A young resting mountain lion stirs awake as it hears rustling in the bushes near it. He picked this area specifically because of the high density of bushes. It would help alert him if something was coming.
But the lion's instinct made him aware of incoming danger long before the rustling of the bush. The ego of a lion. What animal in this entire region could threaten a fierce lion like him. Perhaps it was just a lost deer, or a nervous antelope searching for water.
But the lion's heart thudded harder, his breath shallow. The lion stood up, its majestic fur seemed like gold in the sun. Old scars were littered around his body. The rustling stopped.
The lion was completely still, anticipating movement. Suddenly there was rustling behind aswell. Another rustle to the right and another to the left. The lion was startled but still didn't move and neither did the bushes.
The lion was getting slightly annoyed. He let out a ground-shaking roar that reverberated all around. The bushes shivered. Slowly, one by one, shapes emerged-a pack of coyotes, their bodies low and wary, their eyes never leaving the lion. The prince was surrounded.
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Squeaking sound filled the gym. The sound of sneakers on polished wood, the smell of sweat was in the air. He sees it coming before it happens. His teammate's eyes lock on him, telegraphing the pass so clearly that even the slowest defender could read it. He shouts, voice slicing through the noise. "No, don't-"
Too late. The ball leaves his teammate's hands, a straight, chest pass. The defender from the other team rushes up. "How predictable," he says, stepping into between. He snatches the ball mid-flight, already pivoting, already scanning the court for passing.
Free break. The other team runs down the court but with coordinated movement. A pass left, pass right, defenders scrambling out of position because of screens. The ball moves through hands, around bodies, barely touching the floor. A final pass to the paint allowed for a simple layup-one hand off the glass uncontested. The scoreboard flickers. 43:78.
His fists clench at his sides. He turns grinding his teeth and glaring at his teammate. "YOU IDIOT! LOOK BEFORE YOU PASS!" The back of his jersey reads KUROBANE, black bold letters stretched across tense shoulders over his blue jersey. The captain and ace of Shūtei High.
The rookie's face flushes red in shame heavy in his voice. "I'm sorry, Kiyota."
A while after the buzzer sounded, the whole team was in the locker room. Gathered around their captain. The silence in the room was heavy. Kiyota sat on the bench next to a few teammates, his back was hunched and a towel was draped over his head. His jersey clung to his skin like latex because of the sweat.
It was a similar scene for his teammates as they slumped around him but they weren't as angry as him. For Kiyota, basketball was a path to college. A way to get a scholarship so he could become someone. Unlike his team who had money, this was his only chance and the only thing he was best at.
Kiyota's fists were clenched so tight on his lap that his knuckles were turning white. He wanted to scream and smash something. He wanted to blame his teammates, the refs and even fate itself. But no words came out as his chest tightened, his eyes watered up. He blinked hard, refusing to cry. Captains weren't supposed to cry. Captains were supposed to be strong, unbreakable, like the lion he'd always imagined himself to be.
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The fight was a desperate hold on for survival for both the mountain lion and the coyotes. The lion lashed out at a particularly bold coyote, claws swiping at it and hoping it struck so he could sink in his teeth.
But the coyotes were relentless as they either charged in together and retreated together, biting and tearing out small chips of damage to the lion. The lion's strength was legendary but even legends get tired.
Blood matted his golden fur and his already scar covered body was filled with more. Slowly his roars became weaker, until finally the prince of the mountain fell.
When the sun crested the mountain ridge, the coyotes circled the fallen lion. They tore into his flesh. The once-mighty predator was now reduced to prey. The mountain was silent but for the sound of tearing and snapping as if solemn.
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The streets were usual. The usual quite, dark and sometimes cold. Tonight was a average night with slight cool winds. The streetlights lit up the path in the streets, but in in between the alleyways, there were no streetlights. Kiyota had to rely on the lights from the streets or the occasional light from apartments.
'I wish I had a spare change of clothes. I'm getting too forgetful these days.' Kiyota thought to himself as he half-walked and half-limped. Exhaustion made these steps heavier than they should have been.
'It's windy tonight.' Kiyota thought was a cold breeze hit his jersey which was clung cold and damp to his skin. The towel from earlier was still around his neck providing a tiny bit of comfort.
He walked until he stopped. This was his post game ritual, no matter win or lose. The vending machine stood alone against the wall. Kiyota dug through his duffle bag with his cold fingers to fish out a few coins from his wallet, just enough for a cold coffee.
'Nothing like drinking cold things in the cold, I just hope I don't catcha cold.' Kiyota thought sarcastically as he fed them into the machine, pressed the button, and waited for the metallic clunk.
Kiyota picked up the can and fumbled to get his grip under the tab before cracking it open with a hiss. He leaned his tired body against the wall adjacent to the machine and started sipping on his drink.
Footsteps echoed at the opposite side of the alley. Kiyota tensed up. Afterall there had been many robberies because of the delinquent students but also murders. Gruesome murders caused by ghouls were prevalent no matter where you go but it seemed to be less in the 20th ward. His eyes narrowed and the figure came into view. It was a girl, her steps hesitant.
'Of course she's hesitant aswell. She's probably scared seeing a guy staring at her down a alley. God I hope I didn't look like a weirdo.' Kiyota thought as he looked away and sipped.
fluorescent glow of the vending machine light up the red trim on her blazer and the dark red pleats of her skirt. She was wearing the Shūtei High uniform which was the same as his if he didn't have a match today, but her face was unfamiliar.
Kiyota watched her approach. He was curious even through his exhaustion. She looked about his age, 17. Her hair was neatly tied, and she had a slim black backpack behind her. The way she walked cautiously like someone new to the area or maybe just careful about late-night streets.
She stopped a few paces from him, looking at the vending machine, then at Kiyota, then back at the machine. Her brown eyes met his for a fraction of a second. Kiyota felt a strange flutter in his chest.
'God.' Kiyota thought to himself as he tried not to stare. She was cute, in a quiet, bookish way. He was sure he hadn't seen her around before. Maybe she was from the other class-the one with the higher grades, the so-called "smarter class." He wondered if she recognised him, the captain from the basketball team.
She hesitated for a second but then stepped forward and started digging in her own bag for coins. The silence between them was awkward but not bad. It was peaceful filled with the hum of the vending machine and the distant city sounds.
'I should say something.' Kiyota though as he took another sip of his coffee. He considered saying something. Maybe saying hi or asking if she was new. But the words caught in his throat.
Instead, he just watched as she selected her drink, her hands were small and cute. The can dropped, and she retrieved it. She opened the can and took a sip before staring at kiyota.
'Why is she staring? Did I do something? Maybe she wants me to say something. Maybe she likes me?' Kiyota started to overthink.