His desire to take on Mitsui had clearly taken on a new urgency. Oddly, though, it wasn't for the same reason of the battle-for-ace title. As a matter of fact, Rukawa was rather apologetic about the way he exposed his vulnerability and bad self-esteem to the senior. To somewhat make up for his mistake, he would always be the last to leave the stadium for days, with the tenacity to fight the urge of challenging Mitsui again. While this awkwardness was running its course, Rukawa was, for the most part, restraining his competitive side which was, needless to say, a huge part of his being. And that in itself was an achievement.
Ever since that episode in the rain, the senior had been trying to resolve the tension by bridging their gap by also staying late in he stadium after practice. Should the freshman's offer come to be uttered, Mitsui resolved he would accept it, without a comment or two.
But it didn't come.
"I thought you'd like to take me on?" Mitsui asked one night, strictly out of curiosity.
"…"
"One week ago you were pervasive enough to suffer the rain for a one-on-one…What happened?"
"It's not gonna prove anything."
The flickering light in the corner seemed to lend an atmosphere to the silence that followed.
"That time-did I say something wrong? If so, please accept my apology."
There was a look of concern drawn all over the senior's face.
"One-on-one doesn't prove anything. We're two different players. It's pointless."
"Oh."
Rukawa resumed his occupation. Minutes passed and Mitsui realized that the point of staying any longer refused to unravel itself, so he packed his stuff and headed to the showers.
For all his articulation, Rukawa knew he had spoken against his will. His desire to play against Mitsui was steadily growing for no understandable reason. It was beyond him. As a matter of fact, he had long ago abandoned the theory that 1-on-1 would finally reveal who the true ace was. The greater issue, however, was that he was no longer interested in finding the answer to that. Without any warning, a budding admiration for Mitsui was starting to swallow him whole.
But how then should he proposition a match without having to make it sound like a completion?
The biggest question, however, overshadowed the other perplexities of his position. What exactly was it that was pushing him to challenge the senior? He pondered in a staggering amount of denial if he still wanted to prove something. Or was it as simple as wanting to be…gulp…near him?
..
Kiyota Nobunaga rubbed the fine patterns of the armchair he was sitting on, sighing occasionally at the discomfort of the familiar environment. Mrs Komamura, his psychiatrist, had been shooting him a series of almost offensive examining glances.
"Let me get this straight; you can't stand his presence but you can't stand not seeing him for three days, am I correct?"
"No!" the freshman retorted in alarming annoyance, "What I'm saying is, I can't stand the way he acts and goes around with stuff in the same sense I can't stand not playing basketball with him."
"Kiyota-kun, that's pretty much the same."
"It is?"
"Yes. Now, tell me exactly and please elaborate. What are the things he does that make you uncomfortable?" Kiyota let out a huge sigh and shook his head as if the level of complexity of what he was about to impart equaled that of a 5000-piece jigsaw puzzle.
"I've never won a game against him. Not once. We've been playing almost every day for two weeks now and I always lose, like always. It's becoming dreadfully repetitive I might as well run around in full circles for hours on end."
"Hmmm…do you think you're getting better each day?"
"Of course; he teaches me stuff; he's almost like my personal mentor or something. But I suspect he gets better each day too and that's why I can't win." Kiyota finished, a grave look of disappointment shadowing his normally cheerful face.
"You want to defeat him?"
"Hell yeah."
"Do you think you can?"
"No."
The baffled Mrs Komamura began scribbling notes on her tablet which took her a considerable amount of time.
"You don't think you can defeat him yet you persistently go on knocking on his door every other day. You even go as far as claiming you can't stand him…why?"
A look of indignation and irritation struck Kiyota's expression so suddenly it seemed as though someone had made a humorlessly moronic suggestion of some sort.
"That's what I'm here for! I mean, that's what you're here for! I've been asking you that for how many days now!"
"Okay, calm down, Kiyota-kun. Let's, uh, let's skip that, and we'll deal with it later." She said, unfolding her glasses. "Next question; how does this person treat you? Is he impolite or perhaps, insensitive?"
"He's polite enough to open a grocery store's door for a robber. He never scorns my game and when I screw up he always gives me this we'll-work-on-that look. He often praises my me. I'm telling you, he's Mr Gorgeous Boy Next Door, Straight-A Jock, Kindness Incarnate, Perpetual Sportsman, Ideal Golden Child all rolled into one heck of a human being that is Kenji Fujima."
"Hmmm…Why do you despise him?"
An outburst of fits threatened to follow. Luckily, the rookie managed to get a hold of himself.
"I don't hate him. I just can't stand him because…because the more I see him, the more he infects me…"
"Please go on. Tell me exactly what you're complaining about."
"I—I can't stop thinking about him. I always picture his moves, the way he shoots, dribbles, rebounds, steals a ball. Come to think of it, even the way he looks at the road when he drives is a sight to behold, kinda. I just…" he trailed off and cupped his chin with his hand before letting it slide all the way up to his forehead. He again sighed, somehow feeling unburdened by finally confessing the things that had so long been shrouding his path to understanding what he was really feeling.
It was Mrs. Komamura's turn to speak.
"The things he does may have a certain appeal to you. Do you wish to be like him?"
There was a long pause, then, "Yeah."
"Does it scream insecurity?"
"No. I wouldn't be happy if he messes up but, yeah, I very much wish to be on the same level, skills-wise."
"You want to be near him?" she asked very slowly
"Yes."
She shut the tablet she was holding, placed her pen on the pen holder and rested her elbows on the table, exuding an air of professional confidence.
"Well, Kiyota-kun, this seems to be a case of, well—it doesn't have a scientific name, though I'm quite sure it's just a form of admiration, maybe adoration…if not worship or obsession…but, is there anything else you wish to tell me?" The psychiatrist said with confidence, knowing she still had not heard it all.
"I get nervous when he's near. I even blush…Dammit! Now I've said it! Aaargh!" Kiyota suffered a great deal panting after the confession.
"I knew it. Well, time's up, Kiyota-kun. But this may be is a mild case of, uh, infatuation, crush, if I may be allowed to say so."
"? ?" Kiyota stared at her, open-mouthed in aghast.
"What you should do is embrace the moment, seize the day. There's nothing to be upset about; he seems very nice to you. Don't spend your nights thinking about him. Just try to get a decent sleep. And I think you like him very much; you're just pushing yourself to believe otherwise. And there is where your problem lies."
TBC