Chibi Chiriko-san says...

'This fic contains mega-humongous spoilers for the end of the Shohoku vs Shoyo game. This story also happens to contain shounen ai (male/male romantic affection) between Fujima and Hanagata. If you’d rather believe they’re straight, or if FujiHana ain’t your cup of tea, then this story’s not for you.

This fic is dedicated to me. Because this is the only fic I’ve spent so much time editing. And because my experience with this fic taught me how to appreciate careful editing and rigorous rewriting.'


To Be Worthy
by Chibi Chiriko

It was a perfect shot. The ball left his hands a mere second before the rubber soles of his shoes touched the floor. It sailed smoothly, gracefully into the air, leaving an invisible arc behind as it neared its goal, not even touching the ring as it dropped through the mesh netting of the basket. A perfect three-point shot, it was tight and beautiful from the shooter’s form, to the moment he released the ball, down to the instance it fell through the hoop. Controlled, accurate and assured - a perfect five stars for all three basic shooting criteria, Fujima noted.

He closed the door behind him, and watched as his teammate picked up the ball and took aim from a different angle. "That was a good shot you just did," he called out, never one to spare a Shoyo player from his honest commentary, be it a glowing compliment or a frank criticism. "Keep the form... whoa, wait. Your shoulders are too tense; relax, but keep your movements tight and controlled. Every move must be accounted for. There-you look stellar, Hanagata."

Diligently tidying up his form according to his captain’s instructions, Shoyo’s center locked into position, then with a light spring of his arms released the ball into the air. Once again, an impressive three-point. Without a second’s delay, Hanagata went after the ball, and dribbled over to the right court to make another shot.

Fujima smiled. That was your typical Hanagata, he reflected, never a heartbeat wasted, never a word of complaint. There were times when it seemed that Hanagata Toru was Fujima’s marionette, operating solely on strings that were Fujima’s words. In fact, during their first summer on the Shoyo basketball team, everyone had pitied Hanagata for playing the martyr to Fujima’s rigid, no-nonsense coaching. But Fujima knew Hanagata better than that, knew that Hanagata was more than merely a puppet or a martyr. Hanagata was a fast learner with a lot of strength and talent, but he also knew how to be humble, knew how much there was to learn from listening and persevering and entrusting himself to his young mentor-a rare student, indeed. And in the past three years, he’d grown to be Shoyo’s spine, understated but powerful, truly worthy of the role of center to this strong, ambitious team. Yet he never grew arrogant or lazy, even when he could afford to do so. And he would never know how just grateful Fujima was to have him.

True, Fujima mused, that for all the words he never minced when drilling Hanagata with his observations about his plays, much was still left unsaid. And mayhaps it was for the better, he sighed to himself. He allowed himself to wonder, for a moment, how Hanagata would react if he knew just how much Fujima felt for him. What would he think if he could see himself through Fujima’s eyes, if he knew how his hands, roughened with calluses from persistent training, were begging for the touch of shameless lips and fingers; how his lean, beguiling limbs seduced Fujima’s most intimate fantasies; how those gentle, secretive eyes called him to drink their depths dry of every mystery. It was only this year that Fujima became aware of his desire for his quiet, devoted vice-captain, and while he was proud of being able to conceal his attention behind the watchful eyes of a coach-captain with the best intentions, he often wondered what would happen if Hanagata knew. Would he be flattered, to know how attractive he was to his mentor of three years? Would he be disgusted at the idea of another boy finding him appealing, regardless of the fact that this boy had taught him and cared for him and depended on him? Would he be embarrassed and uncertain, would he be affected to the point of not being able to play well under Fujima’s guidance? Would he find a way to use this new knowledge to his advantage? Would it even matter to him at all? It didn’t particularly drive Fujima nuts, as he always made sure to have something else to think about when it started to prey on his thoughts, but he had to admit he’d had his own share of headaches over this. Not that Hanagata wasn’t worth it, of course. Still, it could get rather frustrating...

The sound of the ball hitting the floor after another faultless shot shook Fujima from his thoughts. He watched, amused, as Hanagata refused to break his pace, jogging after the ball, then bringing it past the three-point line, preparing to shoot again.

"The winter games are months away," he remarked. "As always, I appreciate your readiness for practice and improvement, but I do believe that a break could do you as much good as your practice hours do."

"I have much energy to spare," Hanagata replied, pausing in his momentum only to glance at his captain as he spoke. "A minute of practice wasted is more than I can afford to lose." Another flawless shot.

"I see nothing in your shots needing any more than a compliment’s attention," Fujima commented. He noticed that his teammate’s breathing had gotten more ragged. "I think your body might appreciate the rest."

Hanagata brought the ball up to the foul shot line. "Fujima, you never fail to remind us that constant training is the best conditioning for victory."

Fujima sighed, and ran his fingers through his thick brown hair. It was also typical of Hanagata to take his words too seriously, almost intensely, even. It was nice to be taken seriously, yes, but there were times when his vice-captain’s utter and absolute dedication was almost... scary. There were times when he honestly believed that if he told Hanagata to shave his head and start wearing a girl’s uniform to practice, he would do it with pride and no further questions. It wasn’t that Hanagata didn’t have a mind of his own-as the earlier exchange showed, Hanagata had a stubborn streak to speak of. But his devotion to basketball-and to Fujima-obviously ran so deep in his soul as to be almost religious in nature. It was part of what made him so appealing. There were times when Fujima wondered if that dedication was a sign of something more on Hanagata’s part, evidence of some special feeling not just for basketball, but maybe even for the coach-captain himself, but he wouldn’t wager a cent on it, strictly relegating it to a mere wishful thinking.

Shifting his mindset back to the present, Fujima saw that Hanagata’s hands were already shaking. He’s overexerting himself, he realized, frowning as he saw that there wasn’t practically any dry spot left on his teammate’s shirt. He was about to tell Hanagata to stop practicing, when something the center player did killed the words in his throat.

"Hanagata, what are you...?"

Hanagata smiled, somewhat remorsefully, as he pocketed his new glasses. "A necessary test," he said simply, then took a shot.

The ball bounced off the board, then landed near Fujima’s feet. Hanagata rushed over to pick it up, then dribbled to the far side of the right court and attempted another shot. His form was less secure, Fujima noted with dismay, but even more alarming was the fierce, almost desperate look on his face; it was the look of a man who knew he was fighting on the losing end of a battle, but fought on, clumsily, pathetically.

"Hanagata!"

Hanagata muttered something under his breath, then shook his head, chasing after the ball. "This time," he called out, determinedly. He dribbled toward the three-point line, then shot, without even bothering to check his form. The ball didn’t even graze the ring.

Fujima stared in disbelief. "Hanagata!"

Hanagata clenched his teeth, and retrieved the ball with his jaw set tight. Dribbling with a vengeance, he dug his soles to the floor and took aim. From the look on his face, Fujima could tell he was going to attempt his famous fade-away, and that he was never going to make it. Gritting his teeth in frustration, Fujima rushed into place to block him, as Hanagata leapt backward and threw the ball.

Fujima successfully caught the ball, but something was wrong with Hanagata’s landing. His shoe slipped, and he fell on his back with a loud thud. Stricken with concern, Fujima lost his balance when he landed, and found himself sprawled over Hanagata’s body.

"Did you hurt yourself?" he asked, wincing slightly as he bumped his forehead against Hanagata’s nose. When Hanagata shook his head, Fujima scowled at him. "What did you think you were trying to do?" he demanded, although more in concern than in actual anger, as well as an attempt to put a cap on the inevitable tension rising in his body. "A fade-away without glasses and with absolutely no sense of form or timing? That’s not how I taught you, Hanagata."

Hanagata sighed deeply, and leaned his head back against the floor. "I know, Fujima," he said quietly. "I know." He closed his eyes as though he were in pain, and turned his head to the side.

Fujima tapped his cheek, now truly worried. "Oi, Hanagata! Don’t fall asleep on me now. What’s going on here?"

Hanagata laughed softly, and opened his eyes, although he refused to meet Fujima’s steady blue gaze. "I keep thinking about... that disaster of a game. With Shohoku." He sighed again. "The last shot was mine-if I’d made it... if only I’d made it-!"

"...then we might’ve had a chance?" Fujima continued ruefully. He wondered, briefly, if he should get off in case Hanagata found him heavy, then decided against it, thinking he rather liked feeling his head against Hanagata’s broad, powerful chest. So this is his heart I hear... it sounds quite agitated. "I think about that game, too. A lot. I remember it so clearly, still playing it in my dreams, only this time playing it right..."

"It wasn’t your fault, Fujima," Hanagata said softly. Fujima saw Hanagata’s hand lift from the floor, about to touch his shoulder, when it trembled slightly, and settled back to its original spot on the floor. Damn. "You told me... you told me then that you trusted me to do it. And I failed you. I failed miserably. That rebound in the end of the first half that Sakuragi stole from me... that final, deciding shot in the last half that could have given us overtime... shots, passes. The plays I could’ve done, but didn’t. And it cost us the game. This game, of all games."

"Hanagata..."

"It’s because of me that you couldn’t play against Maki this year. It’s because of me that we lost to an amateur team whose name wasn’t even known until it was seeded out among Kanagawa’s strongest eight. It’s because of me that-"

"Hanagata, please shut up."

Hanagata fell silent.

Fujima lifted his head from his friend’s chest, and looked into those dark, sad eyes. "Hanagata. We could spend the entire night trying to claim responsibility for the outcome of that game. But that’s irrelevant. I want you to know that I’m not blaming you-I never for one moment blamed you for our loss. Everyone did their damned best. You and I did our best-I know you did, I was there, I watched your every play, and I know it. Maybe it wasn’t enough then. But that doesn’t matter now. We can’t let that memory stop us from doing our best in our future games. Did we ever get this upset when we lost to Kainan? No-because even losing to a great team like Kainan was an honor. This year’s Shohoku really is a strong team. We should be honored to have gotten the chance to play against them."

Seeing that Hanagata did not look convinced, Fujima gently added, "You did not fail me, Hanagata. Seeing you play against Shohoku, relentlessly pursuing victory up to the very last second... I know I taught you well. I’m proud of you, Hanagata."

Hanagata’s eyes widened at this, and he met Fujima’s earnest gaze, seeking assurance in those depths. Fujima just smiled, and even blushed a little, realizing only at that moment just how open he had been. He slowly eased off Hanagata’s body, chuckling to lighten the atmosphere. "Hey. None of this gets out of the gym, okay?" he joked. "If word gets around that Shoyo captain Fujima Kenji is a contemplative cheese, I’ll never forgive you." He grinned, feeling more like his collected, confident self by the minute... although he wasn’t all that eager to forget the feel of Hanagata so soon. "Not that I regret anything I said today. I meant every word."

Suddenly, Fujima found himself pressed against Hanagata’s body again. "Hanagata...?" he whispered, eyes widening as he felt the other boy’s arm around his waist, securing him in place.

"Fujima," Hanagata began, his voice choked with emotion. "You might" hate me for this. But I can’t hold it in anymore. For years I’ve been trying to hide it, keep it to myself, but I... I can’t..." He paused to take in a deep breath, then hastened on. "You must know that I can take any loss, from any team. But to disappoint you, to fail you... I’d fall apart. I couldn’t take that. It would just kill me."

Fujima looked into Hanagata’s eyes and saw pain. Thinking back to the game with Shohoku, he recalled the stunning, stinging blow he felt in his soul upon hearing the unforgiving sound of the buzzer. He’d wept then, before the crowd, but he had only allowed them a whisper of a hint of the devastation he’d felt. Once in the locker room, away from sympathetic eyes that knew nothing of the anger and distress he was feeling, he’d broken down before his teammates. He ranted, cursed, swore at heaven and hell, barely recognizing his own anguished voice, incoherent in his distress. Back then, only Hanagata had dared approach him as he paced like a caged tiger, taut and mad. He remembered the feel of Hanagata’s arms around him, the heartbreaking ache in Hanagata’s voice as he tried to placate him, the tremble of that powerful body against his own, and the wetness of tears that flowed unashamed. And he believed that the reason Hanagata wept was because of the loss. Thinking back, he realized that if only he’d stepped out of himself and looked into his friend’s damp eyes, he would have seen the real reason for those tears, the reason that lay in his own reflection.

He realized just then, looking at the tears now marking his friend’s face, that all these weeks he had suffered in secret, believing he was the reason for Fujima’s loss, thinking all this time that he’d failed his captain, his mentor. Had Fujima seen this sooner, he would have known that what Hanagata needed was to be reassured that his captain did not think any less of him for all he had failed to do in the game. He could have spared Hanagata eight long weeks of agony and uncertainty.

Well, it look like he certainly owed him that. "Stop crying," he said softly, placing his hand against Hanagata’s face to wipe the tears from his eyes. "It’s unmanly."

Hanagata smiled wryly. "Since meeting you, I’ve been less of a man anyway," he murmured. "Fujima, I..." He hesitated, words trailing off in midsentence.

"Go on," Fujima urged, gently. If Hanagata had any more emotional demons to purge, he wanted to be there to help him, to make up for all the times he’d turned a blind eye to the other boy’s pain, when Hanagata had always been there to help him through anything.

"I..." Hanagata frowned, then looked away. "I don’t deserve to say it," he muttered, cheeks splotching with crimson.

Fujima would have very well slapped him, had he not caught himself in time and remembered how troubled his friend was. "Young man, you need a lesson in self-assurance," he growled. "And if you’re not going to say it..." His heart melted as he realized just how endearingly vulnerable Hanagata looked, lying underneath him with his hair tousled and cheeks blushing, glasses discarded and full red lips slightly parted. Heated thoughts rose in his brain, and with great restraint, he shoved all but one back into the waiting area.

"If you won’t say anything," he murmured, slowly, tantalizingly closing the distance between them, "then let me do the talking."

Hanagata’s eyes widened. "Fujima...!"

Fujima kissed him, his lips moving sensuously against Hanagata’s mouth. Hanagata’s eyes fluttered shut, and his mouth opened in a tiny gasp, either from shock or from the exquisitely novel sensation. It didn’t matter to Fujima; taking full advantage of this development, he slid his tongue past Hanagata’s lips, deeply tasting the boy he had desired for too long. He moaned softly as Hanagata began to respond, tentatively moving his own tongue against Fujima’s.

Abruptly, Fujma pulled away, feeling a warm tickle down his loins upon hearing the small sound of protest at the back of Hanagata’s throat. "Now," he said huskily, tracing the line of his vice-captain’s jaw with his fingernail. "What else should I do to convince you that you’ve never disappointed me?"

Hanagata gaped at him, looking stunned and flustered from the kiss. Cute, Fujima thought fondly. Has he really never been kissed before? Interesting...

"Fujima, you... you’re..."

Fujima cringed. "Don’t make me say it." He grinned widely to show he didn’t mean it. "And you, Hanagata...?"

Hanagata smiled shyly. "A-Aa."

Fujima gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder, then helped him to his feet. "Come on." He tossed Hanagata a long, heated look. "I wouldn’t mind doing it here, but I doubt we’d both have energy to spare to clean up afterward. And we don’t want the good janitor reporting our little mess now, do we?"

Hanagata flushed, and Fujima’s heart fluttered, seeing how adorable his would-be lover was. He vowed to himself that he would repay the vice-captain in full, in bed and in their blossoming relationship, if his words at the moment were powerless to make Hanagata see just how precious he really was. Hanagata might still think he was unworthy of him, but oh, Fujima knew it was he who did not deserve Hanagata. If he wanted to keep Hanagata happy, he would have to be deserving, he would have to rely no longer on luck, but on himself. And he would do his best.

That, too, was a promise.

END


Chibi Chiriko-san says...

'OWARI!
05/04/02
Just in time for HanaFuji Day 2002! Happy HanaFuji Day, minna! ^_^

Thanks for reading! Send your comments to Chibi Chiriko at lowengrinn@mail.com'