A/N: GUILTY PLEASURE ALERT. I wanted a two-shot fic of them as university mates with stupid stuffs going on so... hahah yeah. expect "quality-plot" hahaha what is quality anyway.
Community of Practice (CofP)
"An aggregate of people who come together around mutual engagement in an endeavour. Ways of doing things, ways of talking, beliefs, values, power relations—in short practices—emerge in the course of this mutual endeavour."
[Niji Notes] so groupies can be categorised under CofP too?
Kuroko Tetsuya despises driving.
Monday classes begin at 8.30 a.m. and anyone who's driving in Tokyo would have half the mind to get out from their homes by at least 7.00, or suffer the unleashed wrath of Tokyo's traffic jams. As much as he'd like to hop on the train and squish himself with everyone, trying to reenact a human sardine can, he's had enough of people stepping on his toes and elbows smashing into his face. One can only take so many trips to the doctor's office to nurse a swollen eye or a nearly broken nose, and the meagre student loans aren't helping his piling bills. Being transparent is an amazing thing, really. He thanks God that he isn't a raging pervert like Aomine; if not, his ability would've come in handy for stealing panties off the washing line.
But he digressed.
Point is, he despises driving.
By right, Kuroko would've arrived at his university by 8.45 if he leaves home at 8.20 on a perfectly blessed traffic-free day. But traffic-free and Tokyo?Hah. His father's black Yaris comes bumper-to-bumper with a Mercedes Benz, just inching away with every minute, and from satellite view, Tokyo's streets must've looked like a tube of candies from the assortment of coloured cars on the road. He has a special spot of dislike for those drivers who feel it's necessary for them to switch lanes as though it'd help making traffic faster, and those who love to text while driving. With their ride teetering unstably from side to side, Kuroko's had better luck driving behind a drunkard than to trust a man on the phone.
It's a daily challenge trying to get to his campus safely without hitting anyone. He doesn't know how he manages the stellar feat every time he parks his dad's car into the allocated spot (Kagami once joked that his misdirection and invisibility might extend to his car like Harry Potter's cloak, and thankfully the American-returnee-jerk was wrong), but he knows being thankful to the forces up there is good.
What he doesn't expect, on a Monday morning where it's only seven minutes to his Literature Production class at nine, is to see another silver Mercedes pull into the lot next to his.
As far as Kuroko knows, he's made this spot his. Granted, his initials aren't sprayed in the square or he's beaten off any other pesky cars with a nailed baseball bat like a yankee, but Kuroko specifically chose to park his car at the university's abandoned Block C's basement grounds to avoid everyone's cars cluttering around him. Nobody else, save for the patrolling guards on bicycles and the occasional campus guests, would park here.
So what's with the expensive ride?
Half-bent over the backseat to grab his colourful plastic files and laptop bag, Kuroko soon discovers he doesn't need to wait long to find out.
A messy shock of red hair appears from the driver's door, slamming it shut with a practiced flick of his wrist, and a whirring sound echoes in the startlingly empty basement as the car's side mirrors automatically closed. Impeccable choice of dress shirt with its sleeves hiked up to his elbows and a matching tie, sartorial slacks and shiny leather shoes, he hoists a briefcase and circles around his car like it's his dance partner. The Red Stranger, or so Kuroko aptly names him, half jogs over to the basement elevators and presses the button to go up.
As someone who's well-versed with how the elevators work in this parking lot, Kuroko takes his time in adjusting his assortment of items, juggling a thermos in one hand and car keys in another, and locks his car. No, his father's Yaris doesn't fancily flip its ears close unlike its regally foreign neighbour, but it does comically honk to signal it's safe to leave it alone. All that pomp and Kuroko could still ghost up to the elevators without even worrying about having to miss it.
To his right, his companion, the Red Stranger, glares at the LED screen and doesn't even notice his presence. Such a common occurrence, really, Kuroko isn't even fazed by it. He just hopes that the Red Stranger doesn't mash the close buttons and squish him between the heavy elevator doors once it gets to this floor, or freak out inside the tight confines of the elevator when he finally realises he isn't alone—though the redhead seems far too composed for that to happen.
They ended up getting off on the same floor, 4th, trekked through those unlit hallways in complete darkness because the university's a stingy company that doesn't want its electricity bills to skyrocket, and only parted at the bridge overlooking the campus, where the Red Stranger goes down a different set of stairs that led to the cafeteria, and Kuroko's the one heading to class.
Unsurprisingly, the man doesn't notice him at all.
Of course, at that moment, unbeknown to Kuroko or the Red Stranger, it's like one of Mayuzumi's cliched light novel openings: It's a meeting ordained by fate, and neither of them would have a chance to stop the cogs of fate from turning.
Workplace Culture and Gender
"Specific and often very distinct ways of doing gender in different workplaces have led to the assumption that there exist to different degrees relatively masculine and feminine workplaces. The gender of a workplace is reflected in demographic factors, behavioural tendencies, and communicative patterns."
[Niji Notes] VVI shit, memorise this
"Nobody gives two fucks about the presidential woes."
Kise pouts and makes an abstract gesture in the air with his hands. "That's what you think, Ahominecchi, but it's really important! The president is the one who can determine the fate of our cafeteria!" he argues, glowering a little at how his table mate groans and picks his ears. "I'm serious! They gotta change the diet in the cafe, it's so unhealthy I swear every time I take a bite, I risk getting a pimple on my face!"
Peering from over his secondhand copy of Exploring Professional Communication, passed down like a sacred bible by their sixth semester senior Njimura, Kuroko sighs.
No campus would be complete without the staple Student Council President elections, and that's what's going on this week. He's thankful he hadn't been handed Hyuuga's makeshift election campaign letters disguised as Pokemon cards due to his permanent invisibility defect, but he did suffer quite a heart attack upon booting up one of the PCs in the Student Centre when the wallpaper's been changed to an atrocious face of Imayoshi vying for people's votes. Others opted for subtler, but more common tried-and-true methods: Kasamatsu's approaching other students one by one personally to build a sense of camaraderie, but then again, Kuroko's lack of presence proved effective against warding him off.
"No tits, no talk," Aomine grouses words of wisdom, rolling his eyes. "Not sure if they're being sexist like what Satsuki said, but the lack of boobs is making me bored. They need to step up their game."
"Aaah, but Aida-senpai's campaigning, she's a female," Kise points out, perking up visibly. "You think she'll work on the whole cafeteria diet if I tell her she can have my vote?"
Aomine thumps his head on their shared desk, groaning. "No tits, no talk, dumbass. She's a washboard. But I might reconsider if she puts up posters of her in bikini."
"How rude! Breasts don't make up her self-worth!"
"Shut up, Kise, I'm gonna go to sleep. Tetsu, wake me up for the next class."
Kuroko nods and goes back to his book, promptly tuning out how Kise's wailing about nobody taking him seriously before leaving to find someone else to talk to. Page 63 talks about Workplace Culture and Gender, where it stated that gender is a crucial aspect of a workplace's culture, and it's important for said workplace to function and organise itself properly. He takes a moment to properly digest what it means, hunts down for Nijimura's handwriting in case he explains something within those pages, and is met with appalling disappointment.
Sighing, Kuroko hopes that by the end of the day, masculine and feminine workplaces will start making sense to him, and goes on reading.
Community of Practice (CofP)
"In order to be classified as a community of practice, groups must fulfil three crucial requirements:
i) Members interact with each other regularly
ii) they negotiate a joint enterprise
iii) they develop a shared repertoire of discursive and behavioural norms.."
[Niji Notes] what the fuck is shared repertoire? KIV.
Monday's gone, replaced by Tuesday in a flash.
Last night, he stayed up to finish the remnants of the workplace dialogue his lecturer wants submitted today, something about including all four genres of front stage and backstage encounters, and since his helpless teammates Aomine and Kise were obviously unprepared for it, Kuroko shoulders the burden. He regrets waking up at 8.30 when his class is at 9.00, doesn't even have the time to charge his laptop properly, and struggles to stay awake while the maddening traffic tries his patience. Part and parcel of a student's life, or so they say.
With less than two minutes to get to English for Communication, Kuroko knows the pesky basement elevator won't let him get there in time. So he casually closes his door, fishes out his bags (one is for his 17" laptop that breaks his spine with three kilograms, another is for his multitude of textbooks), and locks the Yaris to head to the lifts.
That is, until, he hears a rapid screech of tyres like a car from Need for Speed came to life, and sees the same silver Mercedes hurling in at top speed. The Red Stranger flawlessly (or rather, aggressively) reverse-parks his car beside Kuroko's with such precision that would put BBC's Top Gear to shame, gets out with a blazer thrown over his shoulder, and grabs his briefcase from the passenger's side.
By this time, the elevator chimes to announce its untimely arrival, and Kuroko gives the busy Red Stranger a long, lingering glance before he steps into the antique, musky-smelling box. He can't see the Mercedes from his angle by the panel, but he could hear the automated whirring of folding side mirrors, and so he holds the lift so that the redhead could get in.
Within seconds, said man appears in front of the doors, presses 4 again even though Kuroko's already pressed it, and as the elevator sluggishly closes, he hears him cough.
"Thank you."
Kuroko could only turn his head to look at the stranger, wide-eyed.
Community of Practice (CofP)
"The Community of Practice model can explain why people at work have developed distinctive ways of communicating with each other. However, although applying the concept to a workplace context is intriguing, the relationship between CofPs and the culture of the workplace in which they interact is complex."
[Niji Notes] what if it's a large workplace, you can't expect everyone to talk w/ each other? KIV, gotta ask the lecturer.
"Your Pokemon plan failed, Mayuzumi! Now I'm the school's laughingstock!" Hyuuga rages one fine day—still Tuesday though, stomping into Kuroko's classroom to throw a stack of colourful papers onto their table. Several students looked over their way, then they hide their little smiles before going back to whatever they're doing. Hyuuga only gets angrier—no, boiling livid at that. "Now fix what you started!"
From behind his latest 'literature' fix, My Dad is a Lolicon and My Mother is a Fujoshi?!, the judgmental Mayuzumi scowls. "Excuse me? I'm pretty sure that 85% of the students have played Pokemon before, compared to your Basara obsession. It's not my fault you photoshopped yourself into a Pokeball, trying to get the students to pick you as their starter Pokemon. I only gave suggestions." Almost conspiratorially, his voice drops into a whisper as he cocks a brow. "By the way, that was really lame."
Kuroko swears a blood vessel popped on Hyuuga's forehead.
"You little shithead—"
Wisely evicting himself from the potential war zone between two conflicting nerds, Kuroko decides that he'd rather join Aomine and Kise's table for today. When he gets to their spot at the back of the class, he soon discovers that the subject isn't something that he'd like to hear.
"Satsuki's gonna start campaigning for Riko, Tetsu," Aomine begins as a way to greet Kuroko. He fishes out an empty chocolate box, empties its contents, and out comes little pink ribbons with gaudy hearts glued on it. Judging from the black eye on Aomine's face, Kuroko wisely decides not to question it when Aomine slides a ribbon over to him. "Wear one, in case she smothers it in your face. Just to get her to shut up."
"You know, I'm glad I don't live across her apartment since I rented elsewhere," Kise muses, rubbing his hairless chin like a bearded scholar. "Did you know that Aominecchi got called over to Momocchi's place yesterday night to put these things together?"
Shaking his head, Kuroko takes a seat and accepts the proffered ribbon with a nod, but he slides it into his shirt pocket and hopes that it'll lie forgotten. "It must've been tough, Aomine-kun," he comments kindly, but the smile on his lips says otherwise. "Thank Momoi-san for me, please. It will be a tough battle ahead for the two of them."
"Girl power all the way, eh?" the blond grins, chortling under his breath. "Say good luck to Momocchi for me too, okay?"
The tanned man only manages a glare at the two of them. "You better damn well start voting for them too, in case she hounds my ass for it. And she also told me to pass this around: Don't vote for that prick Akashi Seijuro from the Business department. Rumour has it that he's planning to play dirty by buying the university straight away."
"Whaaaaat? Buying the university!? Isn't that too dramatic!? Aominecchi, are you serious?"
That sounds like it came from one of Mayuzumi's novels because the sheer concept itself is too extreme to be true, even for Kuroko. Not that Kuroko knows who's Akashi Seijuro because their Faculty of Arts and Humanities (FAH) are eternally rivals with the Faculty of Business and Law (FBL)—something about calculative and creative thinking clashing horribly with one another, so these two courses never got along well. Kuroko's only vaguely aware of someone called Midorima Shintaro from the other side because he's a Cancer and he openly admits disliking Kuroko because he's an Aquarius, despite the two of them barely even interacting with one another except for one library encounter, and that's that.
"Business students are soooo weird," Kise adds, and Kuroko could only manage a nod at that.
He doesn't know how strange life will get for him, but that's what cliches are for.
Culture and Politeness at Work
The Politeness Theory
"This theory revolves around the premise that all competent and rational adult members of a society, represented by a so-called 'model person' (henceforth MP), have two types of face and generally tend to aim at maintaining their own and each other's face. Positive face is the MP's desire that their own self-image is appreciated and approved by others, whereas negative face is the MP's wish not to be imposed on and to maintain their freedom of action."
[Niji's Notes] two faces? wtf? is this some horror book?
Wednesday.
It has become some sort of new routine where the Red Stranger would somehow gravitate along with him, their schedules suddenly in synchrony with one another.
Previously, he's never even met the Red Stranger, or even recalled meeting someone as boldly crimson as him, but Kuroko easily attributed it due to the fact that he's always the one who disappears right after classes end because he'd rather avoid getting suckered into ridiculous activities Aomine and Kise never failed to conjure. And, as of late, he disappears ten times faster because of the whole campaigning thing going around—he'd rather not be the one being asked to pass flyers around, thank you very much.
But why would the Red Stranger choose to park beside him, out of all the empty parking lots underground?
He's tried re-parking his dad's Yaris to some isolated corner behind the crumbling beams and near the little ferny undergrowth, but somehow, the Mercedes always ends up finding him. Kuroko doesn't flatter himself with thoughts of the redhead being a stalker—that's eternally Kise's job. But no rational explanation comes to him, other than the Red Stranger possibly finding solace or friendship in letting their cars stay together.
Regardless, it's a companionable silence that Kuroko shares with the redhead owner of the Mercedes Benz; they don't exchange words or bother initiating conversations, but that's how it goes. And neither wanted to change any aspect of it.
Friday has things going the opposite way around: Red Stranger's the one holding the lift for him at 9.07 a.m. even when he struggles to do side-parking with his car, stacks of files and books halfway collapsing like an avalanche in his arms, and his laptop bag hanging haphazardly from his shoulder. 4's already lit up, pressed for their destination, and as the lift jerks upwards, beginning its sloth-like ascent to their floor, Kuroko catches the redhead's smiling reflection in the surrounding mirror walls.
Then something reaches out to steady a toppling Public Speaking: To Walk Your Talk, a pale hand lined with sick green veins and carefully trimmed fingernails.
"Would you like me to help you?" the stranger asks, soft.
When met with kindness, his grandmother often reminds him that it's only polite to decline even though he does need the extra aid. "No, that's quite all right," Kuroko replies, shaking his head, "I can manage it on my own." He shifts the books around single-handedly, planning to reshuffle the arrangement so that the biggest book will become the steadiest support at the bottom, but another pair of hands grabbed the top half of his textbooks. The Red Stranger is still smiling at him, casual, and Kuroko could only stare. "Um. Sorry for troubling you then."
"That's quite all right," says the other man amiably, cradling the books close to his chest as he lifts a hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear. "You always held the lift for me even when you could be possibly late to class, so it's only natural that I'll return your act of kindness."
In the midst of his complicated arrangement, Kuroko pauses to glance at the dim LED in the rattling lift. They're only passing through M, still eons away from 1, 2, 2G, 3, and finally, 4. With a sigh, Kuroko tosses the Red Stranger a small smile. "Thank you then, that's very kind of you."
He only chuckles, bright crimson eyes glinting under the hazy orange glow of the elevator's ancient lighting, and tips his head back. The stretch of his smile crawls wider.
"You're welcome. What's your name? Mine is Akashi Seijuro."
The Politeness Theory
"These different types of face are often threatened in speech acts by so-called 'face-threatening acts' (henceforth FTA). In order to minimise the threat of FTAs, MPs may choose among a wide range of politeness strategies in an attempt to save their own as well as each other's face."
[Niji Notes] FTA? Free Trade Area? Free the Animals? KIV.
Oh. Wait. Face Threatening Act. So basically you smile even if you feel murderous? Is that it?
"—nah, man, he's the sworn enemy of the FAH. 'sides, I'm rooting for Aida Riko and Momoi Satsuki."
Getting out of Creative Writing II that he shares with Mayuzumi as part of their electives, Kuroko's greeted with a strange sight in the hallways. Kise and Aomine are both hounded by a Chihuahua in faded jeans and checkered shirt, who's adamantly shoving a piece of paper in their face. The collective groan from Aomine and apparent reluctance on Kise's face tells them everything they need to know.
Mayuzumi's the first one to elbow Kuroko in the side, whispering conspiratorially. "That's one of FBL's students, and they're trying to brainwash us to vote for their idol, Akashi. I heard that the whole department, even the staff, are going to vote for him." Snickering at the exasperated look Kuroko's giving him, he cocks a brow. "You know you're next, Kuroko. You park next to him every day, right?"
"Please stop that, Mayuzumi-kun." Kuroko bats his arm away, tightening the hold on his bag. He manages a glower at the smirking man. "If you still would like to hitch a ride with me to the train station, please keep quiet. Let's be on our way."
Defeated at the threat, Mayuzumi shrugs and shuffles alongside him, casually sauntering right past Aomine who's threatening to punch a hole through the FBL student and a wailing Kise who's crying against violence. Kuroko pointedly ignores the growing rowdiness as the two of them move against the sea of jeering FAH students inciting the fight and once they're out of the danger zone, walking on the bridge connecting FBL, FAH and the deserted Block C building, it's only then Kuroko heaves a sigh.
"That's a loud one," Mayuzumi points out, throwing back his head. "Are you having some existential crisis or something?"
"Not quite." Kuroko shakes his head, fingers fiddling with the height adjustment on his laptop backpack. "I'm sincerely hoping that the election season will end soon."
"Aren't you gonna vote?"
"No. I believe all of my friends are equally talented. Trying to pick between them is hard, and I feel like I'm betraying them if I do pick someone." Kuroko rolls one of his straps between the balls of his palms, pursing his lips. "Someone else will vote for them, I believe."
It takes Mayuzumi a moment to process what he said, then he hums thoughtfully. "Why don't you vote for that Akashi guy? I'm pretty sure he's fine under all the rumours of him trying to stab a lecturer in the first semester. That psychotic episode is already under control. Or…" he trails off, looking away, "should hopefully be in control by now. If not, it'll be like another episode of Corpse Party."
The implication of the title lost on Kuroko, he decides to look ahead lest he trips on the bubbly black rubber mats on the ground. "I don't think I will either. He has been nice to me, but I would rather stay out of the election business. Why don't you vote for him, Mayuzumi-kun?
"Me?" the other incredulously scoots away like he could get germs from the thought. "I don't even know him. Besides, he's got the whole FBL behind him. I'd rather vote someone from our side. Hyuuga, if there's nobody else. Not Imayoshi, that guy feels like Hannibal the second."
Kuroko heaves another sigh again. "I see."
It is then Nijimura pops up from the glass doorway as they inch nearer to the isolated building, busily stuffing his car keys into the pocket of his skinny jeans. Mayuzumi groans and mouths, "Here comes the soon-to-be ex president," and Kuroko jabs him to shut up. Nijimura, thankfully, doesn't notice the rude exchange. But his eyes ghost over one face to another, eyebrows raised in disbelief, jaw hanging. "Uh. Nice to see you three together, but this is a weird combo."
Three?
Kuroko immediately perks up and looks over his shoulder in unison with a highly skeptical Mayuzumi. Standing right behind them is the Red Stranger, Akashi, lugging his briefcase around in one hand and a sleek blazer cradled on another. Mayuzumi blanches so fast all the colours evaporated from his face to his hair and sidesteps the man like he's the abomination. Not quite as rude as the other, Kuroko only regards the redhead with a curt nod.
"Good afternoon, Akashi-kun."
Akashi returns the nod with a gentrified smile, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Mayuzumi's there with them. That or he's blatantly ignoring him because of what he said, but it doesn't seem that Akashi would stoop that low. Perhaps it's also a case of selective eyesight. "Good afternoon to you too, Kuroko, and Nijimura-san.
"Afternoon, you three," the senior rumbles. He takes his time eyeing between the three of them, from Mayuzumi's obvious reluctance in participating in the conversation as he stands in the corner with his pocketed hands, to Kuroko's usual unperturbed face that has emotions rivalling a static TV, and finally to Akashi's open stance that indicates he isn't here to tip them over the bridge and sending them smashing on the ground in all gory glory. "Uh. Heard that the tension between the FBL and the FAH are getting pretty bad because of the elections. Didn't FMS send a representative too?"
Obviously, Nijimura's not talking to Kuroko, because Kuroko doesn't even know anyone from the Faculty of Medicine and Science. Did that faculty even exist before? So Kuroko turns to Akashi for clarification.
"Yes, FMS did have a representative, but for some reasons," here, his wispy red brows furrow as he seemingly tries to remember something crucial, "she decides to drop out earlier this week. Perhaps she met with some complications or unseen circumstances."
"Are you sure you didn't take her out?" Mayuzumi shoots, deadpan. " 'cause I'm pretty sure that's the current rumour in the department right now."
Nijimura does a vague impression of a wordless mime at his baseless accusation and scowls deeper. "That's bullshit. Who the hell would do that just for my presidential title anyway?"
Mayuzumi only graces their conversation with an airy shrug and turns away. "Just checking. No harm done."
Akashi, strangely, doesn't reply to that scathing comeback. But he does regard Mayuzumi with a pointed look, and if there's anything Kuroko knows about FTAs, Akashi's obviously a cut-and-paste character from his textbook. Definitely threatened, and so not liking it. Trying to save a semblance of sanity in their uncoordinated group chat, Kuroko casts a look at his worn wristwatch and coughs for distraction.
"I'm sorry, but I have to get going now," he says, gesturing for Mayuzumi to come along. And Mayuzumi, held against his will, does shuffle over though he keeps a strict three meter radius from Akashi. "It's nice to see you again, Nijimura-san. Please excuse us." To Akashi, however, Kuroko tries to smile. "It's nice seeing you again too, Akashi-kun. Good luck in your campaigning."
When Akashi lifts his eyes, something about the offset of sunlight and crimson makes them gleam startlingly bloody. He doesn't look at Mayuzumi, and certainly not Nijimura. The slight curl at the corner of his lips reminds Kuroko of a cat finding a mouse hole.
"Thank you, Kuroko. I'll look forward to seeing you again next week."
"His eyes either said he wanted to murder you, or bang you."
"With his car?"
"Car? No. Dick? Yeah."
"I'm honoured. But no."
"No, I'm serious. Damn, I can start writing a yaoi light novel with this."
"Don't you dare, Mayuzumi-kun. We still have a deadline to catch with all our assignments."
"... Yeah, yeah I know."
Ten minutes pass.
"Hey, do you think the novel can be a bestseller if I start on it now?"
[NEXT TIME ON The Melancholy of Kuroko Tetsuya: A Yaoi Light Novel by Mayuzumi Chihiro]
So. Kuroko knew this day would come, no matter how hard he tries to deny it, because Mayuzumi's voice is nagging him at the back of his head with his condescending tone, "You're next, Kuroko, he wants to bang you with his dick, your whole life is a yaoi light novel," and all Kuroko wants, right now, is to get to his class safely. The safest course of action? To confront the matter wholly without beating around the bush.