Hiroki shot him a glare, measuring the distance for the dash. Nowaki had the advantage (obviously), but one shouldn't write down Kamijou Hiroki out just yet.
By now, Hiroki gathered enough information on their strategy. And he had to give it to Takano – playing defensive wasn't what he thought they would do. Because his team is all on offensive. Offence is the best defense, as the popular saying goes.
He cracked his knuckles, staring down Nowaki, who visibly was nervous about their match.
Is he gonna be okay?
Hiroki snapped his fingers, bringing back his opponent from his spaced – out haze of mind. "Oi. I didn't train just so I could beat you in over a minute. Dish out your best, because I won't be holding back." He said solemnly.
His partner/lover cracked a sheepish, modest smile. "I'll try my best to defeat you, Hiro –san."
Now he looked away, scoffing (and slightly flustered). "Enough of this chit – chat, start the damned match." He addressed the refs, who weren't taking their sacred duty of calling the match seriously (he meant Aikawa, of course) and An scampered to them, looking from one determined man to the other.
"The fifth match will begin in a moment! Get in your positions!" She exclaimed, raising the whistle. Aikawa did the same, from the other side of playing field.
Nowaki's goggles were a bit loose, so when he bent down in his running position, they slid down a bit. Hiroki didn't bother getting a in pose. Foolish and pointless. It doesn't help the players at all, they only look "cooler" and that junk he wasn't into.
Only sports he ever did was kendo and swimming. Then, he watched some baseball. And when opportunity presented itself – this match – he utilized it and capitalized on it.
Hiroki only wondered if Nowaki came in with his own strategy at all, not counting their team strategy. He abruptly shook head.
Stop worrying about him! He's your opponent!
He caught a glimpse of the refs, who joined forces in the middle. The anticipation in the air could be sliced with a knife.
WHISTLE
He moved, taking in the rush and flurry of limbs that was Nowaki. He grabbed a ball and ran way past the starting white line. Hiroki didn't let the astonishment of Nowaki's quickness daze him; he grabbed a ball and calmly walked back to the white line, where he stood on it.
They left one ball untouched. Hiroki didn't grab the other one on purpose. He wants to see what Nowaki is going to do. How he's going to block his throws. Takano had precision aiming, just like him – but he made one fatal mistake.
He underestimated his opponent from the very beginning. Hiroki didn't want to repeat that mistake. He's the leader of red team (impromptu, but still a leader) and this point will be theirs.
WHISTLE
Hiroki looked across the playing field. Nowaki was muttering something obscure under his breath, a thin layer of sweat was forming on his forehead.
He's this scared of me? I said I won't go easy on him, but I don't plan on slaughtering anyone…
Distraught, Hiroki took a deep breath. Nowaki probably thought this is a revenge match – kind of is, but they are not playing to hurt each other.
WHISTLE WHISTLE
Right after hearing the signaling sound, he made the three steps, prolonging them as much as he could. He weighted the ball in his hand, getting Nowaki's undivided attention.
He threw his usual throws reserved for sleeping students, who were snoring loudly. It was fast. Hiroki was about to turn, shifting on one leg, when he heard gasps from the tribunes.
"Hiro –san. I'm not just going to take that hit."
Perplexed, he glanced back. The ball was in his hands. Nowaki caught his ball.
That's impossible! How did he…?!
He let go of his ball in favor of catching the thrown ball. Was that acceptable in the conditions of the match? He eyed the refs, who didn't stop the match yet. Then, it must be fine.
Hiroki's lips curled up a little smile. Nowaki came prepared. That's good. He's hate to have an easy victory.
Time to get serious.
Nowaki looked determined to see it through and win, by the looks from it. Hiroki' smile got even wider. "I'm now looking forward to your move, Nowaki. Don't miss. If you miss, I'm going to show you my special attack." He said, antagonizing him (to make it more likely he'll miss, because anger and precision don't go hand in hand) and Nowaki just curtly nodded.
His huge steps accounted for two of Hiroki's and the third one made the shooting range ideal for shooting. Dodging from a close distance like they had was going to be tricky.
I'm not dodging. I'll get the ball.
Nowaki's jaw tightly clenched as he concentrated, swinging the ball around in his hand, which made Hiroki question Nowaki's strategy. Because if that was meant to serve as a thro-
His eyes widened, a ball out of nowhere was shot at him. He raised his arms, trying to lock on to the ball -
He closed eyes, half –way praying he caught it. Something sturdy, and hard was stuck in his hands (AN – you dirty sinners, what did you think of) as he opened his eyes, gaping at the ball. He actually caught it.
Nowaki, who wasn't bound by the three steps any longer, rushed as far away from him as he could, grabbing the ball he got in the initial dash. He halted, seemingly in disbelief that his throw was caught and neutralized.
Hiroki scarcely believed it himself, but if the refs didn't call the match yet, he's still in the game. They had a staredown of wills. Hiroki made two steps, while Nowaki didn't move, sweating.
"I've got to hand it down to you, Nowaki. You almost got me. But, unfortunately for you, almost doesn't count. I said I would deliver my special attack. This is your last shot." He said, drawing out the words, while Nowaki shook head. "It's not over! I'll win!"
Hiroki narrowed eyes.
Then, they moved at once. Nowaki again with that whirl ball move, while Hiroki grinned, getting in the pitching position he mastered recently, his eyes zooming in for the best spot – his collarbone. "Feel the Crusher Shot!"
Nowaki released his shot a moment later, when Hiroki's speedy ball was already in midway to the receiver. Hiroki braced himself, he only saw it for a brief moment. "Shit!" He cursed, doing a sideroll. It almost brushed against his left leg.
Relieved that it didn't make contact, Hiroki straightened up only to be met by a shriek.
Oh no, did I overdo it?!
With raging emotions, he seized him. Nowaki was on the floor, his goggles flew off his face. Hiroki realized his ball picked up too much speed and hit him in the face.
WHISTLE WHISTLE
Hiroki ran up to him to him, when Nowaki sat up palpating his nose. Soon after, blood dripped.
He paled and Hiroki helped him stand up, feeling guilty. To his surprise, Nowaki laughed and bumped forehead with him. "Hiro –san, I'm glad it's over with."
The professor shook head, angry at him. "You idiot! No, that's not what I meant to say. I mean, I'm sorry – I was aiming for collarbone, but it went a bit higher."
"It's fine, Hiro –san."
"No, it isn't! You need to stop that bleeding."
"S-sure, Hiro –san."
They were joined by others, but Hiroki was adamant on stopping the bleeding. It was his fault, after all. He dragged his lover towards the tribunes, where Nowaki's medical kit was stashed.
Four men, who didn't participate yet shared glances with teammates. It all rode on them now.
A cough (irritated cough) came from the left, where Aikawa stood with hands on her sides. "Those two just up and left. What about match and score summary?"
An, who gathered the balls while Nowaki and Hiroki had an after – match moment patted her. "It's okay, Aikawa –san. Now -"
The main door flung open and Misaki, Shinobu, Chiaki and Hatori came back. "Did we miss much? Oh, the match is over? Who won?" Chiaki asked, with more color in his face than after his match.
An sighed, calling them closer. "Kamijou –san won. The score is 3:2 for the red team. And as I recall, four gentlemen have yet to play a match. Anyone brave stepping up?" An called them out.
Yuu stared daggers at Mino, who shrugged, nudging Yukina who was next to him in the shoulder, suggestively. The artist bit his lip.
He had to play, there was no avoiding that.
Kisa sighed inwardly. He didn't want to wait any longer, getting anxious. "Yukina, it's our turn."
Said man nodded, because words were caught in his throat.
All others went back to sit down. Yukina did his last squats, while Kisa was going over his move - set in mind.
The sixth match of this evening was about to start soon.
TO BE CONTINUED_