Disclaimer: All fandom-based and real-life entities mentioned in this piece do not belong to me, with the exception of original characters, plot, and subplots.
Palliative
by four-eyed 0-0
Trouble
"Oi, you've been playing since forever," yelled a voice unfamiliar to his ears, though raspy and drawling enough to register as trouble.
He flicked his left hand and turned to the owner of the voice just as the ball's sinking echoed through the park. His fingers adjusted his eyeglasses and through them he peered at the strangers huddled by the outdoor court's entrance in a formation reminiscent of the pompous yakuza. In his periphery, he saw Takao jogging to his side.
The apparent leader of the group who wore his hair in a pitiful state comparable to Haizaki Shougo's thrust his chin in the air. It was a typical territorial display, one he already expected from the countless encounters he and his fellow players had with troublemakers. And Haizaki.
"Time to get outta here, kiddos, we're taking over."
He would've said something but Takao beat him to it. "We've been here for only five minutes."
"So?"
The smell of danger positively hung in the summer air; Midorima wasn't taking any chances. An inkling that this was the "trouble" the Oha Asa had predicted he would run into was flying before his eyes like an overly-excited wasp. "Takao, let's go."
"But Shin-chan—"
"Let's find another court," he said with finality before turning to leave. "Take the ball and let's go."
Takao harrumphed and stomped away to retrieve the ball that had landed by the net post but the voice spoke again just as Midorima was lifting their bags off the wooden bleachers.
"Oi, leave the ball."
Midorima spun around in annoyance. "Excuse me?"
"It seems four-eyes have bad hearing as well, eh?" the leader said. His laughter was copied by his cronies. Midorima was growing more exasperated with his lazy, drawling voice. The leader dragged his feet towards him, hands in his pockets. "In case it ain't clear to you, we ain't got a ball to play with."
"That's rich," said Takao who had inched towards Midorima, now standing next to him.
"Yeah?"
Fist lifted, the leader launched right at Takao. Acting without thinking it through, Midorima put himself between his teammate and the hoodlum.
By now, Midorima regretted having ever acquiesced to Takao's idea of playing basketball out in the open. When the fist landed on his cheek, he realized it was the stupidest idea to have ever crossed his teammate's mind. When he hit Takao's arms, he concluded that there was no merit in doubting the accuracy of the Oha Asa.
Make sure you avoid the wrong crowd today. Otherwise, trouble will be on its way.
The last dregs of consciousness allowed him to make a mental note: Remind me to never agree to this idiot's idea of fun.
And then he was out.
He didn't know how much time had passed before he came to but when his eyes opened to see a pair of running shoes—bright purple clashing against the dull gray asphalt—, the headache hit him with double the force.
He clutched at his head and gritted his teeth, which elicited a sharp pain shooting up his cheek. A groan escaped his throat.
Something cold pressed against the side of his face and he flinched in surprise. Instincts instructed him to bat it away, but as soon as he felt the pain alleviated, he paused. Eyes following the hand that held what he realized was a water bottle, he came face-to-face with a woman in a ponytail and running clothes.
"Can you hear me?" she asked in a soft, steady voice.
A grunt was all he could muster.
"Good. Anything else that hurts besides your cheek?"
Perhaps from the impact of his fall, Midorima wasn't able to form any coherent response, much less assess the damage he had acquired. The woman didn't force him and instead gently pressed her cold, damp fingers on the side of his neck. He closed his eyes in relief.
"Does this hurt? Grunt if it does, say nothing if it doesn't."
He stayed silent.
Her fingers pressed against his nape. "This?"
Silence.
She slipped her fingers between his neck and the asphalt. "This?"
Silence.
A sigh of relief escaped her. "You think you can sit? I'll help you up."
He grunted.
The cold from the water bottle left his cheek and he immediately lamented agreeing to her. One of her hands slipped to the side of his head and the other grasped his hand. Gingerly, she pulled him up. She was so careful that not even the shift in his center of gravity jarred him off his bearings.
When he was finally in a sitting position, she made him take the water bottle and guided his hand to press it once again on his cheek.
"I've called for an ambulance," she said, still in her soft tone. Midorima was slightly thankful for her calm voice. "Your friend needs more attention."
He started at the mention of Takao, his head whipping to turn to the other form slumped against the ground on his side. The image was blurry, and realizing that something was amiss, his empty hand probed for the glasses he was supposed to be wearing.
"Are these yours?" the woman asked, holding up the item. He nodded his head and before he could take them, she slipped them on his face, taking him aback. "They're chipped but I guess wearing them would ease off your headache."
With a clearer vision, he now regarded her with much more interest. The woman had the calmest of eyes that he'd ever seen—but they were just as inquisitive, probing, like how she had been all this while.
"What happened to Takao?" he managed to croak out, averting his gaze from her face to turn to his teammate. He noticed a gel pack was pressed against his jaw. Did she carry that with her?
"Socked to the jaw, mild concussion at the least and possible burner neck injury."
A chill ran down his spine. A neck injury? He turned to her again and she caught his gaze. "You're bluffing, aren't you?"
"I'm afraid not. He received quite the blow when he caught you after they knocked you out. His head was thrown off the side before he took the fall," she said. "Your assailants ran off after that. I had to call for the police and ambulance while attending to the two of you."
Her tone had steadily progressed from calm to assertive, as though she was very sure of herself. Midorima could only stare at her.
She turned away, sitting herself on the ground. He hadn't realized she had been kneeling. "Sorry I gave the gel pack to your friend. I don't carry more than one when I'm out running. The water bottle should suffice for you anyway."
And just like that, she was back to being calm.
"Are you a medical student?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "Am I that obvious?"
He grunted.
"You're the basketball players from Shuutoku High, aren't you?"
He didn't bother being surprised. They were famous for having placed third in the Winter Cup, after all. "Yes."
"I'm sure you have your own gym. Why risk it out here?"
"That idiot made me."
"That makes you Idiot Number Two, then," she said, chuckling to herself. "Teenage boys and invincibility fables."
He chose to ignore her generalization. He was well aware that he was vulnerable to all kinds of danger. The Oha Asa had been an indispensable source of that truth. And if only he heeded its advice more than Takao's incessant whining, he wouldn't be weighed down with guilt.
His shoulders slumped forward. He wasn't even supposed to feel this way.
He would have told himself that had this happened months ago—that Takao brought this upon himself. But that phase of unwilling friendship had already been overcome thanks to his persistence even if Midorima denied it. Now he felt more than just guilty. He was angered.
He would have to find a way to avenge Takao.
The siren of the ambulance wrenched him out of his stupor. As soon as the vehicle pulled up in front of the court's entrance, the woman he still had to get the name of stood. The paramedics were quick to get off and unload a stretcher they wheeled next to them.
"He's all right. Bruised cheek is all. His friend has it worse," said she to one of the uniformed men who nodded before beckoning his fellows to lift Takao from the ground.
She turned to him. "Can you stand?" she asked, holding a hand out to him. Midorima took it and with some help, he managed to wriggle to a standing position, propped next to her small frame. A hint of nausea momentarily gripped him and he swayed to her direction. Another paramedic offered a hand and she let go after the larger man had draped Midorima's arm on his shoulders.
The three of them started for the ambulance where Takao had already been brought, the siren the only sound that penetrated his dulled senses. The afternoon sky was now streaked with orange rays.
Midorima belatedly realized that the trouble the Oha Asa pertained to had already come to pass and yet the day was still to end. Things couldn't get any worse, could they?
It was when he was seated next to her in the cramped vehicle that she spoke again. "You're Midorima Shintarou, right? I'm Hasegawa. Hasegawa Sayuri."
He pushed his glasses up his nose. He found her forwardness unsettling but he celebrated the fact that he didn't have to be one to ask for her name when he owed her. "Do you know me because you're a basketball enthusiast?"
She cracked him a small smile. "No. But I'm one of those who frequently pester coaches to have their athletes checked before and after games."
"You're a student volunteer," he said.
"That's right. Aside from completing the volunteering hours, teenage boys beating each other is quite the spectacle and an added bonus, by the way."
He glanced at her through the corners of his eyes. "I don't understand you."
She chuckled. "I don't expect you to. You're still a child, after all."
Annoying as she was for belittling his rather infantile impressions, a hint of wisdom attributable to experience brought her words some bearing that he found it an impossible task to dissent her. How old was she anyway?
Silence followed their little exchange and he turned to the still unconscious Takao who now wore a neck brace. There was indeed damage to the neck, then? Did this mean he might not be able to play for the Inter High?
He balled his hands in frustration. He would find a way to send those troublemakers to jail.
"Takao Kazunari-kun will be fine in two or three weeks. But I had to tell your coach to let you off practice until then," Hasegawa was suddenly saying.
The meaning of her words easily dawned on him. He sharply turned to her. "Let us off practice? How did you even get hold of our coach?"
She lifted a green phone to his line of sight—his phone. "I thought he would be on speed dial. I also called your parents." She lifted two identification cards. "Takao-kun's too."
She said these with such calm that his blood curdled to an alarming rate. She had to rummage for those among their belongings for sure!
With a jolt of the speeding ambulance and a throbbing head, Midorima found the answer to his question earlier.
Yes, things could definitely get worse.
A/N: Hello! You have just read the first chapter of my first ever KnB fan fiction. I have been easily captivated by the characters when I finally gave in to the urge to watch the series... then this happened. Admittedly, Kise is my first love but Midorima has plagued me every single night. The emotionally-constipated carrot man's begged for a story to write and here it is. I hope you found this chapter worthwhile a read.
Please do leave reviews! I need to hear what you think. Thank you!
See you next chappie!