked back at him, his face at first, and then deliberately falling to sweep his chest, his arms, his body.

…Ruiya?

Oddly, suddenly, the black hair began to shorten, and the blue eyes lost some of their make-up. Dangling silver earrings disappeared. The loose lavender gown morphed into a familiar basketball jersey, with the number 11 written on the red material in bold white strokes.

And that was when he had woken up, the name of Shohoku's basketball captain on his lips. He had rushed into the bathroom, giving himself the coldest shower of his life as he tried to sort out a mixture of horror, shock, panic and plain confusion.

What's wrong with me? He groaned silently, vaguely aware that Yumiko was still talking to herself on the line. As if it's not enough that I can't get Ruiya out of my head, now that fox has to join in too!

He had stared into the bathroom mirror, water dampening his red hair to a dark crimson as it fell messily over his forehead, and finally admitted to his reflection that, yes, maybe he did have a bit of an attraction to the quiet dance teacher. She was pretty, she was talented in dancing, she was independent and she was…well…nice. Not nice in the way that most girls were, or like Haruko was. No, it was more of something that he could sense. It was in her eyes, in the way she stood, in the way she no longer crossed her arms defensively over her chest in his presence. It was the way her mouth would turn up at the corners as though she was going to smile, but wouldn't, and the way her eyes would laugh even if her lips didn't.

Or maybe he was just head over heels.

"HANAMICHI-KUUUUUN!"

His train of thought cut off rather abruptly, Hanamichi cleared his throat and was forcefully reminded that he was supposed to be on the line. "Yes, Yumiko-san?"

"I said," and her voice hinted of impatience, "Could we meet at school, in the gym itself? I'll be helping out with some of the…things, so if you go there, all you have to do is look for me! You won't even need to pick me up or buy flowers or all that, you know."

I had to do all that?

"Ha, ha, sure, the genius has no problem!" he replied heartily, his response automatic to his instincts. "I'll see you there then, Yumiko-san!"

The line cut off with a click.

Oops, maybe I shouldn't have spaced out. She seems angry.

He made a conscious effort to ignore the side of him that laughed hysterically at the thought, and turned his thoughts towards getting his outfit ready. Even then, a face refused to leave his mind, and it wasn't Yumiko's. The strangest part that sent shivers down his spine was that it was not the face of Ruiya Setsuko either, but instead that of Rukawa Kaede.

The world is coming to an end, he fretted.