Cross Mirage

Standing (1)

Ji-Hong

The chirps of lively nocturnal insects fill the air of the neighbourhood park. Harsh, white light from the towering fluorescent lamps bathe the fenced basketball court. Crisp, seasonal winds with the scent of woody nature caresses my skin and chills my lungs as I set my belongings aside. Even though the only audience we have are the insects and shadowy nature around us, the pressure that I'm getting from our imminent match feels much heavier than my one-on-one with Hansel back then, and we had a fair number of students watching us as well.

My instincts are telling me that something's extremely wrong about the person before me. Normally, I'm able to get a good sense of how good my opponents are, something like an animal picking up the scent of its prey. Dean's aura however, isn't just overwhelmingly strong; it's flickering wildly as well, like a flame dancing its natural, unpredictable rhythm in a dark winter night. It's impossible for me to get a decent gauge of his level, but one thing's for sure: Dean isn't an ordinary basketball player.

With a composed expression, the man with the wolf-like haircut and stubble beard spins the ball with a finger as he awaits for me to take position, not even showing any signs of intoxication in the slightest.

"I like those eyes. Looks like you're ready," Dean says with an anticipative smirk.

Not sure about mine, but his looks and eyes remind me too much of those from wolves. I'm not the only predator on this court.

And yet, the beast within me hungers for competition just as much as victory. It's no fun if the game is going to be a one-sided victory for me. Even though this is my first time acknowledging Dean as a basketball player, I can tell immediately that this will be a tough game.

With just a flick of his finger, Dean bumps the spinning ball into the air and catches it. My opponent then tosses the leathery orb at me, of which I catch deftly with a hand.

"You go first," he says, assuming a defensive stance. "Let's keep it short; first to five baskets wins."

As my blood races to the excited pounding of my heart, the power begins to simmer within my muscles. My focus deepens, and though I've never played on this court before, I'm beginning to feel as if I'm now almost fully tuned to my surroundings, my battleground. The feel of the asphalt rubbing against the soles of my shoes; the greenish sheen given off by the basketball court settling in my eyes; these sensations and vibes are now ingrained into my soul, and I warmly accept them. The court has invited me to be part of its family, and I'll gladly work with it to claim this game for myself.

I crouch, dribbling the ball as naturally as breathing, letting nothing but my instincts take the wheel of my body.

Now!

With a sudden burst of power, my fingers send the ball crashing down onto the floor, bouncing straight for my other hand. I catch it, twist my body, preparing to perform the next step of my crossover technique.

Wait. Since when did he―

It's only for a split second, but my instincts are warning me about my opponent. His movements are odd. While he's following the movements of the ball, Dean isn't flowing to my rhythm at all.

I ignore the nagging voice in me and blast the ball to the other side anyways. My other hand accepts the ball, and I dart to that side, attempting to break through his guard.

What the―

Dean is right in front of me. There's no getting past of him through this side.