Ficlet: Slam Dunk
Fandom: Slam Dunk
Genre: Gen. Ficlet (length of a drabblex2).
Rating: G.
Fic Notes: Theme #18 for Slam Dunk at 20themes.
Fic Setting: During a certain canon game within the IH eliminations.
What do you say at a moment like this?
Get up? Stand up, you stupid selfish jerk? There's strength in you yet, and you know it! Are you going to give up so easily? Have you forgotten the greatness you'd once had between your fingertips? Prove us wrong. Prove your body wrong. You have once chance to make amends, and this is it.
What can you say?
You're weak? You're worthless? A has-been, a never-was, a pale shadow of what you'd once promised to be, and barely anyone remembers that. If you don't get up, no one will ever know, and you will be forgotten yet again.
There are so many things that Hasegawa can say, but each is discarded as quickly as the next pops in his head. All he can do is stare at the fallen Mitsui, lying on the floor as weak as stillborn glory.
You traded one type of arrogance for another, and now you pay. You will always have to pay.
Hasegawa looks away as the bespectacled boy takes his once-rival away to the relative safety of the side bench. That moment holds more than enough disappointment for one day, so Hasegawa feels bad for not feeling worse when they lose to Mitsui's avengers.
Genre: Gen. Ficlet (length of a drabblex2).
Rating: G.
Fic Notes: Theme #18 for Slam Dunk at 20themes.
Fic Setting: During a certain canon game within the IH eliminations.
What do you say at a moment like this?
Get up? Stand up, you stupid selfish jerk? There's strength in you yet, and you know it! Are you going to give up so easily? Have you forgotten the greatness you'd once had between your fingertips? Prove us wrong. Prove your body wrong. You have once chance to make amends, and this is it.
What can you say?
You're weak? You're worthless? A has-been, a never-was, a pale shadow of what you'd once promised to be, and barely anyone remembers that. If you don't get up, no one will ever know, and you will be forgotten yet again.
There are so many things that Hasegawa can say, but each is discarded as quickly as the next pops in his head. All he can do is stare at the fallen Mitsui, lying on the floor as weak as stillborn glory.
You traded one type of arrogance for another, and now you pay. You will always have to pay.
Hasegawa looks away as the bespectacled boy takes his once-rival away to the relative safety of the side bench. That moment holds more than enough disappointment for one day, so Hasegawa feels bad for not feeling worse when they lose to Mitsui's avengers.