Chapter Twelve

"Damn it, damn it," he cursed aloud as he pulled the bag out from where he had placed it earlier, upending it on the counter. A damp exercise towel (he really had to remember to return it to Mrs. Takuhiro) fell out. Followed by a long red dress, a crumpled white sweater, stockings, open-toed sandals, his dancing shoes, a slim stick of eyeliner, the plastic bag containing his hair extensions, a pair of dangling silver earrings and a tube of lipstick.

Eh, his mind interjected timidly. Are you sure about doing this?

He grunted, turning his head to check if the door was still bolted before he shrugged his jacket off and tossed it to the floor. Sports shoes, socks and jeans landed atop the growing pile.

*** ***

I can't believe it, Hanamichi groused, making his way back to the refreshment table for another cup of punch. Almost two hours, and I haven't even caught a glimpse of Yumiko. I wonder what she's busy with.

He turned his thoughts back to the present. The first-year girl he had "rescued" earlier was Ayuwa Sahiko, who as it turned out –did– know how to dance. He had been pleasantly surprised to learn that she had previously attended group lessons at Mrs. Takuhiro's, and he had enjoyed himself immensely dancing the salsa with her, both of them coming up with new variations of their own and trying them out amidst much laughter. Ayuwa had left a little while ago to look for the rest of her friends and her date, also a first-year junior. He suddenly realized he had forgotten to ask her why she had been standing alone in the middle of nowhere crying.

Blowing his fringe out of his eyes, he brought his wrist up and pressed a button on his watch. The faint yellow glow of the digital numbers told him that it was five minutes to seven-thirty.

*** ***

"Is everything ready?!" Yumiko hissed from behind the announcer's bench. Sujowa turned around at her voice, winking at her and giving her a thumbs up. "Don't worry so much, babe! Everything's under control. Two minutes to show time."

She laughed, and then leaned back into Kohei's arm. "Gosh, it's going to be –so– funny," she whispered gleefully to the swimming captain. Her head against his chest, Yumiko didn't notice as Kohei's look of discomfort changed to disgust.

*** ***

Rukawa wondered privately about the feasibility of his plan. His disguise wasn't foolproof, that was for sure, and he had never gone up against a crowd of this size, every single one of which knew –exactly– how Rukawa Kaede looked. He examined his appearance in the slightly cracked mirror, and then fervently applied a thicker coat of lipstick, before dropping the tube and snatching the slim stick from the counter. He drew out his eyebrows and lined his eyes more dramatically, trying his hardest not to blink as the pencil slipped slightly. Hopefully, the light would do the rest.

From outside, the speakers crackled and burst into life again, Reisuya's voice carrying over the muffled sounds of the crowd. "And now…let's have a drum roll please, ladies and gentlemen, as we finish tabulating the votes that will tell us just who this year's prom king and queen of Shohoku High School are…"

Rukawa dropped everything with a muted expletive and ran towards the locker room door, his hand falling on the knob as he twisted it hurriedly. Grim anticipation kept him from noticing the problem until a grand total of five seconds later.

The lock was jammed.

*** ***

Someone was announcing something, but Hanamichi could care less. He was dimly aware of a dull pitter-patter outside, which meant that it was probably raining, and from the sounds of it, raining heavily. The heat in the gym, however, had rose to a stifling inferno, and he shifted, of half a mind to take off the white shirt and escape to the cool outside.

The other half of his mind, interestingly enough, was nowhere near the dance.

He would miss this, he realized, as he gazed around, drinking in the sight of being in this gym one last time. It was where everything with basketball had started, from the first year he had tried to impress Haruko to now, two years on, when Shohoku had made it for the third time, consecutively, into the Inter-High, earning a reputation as one of the state's best sporting schools.

He remembered Akagi's punches the most, laughing now as he thought of it, and of how Kogure's expression would take on a frazzled look whenever the ex-captain had done that. He recalled how he and Ryota had gotten off to a rough start, and how they had finally found camaraderie in each other. He still saw the scene where Mitsui had crumbled to the floor, crying and asking to be accepted once again.

And we did. We were all the better for it.

He smiled fondly at the memory. Those were his first trials, and he knew he had come far from the immature brat he had once been. Somewhere along the way, Hanamichi Sakuragi had grown up.

The completely irrelevant and unrelated thought chose that inopportune moment of reminiscing to make itself heard.

I wish Ruiya was here.

Surprised, he considered what had just passed through his mind. Did he really wish Ruiya was here with him? The quiet, fiery-tempered fox-lookalike?

It wasn't as though he was unaware of those faults. Hanamichi had always been consistent on the fact that girls were meant to be well mannered, even in temperament, sweet and helpful, and considerate, all things considered. But Ruiya was different.

Ruiya had personality.

He couldn't stop a small chuckle from escaping him when he remembered the lesson where he had miscounted the beat and stepped on her foot. Maybe, after all this was over…

I'll ask her out.

He was so engrossed with the thought, he didn't realize that the spotlight hovering and spanning the crowd was getting dangerously close to him.

"…and our prom king is…"

Only later, when he allowed himself to reflect on it, did Hanamichi realize that the bad feelings he had been experiencing the whole night had condensed into one big lump in his throat in that moment. It was as though he suddenly –knew– what was going to happen, the motive for Yumiko's no-show the entire evening becoming crystal clear.

"SAKURAGI HANAMICHI!"

The name thundered in his ears, blocking out the deafening silence as he stood there, paralyzed on the spot. Every single light in the room swiveled and focused on him, and the crowd began to murmur, whether in shock or outrage, Hanamichi didn't care to decipher.

And then the snickering started.

He flushed to the roots of his hair, the burn of humiliation and embarrassment scalding his cheeks and warming his face. His hands were clenched tightly into fists at his side, and truthfully, Hanamichi didn't think he was going to be able to laugh this one off. Dimly, he noticed Yohei somewhere to his left, too far to make out his voice but close enough to see the look of angry comprehension and murderous intent written all over his best friend's face.

Sujowa cleared his throat, but it was obvious that the football captain was sniggering. "So, before we go on to who our prom queen is, may we ask this year's prom king to do a dance of honor for us? With—" and the next words were annunciated cheerfully, "—his DATE?"

The spotlight remained unmercifully on the head of red hair. The crowd had surreptitiously cleared away. Hanamichi Sakuragi stood there, alone, cruel laughter provoking him from the sidelines and seeming to echo in his ears.

And then the side door to the gym burst open, flooding the darkness with a pathway of stark white light.