This has been brewing in mind for a while now. Kise in Touou was always my guilty pleasure and then the first couple of lines of this story just came to my head and I started writing. It took some time to make it into an actual story beginning, but here it is.
I decided to make them all a little older, so here Teiko is a high school and all the schools we see in canon are universities. The reason for that is that it's difficult for me to write about 15-yearolds, I tend to make them act much older than they are. And though I know that 18 is not much older and maturity is not the same as age, it still bothers me. Besides making them older gives a little more freedom to their actions and decisions, so there's that.
I also took a bit of artistic license and kept the uniform, I liked it too much =)
I am sorry it is not the update for the Bullet and that I dropped off the face of earth for so long, I tend to do that. I did not drop the story though and I don't intend to, I promise
Ryouta had long since given up on making plans and placing expectations on things that did not depend solely on his own determination and effort.
His older sister said that it sounded ridiculous coming from the eighteen-year-old boy. She also said that his dramatic teenage angst was even less impressive than his bubbly childish antics, eye roll and exasperated sigh included.
Whether it was a teenage angst or he was just sulking because his father finally decided to behave like one at the worst moment possible, the result was the same. It still seemed like every turn he took lately was ending up in disappointment, the last one standing before him in the form of the wrought iron gates to the Touou academy.
Because just like basketball was supposed to make a difference and Aomine was supposed to be the shining height he aspired to, Ryouta himself was supposed to be at the University of Kaijo entrance ceremony in three hours, which would be kind of difficult to accomplish seeing as he was not in Kanagawa and about to enter the gates of another school.
He sighs blowing a tuft of hair away from his eye and looking sullenly at the lavish greenery that covers the academy's territory. It's probably one of those elite places that even has fancy uniforms and attracts more snobs than Aomine's basket count throughout the whole three years of high school.
And he is once again thinking about Aomine.
Aomine, who was his beacon, but ended up in need of some guidance himself. Not that Aomine would accept it or even admit to needing anyone's help. Too proud and seemingly unapproachable like the sun, for Ryouta Aomine was a miracle all on his own.
Aomine was also Ryouta's biggest disappointment.
Not because his basketball wasn't as amazing as Ryouta perceived it to be at the first glance, but because day by day Aomine was rapidly turning into exactly what Ryouta was running away from when he joined the basketball team.
He, like all of their teammates, now resented the game that was once the center of everything in his life. And Ryouta couldn't, for the life of him, bring himself to aspire to someone who had no aspirations of their own.
Once upon a time, all he wanted was to beat Aomine in basketball. Now he was wondering if it was worth the apathy that would surely come after.
The loud bang brings Ryouta back to the present and out of his depressing thoughts, his older sister finally climbing out of the car, grumbling loudly about diva little brothers and their enormous suitcases (and why would he even need so much clothes going to a college that has a uniform, all it's going to do is collect dust under his bed).
She is getting louder by the minute and Ryouta could feel his ears get a shade redder with every decibel she adds to her voice.
"I think they heard you in Okinawa, Onee-chan. No need to raise your voice."
The vicious glare he gets in return is a bit disconcerting being sent by the eyes so similar to the ones he sees in the mirror every day and the belated thought of "keep your mouth shut" fleets through his mind.
His teeth sink into his bottom lip to stop another snarky comment from coming out and she smirks in response, knowing she won this one. There's a click and the trunk springs open revealing the source of her annoyance in all its shining dark blue glory surrounded by the boxes with his non wardrobe related possessions.
Ryouta sighs again before he can stop himself. He knows exactly why he bought it in that color and now it's going to be mocking him until the day it's finally broken enough to have an excuse to throw it away.
He turns around swiftly and reminds her that he has to fill out the paperwork first so they proceed to the main building where the secretary's office is located in silence, he once again lost in his thoughts and his sister curiously looking around.
The secretary is none too pleased with his late arrival.
"Normally students arrive at last a day before the entrance ceremony," she comments, obviously trying to be polite, but failing miserably as her slightly nasal voice rings with annoyance. His sister visibly bristles and opens her mouth ready to start an argument Ryouta has no desire to participate in.
He casts his eyes down putting up his best chastised expression and looking at the middle-aged secretary through his long lashes.
"I'm sorry, Arisawa-san. My father didn't want to send me so far away from home, but I wanted to go to this school so much. We were arguing about it until the last minute," he says quietly, but firmly.
Oh, the irony. They were indeed arguing until the last minute, only Ryouta was not the one insisting to be sent here.
Arisawa-san looks positively dazed and Ryouta works really hard to fight a smirk crawling its way up his lips. To his right he hears his sister scoff quietly and could almost hear her eyes roll. He mentally flips her off, she would do the same thing if it was a man sitting behind this desk.
"It's alright Kise-kun, you should have time to settle before the ceremony in three hours. But don't cut the time so short in the future."
He bows his head in the show of obedience and proceeds with filling all the necessary forms.
"Your dorm room is in the building three," she informs after giving him the map of the grounds and his schedule. "The entrance ceremony will be held here in three hours, just come up to the main hall and the professor in charge will show you where to go. Oogamine-san who is in charge of your dorm should be..."
Ryouta continues to nod like a wooden puppet as she drones on and on – the sound muted in his ears – and smiles, smiles and smiles more. It's a technique he developed because of his father's propensity for long-winded lectures and perfected over the years of attending continuous parties that were, according to the agency, absolutely necessary for his successful modeling career.
And then she utters two words that bring his almost meditative state to a screeching halt.
"…the basketball team should be submitted in the first two weeks or you won't be allowed into the try outs," she says, holding out more papers for him. Ryouta's fingers twitch, but his hand remains at his side, unmoving. His polite smile frozen on his face.
"Thank you," he says, feeling his sister's gaze drilling the side of his head. "But I won't be needing those. I'm not planning to try out for the basketball team."
His smile gets wider, but does not extend further than his lips.
That's what failed expectations look like, he thinks idly as the incredulity in his sisters gaze turns into disappointment.
Well, Ryouta was done with those.
Ryouta was also done with basketball.