No sooner than Rukawa reached the exit to the park did the rain begin pouring down mercilessly, leaving him pointlessly seeking shelter for he had been soaking wet from sweat to start with.
As he treaded the sidewalk parallel to the basketball court, he could see Mitsui firing shots into the basket. The magnitude of the rain would unquestionably blur one's view of the hoop and it would be nearly impossible for the ball to bounce off the concrete floor if one should consider the amount of water on it. But the senior appeared to have no plans of abandoning his activity. Instead, he relentlessly pestered the lifeless metal rim without signs of wanting to surrender to the unpleasant weather.
Rukawa found himself watching the senior with considerable alertness while he himself unknowingly became invulnerable to the cold wind himself.
The senior managed to pull 9/12 baskets in spite of the weather, which was kind enough to leave him with virtually nothing to steer his shooting arms to the right path. That should do it, he thought. He was reaching for the drenched towel on the bench when he, as if remembering something, suddenly thought against it. He turned back to grab the ball again and positioned himself in thirteen feet of diagonal distance from the basket. Without ceremony, he ran to the post with the ball still locked in his hands. He then launched off from five feet downtown, to Rukawa's great surprise. From there, he slammed the ball into a dunk. He finished his little show by landing directly below the post, still oblivious to the pair of cold blue eyes that had been covertly watching him for quite some time now.
The raven-haired boy stood rooted on the spot. Although the senior was only three centimeters shorter than he was, it never graced Rukawa's thoughts that Mitsui was of the slam dunking type/material. Upon deliberation, he deduced that if Kiyota Nobunaga's height warranted him a ticket for the fancy shot, it wouldn't be of great surprise if Mitsui was also capable of the same. But why was he not doing it in actual games?
As much as he refused to believe it, Rukawa himself was a bit of a show-off. He wouldn't miss an opportunity to exhibit his abilities to the extent of their limits. Pieces of thoughts began parachuting into his skull to gradually produce the pesky question "Is it really necessary to be all fancy?"
What he saw unquestionably ambushed him with how unexpected it was. So without feeling forced to do so, Rukawa braved the rain and traced his steps back to the basketball court.
…
"Sempai." The rain had not yet subsided, thus the freshman had to increase his volume to make the senior notice him.
"Oh, er, I'm done now…you need something, Rukawa?"
"One-on-one?" Rukawa said in a more than a little daunting tone.
His offer was met by nothing more than a blank stare. And then,
"If you haven't noticed, it's raining like there's not gonna be any rain left for the next ten years. Really, Mother Nature's gonna smack us black and blue for sure."
"I can see that." Rukawa said and deliberately shifted his gaze to the ball Mitsui was holding.
"Have you been watching me?" The senior asked accusingly.
Nod.
"Well, I simply needed to satisfy my occasional need of mindless crazy basketball, or something. And, now that it's done, I'm off to get myself dry." Mitsui said in his defense rather dismissively.
The rookie was watching his retreating back when Mitsui stopped in utter hesitation, to eventually turn his head to Rukawa,
"If you're still in pursuit of finding out who the ace of Shohoku is, it only means you're not giving yourself enough credit. Your persistence fails to cover your insecurities." He now turned the rest of his body to face the freshman, all the while chuckling meaningfully as if to cajole Rukawa out of his anti-social barrier. He continued, "Would it mean anything to you if I told you that you are ahead of me in all aspects of playing, that you surpass me in every statistical category? I guess not. You'd want to prove it yourself. Let me tell you this; I may not have a resource of unlimited stamina, nor do I possess the physical strength to slam the boards off its screws. Lastly, I certainly am not as driven as you are to prove the world I'm gonna make it big in no time. But, as I see it, you're also someone who gives the game more show than it needs. With all due respect, Rukawa, I don't think I'll lose to you."
Rukawa felt it was high time to use his rarely wasted words, but Mitsui had already commenced the continuation of his retreat.
…
Kiyota drummed his fingers on the dashboard along the beats of All American Rejects' "It Ends Tonight". The ride soon started to dissolve to an uncomfortable silence. With this, the rookie wanted so much to dissipate the gradually mounting awkwardness. But even the birds soaring several meters above them could sense that any mention of anything remotely related to basketball would surely blow the top off Fujima's car. And basketball seemed to be the only thing that connected him and the being next to him, who was practically a walking visual showcase.
Being this close to him, he marked how Fujima's angelic features were making him literally glow. In fact, his natural chestnut-colored head was most likely a source of envy for hair coloring manufacturers like L'oreal and Wella. In short, he was a living, breathing object of Kiyota's insecurities and intimidations.
"How long have you been driving?" Kiyota asked as the car glided in perfect coherence with the road's curves.
"About a year now. You have your driver's license already?"
"Yeah but thanks to my mom, I'm not allowed to drive on the highway." Kiyota said, frowning at the mention of highway.
"I see…haha…I figure Kainan's going under intense training."
The rookie forced a sigh, "Yeah, five hours daily." He figured he might have instead initiated the conversation by commenting on the level of the sky's blueness for it to inevitably land well on basketball, point blank, anyway. It was, in fact, the endless topic of discussion in Kiyota Nobunaga's life wherever he positioned himself into.
"That's to be expected. I have to commend you again for your performance." Fujima said just as the freshman was beginning to think the conversation had taken a turn he did not wish to pursue.
"…"
The senior shot him an amused look and returned his gaze on the road before continuing,
"I must say, your jumping ability's quite impressive, plus, your dribbling's way above rookie level."
Kiyota was now trapped between flattery and hilarity. Someone was actually exalting his performance on that accursed game whereas, earlier, he would have preferred to have been buried six feet under.
"So I have been told hahahaha!"
"That's the spirit."
…
The blue Toyota pulled to a stop right in front of Kiyota residence.
"Thanks for the ride…and for the game, Fujima-san."
"Don't mention it." At that, the senior released the brakes.
Kiyota had brushed past the foliage at their gate when Fujima pressed the brakes again to say,
"And for my comfort, call me Kenji." He zoomed off the narrow alley, waving his hand with his elbow resting on the half-open window.
…
Hanamichi Sakuragi would remain spaced out for classes on end for the following days. He had rented videos of And1 Mixed tapes and would watch them with much focus. Not a single move made by the players in the videos escaped his watchful eyes. He would rehearse those fancy tricks during non-practice sessions, and when it was finally time to put the fruits of his labor to test, he dialed Akira Sendoh's number and set an appointment at the public basketball court. This appointment would soon trigger its transition from a supposed one-time head-on challenge to a weekly or, make that, thrice-a-weekly routine.
"That's an improvement." came the sophomore's verdict, which was the first testimony to the redhead's success.
Their training became more and more frequent as they became warmer toward each other. Anyone venturing upon them would have easily accused them of having a very close relationship. For one thing, Sakuragi was sacrificing the nightly adventures with his Guntai of finding amusement for an hour of apprenticeship with Sendoh. As a result, his teammates would exhibit hints of amazement from his disturbing improvement. Of course, being the show off that he was, he would bask at his triumph without disclosing the source of his newfound wisdom of the game.
Before Sendoh knew it, he was squeezing time with the redhead in-between his tight schedule. There was no feeling of reluctance in what he had chosen to do because there was also no point denying that the redhead was good company. But their meetings could, of course, not always run a permanently smooth course.
Ring.
"Sendoh residence." Answered a woman's voice.
"May I speak with Akira Sendoh please." Sakuragi asked courteously.
"Uhm, he's gone for a short vacation."
"Oh."
"Uhm, is this Hanamichi Sakuragi?"
"Yes."
"He left a message for you. Akira says he'll resume giving you lessons when he gets back. That's two weeks. That's all."
"I see. Thanks."
"Bye."
He collapsed on his bed. In his mind, he might as well prepare himself for a long period of intense boredom. He felt his patience evaporate, so much that he was almost at the point of accusing Sendoh of betrayal by neglecting his duties of training him. He searched the deepest crevices of his mind for certain activities that would keep him occupied for two weeks. Nothing. There's just no big-time thrill without him…Did I just say that? He shook his head in disgust. He could very much do without Sendoh for a few weeks. It was just that he…he missed him?
TBC