The Boy is Mne
Disclaimer: I don't own SD boys, Inoue does. The events that follow are not included in the original plot but enjoy anyway.
A/N: First of all, I want to thank all those who reviewed and those who still find time to read this. I'm uploading this next chapter in such a short notice because I don't want the idea to disappear around the bend, just like many times before. I think that's the reason why I've had lapses before and yeah, what a total bitch that is. In any case, buckle up for a long and lonely chapter.
Chapter V
To veer away from the standard cliché, Rukawa wouldn't say that it was like a dream. Of course he had occasional urges to dub it as a "dream come true" but the truth was, as his inner feelings dictated, it was more than just a dream come true.
In fact, in recalling the event, he could barely associate himself with the person who participated in the kiss. Indeed, it was like watching somebody else perform it. And yet, somehow, he was that person. And more importantly, it wasn't a dream.
It had been two days since the landmark event. The nameless flavor of the kiss still lingered on his tongue and the afterglow shone even brighter. It wasn't the kind of kiss that could be erased/remedied by one good night's sleep; in Rukawa's case, it had been two sleepless nights.
So in the morning, he parked his bike in front of the Shohoku building, at the safest distance to the entrance door. According to the gym policies there was no practice game that day, as it was Monday. The school administration wanted to allot enough study time for athletes, only it failed to register to them that athletes never ever helped themselves academically. Unless it was Gori or Kogure, both of whom being too careful to make the most of their free hours by reviewing. Contrarily, Rukawa spent his time trying to regain his lost sleep during lectures.
From morning onwards he didn't come across Mitsui. He kept himself calm then, recalling that normally, outside team practices, he didn't bump into the senior whose classroom was located two floors below the freshmen's. Upon dismissal he descended immediately to the ground floor, his bike's padlock jangling inside his pants' pocket. He carefully released the chains, eventually boarding on the vehicle when somebody from behind him called his name.
"Rukawa,"
Rukawa turned around to see who the owner of the hearty greeting was.
It was Kiminobu Kogure sporting his perpetual appearance. He had on his pair of shiny glasses and a set of books was tucked under his arm. His uniform was speck-less, perfectly ironed and neatly buttoned up to the neck. Again, the senior's relaxed posture was something to envy and Rukawa wasn't quick to ignore this.
"Sempai." Rukawa replied, hoping that the exchange started and ended there.
"I was wondering if you could come with me." The older boy said. Rukawa stared at him for a moment. Lately their paths always seemed bound to intersect. It was sub-normal enough, but what was far odder was Kogure's wistful looks. As Rukawa couldn't find any excuse to decline and knowing that the senior couldn't possibly mean any harm, he agreed. Subsequently, he unlatched himself from his bike, following the senior as they ploughed their way through the pavement. The afternoon was kind of cool and breezy. The winds overlapped each other and the night threatened to dawn at them at any time.
They entered the park which was invariably teeming with young and rosy-looking people. All this time, none of both had ventured to speak. At first Rukawa had no idea where they were going, nor did he bother to question the senior. But as they neared the place, it became quite clear that Kogure didn't just happen to be where Rukawa was. None of it was accidental and in fact, Kogure sought him out. They sat down in the bench facing the fountain. All around them, the atmosphere had begun to change. The sun was about to sink, the current of the wind smoother and the clouds vanishing into the background of semi-darkness.
"How are you feeling, Rukawa?" Kogure said quietly, as though expecting the other to open up.
Rukawa uttered something close to a grunt, which the senior took as a "Fine."
"Well, I wouldn't recommend him." Kogure said just then.
Rukawa leveled his gaze to the fountain. At this point, he had give or take an outline as to how this talk was going to end up. The patterns of the cobbled steps, the current of the waters, the alternate splashes of the wind all pointed to one thing.
"Who?"
"Mitsui."
"Well?" Rukawa said, giving his best to absorb the scenario. Was Kogure another rival for Mitsui's love? Was he there to prevent Rukawa from getting close to Mitsui? If he was, Mitsui proved to be more popular than Rukawa led himself to believe. And as he thought of it, he realized that it wasn't that far from happening. After all, if there was one person who was most accustomed to Mitsui and his irrational behavior, it was the person sitting beside him.
"Well?" Kogure echoed Rukawa. "I'm no fool when it comes to things like this. I've seen the way you look at him and I could only wish that you'd give as much thought to yourself. You see, Mitsui has these certain tendencies."
"What do you mean?" Rukawa almost snapped. He couldn't as of yet grasp Kogure's motive; if he cared about Rukawa's well-being, that was understandable. But if he was going to slander Mitsui, that would be incomprehensible.
"I don't know. He can hardly decide for himself. And often, when he does the right thing, there's always trouble behind it. Large amount of it. Now think if you get involved with--"
"Do you want him too?" Rukawa blurted out before he could stop himself. He couldn't think of anything else that would make Kogure say those things unless they shared the same feelings for Mitsui, and what a normal thing that was to have in common. He waited for an answer; the longer he stayed with the senior, the clearer it got that it was an error to join him for a little talk in the park.
Kogure let out a little laugh. As he did so, his shoulders shivered for a bit. He then shook his head gently, humorously, as though Rukawa just said something very ignorant and funny. It took him long before he knew where to begin.
"I don't think we have identical problems here, Rukawa." he said.
"Then why say this?" Rukawa said. He was standing up to Kogure, holding on to his obstinacy for whatever it was going to be worth. Who the hell does he think he is to convert me? There was an accusing glint in his eyes.
"Oh, brother." Kogure said rather nervously. He got the message loud and clear alright. "Let me first go on record saying that Mitsui is hardly my type, and you even less, which goes to say that I wouldn't interfere with your affairs if my intentions were to snag either of you. As you may very well know, Mitsui remains one of my great friends. Yes, even if you consider our vast differences. I wouldn't dare credit him for anything less than the truth. You do know that he has something going on with that guy from Ryonan, Sendoh?"
"Yes." Rukawa muttered his infamous monotone. While Kogure must've been a man of many talents, it was quite apparent that convincing wasn't among them.
"Well, there you go." Kogure smiled.
"He doesn't love him."
"I wouldn't put it that way. Not when our subject's mind is as alterable as your mood. Besides, 'love' is a strong word, almost nonnegotiable. Do you think it matters at the present if he loves Sendoh or not? And if he doesn't, what advantage is that to you?" Kogure phrased, his words begging to be pondered right away. For a seemingly will-less person, he was very well-versed in the world.
Rukawa zipped his mouth closed, resigned to speechlessness for as long as Kogure could possibly bear. There was a depthless silence that cut invisibly between them. He rewinded his thoughts to two days back when Mitsui surprised him with what he termed as the dreamy kiss. It wasn't a guarantee that love was present there, or that it would be present in the future. Rukawa was in love with Mitsui, that was given, but did that love deserve to be reciprocated? Or better yet, did Mitsui deserve being in love with?
"Listen, I'm rather inclined to be sorry to know that you have feelings for him. Some people can't help being attracted to Mitsui, as a person. Yes, he is very charming, indeed more charming than actually...er... how do I put this? Handsome? Maybe. At any rate, Rukawa, I think there's a great need for you to know that Mitsui isn't a one-man person. Judging from the way he treats both you and Sendoh, there's a huge deal going on inside him. On the surface, he must seem something else; underneath, there's no telling."
"I don't think I know where you're getting at, sempai."
"But you do remember the manner in which he returned to the basketball club?"
"Yes."
"He had to be beaten up badly before he saw things in the right light and that's not to add the two years he spent being wasted in between. It was like he was fluttering on each side, losing his grip from a solid identity. Do you get why I mean?"
"Maybe."
"I hope you mean the best by that." Kogure said. "You see, times are hard for him, harder than he'd prefer to show. Sometimes he does things without worrying about the consequences. Along the way, he hurts people. He does, in all truths. All you have to do is open your eyes."
"You seem to know much about him." Rukawa offered. True; if Kogure could speak of Mitsui that way, it would have to mean that their relationship was more or less intimate.
"Much, and more." Kogure mumbled. Even without words, his knowledge seemed to have been etched in his eyes, and what choice did everyone have but take his word for it?
"You haven't answered me. Why are you telling me this?" Rukawa said as he summoned up the courage to ask.
Kogure emitted a tired sigh. "I've been there, been shown around and back." he said slowly, as though he'd been explaining the same long thing for countless times now.
"You just said he's not your type." Rukawa muttered. He hoped he wouldn't appear too convinced but at this rate, any attempt at indifference was quite futile.
"No, not anymore." Kogure faced the freshman. There was sympathetic, almost hurt look on his face and if it wasn't for the semi-darkness of the sky, Rukawa would've been liable to witness something much more dramatic. "It wasn't because of what he did to me, but because of what he did not. Mitsui... he gives you the impression that he has something special for you. And who knows if he really does. But right in the end he breaks you, without knowing it. He goes on as carefree as ever and for that, you nearly couldn't blame him. Who would? If you ask me, he scarcely knows how many hearts he's breaking."
"You didn't get angry with him?" Rukawa said and in thus doing, he showed more interest than he ever did all throughout the conversation.
"No. I couldn't afford to be angry. Do you think I would go on being tight friends with him had I been half furious? Not a chance. Instead, I was angry with myself. Maybe I still am, lord knows. I'm just glad that's all behind me. And geez, it wasn't an easy thing to do, trying to get over. Definitely not something a nice coffee table talk could repair."
"I understand." Rukawa replied. He didn't intend to agree; those words, they just came out as though his insides were bursting to spit them out. All this time he had been trying so hard to dole out the most appropriate responses to Kogure's remarks. In retrospect, being honest was the only way to get out of it alive. And yes, he understood now what Kogure had been dying to say to him, what he tried to hide behind his back but couldn't, after all.
"That's great to hear. Since he and Sendoh got together, he'd been absent many times. But let's give him the benefit of the doubt; just because he's often out of sight doesn't mean they're together as often. I only hope Mitsui hadn't yet done to you what he's done to him."
"Did he dump him already?" Rukawa said, rather more quickly than he'd expected. His temples began to beat with a barrage of guesses, some too horrid to remember.
"Not quite." Kogure frowned. "I walked in on them making out two--three days ago. I was to deliver some reviewers on Trigonometry, if my memory serves. And there they were, in the living room..." Seeing that Rukawa's face had turned whiter than a drained carcass', the senior fumbled. "Anyway, it's getting dark. Let's go."
Thus was the manner in which Kogure offered Rukawa his salvation; in a very peaceful, very wise way. They both stood up, each more pensive than they'd arrived. It had gotten really dark, so much so that they couldn't see anything but obscure glimpses of each other.
So that was Mitsui. That dog who'd wiggle one's feelings as though they were a stick or some inanimate, thoughtless, emotionless object he could easily smash to pieces in front of anybody. That was Mitsui, the good-looking charming guy who had nothing else to complement his cuteness. He was exactly the kind of bastard who'd fiercely make out with whomever he pleased and forget about it the very next day, hour or even moment.
Rukawa scowled in the dark. He felt like he'd been whacked in the head by a lightning rod, ready to tumble unto an utter daze. At this point, so many emotions fused within him; anger, guilt, jealousy, each one less distinguishable from the next.
It was the beginning of his fight against himself. And as all beginnings are, it had to thrive in confusion.
--
Time flew by like dolphins as the following day rapidly arrived. Rukawa got up from his bed, mechanically, and refused to remember what had been put to light yesterday. He wished he could easily turn into an appliance, which could be switched off any time of the day, abandoning all memories. But it wouldn't go away, that bit about Mitsui, when it was the memory he would've killed for just to forget. But can't one way or another.
As thus appointed, the practice game against Ryonan was to be held in the next fifteen minutes. Rukawa wasn't late for the first time. In one of the benches neatly positioned along the sidelines, he sat, not entirely brooding, but simply being there, like a blank, like a human-shaped gap where a presence should've been. On the hardwood were his team mates, all of whom were in their faithful practice apparel with the same forced excitement on their faces when in fact, deep inside, they were frightened to death of the up and coming practice match. Or at least, most of them were. In any event, Rukawa didn't feel the need to join the blunder-ridden masquerade. He was quite content in quietly criticizing his team mates' clowny attempts to make baskets. And nothing quite topped that contentment other than Sakuragi.
"Check this out, Mitchy!" the red-head burst out from the center. He was smack in the middle of the court, limbs positioned for a long jumper and arms raised; on the zenith of the tower he made was a basketball.
"What are you doing?" the senior asked.
"Well, just in case I'm stuck fast at a buzzer beater, and I'm too far gone from the basket, and I have the ball like this... I will..." soon as Sakuragi mumbled the last syllables, he released the ball from his clumsy clutches. It traveled in an almost straight arc through the air, zipped past the target and flew right through the window. Outside could be heard a clutter of metals, predictably sequeled by a series of cats' meows.
"Yeah. That's really, uh, let's see...heroic. It will save us from losing, that will." Mitsui was grinning and upon seeing that Sakuragi was returning his smile, he added, "Anyway what I'm trying to say is, that sucked shit. You're breaking my heart. Your shooting makes me want to kill myself. And if you ever try doing that in the game, you'll have all of us to answer to."
"Geez, I was only trying. Why don't you do it then?" Sakuragi retorted in a much changed attitude.
"I won't pretend to be good at half-court shots, you know. But I sure do stand a better chance than you."
"You think so? Why don't we see how far you could go? I bet you'd faint after that anyway."
"At least I'd faint knowing that I made a prettier gun than yours."
"Why don't you try it NOW?" Sakuragi said peevishly.
"Hell, I hate to decline a challenge... hand me a ball, Hanamichi."
Sakuragi sent a ball flying to him with a deliberately full force. Mitsui caught it just in time to keep his face from being squashed by its leathery surface.
"Okay, there are around a million ways to do this shot and only two or three of them could work. Which is what I'm about to show you. Just stand back and watch how I position myself. You'd get around to making nearer misses if you gather more momentum from your knees-"
"I'm not stupid, you know. Get on." Sakuragi spat.
"Rightie. Be sure you watch me from there," Mitsui said. He bent his knees a little afterwards, raised the ball past his head and tossed it at perfect timing. Upon releasing the shot, his hands stayed poised for a moment but as his soles landed on the floor with a graceful thud, his arms fell on his sides. In a second he stood in his ordinary posture. Away from him, at exactly the same time, the ball traced the air, making a shape that resembled a well-formed ant hill. As it floated forth in less speed than Sakuragi's shot, it bounced on the rim and almost came in contact with the net. It was almost a beautiful shot had it not missed by a few inches.
"Ha!" Sakuragi roared victoriously.
"At least it didn't hit the garbage cans."
"Stop making lame excuses for your lame-ass self. If I had known better, Mitchy, you're just too tired to make a decent basket--"
"Honestly, Hanamichi, I'd rather make ten thousand of those misses than to shoot like you do, even for once."
"Oh yeah? You mean it's okay if I go on calling you lame-ass so long as I make shitty shots like that? Wow, Mitchy, I didn't know you are that entertaining. No problem." And a pointless rude exchange ran its course. All the while Rukawa was rolling his eyes, scorning the immaturity exhibited in the daft act. And yet, wasn't Mitsui awesome when he did that? When he taunted Sakuragi in that nonchalant, oblivious manner?
The gym's door boomed open just then. The morning sunlight sloped in, making the floor glitter with much more intensity. It didn't last long, however, as the shadows and silhouettes of Ryonan High Basketball team members began looming at the portal. Rukawa was successfully snapped out of his reverie as the whole team involuntarily rested their attention to the door. Even Sakuragi and Mitsui who formerly weren't about to give up on their bicker turned to look. At the frontline was Sendoh Akira, looking much taller than he really was. Thanks to the hairstyle. On either side of him were Uekusa and Koshino, who apparently was just made sub-captain and looking quite full of himself. All the members were wearing their darker jerseys, no doubt to signify their identity as the guest opponents.
"Welcome, Ryonan." Ayako moved toward them. Close behind was Miyagi who immediately made his way to Sendoh. They chatted for a while, as if tackling a diplomatic topic and broke apart. The Ryonan team made their way to the other end of the bench line where they started removing their varsity jackets.
"Okay, game starts in a few minutes." Miyagi was saying. There was a nervous look on his face. "Now, just because we beat them in the league doesn't warrant their defeat the second time around. Remember, Ryonan is a very able team."
"Yeah, more like faggots--" Sakuragi interjected but a paper whack behind his head swiftly did the trick. Instead, he resigned himself to stroking the spot.
"Now I will advise you to put on a clean play. Sendoh and his team are doing us a favor. They don't have business to be here or to be helping us; but they chose to, which is really generous of them. Anyone," Miyagi paused and directed his gaze to Sakuragi, "who's caught doing something off the wall shall have something to say to me, and it'd better be good. Otherwise... Alright, go prepare yourselves." Miyagi finished. The members were suddenly scuttling to and fro, their panic finally rearing its head. Miyagi then took off the whistle from around his neck and handed it out to Mitsui.
"As was the deal, you go referee the game. I say, do it with utmost objectivity and don't go teasing Sakuragi while you're at it. The guy's having a hard enough time without you--"
"Jesus, captain. You think I'd mess up with Sakuragi on court? I don't want to die just yet." Mitsui replied, smiling.
"Okay, okay. It's just that, you know. He gets nervous. And if we're not too careful, he'd curse the hell out of these people again. But don't give him too many technical fouls for that. Just do it like always, Mitsui."
"Sure. This is not my first time to officiate a match. Thought I'd just remind you." Mitsui winked at Miyagi and turned to the folding chair in which, incidentally, Rukawa was seated nearby.
"Hey, why so quiet?" Mitsui asked Rukawa who had half the mind to reply to such an idle greeting. Then the latter noticed that Mitsui was randomly picking up water bottles from the floor and as fate would have it, he'd grabbed the bottle which Rukawa half-gulped to the bottom just a few minutes ago.
"That's mine." Rukawa informed him. He had been accustomed to Mitsui's chronic habit of misplacing his own mineral water and clearly, this time, he was manifesting the same mistake. But Rukawa wasn't about to allow the grossness, not especially when Mitsui had taken to the ritual of French-kissing Sendoh.
"Sorry. I'm thirsty. I hope you don't mind." Mitsui said indifferently. Before Rukawa could stop him, the senior already emptied the bottle to the last drop. "Anyway, I suggest you put on your jersey now. Match's about to begin any moment."
"Can't. I didn't bring my uniform." Rukawa said, clinging stubbornly to his dark blue tank top and black shorts.
"What?" Mitsui gasped, unable to conceal his shock.
"I have nothing to wear. I'll just pass."
"No, you can't. Why didn't you...huh." Mitsui stuttered exasperatedly. "Never mind. I'll just lend mine to you. I hope you don't mind wearing number fourteen?"
In fact, I do. I don't subscribe to two-faced losers' numbers, just so you know. It was smack right on the tip of his tongue; he was going to say it when...
Mitsui hastily proceeded to his bag and rummaged through the inside. He found his crumpled white jersey in the depths and smoothened it a little before thoughtlessly thrusting it away to Rukawa.
"It will fit just fine. I'm not too skinny myself. Anyway, good luck." Mitsui glided off and left Rukawa to savor his own complaints. He could at least recognize the fact that he kissed me! Alone with those thoughts, Rukawa felt like trampling on the pathetic jersey with his sneakers. Not because it nulled his excuse not to participate in the game, but because it reeked so characteristically of Mitsui. It was the same odor the senior emitted on the night of the kiss; it was very enticing; almost like they were no more than a centimeter apart. He put it on, a reluctant frown on his face, and found that it suited him just about exactly.
He straightened up to make his way to the court. From the corners of his eyes, he saw Mitsui and Sendoh engaging in what he suspected was a typically fashioned, flirtatious conversation. After all, that's the only kind of conversation Mitsui was good at. And when he was with Sendoh, wouldn't it be just right to turn up in his best? Rukawa had then begun to imagine what their exchanges were like. What he made out, however, made him cringe on his knees as all anger surged back to him. Along with that, and rather oddly, he felt like he'd died or was about to. He had been killed or else, left to die on his own. Just what the hell was Mitsui up to?
"I told you you should give me two rings first before I answer. It's not too much to remember, is it?" Sendoh was saying and smiling at the same time.
"I forgot, actually. I had other things in mind." Mitsui said. He, too, was grinning in much the same dreamy manner. "So two rings it is. About twelve midnight later on, will you stay up that late?"
"Of course. Anything."
Rukawa continued in a standstill, partly studying the two. With such staggering odds, it would be as no use to avoid them now as to try to pry two giant magnets apart. He began stretching, urging time to forge ahead so the day would be over and he wouldn't have to witness Mitsui and Sendoh's nauseating shenanigans.
So this was jealousy's tyranny. It would have to come to this? Rukawa thought. He looked at Mitsui and saw the face that lodged there for what it was; a face that wouldn't make anyone happy in the long run. It was not worth it, and so was conducting his envy tiffs with Sendoh through the internet. Clearly, the winner had been announced.
"Birds of the same feather flock together." Banged a boisterous voice from behind Rukawa all of a sudden. It was Sakuragi, who went on, "I didn't know losers of the same capabilities, or lack thereof, wear the same jerseys. Nyahahaha!" he finished and wheezed in laughter.
Rukawa didn't bother to think of a nice response. Instead, he glanced down on his front. He then concentrated on the foreshortened view of the number fourteen, which was as red as his hot, boiling anger. Mitsui's basketball jersey suddenly felt like venom on his skin and the impulse to shred it down to bits grew impossibly attractive.
TBC
A/N: I found myself bizarrely resigned to turn the tides against Rukawa. But of course, you got me; fight isn't over yet and many things are about to come. As you can see, there is some voice of reason here and that is Kogure. He's not lying; everything he said above (right in the first part) is most unfortunately true. He's a good person who knows what he's saying. But let's find out if the same holds true for Rukawa, shall we? Hahaha. I also just reread this before uploading and realized that, in many ways, I've managed to make these people really, really gay. Now I'm not sure if you like it that way but...you know me. I can't characterize very well. Sorry. Hahahaha! Anyway, MitRu fans, don't kill me. I'm going to do something about this. I swear to god. You know I'm more of a Mitru fan than a MitSen, right? Thanks for reading.
PS. I'm annoying this site by uploading my fics en masse. If you're irritated by that, I'm really sorry. I'm about to start on my job tomorrow and I feel quite sure that I will no longer have as much time as before. Gosh. I swear to god I'm going to continue writing this at the merest presence of chance. Even if it takes ten years. That's all.