Disclaimer: Me owning Slam Dunk? I wish...

Freaks, Geeks and Superficial Creeps

Reason #1 – Your mother will never know

What's the use of a heart that beats in your chest if it's gonna make you ache anyway? What's love? Not a nice thing to feel. It's like inhaling smoke in a vacuum, your chest hurts and your eyes water. Nothing like the overused cheese you hear being spouted around each school corridor you turn. It doesn't taste as sweet on your tongue. In fact, you don't taste anything at all. You just take every pinprick, every sucker-punch to the gut like the street-smart wiseass you've made yourself out to be.

You forgot the part in your life where the mental stamina gave out and the hormones took over. Somehow, you find yourself recalling snippets of Biology lectures. Pieces of supposedly useful info, words like 'stimulus' and 'oxytocin', nice scientific-sounding terms which take the bite of your predicament.

Truth is, you're morphing into one of those shadows lurking behind dark classrooms and almost-empty bars. The thing is you're bound to be noticed sooner or later. You and all your gut-wrenching, heart-shattering monologues of woe.

There came that moment when he realized that he'd inadvertently stepped out of his skin, making him cringe inwardly at the sudden realization. It's terribly clichéd and oh-so-wrong, and perhaps worst of all, it's made him lose his appetite.

This, his mother was bound to notice.

"Since when did you willingly eat onigiri?" she asks, an atom of amusement and a trace of maternal concern in her voice.

Because it's bland and at least makes me think my stomach's full.

He saw her point. There had been a time, at the height of his growth spurt, when the fridge would suddenly appear almost short of empty. Mounting ages and other concerns had now taken their toll, leaving him picky enough to ignore the humble rice balls on offer at dinner. But his head hurt so much from knowing that he was slowly but surely regressing back into the naive, less jaded, more hopeful boy of his yesterdays that he assumed the noise created by the sound of his jaws chomping would drown out the rest.

He'd felt like confessing to someone about his predicament, moronic and terribly teenager-esque as it seemed. Kogure, he'd decided on earlier in the day. Halfway through dialling the boy's home number, he remembered that his good-natured, understanding, bespectacled friend was away in Yokohoma visiting his sister, leaving him with the prospect of entertaining his sniggering team-mates or overly helpful gangster friends with his troubles. Neither possibility was tempting him enough to spill his guts anytime soon. So this left him at home with the better half of the parental units.

Try as he might, he couldn't see himself sitting down with his father to discuss anything as fickle as girls (one girl in particular but that was different). Of course, he hadn't exactly helped things along by trading in his basketball gear for bruised fists and bloody noses once upon a time. His mother he could tolerate, maybe even get along with if he was having a good day.

But not today.

"Hisashi, don't you want some milk with that?"

He almost gagged. "No, thank you."

Maybe he should write a book one day, about the perils of one-sided high-school romances. Things I Never Told My Mother would make a good title.

The freshmen were at it again. Babbling on and on about the mysteries of the fairer sex and how not to approach them on a bad hair day. He doubted if any of them had even had a steady (he sure hadn't and he wasn't about to let them in on that embarrassing fact). Most days it was Sakuragi and his so-tearful-that-it-was-kinda-comical rants on how Haruko Akagi put in five squid balls in Rukawa's bento and only four in his. Today however, it was Kuwata's turn.

He heard them as he walked past their empty classroom during the lunch-break, home-packed bento still warm in his hand.

"Sumeragi-san, eh? Are you gonna confess to her anytime soon?" He heard Ishii speak.

"Heheh, to be honest, I don't think she even knows I exist."

"Oh, I see..."

"Um, technically," A throat cleared. Sasaoka's, he assumed. "She'd notice you if you went up and talked to her soon."

"Are you kidding? Have you seen that guy she's with?!"

Why did this song sound so familiar?

"Huh? You mean that she's actually dating that guy?"

"Takahashi from the baseball club, right? Aw, man..."

"Exactly, Ishii."

"How big are his fists again?" Mitsui turned his head just in time to catch Ishii spacing out his hands in response to Sasaoka's question. "Damn, Kuwata's really in for it if he asks her out."

"But they're not a couple! Or at least, I think they aren't..."

"You'd still be in for a beating of a lifetime if you made a move on her."

"Yeah. Unless perhaps you did something to really impress her..."

Ahh, teenage angst. Nobody seemed to escape scot-free from it no matter what position in the social hierarchy you snatched up. He leaned in further against the door when Kuwata spoke again, careful not to reveal anything of his presence.

"Heh, like that's supposed to happen to guys like us – "

"What do you mean, 'guys like us'?"

"Sorry, Ishii, but the basketball club doesn't hold the same sex appeal like say... the swim team. All those bare-chested guys in Speedos. Yeah, I bet the girls really go for that."

"Not true! Well... unless you're a member of the starting line-up."

Now he truly felt bad. Kuwata occupied the same position as he did on the team, the shooting guard. And yet, the gulf between their natural skills... ouch, the poor kid. No wonder he couldn't snag a decent date.

"He's right, you know. If you thought Rukawa's fan-club was a bit much before, you should see it now. It's like they've multiplied themselves by five or something! And even Miyagi and Mitsui-sempai have their own cheering squads. I heard some girls talking about joining yesterday..."

Really? This was news to him.

Three joint sighs echoed off the bare walls. "Lucky guys. If only I could be half as popular as that..."

"And Miyagi won't even look at any girl apart from Ayako-san..."

"I heard she's been getting pretty popular too. A lot of guys stop her in the hallway asking her if they can join."

The conversation had shifted towards an uncomfortable issue. He decided to quietly take his leave and then forgot to remember one important fact: sound travels faster in narrow empty spaces. Like heavy footfalls in corridors. He immediately cursed his negligence.

"Ah, there goes Mitsui-sempai. What a coincidence..."

"Hey! You think he'd know what to do?"

"About your problem?"

"Yeah!"

He played along, keeping his steps slow and deliberate. Sure enough, he heard chairs shuffling and a door creaking on its hinges. "Um, sempai?"

"What is it?"

The three Shohoku freshman benchwarmers approached him politely, only the slight glow of hope in Kuwata's dark eyes betraying their intentions. Sasaoka began nervously, "Um, if it's okay with you, can we ask you a question?"

"Well, actually, it's Kuwata's issue." Isshi jovially dug an elbow into the shorter boy's ribs. Mitsui noted the sudden blush on his cheeks.

He shrugged. "Try me."

"Okay... um, it's about a girl..."

"A really cute girl – "

" – that he likes."

"Except that she's with this guy – "

"He thinks she's with this guy – "

" – who seems to like her too."

"Oh, and he's almost as big as Sakuragi."

Kuwata shot dual glares at his meddling friends. "Thanks a lot, guys."

"And what does this have to do with me? I won't beat him up for you if that's what you want. Go get Hotta for that." He shifted on his heels uncomfortably. This conversation was heading down risky waters, he knew it. And he knew it wouldn't involve throwing punches of any kind.

"No, no, no, nothing like that, sempai!" Kuwata waved his hands about, the blush deepening. "It's just that... I don't... what am I supposed to do?" he finished lamely.

Oh my, was he, Hisashi Mitsui, being asked for advice? By the way, had Sakuragi actually grown a brain and Akira Sendoh stopped smiling by any chance? Whoever had spread the rumours about his womanizing ways must have had either too much imagination or none at all. In any case, he sure could have used a good PR rep at the moment.

"That's... quite a situation, Kuwata."

"So?"

"It's best you move on."

"Eh?" The kid actually staggered as his jaw dropped. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Plenty of fish in the sea. I'm sure she's not the only cute girl in Shohoku, isn't she?"

"... I guess not. But..."

"You guys are still here?"

The interrupter was female who obviously had a very light step in her feet since she'd slipped in unnoticed. Contrary to popular belief, he didn't know a lot of girls and when he narrowed down the list for a name, he immediately came up with one.

"H'llo, Ayako."

"Oh, it's you, sempai." She had her hair down today and she wasn't wearing a jacket. "And how come you're still up here?"

"Kuwata has girl trouble."

"HEY!!"

"Really?" she giggled, brown curls bouncing in time to her movements. "You could've just asked me instead. After all, I am your team manageress and a girl to boot."

"Well, Kuwata likes this girl – "

" – whom he thinks is with this guy – "

" – who looks like – "

"Would you guys cut that out?!" The freshman spluttered at his friends.

As the trio argued amongst themselves, Ayako twirled a lock of hair thoughtfully around her index finger, no doubt musing on men and their many shortcomings. Mitsui pretended to tie his shoelaces. It was already bad enough that he couldn't even follow his own advice. Where on earth was Kogure when he needed him?

"So, sempai, what's this I hear about a cheering squad?"

"Beats me." He told her shoes. "I just heard about it today."

She sighed with disgust. "We might as well close off the gym completely during practice now. Rukawa's fans are enough as it is."

"You'd still have Haruko."

"But at least she isn't the 'LOVE ME, LOVE ME, RU-KA-WA!!' type. I already have my hands full with all the fan-mail I have to deliver. Literally."

"Seriously?"

"You guys are getting very popular, it seems."

"Cool." He stood up straight, hoping that it wasn't wistfulness he'd heard in her voice. "How many did I get?"

"Seven."

"Not bad." He threw in a genuine smirk. "How many did Rukawa get?"

"I lost count at twenty."

His face must have fallen because she quickly added, "Seven's not that bad of a number. I know I would be pleased with seven if I were you."

Seven is also Miyagi's jersey number.

"So... seven for me to choose from..."

"You're not actually going to date any of these girls, are you?"

"As long as she doesn't look like Akagi, why not?"

In spite of her slight frown, she laughed. "Don't tell me you're that desperate, Mitsui. You don't seem like the type."

"Like I said, it depends. Do I know any of these girls anyway?"

"Depends on what type of girl you like. Go on, tell me."

Spunky personality, knows how to command respect, maybe about your height...

"Nice hair, long legs, small waist. That's what I like."

"Oh." Her hand had fallen to her side as if she'd been about to express something. "Is that so? Maybe I was wrong about you, sempai."

For some reason, lying hurt a lot more than anyone usually let on.

Later at night, Hikaru Mitsui sighed over the cold bento box. Apart from a few missing lumps of rice and nibbled pieces of fish, the lunch she had so carefully prepared for her son was virtually untouched. She began to wonder if he was having trouble at school again. Just when he'd said he was mending his ways too. Maybe it was time for her to sit him down for a talk. Proper nutrition did have a lot to do with schoolwork after all...