The teams were picked. But one was lacking. The assembled team ran off to huddle in quiet – already devising a game plan. Onodera of class B-IV ran a hand through his soft, golden hair. He gave a deep exhale in desperation, looking around in hope for prospective members. His team wasn't near as good enough to play under-manned – but that bet couldn't very well be called off now, either!

His silent prayers were answered as around the bend, a familiarly somber face came jogging past the courts, a child's tennis ball nearly clipping his ear. Evasively, and with ease, he brought his head to his own ear to dodge the neon ball – without so much as a misstep. With a hysterical giggle, hope bubbling within in the pits of his stomach, he called out to the man, hands cupping around his mouth.

"'ey, Sousuke!"

Turning his head robotically, he refocused his attention to his classmate, continuing to jog in the place he stopped. OnoD signalled for his friend to come over with an impatient hand. Sousuke came over at the same pace but stopped to stand at attention in front of him. The blonde clasped the raven-haired man's shoulder, shaking him out lightly.

"Relax, man," he gave a smile that Sousuke returned with an nod, not complying with the wish at all.

What he did agree to was what next Onodera asked of him.

Dragging him along, bent low towards hi face, he slugged him off to where the rest of the huddled group was.

"We've... bot a bit of a... situation... we lack a player, and, you seem like a pretty fit guy..." OnoD paused in imitation of thought, then snapped his fingers with shiny eyes and a bright grin. "say – I know! You could play for us!"

Sousuke's eyebrows rose at his classmates tone of incredulity and, after Onodera's bated breath at his speculations, agreed. Cheers were cried by the members, even those who knew of the Sergeant's... legacy.

From a distance, a man braced himself in an open, challenging stance – arms crossed over indignant chest. He glared down the length of the courts at the invited newcomer., cloaked in fatigues. The green-haired man scoffed aloud, catching the interest of this ball-player.

"Hah! Losers... does he even know how to play?"

Not one to take such simplistic bait, he was also one who was not in the particular mood to take lip or any other form of insubordination from the likes of him.

A player on his newly appointed team had been dribbling the ball. It slipped from his fast-working grasp and rolled by Sousuke – whose foot stunted it's pass. He bent to pick it up, never relinquishing eye contact. Then while straightened back, he tossed the large item over his shoulder. IN the next second a swoosh could be heard before the tell-tale thumps hit the concrete-gravel. The blonde Onodera stare open-mouthed, then turned to his friends who simply gaped in incredulous giddyness. He was going to have to hang around Sagara a lot more often now.

Tsubaki looked unimpressed.

"Whatever. Just hand us the ball," he said, turning on his sneakered heel. Mamoru Seseiki from class A handed the ball off to Sousuke who promptly stood at attention by half court. Issei met him with an angered hatred seething in his amber eyes.

"Game. On." he ground behind gritted teeth.

Sagara shoved the ball into his oppositions waiting arms – a might too forcefully.

The two retreated to their sides.

"Oh, yea," The green-haired man called behind his back with a meaningless wave. "you girls...are skins."

The modest boys groaned, clutching at their sides as if they were already naked. Upon seeing the de-shirting men, Sousuke had no idea what was going on, but soon after followed – folding his arms to take off the bland white shirt he wore. Sousuke was oblivious to the reason these men seemed uncomfortable. Sure they were half-exposed in public – and? Where Sousuke had been, children had roamed the streets completely naked. Though granted, it was for lack of clothing purposes.

Modesty is one thing, but you do not question an order or command given to you.

At the squeaks of shoe soles planting and skidding along the pavement, the skins team sprang into action. Shouts of "I'm open!" intermingled with hollers and cat-calls. The men danced skittish feet and hopped, tripped, over others' shoes. The sounds culminated to create an orchestral beat of labor and fun. Sweat stained the plain, white shirts and skins of the boys.

The score was 48: 32,, and Onodera's team was jubilant and exhausted. It was a great game so far. Each player from both teams dribbled, shot, and stole with great skill. Most of the team rested worn hands on shaking thighs, bent over. Sousuke and Onodera heaved bent as well nearer to the front, perspiration soaking and dripping down his spine and face. Trails slid down from his shaggy hair line, streaking down his high-structured cheek and muscular chest. OnoD shook his head out like a mutt, folding himself up with belled fists on his hips. The two still panted as the blonde deferred to the military man.

"The game must go on!"

Sousuke, tired and strained, nodded with a hesitant and breathy, "Affirmative."

"All right, men!" he clapped to his teammates with a huge grin. "Sagara and I agree – we gotta hold 'em and kick they're asses even harder!"

The guys cheered and surged back onto the sporting battlefield with restored energy and drive.

Two girls walked past the central park where everything recreational was held, shopping bags in hand. Their hair swayed in the wind, bobbing with their school uniformally-tailored skirts. Friendly chatter and girlish giggles could be heard for miles around as the two caught up and swapped tales of hilarity and daily on-goings. Their ears piqued instantly with the sound of scratching rubber and thumping. The shouts came next.

"I wonder what's going on, Kana-chan?" the pig-tailed girl wondered aloud excitedly.

"Let's go check it out~"she said to her best griend, eyes searching on ahead, body matching her movements.

With a wink, the cutesy one pulled out her camera, not hiding her intentions at all. They gave a light laugh at their antics and trotted off at a brisker pace.

The game had started off again without so much as a single hitch, though the shirts were catching up quicker than Onodera or Sousuke would like. The beefier boy whistled and rounded the team up with a wildly waving hand. They huddles and concealed themselves with each others arms.

"Shh, shh! Sousuke's gonna devise us a plan!" Mamoru hushed them.

The raven-haired mans breath was heavy but clear.

Understanding dawned in the eyes and expressions of each member in turn as the strategy hatched, they noted, could easily be carried out to perfection.

"Break!" they shouted in unison, throwing their conjoined hands up in the air in on-coming triumph.

They got into their proper, instructed, formation. The ball was thrown into play. Onodera skillfully knocked the ball being tossed by Tsubaki to Eichi and the rest of the plan fell into motion. The skins dodged, rammed, blocked, and caught each others passes. OnoD to Mamoru, Mamoru to Noda, Noda to Ueda to Tanaka then Aido. Aido threw to the waiting arms of Sousuke whose eyes were set in angled determination. Nearly slipping from his grasp, he regained the leather-like ball with a double-take and running up along the basket, shot by under-handedly tossing the ball from under his left arm. He made the lay-up in his own variation – right under arm banging his left elbow with the shot. Sousuke turned his back and greeted his ecstatic classmates with a rare and fleeting smirk, deserved too early. He did not witness the events unfold, but heard it all the same.

The basketball bounced off the rim with a clang, soaring through the air in a sharp arc. Then the muted thud of object meeting flesh sounded -silencing everything. All around, frozen. Sousuke Sagara turned from the aghast and gaping faces of friends to find an easily-angered enemy knocked on his ass by brute and unwelcoming force. Issei picked himself up, and with his rustling movements came the awful sound of broken glass. The crinkle was louder as the jade-haired man raised the crushed frames. He stood, gripping the ball in the nook his bent elbow provided, dusting off his navy blue shorts. Quick as a flash he threw the ball at his adversaries russet face, who then deftly deflected, only to get a fist to his mug. Using the momentum of the fall to bring his arms back, slapping them forward to clap over his foe's ears in a disorientation method. Though he managed to send Tsubaki flying backwards, Sousuke left himself open. He crashed back as well, skinning his lower back and forearm as it scrapped against the court. Blood streamed, like his sweat, down his nose, coating his upper lip in the copper liquidity. The sergeant pulled himself to his feet – the other injured party rolling uselessly on the ground, hands covering his should-be ringing ears, eyes crazed in pain – he brought a rough arm to swipe at his lip. As well as that, he placed his aching, throbbing nose between extended palms and reset it.

"SOUSUKE?"an enraged woman stormed onto the gravel, hands balled by her sides.

"Chi-do-wi-" he tried through his clotted nose but he was only received by the sharp sting of the Harisen cracking against the back of his head. At this point, the gang of men had backed away a good distance, enclosing the tumbling, fighting, and beaten people. "but, I –"

"Save it!" she yelled out venomously, holding a harsh hand up to silence his yammering.

Only in specially-tractioned sneakers and militarily-designed beige camo slacks – Sousuke was a gorgeously marred sight to behold. But she had no time to thoroughly inspect him when a friend needed to be tended to. She knelt by Tsubaki now, face etched in a strained concern.

Assuming from what she saw of Sousuke's unprovoked attack, she favored the seemingly more injured boy, placing his head to rest on her lap. From the contact, he turned into a tomato personified as well as a blubbering mush. The soldier could not stand it. He could take a slap or any amount of physical damage over the emotional pain he felt as an on-looker to this. As a torrential wave of emotions crashed through him, he knew he could not stay. Storming off, he snatched his shirt off the bench with a run

"Kyoko – put that thing away!" Kaname commanded of her friend, incessantly clicking away at the digital recorder.

When she would not stop, she looked up to notice her doing finger excersizes in a certain direction in urgency. Kaname followed that finger and saw the hurriedly retreating form of a hurt Sousuke. She bit her lip – knowing it looked like the decision between him or Tsubaki was made.

Her pout whitened her lower lip.

Upon hasty entry, he slammed his door shut, even the reassuring sounds of masterful locks sliding into place with an audible 'click' did little to calm him. He had no idea why this was harping, eating away at, and angering him as much as it di – Ouch! That twist pulled at the fresh wounds along his back. He checked the bland counters for anti-septic and aids. He found peroxide and gauze after rough, throwing searches, tossing his bunched-up shirt at the wall.

And still he fumed.

So what if she essentially chose the rotten fighting wastrel over him? It's not as if he himself is better.

Yes he is.

No, I'm not.

Who cares!

He shouldn't.

After all, she's just his mission. The moment they recall him, he would be out.

The though sobered him. He stopped his fervent pacing midway, between his open kitchen and living space.

A life out of peaceful Japan? A life minus the "playfully" insulting banter of 'friends'? A life going back to all strife and no leisure to this?

Sousuke Shrugged and continued walking, rolling his softly throbbing wrist in circles. He would get used to it. After all, he had known it for... well, since he could remember. He knew he hailed from from this gunless place, but that back before he could even walk – much less remember. Fighting, war, death and destruction, were the only friends that stuck by him. They were what had comprised his life.

Until now.

Another thought struck him, shooting near-physically through his beating and metaphysical heart. It stunned him and caused all his limbs to go numb with a sense of... what? It felt close to dread, desperation! He felt as heavy as the lead of a WA2000 rifle.

A life without Kaname...?

"That wouldn't be a life... at all," the words escaped heavy lips. He couldn't form a rational though as the reality of leaving could be a high possibility. He brought an unthinking fist up to smash against the frame of his bedroom door he was frozen under.

He was unable to think. Feel. Move.

All he registered was that somehow, he had fallen on his face above his cot.

A silenced entry. Not even the clicks roused him.

The soft comforting circles rubbed gently, soothingly, along his tense back did. The person rested on his left side so he brought a sharp arm from his right, lashed out and around, pressing his body above the other person – eliminating their option of moving. His silver eyes stared down into chocolate-coated orbs. She stared up, but not with anger or surprised alarm, with a soft compassionate melancholy. The surge of loathing he expected to have when he saw her, was either not the right emotion or washed under a crushing wave of sadness. He had no idea where it came from, but the pain of it opened his mouth and widened his eyes – any other showing muffled. Sousuke regained himself and slipped under the same mask he tended to wear.

"No, please don't," she brought a tender hand to caress his face, pleading with her eyes for him not to build walls between them.

He turned his face into her palm only to hide the sudden anguish he felt, closing his eyes shut. He pushed himself off the thin mattress, bouncing her slightly, and went into the living room. He did not want to be rude and force her out. He also could not bear to look at her. He was not sure why, it was not as if she had tortured him or physically harmed him. Yet by her actions, it felt worse.

Betrayal. He felt, wrongly, betrayed. But was it really that wrong of him to feel?

He lumbered to the couch and dug into it, dropping his head into his hands.

"Sousuke..." came her voice from the doorway. She sounded hurt, not for her own sake, by the fact of what she had done.

He felt the thin muscular arms wrap around his shoulders from behind before he heard her say: "I'm sorry."

He whirled around then, her arms loosening for him to do so, and stared up at her with raw emotion in his eye.

"Chidori! I didn't even –"

She silenced him with a finger to his honest lips.

"I know." she said simply, the words coming out slowly.

"You – you..." he calmed, then frowned. "you know?"

How could she know he wasn't the cause – the start of it all? Tsubaki was arrogant, but not enough to disclose that sort of information against himself? He could feel her nod by her hair moving its silky feel along his cheek.

"Yea," her voice was a whisper in his ear. "OnoD told me what really happened." she gave a light laugh. "I kicked Issei to the curb right after that. Him and that stupid grin."

Sousuke's interest piqued, hard pressed was he not to show it.

"You did...?" his voice raised an octave to insure the inflection created a question.

Kaname hid her knowing smile into his hair.

"Uh huh."

She felt the vibration of his hmmmm reverberated from his neck to hers.

"Apology...not...accepted." he declared.

The young woman gave a start. WHAT?

He wrapped his corded arms around her outraged and retreating form, pulling her over the base-board of his couch. Sousuke's body partially covering hers with his leaning, he held her trapped in his arms. She squirmed with a bright blush at being underneath Sergeant Shirtless. The pink tinged to a brick red as his lips closed themselves around hers. There was a sort of urgency to the kiss. He bit her lip boldly, growling to enhance his request. She granted permission, eyes rolling back and closing.

He broke apart, panting.

"Ok," he spoke breathily against her lips, voice hoarse and husky, shoulders giving a jump to signal a slight shrug. "Now I accept."