I suddenly missed Slam Dunk so much, and the fandom is dead. I still wrote a few vignettes. No pairings.


Summary: Sunset practice, unexpected connections, and a dash of teenage rivalry – it's not just about the ball. For Haruko, basketball is where dreams take flight, even when they lead in surprising directions.

#01 - JUST ANOTHER DAY

Dusk settled over the basketball court as the sun sank below the skyline, leaving the floor awash in pools of fading light. Akagi Haruko stood at the free-throw line, her eyes focused on the rim. In her hands, the basketball felt familiar and comforting.

She took a deep breath, her form a testament to hours of practice. Knees slightly bent, weight balanced, shoulders relaxed, the ball lifted smoothly. With a fluid motion, she released the shot, the arc of the ball a thing of simple beauty. It swished through the net, barely disturbing the cords.

Haruko smiled. Lately, she'd been sneaking in extra shooting sessions. Even though her heart belonged to Rukawa, something about the rhythm of practice soothed her. Her mind drifted, a smile blossoming on her face as she imagined herself on a date with Rukawa. They'd laugh, talk about the team, and maybe...she felt a warmth in her cheeks...maybe Rukawa would even hold her hand.

A rustle drew her attention. Mitsui Hisashi leaned against the chain-link fence, his posture casual, but his eyes fixed on her with surprising intensity. He'd been the team's star shooter, a three-point specialist before his injury and absence had derailed everything.

"Akagi," Mitsui acknowledged with a slight nod, breaking the silence. His voice held an unexpected warmth.

"M-Mitsui-san," Haruko stammered, her cheeks flushing under his gaze, "I...I didn't see you there." Embarrassment mixed with a strange thrill. Her daydream about Rukawa seemed suddenly silly.

Mitsui watched her take a few more shots, a considering look in his eyes. Haruko's usual focus wavered, distracted.

"Your stance," he finally spoke, his voice thoughtful, "It's not bad. Solid base, elbow in... but it's a little rigid."

Haruko blinked, caught off guard by both the critique and the intensity of his focus. A surge of determination mixed with embarrassment. Could he tell she'd been distracted?

Just then, her foot slipped slightly on a wet patch near the line. Haruko let out a startled gasp and, in a flash, found herself tumbling forward. Her hands went out to break her fall, but the ball slipped from her grasp and skidded away.

A flicker of concern crossed Mitsui's face before a smirk played on his lips. "Looks like someone was distracted. Not a good look for a manager focused on her team, right?"

Haruko scrambled to her feet, cheeks burning. "It...it was nothing." She hurried to retrieve the basketball, eager to put the embarrassing moment behind her.

Mitsui was legendary for his three-point shots. "Mitsui-san," she began, "I practice free throws mostly since I'm a manager, but I've always wondered about three-pointers. Could you maybe...show me?"

Mitsui raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "Asking for lessons now, are you? Not afraid of having Coach Anzai on your case?"

"Not really," she admitted, "Besides, it's just for fun and to learn a bit."

Mitsui stepped onto the court, picking up a spare ball. His movements still carried a hint of his old athleticism, but his eyes held a focused intensity that seemed out of character. "Alright then, let's see what you can do. Three-pointers are more about range and arc. Watch."

He positioned himself well beyond the three-point line. His posture shifted, a greater bend in his knees, a higher dip before the release. The ball seemed to hang in the air longer, the arc higher, before dropping flawlessly into the net.

"Distance means more power," he explained, a hint of his old cockiness playing around his smirk. "A stronger follow-through, less about the arms and more about your legs pushing you up."

Mitsui demonstrated again, then handed her the ball. "Your turn. Remember, power from the legs, and a high arc."

Haruko tried to imitate his form, a strange thrill coursing through her as she launched the ball. It missed badly, but she felt a shift, a hint of a new type of power behind the shot.

As the last light faded, Haruko kept trying. Mitsui stood close by, offering quiet pointers and the occasional demonstration. The three-point line felt impossibly far, but the challenge only made her more determined.

She took a deep breath, trying to mimic Mitsui's form. Knees bent, a higher dip, the ball lifted smoothly, followed by a powerful release. The shot arced high... and clanged off the rim.

"Almost," Mitsui commented, a hint of encouragement in his voice. "Keep that arc high, and focus on the follow-through."

Haruko nodded, dribbling the ball and adjusting her position. Mitsui's guidance was surprisingly helpful, and a sense of excitement thrummed through her. Even the elusive three-point shot seemed within the realm of possibility.

By the fence, a tall, black-haired freshman scoffed internally. "Typical clown, showing off for a girl..." But even Rukawa couldn't deny the strange picture they made under the darkening sky.

Haruko left the court tired, but an undeniable spark had been ignited. Basketball, Rukawa, the setting sun – all of it seemed a little brighter. Maybe watching from the sidelines wasn't the only way to enjoy the game after all.

"Well? Do I have the potential to be the best shooter in Shohoku?" Haruko called over her shoulder at Mitsui with a newfound boldness.

Mitsui's laugh echoed out in response, "A bit more practice, Akagi, and you might be a real threat."

Haruko gathered her things and headed out of the court, smiling brightly at Mitsui. "Thanks again for everything!"

Mitsui waved casually over his shoulder as he walked in the direction of his home.

Meanwhile, Rukawa emerged from the bushes where he'd been silently observing practice. With the court now empty, he moved onto the court and began rehearsing intricate slam dunks.

After an aggressive dunk, Rukawa hung from the rim, surveying the area with a frown. Where did that girl disappear to so quickly? And why had she been smiling at that juvenile delinquent Mitsui anyway?

Lost in thought, Rukawa dropped from the net, his foot twisted as he landed, and he faceplanted straight into the cement floor with a loud SMACK.

The court echoed with the sound of the wind. Slowly lifting his head, Rukawa glanced around furtively. No one had witnessed his clumsiness. With as much dignity as he could gather, he rose, walked out of the basketball court, hopped on his bicycle and left for home.

Just another sunset in Kanagawa.

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