Veritas: Sans

Chapter 2

By Celeste

Note: I'm a little rusty and any comments is much appreciated.

The court echoes now, an indication he's the only one in it, again. He'll clean up, make the floors reflect his image and maybe think a little, on the day, on the sport, on his life, on the girl (and on the guy?) He picks up the ball again, and starts dribbling it. Moderate, fast then faster, he couldn't stop, he wouldn't stop; it felt too good.

They had an altercation of sorts, or maybe it wasn't, he wouldn't know. They hadn't been fighting for a long time now, more of just radiating casual enmity between two team mates. They worked well together, they both had to grudgingly admit that, and when they did, the kicking stop, because (he thinks) their legs are so valuable, and his are pretty damn sexy. The Kitsune's were like sticks.

It was weird how it started, because he didn't even know it did. Somehow he was talking to the Gorilla, and suddenly he was thrown back, a ball hit his chest and the fox's hand was propped on the release. Kitsune looked at his hand and muttered an oops, but of course that didn't help.

He's dribbling on the half court now, practicing his jump shots, they weren't perfect, he would eventually admit that, but it was getting there-- fast. He didn't feel the muscles straining, or how his jersey was soaked with sweat, what he did feel was an amazing high, he can do anything and he is everything, and hopefully he'll prove that someday, to her.

She's beautiful, his muse, perfect except for that one slight hitch of her making googly eyes at a certain team mate which will now go unnamed but not uncursed or maybe a little unvoodooed (he recently purchased a book from Yohei that could be an interesting science experiment). She still had eyes for him, though.

She watched him eagerly, noticing the improvement, the power, and (if he does say so himself repeatedly) the greatness. She constantly repeats that he and her brother make a good team. That all of them combined make the best team. She gazes up at him like he was superman, and for her, he wishes he really was. He'd save her, from what he doesn't know, but he knows he needs to save her back.

He still doesn't like it when she stares at Kitsune, but a lot of people do, of varied genders, he must admit. He nests the ball at the crook of his arm and scratches his chin. He still remembers each play; he wouldn't admit to the other player's brilliance, he will admit that he had potential.

He wondered, as he practiced his dribbling, what it would be like to have all those girls follow him, chase after and (at one time it happened) throw lingerie on the court while screaming madly. Finally, he'd admit, he wouldn't really like it all that much. Although he felt, he at least would be a little friendlier.

Fat chance, a voice said. It was in his mind, but it oddly sounded like someone he knew.

He ran to the free throw line of the other half court, shoes squeaking with each step.

He was long past throwing a free throw shot at a low point, but it still garnered him great success. He threw a few shots; his whole body tingling to hear the net and the ball make contact and that familiar uplifting sound of a swish.

His mind wandered to the three on three matches the gorilla established, and how, for some reason, when Rukawa was on the other team, he could feel him looking. To guard him? To see his next move? But he knew what it looked with other players, this looked weird.

He stopped, he knew the time and he'd clean up, it'll only take an hour, maybe more, but he needed to sleep early, he didn't want to get hit with a box full of chalk by an ornery professor because for some reason they find it offensive that he was sleeping.

He remembered there were a couple of balls outside. Thrown overenthusiastically by two squabbling teenagers. It was fun, those fights. Once there was no bloodshed, he realized, it was actually distressing, especially before a big game.

He went outside and felt the crisp night air. He let his eyes adjust to the lack of light and tried to gauge how far he could've thrown that ball.

"It's here."

What?

He looked to see the Kitsune sitting beside the doors, his back leaning on the walls on the outside of the gym. He saw that the balls were there, four to be in fact and at least none of them were damaged.

He stopped, hesitated, was he there for a fight? It didn't appear so. In fact, after saying those two words, Kitsune appeared to go back to his natural disposition of sleep. He quickly went to the balls and picked it up and hoped to clean up before it got too dark.

As he goes inside, you suddenly here it, except he doesn't pause just goes straight in. He runs to the storage to quickly put the balls away. He'll clean up tomorrow; it's probably getting too dark.

As the water hits his head and he turns to let it drizzle on his shoulder blades, he hear it again, and in his head

It's perplexing why her.

He thinks of so many questions, and so many reasons why that was said. One of which was the admiration might be not as one sided as the girl thinks.

He shakes his head, he had to admit, it wasn't because of that. He knows more than he lets on, but showing it will take time.