Standard disclaimers apply; also, I'm not that sure about all the things I've said in the fic - they may be right, maybe not. Reviews are welcome. This chapter is dedicated to chelating compounds.

CHAPTER 2

Even in this predetermined situation, edginess is an air Kiminobu currently breathes – not oxygen – and how moronic was he to realize only now the upshot of it all; if his study room could straightforwardly speak, it'd yell curses at the derivative meaning of nuisance. Kogure's wound up head rested on his right palm, sweat mingling – literally – and notwithstanding its implications, which would be an unembroidered cliché, he cannot manage to tame the pale beasts of Shohoku Basketball Club; well, except Ayako that is. Books are scattered and magazines fly like eagles in a seemingly perfect day, tropical in ambience and almost apprehensive in impression; visions meet only to spark phenomena, namely, spite, hostility and rowdiness – blue and red, those were the hues. Kogure thought of an attempt to maintain the tranquility of the room, save for the solemnity of the activity they're supposed to accomplish, but it was mere thought he finally deduced, in which the utterance signified futility. It happened few days before when the freshman asked – or was it really – Kogure to tutor him again; apparently it was out-of-character, knowing Rukawa's ways to bloat his ego, and it actually made the senior hesitate. The kiss – it was preposterous, and most of the time he even pinches his cheek to see if the verifiability of his consciousness has truth-value; the process of analyzing it would always be a vague argument, perhaps a mystery, but of course, knowing Kogure's habitual utterance and action of kindness and godly sympathy... his choice would never be open-ended.

"Guys, hey, listen," Another battle of who gets to die first with a deadly stare, literally – Kogure was the first victim, almost fainting because such game has been roundabout since they started sitting on the miniature cushions near the study table.

"Guys!" Kogure finally said, his existence stumbling upon the realms of silence.

"How could this sloth gain more points than me?" Mitsui asked in full bewilderment, seemingly burdened by this question he considered to be the most intellectual.

"What do you mean?"

"Look, look; this dialogue should end with a period, not comma. Why is he correct, huh, huh?" The blue-haired senior taunted, poking the forehead of the dozing freshman.

"It's okay, Mitsui, it's a rhetoric style for succession,"

"But you didn't tell me!"

"Idiot."

Kogure glanced in anxiety. Mitsui stared in acid sentimentality.

"What did you say?"

"Uh, uh, there's no need for another fight guys, listen,"

"No, you listen Kogure; his prose is peppered with grammatical and punctuation errors and you tell me he's better than me – geez, this is supposed to be a favor—"

"Do you want drinks?"

"Give me plus points and I won't blackmail you."

"Coffee, tea, or juice?"

"Tell me I'm better than that bastard."

"Perhaps tomato juice?"

"Kogure—"

"Coffee."

Rukawa dozed, again. Mitsui was silenced. Kogure was grateful.

"What's yours?" he asked Mitsui.

"Tomato juice with lemon grass,"

"There's no such thing Mitsui,"

"Espresso."

"We don't have any, Rukawa, sorry..."

"I'd settle for a tomato juice with leek then,"

"Green tea."

"That's enough, both you." Kogure let out a sigh as he walked towards the kitchen, not really sure what just happened; in the stillness where his psyche tried to scrutinize such frustrating successions of preposterous complex, he remembered quite fully the essence of it all. Days before, Kiminobu asked the ex-gangster to complement the focus Rukawa should have to pass a failed subject, obviously owing to the phenomenon that led him into tutoring Rukawa for the second time. By complement, Kogure expected Mitsui to coerce the freshman to avoid dozing off while he talks, forestall another psychological discovery (apparently it scandalized the russet-eyed senior to know 'insecurity' emanating from the raven-haired), and most especially, to rule out the possibility of another phenomenon called kissing. He was that afraid – he almost surprised himself sometimes – but what is he supposed to do now that are two Rukawa's?

"What is this?" Mitsui's head bowed to examine the clear glass that emitted rainbow colors with the sunbeams. "Tap water."

"And Rukawa gets coffee? What's this? Favoritism?"

"He needs it so he'd stop... uh, dozing off."

Rukawa's body shuddered from an unknown zest and actually made the chocolate-eyed senior's spine to tingle; opening a book he started to write something on a piece of paper. Quite unimaginably this moment is – defense mechanism? "Uhm, okay, we're going to start again. Please, I need both of you in this; and Mitsui, I'm sure you'd learn more from this lecture because apparently your grades are failing too,"

"Whatever."

Kogure sighed. "Okay, what part of the sentence answers the question 'what'?"

"That would be the infinitive," Mitsui said gallantly, arms crossing and stare fixing onto Rukawa.

"That would be incorrect," said Kogure.

"What do you mean incorrect?"

"Indirect object." Rukawa muttered, annoyed at that, too.

"Good Rukawa,"

"Hey there, why didn't I know that?"

"Because you didn't read the book I told you to glance at,"

"Beh. Come on, give me your best shot then."

Mitsui's heart thumped. Rukawa's eyes closed. Kogure tried to focus.

"Okay then; what action differs in context and meaning?"

"Eh? How should we know? That's irrelevant to the subject we're studying; I refuse to answer that."

"You told me to give you my best shot; and it's relevant..."

"Indexicality."

"Say what?"

Mitsui cannot believe this;is he here only to humiliate himself? The situation he predetermined with Kogure was his choice to nourish his ego but it seems the other way around; moments such as this has been roundabout since Kogure started to bombard them questions from another galaxy, or perhaps he was just too nonchalant about them. Would one's knowledge with indirect objects help him to shoot three points in the court? Certainly not, but the moment he thought about this he himself became humiliated – what did Kogure call it? Yeah, a fallacy.

"Semiotics."

Rukawa muttered again, earning another lovely smile from Kogure. Secretly, that is.

Kogure sighed.

"And how is it relevant, may I ask Mr. Omnipresent?"

"When you write a clause in your prose, say, 'that's very funny', it mostly means something is humorous, right?"

"So?"

"But when that clause is contextual in sarcasm, it may mean something other than something humorous,"

"Hmm..."

Mitsui's fingers started to caress his chin, a sign of thinking. Kogure sighed, somehow, in relief. Rukawa closed his eyes again.

"Okay, we'll start about judging assertions; I see that you failed deliberately on this part, Rukawa," he said, staring at the test paper which was bloodied from obvious bases.

"What kind of assertion is this – newspaper columnists criticized his work as prime minister?"

"Exaggeration; I mean, all of newspaper columnists? That's just overstated."

"Misleading."

Kogure sighed. "It's an over-general assertion; Mitsui was right that not all columnists would criticize the prime minister but to say that it's an exaggeration is another story. What about this one – I am a nurse?"

"Ambiguous."

"Vague."

"You're right Mitsui; it's vague, because it didn't denote what kind of nurse I am. Ambiguity means something else, Rukawa. Let's see... okay – kissing in public places is prohibited because it is against the ordinance."

Mitsui smirked. Rukawa's eyes opened wide. Kogure is confused.

"What?"

"Nothing..." Mitsui teased, his smile reaching up to his ears. "I don't know the answer. Do you, Rukawa?"

"Tautological."

"Wow. You know Kogure, Rukawa knows almost everything but why is he asking you to tutor him? It makes me wonder so many things..."

"Shut up."

"Got your weakness, eh, Rukawa?" Mitsui laughed sarcastically then. Kogure's brows have been furrowing the whole time of the conversation though; as much as he would want to smack the hell out of Mitsui for not helping him – at all – to avoid reminiscing what happened, he just couldn't, evidently because Mitsui was his best friend.

"You're right, Rukawa. This one then – the sunset is lovely; and because we have money we will have dinner,"

"Misleading."

"You're right; hence you must take the right road,"

"Ambiguous."

"Get a life; you are insecure and thus get a life,"

"Strawman fallacy."

"Get a life; you are insecure because you don't have a life,"

"Red herring."

"Hey... hey! What the hell is going on?" Mitsui's apprehension was blissful in terms of teasing the russet-eyed; but of course he should at least play the role of a mediator to further the things in terms of amusement and anything else Kogure and Rukawa would feel.

"Why did you ask to be tutored, Rukawa?"

"I failed my subject."

"You chose to fail your subject; you could perfect an exam for Pete's sake,"

"Yeah, Rukawa, tell us – honestly it's been vastly intriguing me how you answered Kogure's question precisely when you've been dozing in your classes."

Kogure sighed. Mitsui fixed his stare. Rukawa gulped.

"I want his company."

TBC