Gi Young's P.O.V.

            Minho and I stood at the half-court line; he had possession of the ball.  We had been staring each other down for the last thirty seconds.  In the next couple of seconds, one of us was going to make a move and set the game off.  Three. . . Two. . . ONE.  Quick as a flash, I snatched the ball out of Minho’s hands and started sprinting down the court.  Minho had stared at his hands in shock for about half a second before running after me, but that half-second was all the extra time that I needed to gain an advantage.  I closed in on the net and performed a lay-up, successfully sinking the first shot of the game.  I noticed that Minho’s jaw had become set in anger and concentration as I passed him the ball for take-out.  The game began again once Minho set foot in the court.  He was good; there was no doubt about that.  However, I was able to quickly adjust to his movements, therefore keeping him in check.  I couldn’t get the ball from him and he couldn’t get past me, which meant that we were stuck in the middle of the court, unable to move towards either of the baskets.  It was then that Minho decided to make the first contact move by elbowing me in the stomach.  When I doubled over, he dribbled the ball down to his side of the court.  I tried to catch up, but I only managed to stop him from making a lay-up.  He did a “carry-over,” pivoting around me and shooting the ball into the basket.  I narrowed my eyes when he glanced at me with a cocky look on his face.  Ah well.  At least I know that he’s not planning on going easy on me, I thought to myself.  Since he started it, it’s safe to say there’s no harm in fighting fire with fire.  “All right,” I muttered, “bring it on Choi Minho.”

Minho’s P.O.V.

            Only one thought was crossing my mind when this game started:  This guy is good.  Usually, competing in sports only required a fraction of my concentration; I’m a really competitive person, and this seems to intimidate people too much to really have them push me.  Either this boy was really dumb, or really brave.  Whichever it was, I couldn’t let my mind wander for even a second.  I was completely taken off guard when he snatched the ball from me the first time.  Naturally, I was angry that he managed to score the first shot on me.  I, on the other hand, was forced to take advantage of Sandeul’s “full-contact” condition to score my first point.  I smirked at Sandeul as I passed him the ball.  He glared back at me before running into the court with the ball.  I followed close by his heels.  The next thing I knew, I was sprawled on the floor and Sandeul managed to shoot a bank-shot from the free-throw line.  He tripped me, I thought, not bad dude. . . smart idea. 

            “Pay back,” I heard him mutter as I passed by him with the basketball in my hands.  I smirked again.  After the next two points, the intensity of the game increased dramatically.  I was getting pretty pissed.  No one had ever managed to keep me in this state of mind for such a long time.  Sandeul’s defensive and offensive tactics were getting me even more pissed.  There were a few times where I felt like both of us took advantage of the full-contact rule just to hit each other.  Focus Choi Minho. . . This game isn’t over yet. . .

Third Person P.O.V.

            Gi Young and Minho were so absorbed in their game, that they had no idea what was going on in the world around them.  When the game first started, no one was paying much attention to the pair’s one-on-one game.  However, after a few minutes, all of the boys on the other courts slowly stopped what they were doing and watched the two ferociously compete against each other for dominance.  Eventually, they began realizing that Choi Minho was one of players.

            “This game is crazy.  I can’t even tell who’s going to win,” one person muttered.

            “Dude, are you joking?  Do you know who that guy is?” another boy responded, pointing towards Minho.

            “No. . .  Should I?”

            “YES.  That’s SHINee’s Choi Minho.  He is probably the most competitive man to have ever walked on this earth.  There’s no possible way that other guy can win.  Plus, by the way they’re playing, it looks like this is a full-contact match.  That guy has no chance against Minho.  He’s done for.”

            Little side conversations like this were being held all around the court, but by the look on “Sandeul’s” and Minho’s faces, they didn’t even know they were being watched.  Beads of sweat were rolling down their bodies, mixing with some of the blood that was coming out of their cuts and scrapes.  A lot of people were giving “Sandeul” awe-struck looks, admiring the fact that he had the guts to go head on against Minho.  (Yeah, Minho’s nature was pretty well-known amongst the park boys.) 

            Everyone witnessed Minho body slamming Sandeul to throw him off balance and Sandeul connecting the side of his fist with Minho’s middle in retaliation.  The level of intensity and ferocity with which the two were competing rose to such an extent that people seriously began considering jumping into the middle of the game to stop the match.  Others held them back however; judging by the looks on the two competitors faces, whoever tried to interrupt them would surely not come back alive.

Gi Young’s P.O.V.

            After about thirty fast and furious minutes, Minho and I were tied at a score of 9 to 9.  Both of us were beaten up pretty badly.  Because of both of our extremely competitive natures, we were completely merciless to each other.  Both Minho’s knees and my knees were bleeding from the numerous amount of times we tripped each other and hit the concrete.  Our hands were scraped up from trying to keep ourselves from falling; there were bruises on all different parts of our bodies because of “excessive use of elbows” and maybe a few kicks/punches here and there.  We were both breathing heavily.  I tried to shake off the pain and the exhaustion as I picked up the basketball.  Just one more shot. . . I thought to myself.  I refused to lose against this boy.  I gathered up my energy as I walked into the court and started dribbling the ball.  Minho stalked towards me, like a predator seeking his prey.  His eyes reflected nothing but extreme concentration as they bore into my own.  My gaze hardened. 

            Then, without warning, Minho ran straight at me.  I began executing the most complex dribbling techniques I knew in my attempt to keep the ball away from him.  It worked, making Minho more and more frustrated at he tried to reach around me to get the ball.  His hands slid around my waist to stop me from moving and to get closer to the ball.  I gasped in shock, completely forgetting for a moment that we were playing a full-contact game and that I was disguised as a boy.  I felt my body heat up a bit and my heart rate increase.  I brushed it off as an adrenaline rush from the game itself.  My eyes flickered down to Minho’s hands around my waist and the ball I was dribbling.  I finally snapped out of it and elbowed him in his chest to get him away from the basketball.  The second his grip loosened, I spun around in a 360 degree pivot (still dribbling of course) and used the last of my strength to sprint down the remainder of the court.  Minho caught up to me when I reached the far left side of the three-point line.

            This was my last chance!  Minho’s arm flew backwards in an attempted to block me as I jumped to shoot.  I felt like everything was happening in slow motion.  The very INSTANT that the ball left my hands, the whole of Minho’s arm smacked against my chest, hard.  Because I was still partially in the air due to my jump, the impact of his blow caused me to fly backwards and land on my back.  As I fell, I saw a streak of orange as the basketball flew towards the hoop.  Please, please, please, I thought to myself.  The ball hit the rim.  It bounced one. . . twice. . . At this point, my heart was beating like crazy and I had stopped breathing.  My head collided with the concrete floor and my vision became blurry.  The sound I heard right after my vision blurred was unmistakable though:  It was the sound of a basketball brushing against the inside of a basketball net. 

            I won.

           Once my vision cleared enough, I glanced at Minho.  He wasn’t looking at me, but I could still see his face.  I silently wished that I had brought a camera just to capture his expression.  He looked amazed, upset, but most of all, angry.  Honestly, I thought he was going to punch me in the face.  But when he turned to completely face me, I could see nothing but pure and absolute shock written on his face.  I was confused.  Maybe he thought that I was seriously hurt?  I tried to get up, but my body was in too much pain, especially from that last hit from Minho.  I reached my hand up to scratch my head as I looked around.  I noticed that a giant circle had formed around the court while Minho and I had been playing.  All the boys that surrounded us were also staring at me in shock.  Did I do something weird?  I looked back around the court.  An object that was lying a few feet from where I sat caught my eye.  At closer inspection, I realized what it was:  My cap was sitting face-down, ten feet away from where I sat.

            Uh-oh.

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A/N:  DUN DUN DUNNNNNNN!  *gasp* She's been discovered!! Hey guys!  AthleticShawol here back with another chapter!  I couldn't wait another week to post this one so I decided to post it now :P  Thank you to everyone that's been viewing this story!  *gasp* Almost 100 views?!  WOW!  I really wasn't expecting that!  A special thanks to my subscribers (seeing as I didn't expect to get any eheheh~)!!  Please continue to comment and subscribe!  It would be greatly appreciated! (^-^)/  Until the next chapter~