The next few days passed at an agonizingly slow pace. It turned out that Riko-san was currently on a family vacation, and the earliest I could expect to see her would be the coming weekend – thankfully, as today was Friday, that wasn't too long into the future. Then again, I wasn't even sure if the training would come to fruition, as apparently Kuroko's conversation with Riko-san went a little something like this;
"Hello, Riko-san? How is your vacation going?"
"Kuroko! Thank you, it was going just perfectly well… and then you called."
"Sorry to intrude, I just wanted to ask if you-"
"If this has anything to do with work then I suggest you hang up if you value your life."
So, being the nonconfrontational oasis of peace that he is, Kuroko hang up. Honestly though, I don't blame him – even the idiotically brave Kagami was scared of her. Despite these obvious warning signs, I was still looking forward to meeting Riko-san and her 'extreme temper', as Kuroko called it. For the past few days I had been training my ass off, but there was only so much that I could do, even with Kagami and Kuroko's help, and I was beginning to feel like I had reached a wall.
In flat racing, speed is everything. I had speed, or so I thought – until I saw the way Aomine could make Raiu gallop. I knew instinctively that Kumo had the potential to gallop equally as fast, yet in all my weeks of training, and even with my greatest efforts I never attained the speed that Aomine did so offhandedly.
'Sure there's an obvious difference between our experience levels," I mused as I slowly made my way into where Kumo's box was inside the stables, "and then there's natural talent… but I cannot help but think I'm missing something."
Therefore, I decided to seek out and consult the one person whom I thought to have an answer to any and every horse riding related question – Midorima Shintarou.
"Lack of focus – that is the wall you need to overcome." Midorima declared dispassionately, "A typically Gemini characteristic, so it shouldn't surprise you too much."
"Could you somehow elaborate on that?" I asked, feeling a bit disheartened to have received such a plain reply after I poured my heart out to him about feeling like I was up against some impenetrable wall.
We were currently in the right-wing stables, and watched as Midorima meticulously worked at polishing his saddle while we both sat on uncomfortably small, wooden stools.
"If you insist." He sighed before continuing, "Your horoscope's nature means that your spiritual energy is prone to scattering, hence you find it difficult to dedicate yourself to a single task for a prolonged time-period. So it is only logical for you to be struggling with horse riding – a sport in which conscientiousness and regular training is paramount."
"But I am training regularly and-" I began to protest, but was swiftly cut off my Midorima.
"In horse riding, training is measured in months, not hours or weeks. Don't get ahead of yourself," He warned, "Practice your form until it becomes an inherent part of your being, and synchronize with your horse like your life depends on it – that is the only advice I can offer you." He concluded, finally looking up at me from his now-glistening saddle.
"I understand, thank you Midorimacchi," I responded, feeling somewhat more satisfied with this answer. I could tell Midorima was busy, so I was about to head out, when another thought popped into my head, "But what about Aominecchi; you once said his form was awful, so how come he is this good?"
"You have to learn the rules first, before you can break them effectively."
His responses surprised me at first- I sort of expected him to make a snide comment about how it's all down to Aomine's horoscope like he usually did. But as I thought about his words, they made a lot of sense.
'Perhaps even MIdorimacchi doesn't completely hate Aominecchi.' I smiled to myself before speaking.
"Yeah," I smiled at him, genuinely grateful for his advice, "You're right. Are you going to train later then?"
"Today is Friday the thirteenth," he stated, as though that was the most obvious and reasonable reply to my question in the world, "I am not taking any chances."
"Yea… 'course" I replied, letting out an awkward laugh. Midorima was smart, I had to give him that, but this personality was just… difficult to handle at times, "Come by later though. I'd really appreciate your expert opinion on my riding form." I cooed – Midorima perked up at my mention of his expertise, and swiftly agreed to come as soon as he was done with equipment maintenance. Bless his brilliant yet simple mind.
So, we said our goodbyes and headed in separate directions, and some half an hour later I was guiding a saddled Kumo, my eyes alight with a newly found determination, onto the meadows – a vast plot of grassland that stretched out from behind the tracks all the way to the forest's dense treeline. I wanted to try training here instead of at the tracks for once. I felt that, in order to work on my form and hone speed, it didn't make sense to be somewhere enclosed; and as I stepped onto the windswept greenery I knew I'd made the right decision. The crisp wind brushed my cheeks and tousled my hair as though welcoming me to its realm – there was something so refreshing about how chaotic the meadow appeared in comparison to the meticulously ordered tracks just beside it. Something almost rebellious and it made me feel like I could take down any wall that stood before me.
Speaking of which, as soon as I mounted Kumo I caught sight of my favourite rebel galloping at neck breaking speed in his usual helmet-less style.
'How anyone can look this good in a pair of battered sneakers, a crinkled v-neck and breeches is beyond me.' I pondered, heart pounding in my chest against my will. I disciplined myself to not think about how wonderfully the wind tousled his hair as he dashed across the meadow, and instead focused on adjusting my form as instructed by Midorima. It was surprisingly difficult – Kumo kept shifting as he stood, but when I finally got it, I could definitely tell the difference. A good two hours passed while I relentlessly tried to tailor my form to best work with Kumo – it was a more taxing endeavor than I had anticipated and I didn't seem to be making much progress. I therefore decided to take a short break to admire Aomine's gorgeously tanned muscles from up close.
"Hello Aominecchi~!" I sang, my voice brimming with sarcasm as I neared Aomine who had now dismounted Raiu to take a break.
"Go die blondie." He retorted, thus completing our customary greeting.
Since I was practically living at Sayurie Stables at the moment and spending every waking moment of my day training (with the exception of weekends), Aomine and I were, by virtue of circumstances, spending quite a lot of time in each other's presence. Though most of that time passed in silent observation – my silent observation of Aomine, to be exact – enough insults were exchanged between the two of us for me to stop taking any of them to heart. Our exchanges felt more like a 'creative slander competition' than anything else. Moreover, as aggravating as his disinterested attitude was, I believed him to be a man of his word, so I was able to remain a bit calmer around him.
While approaching Aomine I let Kumo naturally slow down into a walk, but as all I had wanted to do was greet him (his presence alone was enough of a distraction) I was about to adjust my hold on the reins to switch back to a canter when;
"You're focusing on the horse too much." Aomine remarked abruptly, and I all but jumped from surprise, causing Kumo to stop dead in his tracks.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I countered, visibly confused as I wheeled around fervently atop Kumo to face him. "Of course I'm focusing on my horse; unlike some people I need to train my ass off if I want to make it to Nationals."
"Have you been asking Midorima for riding form advice?" He continued, completely ignoring what I had just said. I was quite thrown off by the accuracy of his question, but then remembered that Aomine was, after all, a pro racer so it was only natural for him to be able to spot that kind of stuff.
"Where are you going with this?" The question came out sounding more bitter than I intended, and I bit my lip out of aggravation.
"I should be asking you that," He straightened his back and reached for his shoulder to slide his backpack from it, letting the backpack slide off his arm and land on the grass with a soft thump. "because you won't get far with asking a jump racer for advice when trying to qualify for flat racing Nationals." His voice, albeit mocking, lacked its usual rude edge and his signature smirk was missing too.
This may have been the first time that Aomine told me something which served a function other than that of an insult – though it was undoubtedly meant to be at least partly insulting. This was also the closest Aomine and I ever came to having a 'civil conversation' and yet rather than happy I found myself annoyed at the fact that he was offering me advice. I had been completely fine, grateful even, for advice received from Kagami, Kuroko – heck, even Midorima – but hearing Aomine say those words felt like proof of his superiority over me. Which was a very obvious, and quite a dumb, thing to be annoyed at – he the professional here, not me.
"What do you care anyway?" I demanded, snapping back into reality. Though the logical thing to do, in order to improve and become Aomine's equal, was to take any and all advice he offered, I couldn't hide my irritation at that self-assured little smile he was giving me while he sized me up with a devious glint in his cobalt eyes.
"No reason, really." He shrugged matter-of-factly before crossing the distance between us in a few long strides, "Just though I'd make sure you'd be able to entertain me for a little bit longer." His gaze now shifted from me to Kumo – he folded his arms slowly, while scrutinizing his every detail.
'The fuck is that supposed to mean?'
"The curb strap is way too loose. No wonder you're so shit at gait-switching." He remarked before I could verbalize my thoughts, and immediately got to work in adjusting it. Once again, his comment caught me off guard – he was always so blasé about everything, I guess I just assumed his technical knowledge was… well. Absent.
Just as I opened my mouth to thank him, Aomine finished tightening the curb strap and, without another word, sat himself behind me atop Kumo in one nimble motion.
If I had been confused before, I was now positively discombobulated.
"H-hey!" I protested, my voice stuttering from bewilderment at this turn of events, "This is an invasion of my privacy!"
"Our every interaction until now has been an invasion of my privacy; it's time you got a taste of your own medicine." He laughed into my ear, sending a feverish jolt of electricity down my spine. I scanned his voice for traces of annoyance, but found none.
"Aominecchi, you're not making any sense." I argued, fixing my gaze on the faraway forest, willing myself not to think too much about how incredibly muscular Aomine's chest felt pressed against my back. It (among various other things) was hard.
I continued to blindly stare ahead as I felt Aomine reach both arms forward and grab Kumo's reins, and all the while I felt my cheeks turn an embarrassingly bright shade of red.
"Put your hands on mine," He instructed, and at this point I thought I was imagining things.
"Come on blondie, I don't have all day!" He added, that familiar annoyed edge clear in his voice. If only my heart could beat any faster than it already was, I'm sure it would've.
"O-ok hold on a moment!" I stammered back. It took me a few seconds but I finally managed to reach a brain-body coordination adequate to comply with Aomine's ridiculous instruction. As soon as our hands made contact I felt a thrilling wave of heat surge through my body. I dared myself to look down, heart threatening to beat right out my chest, and I felt my already excessive blush intensify even more.
"Alright copycat – now try and keep up." I could literally see that smug grin of him spreading across his face from the tone of voice with which he spoke, and I began to wonder how on Earth was I going to be able to learn anything in this state – just keep my breathing level was proving to be difficult enough task.
The words had barely left his mouth when, with a few dexterous movements of the reins, Aomine sent Kumo galloping across the overgrown meadow like lightning. I gasped at the sudden movement, causing Aomine to chuckle delightedly behind me.
"I don't know what Tetsu and the others have told you," He began, his calm almost lazy-sounding voice completely contrasting with the incredible speed of Kumo's gallop, "but the actual secret to horse riding isn't the ability to synchronize with your horse, or to listen to your horse, or any of that bullshit – you gotta make the horse listen to you. That way, you'll be fine no matter what horse you ride."
"Wow Aominecchi – this may be the first smart thing I've heard you say since me met." I joked, not wanting him to know just how big of an impression his words left on me – the only thing worse than an annoyed Aoime, was a cocky Aomine.
"Perhaps one day I'll be able to tell you the same."
I decided to let that one slide, and instead I focused on trying to memorize the intricate hand movements that Aomine was using to flawlessly control Kumo. 'Control' really was the right way to describe it – not a single one of the horses' movements wasn't a direct result of Aomines' commands. Though despite his obvious command over Kumo, the two of them were also undeniably in synchronization, and I was beginning to understand what Aomine had meant by 'making the horse listen to you' being the secret. Previously, I had been convinced that achieving a perfect rider-horse synchronization was an 'end point' of horse riding. Yet now as I watched Aomine elicit from Kumo a speed beyond anything I ever managed with such a confident ease, I realized synchronization to be a means to an end, rather than an end in of itself – the strength and timing of his movements was impeccably harmonized with Kumo. And it was this harmony that he exploited to lead Kumo; like a very bossy dance partner.
By now we must have already circled this great, overrun meadow about ten times – I had lost count in my zealous struggle to absorb as much of the manoeuvres Aomine was presenting me with. I was calmer now than at the beginning, but it was a hugely difficult task nonetheless. In the moment that Aomine first launched Kumo into that marvellous gallop I realized why he asked me to hold onto his hands – his movements were strong and curt, yet simultaneously subtle it would be impossible for me to truly see them with eyes alone.
'No wonder I wasn't able to copy his movement before,' I sighed as Aomine swiftly slowed Kumo slowed into a walk, 'honestly – I'm not even sure if I'll be able to do it now.'
Midorima's even voice reached me just as Aomine dismounted my horse, and I all but fell out of the saddle from surprise.
"What an improbable turn of events." He stated, standing some distance away.
"Does your lucky item today happen to be a punch in the face?" Aomine barked without so much as a glance in Midorima's direction.
"No, it is in fact a grandfather clock." He replied in his typical business-like tone, as unruffled by Aomine's rudeness as always.
"Midorimacchi! Thanks for coming, but-" I began trying to calm the situation, but my voice got caught in my throat when I spotted a frenzied Sakurai, desperately battling with, and to hold onto the magnificent grandfather clock which usually stood in the reception's lounge area. The pure panic in his eyes indicated that the huge object could overpower and crush him at any given moment.
"MIDORIMA WHAT THE FU- SAKURAI!" I called out, flabbergasted, "Put that down before you get yourself killed!"
"No. It's still too far away. Bring it closer Sakurai." Midorima countered, looking over his shoulder at the exhausted brunette.
"Oh my God!" I yelled at him, trying to gather my thoughts – all of this was beginning to be too much for one day, "What is this goddam grandfather clock doing out here?" I demanded.
"I thought I already told you; Man proposes, God disposes. I am a man that proposes; I always carry my lucky item of the day with me as my horoscope said." He declared, his voice tinged with frustration, "And today will be no different."
"I'll be heading off." Aomine interjected, unshaken by the absurd situation.
Then, just as he was passing me, he stopped for a moment to put a hand on my shoulder and tell me something that I could not forget in a thousand years;
"You'll make it to the Nationals – and that kinda pisses me off."