Something felt off and it wasn't his shoelaces – he checked them twice, so he wouldn't trip. They can't afford to lose another match – and Chiaki was aware of the fact as he worriedly glanced at his teammates.

Their solemn looks didn't exactly encourage him. Because things were looking grim. If he lost -

Being negative won't help me. All I have to do is stick with my plan…

Yes, he has to be quirky about it. Tori was by all means unpredictable man/lover… but Chiaki knew of a way to get him. His guilty pleasure of watching karate movies will finally come in handy (maybe) as his casual moves are different from all his teammates. He didn't even test them out during their final training on Thursday… but it's going to work!

Tori knew him very well, he had to come up with something in order to confuse him. Doing a fighting style in a dodge ball match sounds stupid right?

It's because it's stupid it's a great idea and the best way to unsettle an opponent like Tori.

Chiaki grinned. And, truth to be told – he did drink before he got here – to get in the fighting style, but he's more sober than drunk – his vision is clear and he's not wobbly. Then, when the tide shifts in his favor – he delivers the finishing blow.

"Are you alright? Now that I look at you… your cheeks are… flushed a bit." A feminine voice from behind him tore him from his inner musing. It was An, the ref in red. Chiaki flashed a smile, flexing. "I'm okay. When are we beginning?" He asked, walking to stand behind the white line, for the initial dash.

She followed his gaze and saw that… was that her imagination? An shook head. Nah, just her head playing tricks on her. There is no way someone would show up at a important match like this drunk, right?

When they stood and did the last stretches, it became painfully obvious that the challenger is wobbly at his feet.

Hatori gaped at him in disbelief. Just a minute ago, he was fine and now – he's acting like… "Chiaki, did you drink alcohol before coming here?"

To his surprise, said man giggled. "You're worried? That's so sweet of you."

"Of course I'm worried. It seems unfair to battle against someone who's as smashed as you are now, Chiaki."

He pouted. I'm not so drunk, I can still think clearly.

"Don't hold back, Tori. Because I'm not planning on losing our match."

Seemingly uncomfortable, he turned to the refs for guidance. "Hey, I know this is nothing like professional dodge ball, but still, we're honoring the most basic rules, so can he compete like this?" He pointed at Chiaki, who rolled eyes.

He knew what Tori was aiming for with this speech. Getting disqualified, huh? Aikawa eyed him and sighed. "Are you really drunk?" She asked loudly. Even the men on tribunes heard her. Some gasps (and angry grunts) followed.

Very smugly, Chiaki recited quickly the alphabet from backwards as he toed the white line several times before he reached the beginning of alphabet. His grin grew, when he saw the bewilderment from both refs, who shared a glance and – "He's sober enough to compete! The match will commence! Contenders, get in your positions!"

Hatori chuckled to himself. He's planning something. He knew Chiaki and he didn't get wasted often (if it didn't involve the two of them and bed) and he didn't drink in general, because he was a lightweight.

But then, why…?

If he's trying to get me curious, then he succeeded. Otherwise, I don't have a clue why'd he drink before our match.

He strut towards the other white line, eyes linked on Chiaki who stood so still, like a carved statue, face blank.

He must be concentrating… And somehow, I feel unsettled. I can't tell what he's thinking at all.

Hatori's hands clenched, he focused on his team's strategy that paid off so far. If he lets him too close, Chiaki will undoubtedly trip up somewhere and that's where he'll get the point in a row. He didn't start training right away, and he knew his techniques were flawed and he didn't perfect any specific move, so this battle will be a battle of wits, minds and reflexes.

Let's just begin. The anticipation is going to kill me…

After silence settled and Tori tried to read Chiaki's expression at least seven times, the refs decided it's time to start.

"Alright! My body is ready… I mean, my mind is ready! The fourth match - Chiaki Yoshino versus Yoshiyuki Hatori will shortly begin. GEEET REEADY!" Overly excited Aikawa announced, while the ref in red, An held back the urge to laugh at her slip of tongue.

The contenders exchanged a last glance, when their eyes locked onto each other. Chiaki smiled, breaking his black face and Hatori tensed.

An and Aikawa shared decisive look and both nodded.

WHISTLE

Nerve – wrecked Hatori started a bit off, and Chiaki got to the balls first, claiming the middle ball and trailing off, half of the court separated them.

Seeing that, Hatori cursed under his breath and grabbed the remaining two balls and dashed back, to his side and created much more room between them that was necessary. In order to draw Chiaki out, he needed him to get closer. That being said, the first shots will likely miss.

WHISTLE

They weren't moving.

Chiaki's grip on the ball loosened. He'll start after the next whistling…

Oh boy, it may look ridiculous, but it's my sound strategy – to divert his attention from the real danger coming. If he thinks I'm goofing off, Tori won't see what hit him.

Hatori's bad feeling didn't vanish. Maybe he's just over thinking it.

WHISTLE WHISTLE

Soon after he heard the whistle, Hatori made the three steps, while… he halted, because he was too… appalled? No, that's not the right word – he was rooted to the spot because of what Chiaki was doing.

Chiaki started teetering to one side, then the other and eventually he looked like a really bad drunk, trying to hold himself standing upright and properly in a valiant, but fruitless effort. The ball balanced in his right hand, while he took "sips" from something invisible every now and then. And to crown that all, Chiaki was giddily grinning.

Hatori's anger exploded. "What the hell is this? Chiaki, are you kidding me?!" He exclaimed loudly, awaiting an answer, but all he got was more of the strange drunken behavior.

He once again turned to refs for help. "He can't play like this! He's acting very foolishly! He's wide open! I want a fair match!"

Seemingly struck by the situation, the refs, An and Aikawa grinned. "Well, it's your chance then! I can't call the match until it's hit & lose for either of you." Aikawa said calmly.

Hatori inwardly sighed, but then he saw the truth of it. She's right. But…

What's this… moving around in one place good for? Chiaki, what's this ruse about?

The second editor of Emerald smirked uncharacteristically, making the two more jumps, while Chiaki just continued… whatever he was doing. It almost seemed like a martial arts move…

Haven't I seen this somewhere before…?

On the third step/jump, he threw a pretty accurate ball at him, aiming for his mid section, thinking he won't dodge it.

The ball was moving at him and Chiaki's eyes widened. It's here, the moment of truth! He anticipated it and right before it hit him, he bend over, taking a swig from the imaginary bottle, doing his best to hold back that grin, but it was hard. Because he knew that Tori will be so pissed when he sees how easily a "drunken man" evaded his throw.

I'm just baiting you closer, Tori. All I need is one shot. One shot.

And he continued doing his jig, balancing. If it looked ridiculous, he didn't care anymore. This style has one purpose and he's accomplishing it, judging from the look on Tori's face.

Getting your opponent riled up and angry, so their guard is down.

His mirth erupted in a set of giggles, as he continued his drunken style. And Tori didn't like it. "ENOUGH OF THIS MOCKERY!"

His second throw was right on money – his head, right between the eyes (maybe he pushed his buttons too much) and only his reflexes saved him from a ball to the head. He bent so far down, he saw the ceiling.

And now, he was out of balls. Chiaki still had the one in his right hand. After it missed him by mere centimeters, Chiaki switched to praying mantis style so quickly, his arms were in fluid motion and Hatori found himself unable to look away.

And basically, he didn't have the right to move, since Chiaki didn't do steps forward yet. Realizing he fell into his trap, he paled.

He had to evade. Then, he can move freely!

The manga author felt like it was the perfect time to launch his Topple Shot – praying mantis style edition. If Tori evaded…

Don't think, shoot!

Like a real praying mantis, he gripped the ball from both sides, and released it. The ball was so fast, even he couldn't see it.

Hatori blinked in confusion.

Where did the ball go?! I can't just stand here! I've to move out of its way!

With that in mind, Hatori's feet automatically moved to the right, feeling safer - something hit him so hard, the impact sent him flying. Hatori let out a grunt of pain and gritted teeth, as he landed 6 feet away.

He landed on his butt, another grunt and chain of curses escaped his mouth upon realization and the ball that flounced off the walls.

Chiaki doubled over, feeling sick.

Yuck.

WHISTLE WHISTLE

"Wow! I'm impressed! I've seen real kung fu styles in action! Give a round of applause for the winner, Chiaki Yoshino!" Aikawa said. Only An politely clapped and stopped immediately. In the meanwhile, others joined them.

Hatori gathered himself up, ignoring the refs squealing as he went straight for Chiaki, who was looking sick. He was already trapped between his worried teammates and the only doctor in this bunch, Kusama Nowaki. He bent down and touched his shoulder. "Yoshino -san! Are you okay?"

He shook head vehemently. "I shouldn't have done the drunken style… ugh… need… barf…" Upon hearing the word barf, Misaki and Shinobu grabbed him from both sides and pulled him up, taking him away (probably towards the nearest bathroom).

A very worried Hatori followed after them, excusing himself.

The rest exchanged glances. Well, they won this match at least.

Yoshino will be back later. And as the team captain, he has to take ensure they win. He didn't want to go up sooner, because he wanted to scout the opponents strategy, but it's high time he stepped up.

Before he could move a muscle, Aikawa giggled loudly and put her hand in air. "Alright, alright! The score is 2:2 and I'm ready for another spectacular match! Who wants to go up as next?"

Hiroki stepped forward and the doctor gulped dryly, fishing in his pocket and after a few moments, he put on… protective goggles…?

"I'm ready, Hiro –san."

The literature teacher warily gazed at him and his gaze stopped at the goggles. He's really worried if he put on goggles.

Well, he should be!

"So, can I have your names…?" An weakly asked, approaching them. This time around, Aikawa gathered the balls.

"Name's Hiroki Kamijou."

"And I'm Kusama Nowaki."

An nodded twice in acknowledgment and turned to others. "Um, the fifth match will be starting soon… " She started and they started walking off.

Hiroki scoffed as he walked to the white line.

This match is as good as won. Nowaki stands no chance.

Nowaki smiled at him and Hiroki nodded shortly, as they stood face – to face.

TO BE CONTINUED_