Slam Dunk Fan Fiction ❯ Brothers in Arms ❯ A Promise Returned ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: Slam Dunk isn't mine, yadda yadda yadda… Sue if you want.

Archive: On ff.net. Don't have a home for it yet. But anyone can archive-with permission.

Notes and other blather: This is a story of brotherhood and friendship, a topic not explored by other fanfics. I'm not inclined to write shounen-ai, considering I want them boys to myself as well! ^_^;;

In addition, this story hasn't been beta'd, so it's screamingfor a pre-reader/beta-reader. I might not post after the second or third chapter until I find a good beta for it. So your reviews/submission to beta-read will be highly appreciated. Flames, as usual, will be blissfully ignored and will only be used as fuel for cold nights.

Hope you enjoy! m(_ _)m

Brothers in Arms

By Shinomori no Kami Daiji

1

A Promise Returned

It was later than usual in the streets of Kanagawa when he walked briskly on the pavement. He never arrived later than nine in the evening at home. That time passed an hour and a half ago, and Kiminobu Kogure was vainly trying to make up for it. His grandmother would be cross, but she would have to understand. With him being in his senior year, he was swamped with projects, college applications and, of course, basketball practice for the Winter Cup. So it went without saying his lateness would be justified if he was stuck in Shohoku High finishing his tasks.

He came to the corner that leads to the poorly lit alley to his right. Kogure usually avoided it when he goes home and take the longer route to his house instead. There were street punks that hung by there even in broad daylight. But, as he peered along the narrow street, nobody was in sight.

Kogure looked about, and then glanced at his watch. He was going to hear of it, anyway. Better get it over with, then.

He rounded for the abandoned alley and increased his stride. He ignored the graffiti on the walls, the stench of an overturned garbage can, and focused his eyes at the bright end of the street beyond. The sinking feeling in his stomach got worse. A tin can clattered from a distance behind him, followed by a yowling cat. His pulse quickened when a shadow flitted by his feet. He surged on, still on guard, trying to sense if there was someone behind him. He didn't bother to look behind him.

Pull yourself together, Kim, he chided. There's nobody there…

Or was there?

"Hey, Four-eyes. Don't ya know ya can't cross here without a tribute?"

He always loved to ride the bike home. The night would pick up to cool his face and toy at his hair. He was bone weary from his nightly practice, but a leisurely drive home relaxed him from the tensions of the afternoon exercise with the team, the main source of it being from a certain red-headed ahou. Never a day in scrimmages did it end up without Sakuragi screwing something up. He blew gusty sigh.

That simpleton would save me and the rest of the team a whole lot of trouble if he just shut up and­--

There was a noise by the abandoned alley. There usually was almost every night, and Rukawa would be cycling at the other side of the street being none the wiser. But not this night. He found himself pedaling slower, drawn to the source of the sound. He was almost startled when he heard a voice.

"Had enough, Four-eyes?" There was another sound, followed by an anguished cry.

Rukawa's sleepy eyes widened. He never heard the owner of that voice raise it in anger. The realization sent a thrill down his spine.

He hastily got off his bike and flattened himself against the nearby wall. He edged closer, the sight before him sent his blood boiling. The three thugs had their backs to him, two of them kicking a helpless figure lying on the ground. His arms were raised in a vain attempt to block the raining blows.

"Stop it. Please," the figure called out weakly.

Rukawa have to make out the face of the victim before deciding to act.

Time to pay my dues.

He took in a long breath, taking the basketball from his bag. With two more cleansing breaths, he stepped out to the open.

"Oi!"

They turned. Rukawa pitched the ball right into the face of one of them, before launching himself to the figure in the middle, kicking away the third as they went down.

"Kisama!" the mugger pinned beneath him growled. "Mind your own damn business!"

"Hn." Rukawa sprang up and kicked him squarely in the face which sent him rolling away.

His quarry still in a daze, while the other still nursing his broken nose. Rukawa turned his attention on the third bully, and kneed him in the groin before he got the chance to retaliate. He finished off with an elbow on the other's back.

Panting, Rukawa stood up and surveyed his handiwork. He made quick work of the three oppressors. Guess that puts them out of business for at least a few days, he thought smugly.

They were beginning to come to, murder in their eyes. He saw their faces more distinctly under the dim light. He judged them to be no older than himself. His face darkened.

"Clear out," he said in a low menace.

They stared at him like he had gone mad. Without hesitation, Rukawa stepped forward.

"I won't repeat myself again," he said in the same manner. When there was no movement, he took another step and made a showing of renewing his attack. The three boys flinched, then picked themselves up and scampered away.

"Such a waste," he murmured, easing himself off from his aggressive stance.

When reason and clear thinking returned, Rukawa found himself surprised at the suddenness and ruthlessness of his attack. He never initiated a fight, although it didn't mean he won't finish it. When he finally turned to see the motionless figure on the wet concrete, he knew why.

He fished out the glasses lying in the puddle before Rukawa knelt in front of him. Kogure was a devastated mess, a far cry from the immaculate senior he knew. His uniform was splotched with grime and blood. There were cuts and bruises were starting to show on his arms, and a particularly large one forming on his left wrist. His head was sunk deep in his chest, obscuring Rukawa's view of his face.

Rukawa touched his shoulder lightly, hesitantly. "Sempai?" he whispered. Kogure didn't move.

No.

"Sempai." Louder. He shook his shoulders some more. The sick feeling of dread was coming over him.

Mercifully, he heard a small moan. The disheveled head unsteadily came up, and Rukawa involuntarily drew a sharp breath at seeing face. Half of Kogure's face was bathed in blood, as one eye was already swelling. Blood also trickled from his nose and the side of his lips as the pained eyes stared myopically at his rescuer, trying to form his name.

"Ruk…k-ka…w…"

The raven-haired youth caught the change in Kogure's face as it stared at the space behind him. His instincts kicked in and whirled around. He felt the attacker make a connection, getting him at his side. Nothing more followed as Rukawa landed a punch on the already broken nose of Kogure's attacker.

"Came back for more?" he rasped, towering over the shorter youth.

Terror could be reflected in the other's eyes. He was shaking all over. It irritated Rukawa all the more. They only rely on strength in numbers. And back fighting. Hmph.

He picked up a garbage lid and stalked towards the unwitting delinquent. The other backpedaled, heaved himself off the ground and scurried off for the second time.

Rukawa stood there for some moments, waiting for another surprise attack. It never came. He looked back to see Kogure trying to push himself off the pavement, and gave a yelp and fell back, clutching his left hand tightly to himself.

Rukawa approached and helped him up, standing slowly. He put Kogure's arm over his shoulders with a hand on the other's side. Kogure gave a suppressed grunt.

"Gomen," Rukawa found himself saying, gazing about his senior with concern.

Kogure was breathing hard, a shaky left hand on his side. "Iie, it's­-nothing," he offered.

"Ike." Rukawa had no choice; they had to get out of there as fast as they can before the baka called the rest of his friends.

He picked up his ball and his bag and made their way towards the end of the alley where he left his bike. The hospital was at the other end, but there was no way he'd leave his bike. He was rewarded to find it where he abandoned it.

"Oi! What are you kids doing in the streets at this hour?!"

Rukawa turned to see an elderly night watchman. Relief went through him, as opposed to the older man's shock as he stared at the both of them.

"What happened?" the watchman asked, anger turning to concern.

"We were attacked by some street kids," Rukawa answered. "My friend needs to go to the hospital."

The man didn't need to be told twice. "We'll take him in my car."

The younger man hesitated. "My bike," he said laconically.

The watchman looked slightly annoyed, but gave a dismissive wave. "Alright. You can put it in the back. I'll bring the car around."

He gave a quick bow before the watchman went for the patrol car parked at other the end of the street. He looked down at his companion, who had been silent the whole time.

"Kogure-sempai?" he called out softly, staring at the bowed head.

He gave a faint moan, all the sign Rukawa needed to assure him.

"Please hold on," he urged. "We'll take you to the hospital."

There was a squeal of tires as the patrol car screeched in front of them. "Get in!" the man yelled from inside.

Rukawa opened the rear door and eased Kogure into the back seat. Then he dashed for his bike and tossed it carelessly into the open trunk, wincing at the sound of metal scraping against metal. He distantly hoped that he didn't scratch his bike or his car.

He got in beside Kogure. The other was leaning back against the cushion, his face a drastic contrast to the matted blood.

"Hurry, mister!"

The minute he released those words, he found himself clinging to the window for dear life as he tried to steady Kogure in his seat.

Rukawa watched grimly as his companion labored for breath. He doesn't deserve this, he thought, clenching his fist. Kogure might not dazzle the spectators, but he was one you can rely on, on- and off-court. His quiet strength and patience was a counterbalance to Akagi-sempai's dominating presence. He also shared the team captain's dream for Shohoku: to be the best team. It will be their last crack at the finals before moving on to college. Now that they have set foot in the Winter Cup, this happened.

He doesn't deserve this.

Tsuzuku…

Just reminding you to put in a word about this fic. Any constructive insight is welcome. I'm also looking for a beta-reader from among you.

Terms:

Ahou -- need you ask? ^_^;;

Baka -- see previous entry... ^_^;

Gomen (nasai) -- Excuse me

Ike (ikimas') -- let's go

Kisama -- You..! (meant as a derogatory term)

Sempai -- senior; upper classman