All it took was a plane crash, and Kise Ryota was no more.
Strangely enough, he didn't feel sadness, only regret. Regret for not checking his engine beforehand. Regret for missing out on his friends with his job as a pilot. Regret for not spending t...
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The sound of the ball hitting the floor followed by the squeaking of sports shoes echoed within the gym. The acidic smell of sweat had invaded the atmosphere, and by now the matches had begun, the previous physical only tests being over.
Stretching Mikaël's golden eyes calmly observed his team members. None of them were mind-blowing, and he hadn't spotted any of the future first-stringers either. He sighed, what a disappointment. Even if none of them compared to the GOM, to have none and only deal with some second-hand players was a bit frustrating. Well, it just meant more work for him if he wanted to win the match. Mechanically rubbing his earlobe, he let his golden hues trail to the adversary team.
At least captain isn't part of them, he pondered, mentally cheering himself. Trying to remember any of their faces he was met with utter failure until his eyes rested on a tall raven head. Most probably the tallest of their batch he mused as he quickly remembered the other he had met while running. If he remembered correctly the boy was the second string's future captain, his path was similar to Shuzo's the only difference being the string they were assigned.
A deprecative smile bloomed on his face before he smoothed his features into his usual sham grin. He would do with him. No challenge meant no opportunity to show his skills off and be promoted to first string. Taking a gulp of his water bottle, he wiped his face off of sweat before nearing his current team.
He felt a bit reluctant. The only teams he had ever seriously played with were Kaijo's, Vorpal Sword, or Teiko's and even then at least one of the GOM was there or someone almost on par with him. To play with these nobodies who, since they were appointed to the same team, kept on judging him was getting on his nerves.
Ryota liked to have people staring at him, gossip about him, it boosted his ego to new lengths. But to have others look down on him? That wasn't something he tolerated. Sure his body made him seem weaker, more feeble than other players and had they been on different teams he would have used the piled up anger to kick their asses. But that wasn't the case, and he had to deal with them.
He sighed, deciding to dismiss them and instead observe how they played before entering and showing off his skills. He had some remaining copies from his former life, Perfect Copy being one of them, but it wasn't complete, he had to see the real thing at least once to have it reach its peak. Well, even without it he would pass with flying colors.
::
The sound of the ball hitting the floor echoed as another whistling sound went off, announcing the opposing team's newly gained points. Ryota felt his blood boil, were they kidding him? Since the beginning of the game, he hadn't touched the ball once, his "teammates" seemed to flee him like the plague, denying his existence on the court.
