basketball, whilst being a team sport, was all about possession. and he understood that to its fullest extent.
sweet, gentle yuuji itadori still remembered the first time he felt a full body sense of existential otherness grip his soul when he put a single sneakered foot on his first court.
from then on, it was his court, his ball, his points, his team, and his goddamn reputation on the line. one would have thought that he had everything he could call his own.
but then he met her. and god, that solid knowledge of taking something and keeping for yourself had reached a hellish level.
he took her everywhere like she was one of his sponsor deals, a pretty thing to show off and tell everyone in neon lettering that she was his.
and it had worked. everyone knew that she was his.
but apparently, some didn't know how to apply it.
he gritted his teeth under harsh white lights as he practically flew over concrete, feeling lightning threaded adrenaline fuel his veins. he tuned out the jeering of the crowd behind wired fences in exchange for the dull, heartbreaking thud of a basketball on the backboard as he blocked another shot, coming down hard and stepping over the boy that dared to challenge him.
and that was when he first saw him turn his eyes towards her.
the point guard of the other team was slick, fluid and shifty, quick on his feet fand quicker with his tongue, his comments usually earning him the ire of the voluntary refs. he didn't seem to know his place.
that was alright for now, though. he would help him learn.
as the game went on, he could feel the other team's spirit wane as he and his boys inevitably took charge and dominated them, the score almost blasphemous to the game itself.
it was the fourth quarter, down to the last couple of minutes. he wasn't stressed, though. nothing upsetting was going to occur.
that was, until that damn point guard looked at her and smiled, teeth leering from sweat soaked skin.
and then he had the audacity to wave, fluttering his fingers and winking in her direction.
basketball was about possession, after all.
and she was fully his, mind, heart, and soul, but for damn sure her body.
he took a running start and threw his entire body weight into his newfound opponent, slamming him into the concrete and feeling his head hit the ground with a sickening crack, taking heady satisfaction from the sound.
his arms were moving and his fists were moving and his mouth was moving, teeth gnashing and tongue working like flint freshly sparked, spitting venomous threats that burned like acid on the point guard's skin. dull thuds from skin on skin turned into wet sounds as flesh gave way to blood, and startled yelps turned into tearful begs.
he thought of her in the stands, thought of her widened eyes and hunched shoulders as he dared to even think of looking at her, and suddenly his body was upright and he was kicking, stomping, and walking over this boy, this fucking child who thought he could touch what was his.
and then hands were on his shoulders and a hurried voice was at his ears, and oh god, it was hers, and was she okay? was she frightened, scared, hurt? he would fucking murder the person who-
he was pulled away by fingers that his skin knew on contact and sung at their touch, consoled by a voice that graced his ears and haunted his waking thoughts and unconscious dreams, embraced by arms that held him and pieced him together day by day, minute by minute.
after all, he had what was his. the buzzer had long sounded, the refs opting for keeping their bodies intact than interfere with the violence in the middle of the court.
the victory was his, in both sport and blood.
and she was his, at his side and in his ear, and his blood thrummed at the sight of her.
he had what was his. and that was all he needed.
"let's go home," he rasped, throat shredded with exhaustion and spent malice.
he knew that she was his. now he just had to prove it.
@ushiitoji @kenknto @meese-geese @the-phantoms-library
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