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Note: fanfiction for the manga Slam Dunk. Four drabbles.

The sun was hot on his back. He was alone in the court, the basketball pounding, being maneuvered around imaginary opponents. He played ever haarder, ever faster, the determination and passion burning ever hotter, ever brighter. He was sweating, both a result of the heat and of this exertions.
He *would* beat them. He’d beat them all. He wouldn’t let anyone defeat him, ever again.
After all, he was a genius.
-
In autumn the wind was strong, and cold. He didn’t bother much about the coolness; his constant movement kept him warm. He had to get this right, get everything right, every inch of movement, of the power he held within himself. This was his last year to prove himself- two years wasted, for arrogance, but even as the wind changes direction, someday it will return to whre it once had blown, and would blow again, stronger, harder.
-Outside the gym, the snow fell. He did not bother about it- after all, where he was, it was warm, and he couold practice comfortably. He was determined not to allow anyone else to get the better ofhim, to always, always be a step ahead. The strength of ice- to not be swayed, to always be fixed, not allowing fire to bget the better of it, always putting out the flame, the buring want , the need to win, of others.
On he played.
-
It was spring, and it was raining. I twas a cool, mild rain, barely a drizzle, that would let up in a matter of minutes. In the meantime, he would retreat, and wait underneath the shelter.
There was, after all, no need, no urgency to play *all* the time,. When it is needed, the rain will come, to wash away doubts, fears, remnants of fires, and soothe, and in its wake, allow fire to begin again.
The gentle rain came down.



The summer sun was hot on his back. He was alone in the court, the basketball pounding, being maneuvered around imaginary opponents. Lay-up, rebound, jump shot, slam dunk. He played ever harder, ever faster, his determination and passion to win burning ever hotter, ever brighter. He was sweating, a result of the heat and his constant exertions combined over many hours.

He would beat them. He’d beat them all. He wouldn’t let anyone defeat him, ever again. Not Kiyota, not Rukawa, not even Sendoh. Nor even the as yet unknown opponents of the Interhighs.

After all, he was a genius.

-

In autumn the wind was strong, and cold. He didn’t bother much about it; his clothing and his constant motion kept him warm. He had to get this right, get everything right, every inch of movement, of the power he held within himself. This was his last year to prove himself. Two years- two years- wasted, for arrogance. How could he have allowed himself to slide so far?

Now he had only until winter. Time had not waited.

Still, though the capricious wind changes direction, someday it will return to where it once blew, and will blow again, stronger, harder.

-

Outside the gym, the snow fell. He did not bother about it- after all, where he was, it was warm, and he could practice comfortably. He was determined not to allow anyone else to get the better of him, to always, always be a step ahead of anyone who dared challenge him. The strength of ice- to not be swayed or to lose control, not allowing fire to melt it down. Always, always, putting out the burning want- no, the need- to win, of others. Others could rage and mourn, but his desire to win was paramount.

On he played.

-

It was spring, and it was raining. It was a cool, mild rain, barely a drizzle, which would let up in a matter of minutes. In the meantime, he would retreat to the shelter until the rain deigned to stop.

There was, after all, no need, no urgency to play all the time, to always have to win. When it is needed, the rain will come, to wash away doubts, fears, and soothe, and in its wake, allow fire to begin again. It offers relief, offers hope, offers new beginnings. It reveals another day’s victory.

The gentle rain came down.

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