White Violets - Chapter 6 “Koizumi-san, can I ask you a favour?” A huge, strapping guy leaned his hand lazily on the wall and asked. Instantly, the buck-toothed girl’s eyes brightened, delighted that her crush had finally taken notice of her. “You help out at the administration office sometimes, don’t you?” Too tongue-tied at the sight of her crush, her head bobbed up and down like a cloth doll. “Do you think you’d…” The ball thrown by Rukawa went into the net triumphantly for the fourth time that day, no, actually, they were just twenty minutes into their practice session and he had already scored ten points off the seniors. Not wishing to lose out to him, Sakuragi, who had the ball now, bulldozed his way through the court, dodging two of his seniors and intended to score a point too. Unfortunately for him, Akagi loomed before him and swatted the ball away mercilessly. Everyone would have thought it would be the upper years’ ball since Kogure was at the spot where the ball was heading. His hands reached out to grab it but someone was a step ahead of him. Rukawa! Nimbly, he snatched the ball from his bespectacled senior and performed a brilliant three-pointer. The speed, with which he was working at, proved to be too rapid for Akagi and everyone could only watch as the ball descend towards the basket… … ‘SWISH!’ landed neatly in it. The first years thumped Rukawa on his back for a job well done, all but Sakuragi. In fact, he was seething with anger. It was his ball, his shot, his point, how dare the fox steal it from the great Tensai? The vocal Rukawa brigade was not making the situation any better. “Rukawa!” Tears running down their cheeks, they had squealed like frightened little pigs about to be slaughtered in an abattoir, “Isn’t he just WONDERFUL?” My hero!” Irritated by the shrill cries, the Tensai stomped towards the trio, intending to slam the doors on them when he saw Haruko and Faith making their way towards him. Prior to that, the girls were dutifully cleaning up the class, clearing the wastepaper basket of rubbish for the day, erasing the words on the blackboard and arranging the tables and chairs neatly in straight rows and columns. Each was rapt in their own thoughts, Faith, thinking what topic she should touch on this time for the magazine and Haruko, how Rukawa was performing on the court right now. “Faith-chan? Do you have anything on later?” “Have to work on the theme of my article,” Faith replied, pushing in an out-of-placed chair. “Could you accompany me to the stadium later, you think?” “Stadium?” “Please, Faith-chan. Anyway, it won’t do you any good to coop yourself in the class. Come with me to the stadium, maybe it’ll trigger off your creative juices. You’ll never know.” “Uh huh. It’s not that simple, I’m afraid. You want me to take a look at the redhead and offer you my opinion of him, is that it?” “Sakuragi-kun? No, I… whatever makes you think that?” “Not him?” Faith continued, teasing her, “Then it must be someone else. Who’s he? I won’t go unless you tell me.” “Faith-chan,” Haruko was blushing furiously, “Please, I’ll give you a thank-you gift if you do.” “Oh please. Bribery would get you nowhere.” “Faith-chan…” “Stop whining.” “Please…” Haruko persisted. “All right.” “You’re such a gem. Now for the thank-you gift.” “What do you think you’re doing? Get away from me! Hey…” “Smooooooooooooch!” Haruko planted a wet sloppy kiss on Faith’s cheek, amid her cries, “… arragh! That’s disgusting! You’re disgusting!” “How did you do that?” With his jet-black hair combed like an upside-down wok, his boyish-looking companion asked in amazement. “Who now did you turn those alluring eyes of yours on this time?” Another screeched like a hyena. “Who else but that nerd?” “Quiet, all of you!” Their leader hissed like a snake. Mitsui opened the file Koizumi had smuggled out of the office. A vibrant, sweet face was smiling at him. Her eyes twinkling at him, as if chiding him for taking her file without permission. Covering the seemingly alive picture under his palm, his eyes dipped a notch lower at her personal particulars. He whistled. Full name: Faith Julianne Chester (Mitsui’s thoughts: sugoi name and mentally, he tried to pronounce it.) Birthday: 25th December. Country of birth: Russia (sounded like an exotic place to him, maybe he could find out more about it) Nationality: Welsh (Welsh? But she studies in America, doesn’t she? She must have really traveled a lot then…) “Wow, look at where she stays!” Someone pointed his fat, stubby finger at the heading labeled ‘address’; “This is one of the most notorious places one could live in. Street punks, hooligans one hundred times worse than we do roam that area. You sure have taste, pal.” The rest sniggered but Mitsui ignored them and continued scanning his eyes through the papers. Hobbies: photography (he knew that already, it was an obsession with her); reading (urgh, whoever would like that? Yuck! His thoughts floated to the frequent red marks he obtained in his tests); ice skating (it figures, since she lived in a country where four seasons prevail); playing tennis (he could pick it up in no time. Great, another way to interact with her, maybe he could hang around the tennis courts more often and pretend to chance upon her if she happened to be there)… In case of emergency, please call:: Jennifer Lea Winters of PIB Orphanage (Parentless?! She seemed so well adjusted and showed no signs of it though). Jobs taken: Dishwasher, waitress, baby sitter, wedding/studio photographer, clerk (wow, was she for real or what? Or was that the result of losing her parents at a young age?)… On top of all that, her list of achievements stretched to about two pages full. For a person with impeccable credentials like that, you would have thought she did not have any dealings with the police. At least that was Mitsui’s opinion. When he turned the page, his eyes grew as wide as saucers. “Whoa! Caught on two accounts of shoplifting! The chick’s not as perfect as we imagined she’s, ain’t it?” One whistled, slightly nettled by the revelation. “So the saying goes, never judge a book by its cover.” Another muttered wisely. “How did she get into this school in the first place? With a record as bad as that, anyone would have thought the discipline mistress would be the first to boot her out of Shohoku High.” “Isn’t that a camera you’re carrying?” The redhead pointed to the camera hanging from Faith’s neck, “Cool! How about some exclusive pictures of the great Tensai?” Following that, he posed various stunts for Faith, some funny, some silly, others plain ridiculous. It only sent both girls into fits of giggles. Full of disdain, the raven-haired boy murmured a ‘Do’aho!’ at those acts. However, the redhead was pleased with himself for his ability to make Haruko laugh when the fox could not. Suddenly an ingenious idea popped into his head. Pulling Faith by her sleeve to the side, away from Haruko, he whispered eagerly to her, “Could you take a picture of me and Haruko-chan together? I’ll really appreciate that. I’d buy you a month’s lunch or wash the dishes for you, anything if you’d say yes to that.” That’s one thing Haruko’s similar to Sakuragi, an amused Faith thought as she replied, “It’s fine with me.” “That’s great! Why don’t…” Sakuragi never had the chance to complete his sentence for in the next minute, something ironclad had found its way to his head, sending him to ‘starry land’ for an instant there. “Who says that training has ended? Huh?!” A very pissed ‘Gorilla’ hollered at the redhead, dragging him by his sweat-swodden shirt onto the court. “Don’t pull me away! I haven’t finished what I want to say!” wailed Sakuragi, like a child deprived of his favourite toy. “Do’aho!” muttered Rukawa under his breath. “What did you say?” Sakuragi’s sharp ears did not miss that. “Do’aho!” He repeated. “You fox…” Hands stretched out, he made a lunge for Rukawa, wanting dearly to strangle him but was once again, punched on the head with such brutal force by Akagi. “Stop disrupting the session with your petty fights! We’ve got more important stuff to do!” Akagi threw the ball forcefully at Sakuragi’s stomach. “Ouch! Can’t you be gentler like Haruko-chan?” “No!” came the brusque response. Snippets of the interesting scene in the stadium had landed themselves on Faith’s film while Rukawa looked at her. He had recognised her the moment she entered the stadium. Like that day during the soccer match, she was smiling in a light-hearted manner at everyone in the stadium, including him. Akagi’s booming voice diverted his attention from her and he returned to the training session. In a flash, Rukawa swerved round Kogure, did an efficient crossover dribble to fool another of his seniors before he finally came face to face with the gorilla. For a spilt second, both stared at each other with such intensity that it hurt to watch them. With his arms slightly arched, the sooty-haired boy gracefully lifted himself in the air, ready to shoot at the basket. On seeing this, Akagi followed suit to thwart the shot. After Akagi leapt off the ground, he realised that to his surprise, Rukawa was no longer in front of him but on his left. It was as if Rukawa had treaded on air to go around him. Needless to say, the protagonist obtained another victory for the first years once more. Play resumed. This time, the redhead had the ball and decided to show off his powers in front of everyone. That’s right, by doing a spectacular slam-dunk that would leave everyone’s jaws hanging. It would obliterate the fox’s remarkable performance earlier. What a perfect plan! Everything went right for him; he vaulted at the right distance from the basket, the feel was excellent. He could make it! Finally, Sakuragi the Tensai’s back! Minna-san, look at me! Look at me, Haruko-san… A light musical tune sounded out of nowhere at this critical instant and distracted Sakuragi temporarily from what he was doing. It proved to be a second too fatal, for he banged, not the ball but his head, not into the net but against the backboard. He fell flat on his back, his four limbs arched like that of an unconscious frog before they fell limply on the ground beside him. Everyone was horrified, Haruko most of all. She ran forward at once to check if he was all right. Apart from the growing lump on his forehead, he was fine. The Rukawa brigade was guffawing loudly at his clumsiness and reiterated the fact that their idol was the best. Then they went off into their endless but dull cheering. Meanwhile, a flustered Faith, who had caused Sakuragi’s misfortune, apologised to everyone in the stadium and switched off her digital watch. As for the great Tensai, initially it had hurt a lot but seeing Haruko’s concerned face took it all away. His spirits soared once again. Are you looking at this, you dumb fox? Haruko-chan does care about me! I’m now one up against you. One day, I’ll replace you in her heart! As if reading his thoughts, Rukawa replied, “Do’aho!” But Sakuragi was too love-smitten to take offense any more. He could remain lying like this for ages if Haruko were to accompany him forever. However, Akagi was not going to grant him any wish of that nature. He pulled Sakuragi roughly from the floor by his flaming red hair and bellowed into his ear, “Who says you’d do the dunk? Serves you right for hitting your head!” “Onii-san! How could you say that?” “Who’s your brother?” Akagi roared dangerously. “Do’aho!” Rukawa seemed to love this word a lot. “What did you say?” Sakuragi’s sharp ears caught that. “Do’aho!” “You…” Akagi thumped the redhead violently on his head with his fist. “Look at that pathetic couple over there. She’ll be a great catch, that girl but I can’t say very much for her taste. He’s horrendous!” A bespectacled boy made a face at them through the window where he was standing guard. “I suppose you think you’d be a better catch for her with your clumsy and brutish looks,” His boyish-looking companion with his hair combed like an upside-down wok jeered at him. “Oh, shut up. Like you’re any better,” The former retorted angrily. “When are they turning up?” Another member, standing some many inches away from them, huffed in frustration as he glanced at his watch, “Who do they think they are, making us wait like this?” An air of calmness about him, their leader said nothing and hitched up his leg on the half rotted table he was sitting on while a burly-looking guy with greasy, oil-slicked hair, presumably his advisor, smoked a cheap cigarette beside him. All of them donned the uniform of Shohoku High, save for the smoker, who was dressed in his home clothes. The air around them smelt of burnt rubber, boxes and dust. They were at an old, forsaken factory along a rather deserted street, which was only frequented by couples to take a shortcut home before their parents realised they had been out gallivanting instead of studying. Anyway, back to the point. A rival gang had accused one of Mitsui’s followers of bashing up their member and demanded compensation from Mitsui so as to appease to his outraged members. Hence, here they were, hoping to negotiate a truce between them but the rival gang was an hour late. Finally they arrived with a number of people twice that of Mitsui’s and it was clear from their faces, they did not come to talk. Negotiations broke down as expected and soon they started fighting. A fist here, a kick there, the situation was very chaotic and it was hard to discern anyone from the mess. When Mitsui’s gang thought they were on the verge of losing the fight, a shrill, police-like siren rang through the ruckus they were creating. Fearing arrest, the rival gang fled as quickly as their legs could carry them. Mitsui’s too but not before the observant advisor detected a pair of shoes jutting out from behind some crates stacked up against the wall. A finger to his lips to motion the others to remain silent, he went over there and pulled someone by her wrist roughly out of her hiding place. In her hand gripped a device commonly used against molesters and was very popular in the market right now. At once the same thought fleeted through everyone’s minds. The sight before him astonished their leader. As she winced in pain, she tried hard to pry his pal’s firm and huge fingers off her wrist. Wishing to speak to the baka in private, Mitsui motioned for the rest of the gang to wait for him outside the factory. Once outside the factory, the burly guy asked, “Is that the girl you’re yupping about all day?” “Yeah, doesn’t she look delicious? An excellent match with our boss, don’t you think?” The bespectacled guy responded, clapping his hands in glee. “I thought you’ve met her once. She’s that wacky journalist, the one who’s offended Miyuki-san?” Another interrupted at this moment. “You’ve no idea how happy Mitsui-san looks whenever he sees her in school nowadays.” “Is that so?” Amid this babble of conversation, the burly guy peeked in at the scene in the factory through the gap of the unclosed door, murmuring to himself, “Why do I get a growing sense of unease when I hear this?” “What’s this in your hand?” Eyes bulging with rage, Mitsui snatched the papers with an air of rudeness from her as he snarled the titles out loud, “Young couples? Lovers’ hideout? Baka! You came to such a destitute place alone to research on such trivial things?” The American girl did not answer but merely rubbed her sore wrists ruefully as she kept her eyes trained on the floor, not daring to look at him. “We’re fighting just now!” “I can see that,” came the nonchalant reply. Mitsui’s eyes beheld the unruly girl standing before him. Unlike the other two occasions he had seen her, her auburn hair lay long and lush against the shoulders of her school uniform and tucked behind her ears to prevent them from covering her face. Coupled with that naďve, innocent look on her face, the lovely girl appeared all the more vulnerable, which made him want to protect her, even if it cost his life. Dammit! Mentally, he cursed himself as he crushed the thoughts like a piece of paper. He hated the fact that the irritating baka could look so mesmerising even at times like this because it meant he would not be able to think logically and lose his sense of objectivity. “You’d have been killed.” He emphasised with a wave of viciousness. “Okay.” “What do you mean ‘okay’?!” An irked Mitsui shouted so loudly at her that everyone outside the door could hear him, “Have you any idea how f***ing lucky you’re?” “I’m all right, am I not? Anyway, I’ve you here.” Caught off-guard by her reply, Mitsui recovered himself quickly enough to shoot another, what he hoped was a cruel question, “Who do you think you’re?” With that, he tore up the papers, flung them in the air and left the place. Delighted that its master was finally home, the initially bored kitten bounded joyfully into his arms the moment he entered the apartment. Even though it had the company of his faithful pal, Mister Red Wool, it was beginning to find it dull to be alone in this silent, eerily gloomy place. Twice it mewed imploringly to him, as if trying to convey that train of thought to him but to no avail. On the other hand, its master, having flung the bag slovenly on the floor, slumped into the soft, comfortable couch, tired and exhausted from the day’s demon-like training. Stroking the kitten with one hand, he reached for the answering machine with the other, pressing the ‘play’ button. As a mechanical-sounding voice came on, he furrowed his eyebrows into a frown. Altogether, there were fourteen messages, a number so unfamiliar to the sooty-haired boy, who was more used to getting a message or two, mostly from his talkative, workaholic sister. Message #1: Yo, Faith! You’re still my girl! Miss you and your nimble fingers! Please come back soon for my haircut before I start to sweep the floor with my hair instead of the broom. Ray here, by the way! Message #2: Faith Guess what! I’ve mastered a new dish today! Isn’t that fabulous! I’ve invented new recipes, so I can whip up a storm when you come back. Miss you and come back soon! Just in case you don’t recognise my voice, this is Kathy! Message #3: Faith! Ginny here! My brother’s getting married this weekend! I’m wondering if you can make a trip back then to be our photographer for the wedding. We’ve more faith in your skills than those so-called professionals. Call me as soon as you hear this, okay? Message #4: Faith! This… And it went on like this for the remaining ten messages, each beginning with Faith and after that, lapsing into some inconsequential matters. A bewildered Rukawa scratched his head dully and wondered whether he had stepped into the wrong house. Judging by the contents of the messages, anyone would have jumped to the natural conclusion this was her apartment, not his. Speaking about the new tenant, she was always up to some weird antics. There was once he found her picking the lock to the house with a straightened paper clip. And to his immense surprise, actually unlatched the door with just a few twists and turns of the clip. When she spotted him, a mortified expression crossed her slightly tanned features, which she tried to cover up by mumbling that she had accidentally left her keys in her room. Besides this, just some days ago, he caught her taking snapshots of his beloved basketball, which he had absentmindedly placed on the couch after his practice session. He was not impressed at all by that for he thought she had too much time on hand to spare like the vocal, irritating Rukawa brigade, taking such worthless, meaningless inert pictures. Initially, he was still not that piqued. Later that same evening, she dressed his black kitten in a white tuxedo suit, shiny black bow, a fake moustache attached above its upper lip (if you call that a lip) as well as a sleek, tall top hat and took many photographs of it as well. Even though he had to admit the kitten looked very smart and elegant in the garb, it pained him considerably that his pal was made to pose like a clown in front of her stupid camera. After shooting her a frosty glare that was well below minus ten degrees celsius, he swiped it away with him to his bedroom. Perhaps he should have mentioned verbally, in addition to his glare, the things she should not meddle with, for instance his room, basketball, the miniature potted plants by the window ledge… In short, the whole house, for the next day, he came home to find his precious NBA tapes stacked at distorted angles, bizarre positions and under multicolored lightings. Exasperated by her incorrigible behaviour, he flashed her his most deadly stare, (to Faith, however, the stares he gave were all the same – emotionless), expecting that she would be frightened by it as other people would whenever he did that, but the following day, it happened all over again. Either the baka was so dense she could not understand his glares or she blatantly disregarded his gestures. She was even worse than his sister was. Unlike most girls in Shohoku High, who would swoon over him and hang on to every word he uttered, she never seemed to be impressed by him and instead was bent on defying his every wish, as if she wanted to get a reaction out of him. Well, she was going to find out soon that she had approached the wrong guy for he was not going to give her the luxury of that, he had more pressing matters on hand, namely basketball than to deal with her eccentricity. When his sister returned, perhaps he would ask her to kick the baka out. Talking about his sister, he could not comprehend the reason she had for renting her room to the cranky girl. Hadn’t she been a detractor of the notion of cohabitation, or anything that had to do with an unmarried couple living under the same roof, be it in different rooms. What made it change so? Could money be that great a lure that people could forsake their principles for it? Or… don’t tell me, he remarked mentally to himself, the tenant’s idiosyncrasy is that infectious? Shuffling through the mail he took from the letterbox earlier, he found an opened envelope, which was addressed to the baka. The postman must have posted it in some nosy parker of a neighbour’s letterbox. From where he was seated, he could hear a tingly feminine voice singing a Samantha Mumba’s number outside the door, “Show me where I belong tonight… Give me a reason to stay… No matter if I go left or right…” For the first time in his life, Rukawa actually groaned in exasperation. Eyes closed, he set himself to enjoying the feel of the warm, refreshing water spurting out of the shower head and splashing onto his sweaty, tired body. Leisurely, he pushed his wet hair, which was matted against his forehead, backwards so that he could feel the rivulets of water running down every inch of his face. It was always a luxury to have a warm, comfortable bath after a vigorous workout. Squirting some liquid from a dull blue bottle onto his hand, he then proceeded to rub his hands together until lather began to form before he shampooed his hair. He was halfway through all this when he thought he heard someone knocking on the bathroom door. Halting his movements, he opened his eyes. The mischievous lather seized this golden opportunity to enter his eyes at once. Heck! Anyway, he pricked up his ears for any noises but none came. Immediately dismissing it from his mind, he resumed with what he was doing when the incessant loud knocking returned, now coupled with “Ne! Ne! NE!!” Even without looking, he knew who it was. What was the matter now?! Had the ceiling collapsed on her this time? He wondered as he rinsed his soapy hair under the running water. It must have been very urgent, for in the next moment, a shrill alarm spilt through the door, shocking him out of his wits. Hastily, he turned off the tap, draped a maroon towel around the lower portion of his body and opened the door. All this was done in a fluid motion. The moment he opened the door, a tanned hand shot through the gap, grabbed his wrist and pulled him out of the bathroom to the kitchen. Surprisingly, the baka was drenched from head to toe, as if she had been standing out in the rain for ages. However, there was none, as seen through the transparent glass window. Riled by the fact he had been disturbed in the middle of his bath, he glanced in the direction she was pointing in, albeit unwillingly and his eyes widened in horror at the sight before him. Unruly water was gushing out from a faulty tap in all directions. Instinctively, he clapped his huge callous hands over the tap to prevent a massive flooding in the kitchen. “What should we do?” asked she frantically. “Baka! Turn off the mains!” The water shot at his face, as if his face was not wet enough. “Where? Where is it?” “Baka!! Your left!” “Okay, got it!” Gradually, the surging water slowed to a bubbling, then a small spewing, after which nothing. While Rukawa set himself to repairing the faulty tap, Faith wiped the floor dry of water with a cloth. Totally immersed in his task, the hunky protagonist had no idea how desirable he looked at that instant. Gone was the cold, emotionless shield he always armed himself with. In its place was that of an unguarded, mature countenance. Slightly like a man, an ordinary family man, who could fix broken taps and solve household problems; that of an ideal boyfriend, who would come to his beloved’s aid when she was in trouble. Such an endearing appearance would have made the most cynical of all women fall head over heels in love with him. Therefore, it was a great pity; Faith was too rapt in her work to view him in such a different light, apart from the icy vibes she was always getting from him. If only… “Atishoo!” Initially, Rukawa had wanted to sneeze into his sleeve, but realised he was not wearing a shirt. Shuddering as the tendrils of the chilly evening air enveloped his uncovered yet wet torso, he gritted his teeth and picked up the spanner from the floor, intending to finish the last portion of his work when he felt something heated against his hand. “Here.” Facial features reverted to their usual insouciant manner, Rukawa glanced at the disheveled baka, who was holding out a cup of warm milk in one hand and a dry towel in another. It was truly amazing how she could still smile so dazzlingly in disastrous situations like now. Suddenly, she gave a muffled sneeze, spilling some of the milk onto his leg. After giving a last turn at the pipe with the spanner, Rukawa threw the towel she had offered him over her head and stood up. In synchronisation, both sneezed; Rukawa a low, masculine one and Faith a dainty one. For a microsecond, they eyed each other before he proceeded back to his unfinished bath. To be Continued... **Previous ** Next **