Title: Selfish Play
Pairing: RuMit
Fandom: SlamDunk
Theme: #9 –dash
written for 30kisses
"Pass the ball!"
No pass.
"Rukawa," he hissed, "pass the ball!"
Ignored. The hell was up with this kid.
Annoyed, he made a sprint towards the net, waving madly for the rookie to hand the ball to him. The boy was a mess- there were three people guarding him and there was no way he was going to score at this rate…
..was there? Mitsui thought in silent wonder as he watched the ball go sailing towards the net…
and rebound off the rim of the basket.
He was there in an instant, to take the pass from Sakuragi who'd caught the rebound. It was a magnificent catch, and the pass was pretty smooth too. Mitsui flashed the redhead a grin before sprinting off towards the other end of the court. He was going the wrong way, yes, but that was the point.
"Mitchy, where're you going?" Sakuragi hollered after him.
"To score," he yelled back, grinning madly as he managed to throw off two more rival players.
He saw a flash of white from the corner of his eye and knew it was Miyagi waiting for the pass…
That would not come. Because he, Mitsui Hisashi, was going to do this alone. Why? Because he was going to show that rookie brat that he could be selfish too.
So he made it almost to the other end of the court, in enemy territory and was all set to make his move when said brat materialised before him, gesturing for a pass.
Like fuck, Mitsui thought, after that selfish play?
Blue eyes burned into his own, the owner's jaw set as he sent silent messages through telepathy. Pass the ball, Mitsui could hear him saying, pass!
Dream on, he thought smugly, you play your game, I play mine.
Pass! The thought was urgent this time and those eyes smouldered with some foreign emotion.
"No," he said sagely, aloud. Swiftly he transferred the ball to his left hand, almost deftly as his guard tried to slap it away. There were two people now, both taller, both wider around the shoulders, and both immensely less talented than he was. He was, after all, Mitsui Hisashi.
And because he was Mitsui Hisashi, he slipped past them easily, dodging their defences and holding out on his own. His attack was brutal and swift. One lasting strike and they went down. Hit the three-point, he thought, and shoot.
Rukawa must have realised his strategy because he was there to greet him at the three point line, but as Mitsui leapt, he fell backwards, away from the basket, and the ball went sailing into the goal.
The net swished from the cutting air.
A perfect score.
He clenched his fist in certain victory, priding himself in outsmarting the little brat. Rukawa stared at him, long and hard, before dashing away to position.
I won, brat. 3-0, Mitsui thought evilly, I won.
