Have at least another three chapters in queue to publish. I don't know why I can't just compose one-shots instead of lengthy, complex-plotted monsters... So many things to double-check.
Arlington
8:55 AM
Aomine's confidence was an impending force, fashioned from decades of trial and error and the understanding that failures were the true stepping stones to success and personal growth. Humiliation was a fleeting feeling. One he smashed down in the moments following defeat with a bold declaration of retribution. People attributed their own labels for it. Onerous. Arrogant. Egotistical. It was neither of those things.
Confidence.
That's what he carried in abundance and he was proud of it.
Except for this moment.
Classroom introductions were a regimented custom in Japan for transfer students. The student would stand before their peers like a prized slab of meat or a caged animal while the instructor advertised the circumstances of deportation and asked that everyone play nice. A stupid sentiment, really. Then the student is given the floor to speak their name and offer a tidbit about themselves after inscribing the kanji specific to their name.
That had yet to happen.
Teppei had chaperoned him to second period and eased up to a tall woman working a whiteboard with more of that unintelligible English nonsense. He'd opted to avoid the spotlight, hovering just outside the doorway while his classmates sauntered inside. A moment later he was gathered, the giant bid farewell, and he was stationed before a collective of nearly forty people. Anxiety simmered as the woman rattled on, making minute gestures his way while addressing the enraptured, confounded, and amused faces of her pupils.
Gawking was a primitive characteristic, he knew. To observe an unknown or novel thing with bemusement. An experience he was inured to, as the ace of his middle and high school basketball teams, where he'd performed for thousands of people beneath a halo of golden lights far too many times to count. Power forwards commanded the most attention on the court, between enemy players, referees, coaches, reserve players, and spectators. So the sensation of being watched, of being applauded for his outrageous skill or ridiculed for selfish ball play, had died out quickly. After years of being a show-pony scare tactic to rival schools, Aomine'd become desensitized to the idea of exploiting the extent of his effort. He had come to understand something all those years ago. From the first tweet of the whistle to the final call of the buzzer, he was on the job. A job that required him to entertain. Rivet attention. Inspire excitement. Playing only as efficient as necessary to secure a solid win.
Which made this new experience uncomfortable.
Because there was no task to accomplish. No end game.
He stood before an audience with absolutely nothing to provide or demonstrate. All of them staring at him expectantly.
The instructor called for him with that annoying social coziness.
"Daiki," she said. "Would you like to say a few words?"
He didn't know what she expected of him, either and had been too distracted to react to the familiar address of his given name. Instead he digressed to what he was accustomed to back home.
He gripped a blue Expo marker and scribbled out the kanji of his name on an available space near the marker tray. He turned to face the room, depositing the marker with a clack, and dipped his head, muttering the standard greeting for all new arrivals.
Whispers floated across the room and he tensed. He straightened his back and the humor and confusion contorting his peers' faces prickled his skin.
"So what, he's Chinese?"
"Why is he bowing?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Bet it says 'stupid Americans'."
"It says 'sushi,' moron."
He appreciated that none of them had attempted to directly question him but as they murmured amongst themselves, he realized that spending his reward so impulsively signed him up for a debilitating character assassination.
Being flayed by the commissioner? Disappointing but acceptable.
Suffering one of Tetsu's supreme passes? Not something he coveted, but he could tolerate it.
Overcoming a room full of petty teenagers mocking his failed grasp of situational awareness? Suddenly that impregnable confidence was crumbling.
And he had no way to stop it.
Kagami watched with masked irritation as the situation at the front of the room spiraled out of control. He hadn't expected to see the transfer student, the same boy whom he clipped shoulders with in admissions earlier that morning, introduced to his second period class. New students weren't a common occurrence and introductions even rarer. Exclusive to late term admissions, usually. But his interest had been piqued when Hendrickson revealed that the new kid was a Japanese native. Arlington hosted a boisterous Asiatic population, on account of the Yamato State established by the Fire Kingdom some few thousand years ago that ran from the Florida-Georgia line to Boca Raton. He was no stranger to Apparitions and gauged the late entry only to determine that he was too dark to be one of Pyros' kin. If anything, the burnt skin and dark hair and eyes suggested an Ice Apparition. Assuming he was an Apparition at all. He couldn't be certain, given that there was no color-coded armband announcing the fact.
The giggling of his classmates brought his thoughts to the present and he curled his lip.
Bunch of pricks.
The nasty look he got earlier when they bumped shoulders in passing a half hour ago suddenly made sense. Both of them were off to a bad start today.
He eyed the kanji on the board, read Aomine Daiki. According to Mrs. Hendrickson's synopsis, Aomine, eighteen years old, was a Tokyo native, sent overseas because of his father's military reassignment before completing his senior year in high school. A piece of information that only earned more ignorant quips. Kagami found it hard to believe that Aomine was the product of an ex-serviceman. Dressed in a bland black tee shirt, charcoal track pants, and, what looked through a jungle of obtrusive table legs and crossed ankles to be a worn pair of Jordans, he gathered that discipline and self-representation was something that went unreinforced. Not to mention that placing Aomine as a junior, rather than a senior, implied the guy was either academically inept or walked away from the commitment altogether. But he would withhold his reservations. First impressions, he'd learned long ago, hardly amounted to a person's true character. He recalled a saying his father'd told him. The first face you show the world. The second face you show to your close friends and your family. The third face you never show anyone. It is the truest reflection of who you are. He wasn't so certain about the third face, but he realized that many people, whether intentional or not, crafted masks designed to suit the expectations of strangers. Some succeeded in fostering friendships, others created a misleading set of personality traits that either deterred or attracted people. And not always the right ones. Kagami only understood the one face he utilized. Unbiased and programmed with honest responses. One that made no excuses with misinterpreted cues. How he meted his flaws and perfections was his privilege.
As was Aomine's.
Which meant if the guy wanted to come across as an impudent, nerve-wracked Asian kid who reveled in using complicated calligraphy as insults to American teenagers, then that was his right. Not that Kagami believed he was.
Except the silent disclosures had finally escalated to direct inquiries and Hendrickson was failing to silence the kids' curiosities. Not to mention the guy was looking downright frazzled, eyes screaming for a way out of this nightmare.
Aomine's scrunched brow and contorted mouth reminded Kagami of the tiger the local circus rolled through town with once a year. Display cages and tents would be erected in a suitably –sized shopping plaza parking lot. No admission, food, or drinks. Just an exhibition to shout humanity's success in capturing and containing wild animals. A mother tiger and her weaning cub were the main attraction. Kagami made a point to visit every night, heart burdened with remorse as he observed the feline pacing her narrow ten-by-five foot jail cell. Lips curled exposing blunted canines. Tail hung between her hocks, the tip lashing petulantly. When she would pass close he could hear her huffing breaths. A beast fettered to a cage and centered before a crowd riveted by the awe of such a natural wonder.
For stripes that it didn't ask for. Size that it was evolved to utilize beyond artificial boundaries. A presence meant to command respect but garnered amusement instead.
Aomine Daiki went from being a person to an attraction in an unprecedented thirty seconds.
Which, even if the guy had an arrogant look about him, wasn't right.
Kagami raised his hand, snapping his fingers to gain attention. Hendrickson allowed him to speak.
He bypassed her gaze, caught Aomine's stare and said, in Japanese, "Feelin' like a caged animal?"
The distress flooded from the other's face. "Whose deaf and mute."
Kagami looked to Hendrickson, digressing to English, "The guy's doing right by his culture. That there on the board is his name. Surname followed by given name. Which you're not supposed to call him, by the way. It's rude."
The teacher palmed her mouth, affronted and passed an apologetic look to Aomine. She composed herself and clarified the correction to his classmates. Murmurs passed around, muddled as Hendrickson spoke over them. "Never too late to learn about other cultures. Taiga, I'd like you to mentor Daiki for today. Help him understand what we're doing in here."
He caught the sneer on Aomine's face as she foolishly spoke his name and found amusement as she wrangled his attention to apologize once again. He understood that unlike his father not all Japanese immigrants were welcome to embracing Western social customs. He told himself to meet with and stress propriety to Hendrickson later as she began organizing the lesson planned for the day.
Aomine glided down the aisle, long legs carrying him to the open seat to Kagami's right.
They locked eyes as if debating to obey their instructor, both obviously having had a rough morning and in no mood for congeniality. But he reasoned that denying Aomine respect was out of character, since the guy hadn't done anything to warrant hostility. He tipped his chin to the desk and gestured to draw it near.
Aomine toed the table leg, mating the two desks. If the moment weren't soured by vicious scrutiny at the hands of pubescent sprats, Kagami might have found it comical how ridiculous Aomine looked folding himself into the chair. He contained himself and offered the other a share of his materials.
Some charity would do him good.