Series of summer-themed ficlets.
Summer was upon them in earnest after the Interhigh, but the Kings did not get a break and did not expect one. They were at the school every day for practice, spending the morning in drills and lectures.
Eventually, even Nakatani got tired of rehashing match videos with them and released the Shuutoku regulars with strict orders to not unduly exert themselves further until practice tomorrow, leaving some of them to desultorily wander off to the air-conditioned school library to do neglected summer homework- or, more likely, sleep- and others to, like Takao, sneak a few more rounds of drills in the empty gym before the Coach came around to lock up the basketballs and frowned and crossed his arms at them meaningfully. The players took the hint, ungracefully, and wiped off in the locker room complaining about how Coach thought they were going to become regulars if he kept cutting off their practice time- they weren't all like Takao, with his meal ticket. They grinned at him to show they barely meant it, and Takao took the ribbing in good fun.
"If you losers will excuse me, my meal ticket is going to be wondering where I am by now," he said. Someone snickered behind his hand, which Takao ignored. "Tomorrow, same time, see ya."
They smiled somewhat indulgently at his exit, which was less easy to take, but by then Takao didn't need to look at them. If Nakatani had kicked them out, he'd almost certainly kicked Shin-chan out, and she had changing down to a science. (Takao had Midorima's timelines down to a science, but that didn't bear much reflecting on.)
Midorima, however, when he went to fetch her, wasn't at her usual bench, drawing her damp hair back into a tight braid and tapping her feet over his lateness.
Takao pouted a little- he'd thought they were over Shin-chan not telling him where she went- and checked the other spots.
She wasn't at the drinks machine considering whether to punch it for her change. Takao stuck his head in the library, and she wasn't there looking over her work or picking out a complicated book from Shuutoku's esteemed collection. She wasn't in the staff room talking to Nakatani or any of the teachers, who adored her. She wasn't back at the court she used for shooting practice. He checked her shoe cubby, and she hadn't changed out of her school shoes to go home. Takao was in the middle of constructing a lurid scenario where Shin-chan had been forced by a freak accident to climb the gates out of school in a quest for her lucky item when a girl in his class walked by him to change her own shoes, noticed him sitting on the floor staring desolately at nothing, and said, "Takao-kun, are you looking for Midorima-san? She's in the music room, I just saw her. They're finishing up now."
Takao immediately sprang up. He flashed a quick thanks to her and headed hotfoot for the music room, where some students that Takao remembered as part of the choir club were either exiting or packing up. Midorima was sitting at the piano with her spine ramrod straight, looking as cool and perfect as if she'd been sitting pretty in an air-conditioned room all afternoon while Takao had run around the school in a blind panic.
Some of the girls looked thrilled at his arrival, but not Shin-chan.
"You're still here?" said Midorima, surprised.
Takao collapsed over three chairs and deflated loudly. "Shin-chan, I've been looking all over for you!" he complained. "You've been here the whole time?"
"I said I was," she said, and turned her attention back to the girls. "Hmm? Ah, yes. Please leave the key, I'll lock up and return it to Yamazaki-sensei. I believe we made a great deal of progress today. Yes, I'll see you next practice."
Takao eyed her balefully. "And when did you say that?" he demanded.
"Before I left for my shooting practice," she said. Her left hand was unbound, and she- to prove she wasn't beholden to him in any way- arranged and rearranged her sheet music, looking over it in a calm and placid way. "It's not my fault if you weren't paying attention, as should be perfectly obvious."
"I was so paying attention," grumbled Takao. Her fingers looked so long, and so pale. He sighed. "What were you doing, anyway?"
"I was asked to assist with the programme of the school festival," she said. "One of my classmates recalled me speaking about my piano, and since her request was not too onerous, particularly for my skill level, I agreed."
"You're good at this piano thing?" said Takao, as though he didn't already know the answer.
"I've taken my grade eight exams," Midorima informed him.
"I don't know what that means," said Takao.
"Why am I not surprised," said Shin-chan frostily. "The piano is one of my accomplishments," she added primly.
Takao stifled a snort. "You're such a proper young lady sometimes," he said, and leaned back to admire her curves through the light summer uniform, the arrangement of her face. "Hey, I'm pooped. Play it for me. Is it hard? You're staying back to practice it, I bet it's hard."
Shin-chan rolled her eyes. "It's not hard," she said, crossly. "The song is fairly common, and- you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you."
"Nope," said Takao. He yawned. After the adrenaline-filled rush up the stairs to the music room, he felt tired, and practice was catching up to him. It was peaceful here, as the school in summertime slowly emptied out and left them alone.
Midorima hummed to herself, a sweet low note deep in her throat. "I'll run through one or two more times, then we can go," she said. Her hands were already moving, and she played a bright, cheery song, some cover of an English song Takao felt he should know, at first simply and then with variations Takao did not know but could hear dancing under the melody. Shin-chan's piano-playing was a little like Shin-chan's basketball- beautifully precise, not a wasted movement, and total focus. He wished he knew more about it- more about her.
"I'll come hear you play it at the festival," he promised, when she was done. "You should tell me when you have practice for this, these chairs are really comfy."
"If you like," she said, and looked down at him as he pulled himself upright to leave with her. "Though obviously your time would be better spent in-"
"And I'll record it and put it on youtube," said Takao, as though she hadn't spoken.
"I'll kill you first," she replied, and shoved him out the door.
Three things of note: Midorima is using the Royal Academy's system of grading for her piano, I don't actually know anything about music, and what Takao really calls her in this ficlet is Ojou- simultaneously the english 'proper young lady', and, more sarcastically, 'princess'. Hee hee.
Himuro heard voices, and he took the stairs two at a time up to Murasakibara's room, despite the heat. He was staying with her in her family's house for the holidays, and even though he had said that Tokyo's summer would be nothing to him, he found himself succumbing to the awful humidity, doing much as Murasakibara did- eating and sleeping all day. His laptop was open on her desk, and she'd turned it so the person on the screen could see her sitting on her bed- Himuro had been logged in on skype, shortly before he went down to get a drink.
"Oh, Muro-chin," said Murasakibara, in the drawn-out, purring voice that meant that very shortly, even though she hadn't yet figured out how, she was going to make him pay for something he had done. "You know Nijimura? You never said."
"That's -san to you, Murasakibara," barked Shuu, seemingly on automatic. "Tatsuya- why is she answering your Skype calls?"
Himuro looked at Murasakibara, and she shrugged her shoulders. Under cover for months, they were very white and bare, the thin straps of her tank top slipping sideways. She was wearing her usual tent-like shorts, but as she was reclined on the bed they rode up her thighs, up endlessly long and pale legs, muscled and strong. Though Himuro doubted that at this angle, Shuu could appreciate the full effect. "I saw he was calling, and I thought I recognized the name," she said. "Muro-chin, you know him?"
"We met in L.A. when he moved there a year ago," said Himuro, pulling out her desk chair and sitting down. Murasakibara primly tucked her legs up under her. "He used to go to your school, right?"
Murasakibara and Shuu both turned stares on him worthy of scorching a lesser man to the bone. "I've told you all about that, Tatsuya," said Shuu, suspiciously.
Murasakibara tipped her head back against the wall. "Hmm~ I've told him a lot about that time as well…" she said. Then she sighed heavily, and stood up. "I'll go get more of the seaweed," she said. "You two can… talk…" and she wandered off.
"Isn't that nice of her," said Himuro, turning the laptop to face himself.
"That can't actually be Murasakibara," said Shuu. "She got up. Willingly. And you're in her room." He squinted suspiciously at Himuro.
"She invited me down in the break," said Himuro. "Her family felt sorry for me all alone in the dorms."
"And this happens?" demanded Shuu, scarlet-faced. "You sit around in her room while she lolls about in skimpy clothing?"
"Well," said Himuro, pursing his lips against a smile. "I wouldn't like to venture a guess, Shuu, but I'm just going to say, she had a t-shirt on when I left the room. She must have changed before you called." He thought for a moment. "Or before picking up your call," he said, and laughed at the look on Shuu's place.
"Man, that's messed up," said Shuu, finally.
"I don't mind the view," said Himuro angelically.
"I thought that the cute girl you met was going to be an adorable younger sis type who played great basketball with legs out to here and stacked like- you know what, I'm going to stop right there," said Shuu, pulling his face down.
"That was before I found out she was taking her shirt off for men on the internet," said Himuro, shaking his head.
"That's so wrong, man," said Shuu. "She's a baby."
"She's one year younger than us," pointed out Himuro.
"She was twelve years old when I met her and as far as I'm fucking concerned it's going to stay that way," said Shuu.
"This sounds like it would get weird fast," remarked Himuro. "Specifically, in about a year, when I'm eighteen and she's- by your logic- still sixteen."
"I so cannot deal with this conversation," said Shuu. "Is this seriously all you wanted to show me? I wondered why you wanted a video call."
"I wanted to show her off," said Himuro, and he smiled a little, "I also wanted to ask you where you thought I should go in Tokyo, I only had a day here the last time." His gaze turned sly. "We have so little time together, I'd hate for it to go to waste. I feel it really inconveniences her brothers if I sit around here all day, so..."
"She's got… two? Three?" said Shuu. "They're all huge."
"Yes," said Himuro. The smile did not drop from his face.
"You are such a ridiculous bastard," said Shuu, laughing despite himself. "How am I supposed to know about date spots? Is Murasakibara even going to go out with you?"
Himuro started to answer, but a long muscled arm came down past his face to plant itself next to his computer, and Murasakibara was leaning over him, her long ponytail slipping off her bare shoulders, onto his, the strands cool on his skin. Rather deliberately, she propped herself up on him, as though daring him to collapse under her weight. "I don't want to go anywhere with Muro-chin," she complained. "It's too hot."
Shuu snorted at her, and raised his eyebrows. It was an interesting expression on him, Himuro found. Murasakibara's face, too, was fascinating: over the petulant pout her eyes were fixed steadily on Shuu's image, drinking it in. Himuro even suspected it wasn't entirely for her own benefit that she was lying on his shoulder; it did interesting things to the deep shadow between her- admittedly glorious- breasts.
"We can go out for ices," said Himuro, smiling at her. "Wouldn't that be nice? Going outside with me wouldn't be so hard, would it?"
Murasakibara shifted her gaze to him, and for a moment colour touched her cheeks. Then she abruptly let go of him and threw herself to the side so that she landed on her bed, burrowing into the covers.
"Ahhhh~" she sighed loudly. "Muro-chin, don't ask me such things when it's hot, I really hate to move like this."
"Then, I think I'll sign off with Shuu, and we can go- oh, he's gone," said Himuro, looking at his screen in mild surprise.
Flirt on your own time, Tatsuya, Shuu had written in the instant message box. Good luck.