"Do you want to become Seirin's manager?" Riko asked me the first thing on Monday morning, as I took my usual seat in front of her.
I turned back in surprise, almost whipping my long braid into her face. "Wait, me? What for?"
Riko leaned back against her desk and began playing with her ballpoint pen. "Teppei told me some interesting things you said at the game. It seemed like a good idea to have another strategist on the team."
I reconsidered this for a moment. In the States, being the manager literally meant being the water girl, and as a past basketball player, I wasn't down for that type of humiliation. Delivering water to my brother and his teammates? Count me out.
As if she could read my thoughts, Riko voiced out, "What if I asked you to be Seirin's team analyst?"
A small smile slid across my face. "Consider it done."
And thus, my after school free time became filled up in a mist of practices, scribbled analyzations, and more Kiyoshi Teppei than I've seen before. It had only been a couple of weeks since I met him at the start of the school year, but it seemed like years to me at this point in our...relationship?
[thursday - two weeks after i became team analyst, after school, seirin high school's basketball gym]
"Emiko!" a deep voice called out to me while I was doodling in Riko's playbook. Sometimes, Riko doodles more than she constructs plays, and the habit was passed on to me.
"Hmm?" I responded uninterestedly, completing the drawing of a basketball shoe on the corner of a blank play sheet. It ended up looking chunky, and nothing like my Nike Airs. I sighed and made them into a familiar pair of black Adidas shoes that I had last seen in a store advertisement a couple of months ago.
"What are you drawing?" Teppei asked, peering over my shoulder. I wanted to smack him away, but my shading on this shoe was actually very good, so I let him see my illustration while I attempted to complete the shoe's details.
"You know, Emiko-chan, those were my shoes when I used to play," he said.
"Really?" I nearly dropped my pencil. For a moment I felt like I was psychic. Then, an idea popped into my mind. "I should draw you!" I began sketching a leg from the shoe that I drew, but a hand snatched the pencil from my grip.
"I need your input on a technique for Ryuki," Teppei announced, pocketing my pencil. I sighed and put down the play book. I honestly couldn't wait for practice to end.
[after practice]
I was sitting, leaning against the wall that would lead to the entrance of the boys' locker room. I was waiting for Ryuki to bike me home, but the kid was taking forever(he is literally the last one out) and I didn't feel like walking almost a mile home in the rapidly approaching dusk.
I was almost done with my rough sketch of Teppei. I blushed, mentally reminding myself to tear out the page in case Riko might find it. It was, if I didn't say so myself, a very nicely done sketch. I had seen a couple of tapes of Seirin's games last year, and I distinctly remembered how Teppei looked, playing point guard at the Yosen game. It was pretty impressive, seeing a large guy as he play a position reserved for usually a smaller and more agile player.
I glanced at my clock, realizing that it was almost 7:30.
"Ryuki, if you don't respond I'm going to come in!" I pushed my way past the locker room door and made my way down the middle aisle.
"Now is NOT the time for games Ryu-" I halted as I stumbled upon the changing form of Kiyoshi Teppei. I thanked the Gods that he was wearing pants, but not the same could be said for his shirt. He was almost shirtless, as he was having trouble finding the hole to pull his head through his long-sleeved sweater.
"Emiko, do you mind helping me out here?" a muffled voice came from within the sweater. I saw that his detailed torso was scattered with small water droplets, indicating that he recently came from the shower.
"That would explain why you're stuck," I muttered to myself.
I approached him and helped him pull his cotton sleeves fully over his arms. Then, I guided his head to the sweater's opening. Teppei gave me a flushed and apologetic smile, and I hoped that he was too flushed himself to notice the rising blush that was giving out near my neck and cheeks.
What he did notice was the playbook that I accidentally had dropped in an effort to help him put on his sweater.
Oh please NO, do NOT let it be on that page where I had drawn Kiyoshi Teppei. Please. NO.
My brain did not communicate effectively to my hand that I should snatch the book from his hands before..
"Hey, that's me," he said, giving the sketch a small smile.
I stepped closer to remove the book from his grasp, but he held it above my head. "Let me look at this great work for a moment, Artist-san," he said, jokingly.
"Give. It. Back!" I said in angry huffs, attempting to jump at the book high in his hand. Unfortunately, my small frame was not even close to reaching his elbow as I reached in vain. I sighed and began to clamber on the benches aligned by the lockers.
This time, I was finally in reach of the book, and for once, I was towering slightly above Kiyoshi Teppei. His head came up to my ear, and he leaned back, looking me in the eyes.
His chocolate colored eyes were so vibrant, I could see my hazel green eyes within them.
"You're so cute when you're mad," he says, his voice snapping me out of my reverie.
"I'm not!" I insisted, my hand grabbing hold onto his wrist that was finally within my reach. But, as my hand contacted with his wrist, I felt something warm and large, very much like Teppei's hand onto my neck, angling my face gently downwards.
Our lips met.
I don't remember how, but I ended up leaning against his locker, my hand still firmly grasped around his wrist. Everything felt just so damn natural that when he let go, I didn't even feel myself blush. His lips were gentler than his chocolate colored eyes, sweeter and tangier than any candy I've tasted in my life.
"Sorry," he mumbled, releasing me from his grasp and placing the play book on one of the benches.
"I really should go," he said, gathering his sports bag and towel, ruffling his damp hair.
It was strange. I'd never seen or heard Kiyoshi Teppei sound so insecure.
My footsteps resonated within the empty locker room as I ran after him, pulling the string of his bag.
"Where are you going? Aren't we walking home?"
He stood there for a moment, letting the last water droplets fall onto his damp white towel, as if my words had froze him. His eyes locked onto mine, searching my expression with a deep, intense curiosity, and his lips slowly quirked into a small smile. He took my hand from his bag and wrapped his larger palm around mine, with urgency in his actions despite his calm stare. He examined my hand as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world, and after much deliberation, he entwined his large fingers within mine.
"If I walk you home, then will you be my girlfriend?"
I didn't respond; I only pulled him towards the exit of the locker room, home bound.
A/N: A kiss scene. WHOO. I did a kiss scene! It was my first one ever, sorry for the excitement. Thank you to those who have recently followed and favorited our small but still going strong story :-) Everything is soon coming to a close, but I was thinking of writing a Kiyoshi x Reader fic on this platform very soon. Stay tuned, and thank you for all the love, reviews, and critique so far!
