Whoever Said College is Easy?

Prologue: Graduation Day

Red and silver streamers hung on the sides, and bouquets of balloons of the same colors were strategically placed, adding to the festive setting of the venue. The plush, black leather seats gave a "theater" feel to it, but no one cared. It can get really quite comfortable, especially when the airconditioner is in full blast. The wooden floor panels reflected the yellow lights above. The velvet curtains were pulled back, making way for the sparsely decorated, yet elegant stage which was adorned in pale camellias and dark peonies. It seemed quite an unusual combination, really, but the organizer of the event turned out to be a sentimental sap. Camellias meant "good luck", and peonies, "happiness". She claimed that nothing would be more appropriate for the occasion. A simple "Congratulations to the Graduates of Batch 2002" shone in silver against the black background.

"Sakuragi Hanamichi!"

Applause and cheers boomed throughout the auditorium as the self-proclaimed tensai's name echoed through the microphone. Somewhere in the right, one could see Yohei and the others cheering loudly for their friend, then laughing, as the red-haired klutz almost fell off the stage. And somewhere in the middle was a blushing mother, who was both proud and embarrassed by the brashness of her son.

The seats were filled with eager students, with equally excited parents and relatives. After all, how many times in a lifetime does one get his name announced, go up on stage and be on the spotlight for about ten seconds to receive his high school diploma? So, on to this marvelous event, wherein the ol' marching music continues to blare through the speakers, dictating the students' cues as they remember their memorized steps.

There should constantly be ten people lining up on the sides of the stage steps, and wait for their turn. Everything should be efficient, after all, and must be executed perfectly. Chin held up high, and be careful not to trip on your long, white toga. Okay, so just stand on the spots with the "x" marks, and make sure that your palms are dry. You would be shaking hands with the principal, after all, and you wouldn't want him to be making disgusted looks, right? Of course not, it wouldn't look good when the official photographer takes your picture at that moment with that look on his face. How on earth would you have that framed and displayed in your living room?

And the show goes on. When your name is called, walk towards those high-ups to whom your owe your future. Walk slowly, but do not drag your feet. Be lively, but not overly enthusiastic. Smile, but do not show your teeth. Give a firm squeeze to the congratulatory hand presented, never shake. Receive the precious diploma with both hands, go to the next "x" spot and proudly show your diploma for everyone to see. Take a nice bow and exit the stage gracefully. Be careful not to trip again and walk to your seat where you can quietly rest until the photographing sessions. Simple, right? Ten seconds of spotlight must be worth it for those long hours of practice six days a week for a month. Yep, everything was just peachy.

"Rukawa Kaede!"

A mix of female gushes, sighs and screams erupted all throughout the auditorium. The Ru-Ka-Wa cheerleaders came well-prepared, armed with pompoms as they performed their customary routine. The ex-team captain simply let out a huff of defeat and annoyance. It was not as if he was valedictorian or anything, he did not even have an academic award. He never wanted any attention, to be honest, except in the courts. In those cases, he knew that there was something worth gushing about, not just his pretty face or his "sexy bod", as they call it.

And so up he went to face those hot, glaring lights. A brief glance at the audience, he spotted his obaasan who looked like she had been snoozing through the ceremony for quite a while now, Ayako-san and Ryota-sempai trying to shake her from slumber. Oh well, so much for moments of pride. Not that he needed any more of those anyway, but it would be nicer if she was awake to see her only grandson take his bow. Kaede knew this would happen, and he even opted for her *not* to go, but Ayako-san practically glared him down when he tried to protest and tell her the obvious futility of everything. Her persuasions would just fall into literally deaf ears. Obaasan was what one may consider senile, not knowing what's happening around her. She rarely spoke, and if she did, it would not even be related to what the others were discussing about. Surprisingly enough, she does not need taking care of. She bustles around the house, as if she had everything mapped out. She cooks, cleans, but never speaks. It was like living with a robot, but one who could offer the warmth and comfort of human existence. For that, Kaede was thankful. And with her as the only living relative Kaede had, Ayako-san just had to dress her up for this occasion. The poor woman did not even know what was happening, though, let alone aware that this raven-haired boy in a white toga just in front was her grandson.

And so he quietly made his way back to his seat, the murmurs and noise becoming blocked out as he pondered. What now? In barely two months' time, he would be moving to the university dorms. He would leave his little home and his obaasan. No more biking to his beloved Shohoku High in the mornings, no more of those late night basketball practices in the high school gym, those sessions with his team, and even those stolen naps on the rooftop.

But honestly, he couldn't wait. Underneath his blank stare lies the eagerness of a typical freshman, anticipating the life that the university offers.

Yep, watch out Daigaku University, here comes Rukawa Kaede.

To be continued...

Author's notes: Daigaku University is non-existent, as far as I know. Just for your information, "Daigaku" means "university", which is kinda redundant IMO, but oh well...Also, I'm not fully aware if this is how they practice graduation in Japan.

Next on Chapter One: "Along the Corridors of the Future".

Slam Dunk and its characters do not belong to me. Other names, to which I lay claim on will be noted as such.