Sunrays
Kise Ryōta stretches his arms up over his head, grin wide. "Man, I'm glad I finally got to play basketball with Kurokocchi again!" A pleased sigh escapes his lips, drained despite his cheerful mood. Arm draping over his mentor's smaller shoulders, he drags his friend along, escaping the gym where their latest match against their seniors had occured.
"You didn't hold back." Ever so blunt, Kurokocchi tells him. Neutral, as if just going along with everything as always.
"Eh? Should I have?" He questions, legitimately curious over the Phantom Sixth Man's response. Focusing on their recent game, Kise can't help but feel that he did everything he could. 54-21, a fair score given the circumstances and it changed only more drasticly as he started to get used to the rythm of Kurokocchi's passes.
Hands still tingling, sore even, as he had been forced to get familiar with wrist-snapping passes again, Kise distracts himself with ruffling his friends pale-blue locks affectionately as the Shadow speaks.
"No." A swat to his hand detaches him from Kurokocchi, grinning in satisfaction. "But you could've passed to the others." Sneaking a glance up at him, his mentor continues with their trek forcibly as he himself falters just abit.
It stings.
"What difference would it have made, Kurokocchi?" He doesn't pay attention to just how whiny it comes out. They had all been scared, frightened even, to intercept passes as he'd introduced himself as 'Kise Ryōta'. Like middle-school all over again.
He hates it.
The Phantom Sixth Man halts, tilting his head just slightly as he'd turn to face him. Impassive, too calm for where their conversation was headed.
"An ace does not score by himself." It's wisdom imparted from someone who'd spent the better part of his middle-school on the bench of a self-destructive team.
"That doesn't-.." He's just too stubborn to accept it.
"You're not Aomine-kun." His mentor interjects, sharp blue staring up at him.
Kise flinches, golden gaze torn off his friend forcibly. It's a low blow, and they both know it. But he gets the meaning behind it, it's simple really. How could he beat the original?
Did he really have a chance to replace Aominecchi to begin-..
"But Kise-kun's special." Reversed, his eyes snap and glues themselves to his mentor's features.
"You have fun playing basketball, don't you?" It's so sincere, so believing.
So knowing.
'When was the last time I had fun playing basketball?'
He's reminded of how energetic the other first-years were at their victory, hesistance gone as they had hugged and cheered for them.
How Kurokocchi had offered up his subtle smile as the buzzer went off, despite his faults.
"When I look at Kise-kun's back, I don't feel like we can lose."
It wasn't him who had turned his back at the nationals.
Relief.
Kise Ryōta laughs, draping his arm around his mentor's shoulders, paying no mind to his shaky grip, and starting to drag him along yet again. "That's so embarrassing, Kurokocchi!"
As unnervingly calm as always, Kurokocchi's muffled words make their way up to his ears. "You didn't answer my-.."
"It's fun." He admits shortly, silencing any further prodding from his friend. Comfortable quiet reigning over them. Uncharacteristicly from his end.
In the corner of his eyes he fleetingly catches the faintest smile, sincere and innocently happy at his answer.
"Let's go to Maji's, eh?" It's the least he can do.
'Maybe passing wouldn't be so bad..'
"Just a milkshake, vanilla." Kise Ryōta finds himself ordering, offering up a charming smile to the part-time worker manning the register. It works wonders, taking some much needed selfish joy in how her cheeks dust themselves in a light pink, stuttering away before disappearing off with his order.
He's still got it.
Not like he ever lost it, though. Whatever it now is..
Leaning on the counter, awaiting his friend's shake, he finds himself constantly looking off to their neat little corner table. Same as that day.
Kise can't really say if he feels any difference between then and now, atleast not off the court, even that's minor. If anything has changed at all, for that matter.
'You're not Aomine-kun', It bothers him.
It bothers him enough to think stupid thoughts.
Had he ever really beaten Aominecchi once? It was always crushing scores, overwhelming victories. And now.. he's taken over his old role.
It doesn't feel right. As if it's not genuine enough.
The Maji Burgers worker slides the shake across the counter to him, startling him out of his thoughts.
"Eh?" Right, Kurokocchi's shake. "Ah, thank you." It's a smile that doesn't really reach his eyes.
Not that she'll have noticed.
Standing upright, rolling a shoulder once, Kise Ryōta makes his way to the Phantom Sixth Man's table, silently engrossed in whatever he's now reading.
Peaceful.
He disrupts it with ease, loudly proclaiming his entrance by sliding his backpack into his own side of the table.
Blinking once, his mentor quizically peers up at him through bangs that have clung to his forehead after practice.
It's adorable, even more-so when pale-blue eyes glue themselves to the offered shake.
"Here, Kurokocchi." He offers it without question, innocently happy despite his previous thoughts.
Mumbling his gratitude, straw already between his lips, Kurokocchi speaks. "Thank you."
It's become little of a routine for the two of them, really. They'd play during the summer break, wearing down the street-court's rim and net even further, without a care in the world.
Then just head over to Maji's, ordering nothing but a single vanilla shake for his mentor.
If it continues for these three years, it'll probably cost him a fortune however. Not that Kise would mind.
..
Three years.
He'll take over Aominecchi's role for the next three years.
It doesn't feel right, then again.. hadn't he forced his way into this position to begin with?
Smiling ruefully, Kise Ryōta finds himself over-thinking more than he should. It's unusual for him, even more-so to crave acknowledgment that he's the one who's helping in his own way.
That he's not losing.
Observing his own expression in the restaurant's window proves to be just what he doesn't need, the pained visage not doing any favors to his more than stellar looks. This isn't-..
"Hey, Kurokocchi?"
He can't stop himself, the need for validation pushing almost desperation to the forefront of his thoughts.
The mentioned Shadow looks up from his phone, sharp blue meeting his gold. Waiting.
Gnashing his teeth against eachother, Kise forces out his question. It's clear he's not thinking things through.
"Do you miss Aominecchi?"
In an almost expected fashion, the blonde see's how his friend's eyes widen just slightly at his bold question. Caught off-guard just enough that he stops drinking his shake, opening up the subject they'd both rather forget during times like this.
Pale-blue stares at him, in what he feels is almost a judging manner. Weighing his answer, ensuring that he's genuine.
"I do." The Phantom Sixth Man proclaims. "I miss all of you."
All of you.
He's still compared to them. He's still compared to his middle-school self-..
Kise Ryōta hangs his head low, not being able to meet his mentor's eyes. Not with this shame.
He hasn't done enough, has he? Maybe he should've passed to the other first-years more..?
Maybe he could've encouraged Kurokocchi further.
Maybe he should have listened more.
Maybe he shouln't have joined Seiri-...
"But I don't feel alone anymore."
The same, small yet delicate hand from just that day finds itself in his golden tresses, reassuring him.
Once, twice.
"Not with Kise-kun."
How can someone have such faith in him..? Has he ever done anything to deserve it other than help fuel Teikō's downward spiral?
He hasn't changed, really, he's not even sure if he can change. But if his.. his friend can have this much trust in him, then he can atleast promise him one thing.
It's that he'll try.
'I'll beat them.'
"I'll bring them back, Kurokocchi." It's a promise, not because he's a substitute for Aominecchi. But that he won't lose, not with this trust.
He'll treasure it.
A rare smile finds it's way to Kurokocchi's lips, "Okay." It's enough.
It's enough to have acknowledgment.
Kise Ryōta finds another reason to play basketball, not only for himself.
Swish.
"Oi, Kuroko?" Hyūga Junpei, their captain, speaks up. It's clear he's confused, judging by his expression, drenched with sweat just like the rest of them, his eyes are glued to what everyone's looking at. Water-consumption halted, silence reigning over their team.
Swish. Mesmerized.
They don't wish to disturb.
Kuroko understands, he's not seen this for himself either. "Yes, Captain?" It's both exciting and frightening.
Swish. Awe-inspiring.
"What's up with Kise?" It's a perfectly natural question to pose, reflecting on it wouldn't even begin to give him a suitable answer for their captain. He's seen it himself, truly, during their numerous times playing together during the summer. But it's never..
It's never been at this level.
Swish.
Kise Ryōta hasn't missed. The steady rythm of worn-out sneakers screeching against the gymnasium floor, labored breath kept at a steady pace with his release.
He has not missed a beat for thirty minutes now. There's a sharp focus to his eyes that Kuroko can't for the life of him remember ever seeing in Teikō.
They're all standing at the side-lines behind him, watching. Practice has ended, yet noone wishes to leave.
Swish.
"He's having fun." It's the only way he knows how to interpret such focus and commitment. Looking up at their captain's expression gives him insight to just how much he values his team, the brief, subtle yet fond smile that spreads over his features at his words.
It's enough for Kuroko to know that he's made a good decision.
"First-years.." Hyūga Junpei mutters, all in good spirits. "Let's wrap up, eh? Don't think he'll quit even if we want him too."
Their Coach looks like she wishes to argue about that point, but Kuroko see's just how her gaze focuses in on their fellow player, softening just abit before relenting.
Swish.
"Alright, alright.. off with you boys." Silently, almost one-by-one, they all filter off towards the changing rooms at their own pace. Some staying longer, such as the Captain and Coach.
In the end, Kuroko Tetsuya's left alone by the side-lines, content to continue watching for just a little bit longer. Maybe they had just forgotten him, it doesn't matter really.
Pale-blue wanders off again, catching a stray empty waterbottle that Coach had missed on the way out. His overly-meticulous side coming into play as he bends over to pick it up.
Swish. He rises, and watches for just a few more seconds.
It's the same form, same fluid motions - over and over.
Kuroko Tetsuya starts to make his way towards the exit of the gymnasium, content in letting his friend continue in silence. There's no need to break his rythm.
Pushing the handle outwards, he's just about to leave yet..
'One more look..'
It reminds him of their conversation, as he's looking back at his friend. The back that didn't turn on him.
'When I look at Kise-kun's back, I don't feel like we can lose.'
The door closes behind him, and he can't help but think about just one thing.
He didn't lie.
Swish.
I tried something different with the last part, unsure if it's suitable. Do let me know.
I'm also considering merely writing this as it is, meaning more small moments between the two as they progress through the plot, would that be okay?
Kagami's somewhere special, don't worry.
Criticism always welcome, even harsh ones.