notes:
Have I mentioned how hard it is to write side-by-side to canon? Please let me know if it doesn't make sense. It definitely works better if you have watched the anime (sorry manga readers, it's been about 8 years since I read it). As for which version the dialogue comes from: It is the English dub. There are a couple reasons for that. The main reason is that find it easier to work on this story while rewatching the same episode in English, since it is my native language. It would take way longer if I based it off the sub, because I have to switch languages so often (I do speak Japanese a little, I have been learning for 3 years, and find myself more focused on listening to the grammar and vocabulary while watching the sub).
All that aside, I will let this one speak for itself.
The next morning Izuki didn't talk to many of his teammates. He had stayed up a little too late practicing, and he was paying the price for that mistake. He just couldn't sit still after watching Shutoku play. He had goals, but they weren't as focused. And by the time he'd managed to make zero progress in figuring out what those goals could be, Koganei had long abandoned their running course, and only Mitobe was left practicing his shots with him.
He was the last to rise from his futon, and the last to join the team at breakfast. He needed a bit more time to fully wake up. He said a groggy, "Thank you very much" to the inn owners and did his best to keep up with the team. Walking down the street to the station, Izuki dragged his feet to match pace with Hyuuga and Riko at the end of the line. Unconsciously, his eyes found Kiyoshi, walking a few meters ahead, chatting with Tsuchida.
Kiyoshi had been talking the other boy's ear off all morning, not that Izuki noticed or anything. He wondered what was so interesting that the two were practically inseparable.
"I wanna sleep in my own bed!"
"I can't sleep right without my own pillow."
"You were sound asleep!
Listening to the others' banter, he thought of a pun, bad even by his standards. But a thought flashed through his head that maybe it could pull the attention of a certain teammate. That image combined with his sleep deprivation made him speak without thinking further. "I got it! Buried in pillows, buried in darkness!"
"Shut up, Izuki."
He didn't even get a side eye from either Kiyoshi or Tsuchida. He had to put up with Hyuuga's gripes for nothing. Why did he even want his attention anyway? His only respite was that he would soon get some time to sort out all the confusion feelings from the past few days. He looked forward to not having to push things down for the sake of appearances. But then, Coach had to mention that the Inter High was nearby. Even if he wanted to be alone, turn his brain off for a bit, and ignore every one of his exhausting feelings, he couldn't help but dig his phone out of his bag to check what teams were playing.
Kaijo vs Touou.
How could they say no?
Boarding the bus to the stadium, Kiyoshi took a single seat, trying to take as much time to himself as he could. He loved being back on the team, but the camp had brought him some . . . unexpected consequences. He was happy to chat with Tsuchida, when he thought he'd be returning home soon, and when it was the perfect reason to force him to the other side of the group from Izuki. He wasn't avoiding Izuki, he was just ready to have some breathing room away from him to sort out what the hell was happening to him. He was under the impression they were going home, and he was grateful.
So, when the coach announced a change in plans, everyone else cheered while Kiyoshi hesitated. He was torn. He was itching to go watch two schools his teammates had faced already that year. He hadn't gotten a chance to see the miracles in action in an official game since they got to high school. At the same time, he was exhausted. Sure, he was sore, and the training had done a number on him, but this was a different kind of exhaustion. This was the kind that kept him in bed, unable to move despite being wide awake, like the morning after a hard loss.
Instead of being trapped in his bed, though, he was constantly looking toward Izuki. Like a moth in the moonlight, searching ceaselessly for the source of the beautiful light, he subconsciously put himself nearer and nearer to his teammate. He wouldn't stay long, though. He always had some reason to leave quickly. But while he was away, he was searching Izuki out with his eyes, as if to confirm that he was still there.
That meant Kiyoshi took particular notice when Izuki chose to not sit next to him . There were open seats nearby, one just in front of Kiyoshi, in fact. However, Izuki made a clear choice to stand near Hyuuga and Riko, holding the handrail, his back facing Kiyoshi. Refusing to give any clear sign of his interest, Kiyoshi kept his eye trained outside. He couldn't see them. Were they whispering? Even if he strained his ears, he couldn't make out any sounds.
Why did it matter? Where Izuki rode the train was not his business. Kiyoshi was so interested in making it his business, though. Surely it was because of what happened on the beach. That had to be it. It was a weird experience, but it didn't mean a thing. And now that he'd made that conclusion, it would be easy to go back to normal. He'd be able to enjoy watching the live game like he always did. After all, he was hard pressed to remember the last live game he'd attended. He'd almost forgotten how excited he could get to just watch . And this was the quarter final with two members of the Generation of Miracles. It was going to be a sight to see. He longed to let himself get lost in watching the game.
That made it particularly frustrating when any thought of the game left his mind as he could not tear his eyes from Izuki's back as they filed off the bus and walked into the stadium. He watched the way Izuki's hair glinted in the sunlight, and the way his shoulder blades protrude as he walked with his hands in his pockets. Kiyoshi definitely didn't notice that his sports bag covered his nicely shaped backside. He also definitely didn't stare a little too long when Izuki swung the bag in front of himself to open it.
When the bag returned to its task of taunting Kiyoshi, it broke his single track mind long enough for a shred of reason to filter through. What was it about Izuki, specifically? He had as much interest in any one else on their team. They were his teammates after all, and some of them were good friends. He'd always been equally interested in all of them.
Walking next to Izuki was Furihata, who was slightly shorter than his upperclassman. His shoulders weren't as broad, his face was softer, and overall, his figure was not quite as defined. That was to be expected. He had only just begun his training with Riko.
He looked over at Kagami. Taller, broader, louder. He was certainly fascinated by the first-year, but only on the court. Off it, if the two spoke, it was in passing, or it was about basketball. Kagami's red hair was bright, but it didn't sway or shine. His shoulder blades weren't even clearly defined beneath his jacket as he walked hunched forward. Unremarkable. His waist was narrower proportionally than Iz- others. And his backside was just as round. Yawn.
But Izuki . He didn't have words to compare, and even as he was trying to, he didn't want to compare. He'd been compared to others the entire time he'd played basketball. It had earned him the title Iron Heart. What did that even mean? It was just a saying, like calling him an uncrowned king. He knew some of the other so-called kings, and he was not too keen on being grouped with some of them.
Izuki was not better or worse, not in any way that he would ever need to explain. He was just being Izuki and perhaps that was the best part. Izuki and him played well together. Izuki and him could talk about basketball for hours. Izuki was the first to agree to play basketball with him at high school. Izuki catches his delayed passes without any warning. Izuki made puns that made him smile even if it made others groan; Kiyoshi liked that smile. Izuki smiled like he was not afraid to show who he was.
The Inter High quarter final game was a popular one, the huge stadium bursting at the seams with spectators. Furihata pointed out a section the perfect size for them, and Kiyoshi trailed behind as the rest of the Seirin players spread out in three rows. He dragged his feet, slowed by the thoughts distracting him. Distraction , huh? Hyuuga had called whatever was going on before a distraction, but it was all caused by Izuki, so was Izuki a distraction ? Hyuuga said distractions were bad, but Izuki wasn't bad. There was no way he could be. He wanted to ask Hyuuga about it, but he had no idea what he would say.
He stopped dead when he realized the consequences of yet another distraction . He almost wanted to hightail it out of there if it meant he could avoid the worst thing he could think of. The last available seat was next to Izuki. He hesitated as the rest of his team sat down. Izuki looked up at him, those silver eyes darting between him and the unoccupied seat, mouth set in a frown. "Take a seat, Kiyoshi."
Kiyoshi .
His team said his name all the time - shouted at him on the court during a play or often connected to a long sigh and a gripe or complaint. He wanted, simultaneously, to never hear Izuki speak his name again, and to ask him to repeat it over and over.
He stood for what felt like an eon about to act on his fight or flight instincts. He held his breath - hating the way Izuki's face looked in that moment; he didn't like being the cause of it - and took his spot.
The entire team was focused on the warm up drills on the court. All except Kiyoshi. He was stuck in a now familiar trance, caused by the subtle movements of the boy next to him. He could hear the faint exhale and saw, from the corner of his eye, the steady deflation of his chest.
The players lined up for the start of the game, and Kiyoshi almost fell out of his chair when Izuki tilted his head toward him. He hadn't expected attention from any of his teammates; the whistle blew, and he figured he'd be stuck to suffer for the duration of the game. And he'd really wanted to use the game to get over this a little bit.
"What's your first impression, Kiyoshi?" It was an innocent question, a normal question. And yet The sound of Izuki's voice, asking him about something he loved so dearly, revived him.
Was it hot in the stadium, or was it just him?
"I'm not sure I can say from just the warm up." Smooth cover, considering Kiyoshi hadn't watched a bit of the it. If Izuki was going to ask him about the game, though, he could pay attention.
"Yeah, okay. Whatever you say." Izuki's tone was dripping with sarcasm. He clearly didn't believe Kiyoshi, because who wouldn't be watching with curiosity? Kiyoshi let him think he was just keeping secrets; he wasn't pressing the issue, so Kiyoshi wasn't going to press his luck.
The energy of the game was intense as soon as Kaijo took control from the tip off. It took his attention away from Izuki. Sure, he kept his awareness on him, but he let the game dominate his thoughts. Riko would call him a baskethead, and in moments like this, when a high energy game played out, he couldn't help but want to catch every last detail. He actually relaxed a bit, letting his breathing slow down. When had he brought his shoulders to his ears?
In an impressive show, Touou not only managed to steal the ball from Kise, but score three points on their first shot. "A three outta the gate." Izuki was just as hooked as he was.
"Looks like Touou takes the first basket." His comment was redundant, unnecessary. They'd all seen number nine sink his three-pointer, but there was something about sharing those comments with Izuki, regardless, that he found natural. It was as if they had fallen into this unspoken agreement that they weren't just watching the game, but they needed to watch it together. If you'd pressed him to explain that feeling, he'd be clueless. What he did know was that Izuki was just as obsessed with the sport as he was, and it never made for dull conversation.
To everyone's surprise, they passed the ball to Kise again, even though the previous play had failed. He was stopped again, but there was something else about what Kise did that felt extremely familiar. "Did he copy Sakurai?" Izuki whispered. His eyes were on the game, but the way Izuki was leaning implied that he was welcome to answer.
"Sakurai? Touou's number nine? I thought I felt some déjà vu." It didn't work out though. Aomine caught up to block. allowing Touou to grab the rebound.
Izuki didn't respond, but understood the feeling. Watching made what Kise was doing look impressive, but thinking back to his own match-up against him brought back memories of irritation. Even Touou couldn't be immune to his skills.
Only a few plays into the game, and he was concentrating on this game like he was playing in it. He was too excited. He was itching to do something, but he didn't want to miss a second of it. That's probably what motivated him to say small comments to Kiyoshi when they came up. Izuki didn't even mean to lean over to talk with Kiyoshi about the game so much. It just happened. He talked with all the guys on the team about basketball. His team was filled with basketheads, even more so since recruiting the first years - heck, he was a baskethead himself! But it was different with Kiyoshi. For whatever reason, the way in which Kiyoshi just fell into the conversation with him was too good to pass up. Getting to talk with Kiyoshi about the sport they both worked so hard at was refreshing.
It was effortless, like before he even realized it, countless observations tumbled out of his mouth into the taller boy's ear. It was unnecessary; Kiyoshi was just as focused on the play as he was. But the back and forth was natural. Talking to Kiyoshi was natural, and he realized that he had really missed doing it. Izuki had really relished the moments when Kiyoshi would indulge him in talk about training or the practice games, or anything else. He seemed to always have a place at his side, never apart for long.
Then Kiyoshi just stopped talking to him. After that first day of training camp, he'd barely had a chance to speak to him. Sure, they talked during breaks, and they shared a room with the other second years, so they were around each other a lot, but the energy had been different, more stiff. The night before, after he finally called it quits on the court and joined the rest for bed, he'd been strangely quiet, not really talking to anyone at all. But then he was chatting pleasantly with Tsuchida when they left that morning, as if nothing happened.
It almost felt like Kiyoshi was avoiding him, but that was far from the truth. Just because he didn't have the opportunity to constantly talk with the guy didn't mean he was being avoided. It was paranoia, plain and simple. It had to be that same paranoia, then, that had caused Izuki to let his sight stray more often the past few days. Like if he watched long enough, he'd be able to see what was making the entire situation feel so weird .
And in the time he'd been trying to silently determine what the hell was going on Kiyoshi's head, he didn't realize he'd been almost staring at him. It went beyond just his typical glances at teammates. These weren't focused on his play or his skills, but just him . His tall stature, his broad shoulders, his toned calves, his large hands. It was getting harder and harder to deny his sexual attractions, but that didn't mean he'd do anything about it. It would pass. He'd find a girlfriend, and then forget all about those private fantasies. No harm no foul.
Their ace keeps getting stopped. This can't bode well for them. Izuki knew that feeling all too well. He could also understand how their captain might have felt in that moment. And he also could see the new wave of confidence that filled him when he stole the ball from Imayoshi and scored three points of his own.
"We are not going to give them an inch." Izuki wished he had the presence of Kaijo's captain. He encouraged Kise with a unique anger, but as he watched Kasamatsu lay into a smiling Kise, he had to laugh to himself about how he'd pull Kiyoshi out of similar lows or moments of insecurity, albeit, Izuki's techniques were much less violent.
"That's an airtight defense if I ever saw one."
"No kidding. Neither team is letting up." Kise and Aomine stood staring at each other, daring each other to move. When he was almost convinced neither would give in, Aomine broke and passed the ball.
"He passed!"
"Not quite, keep watching."
Aomine swiftly maneuvered through his fake to side-step Kise and make for the basket. Kiyoshi and Izuki tensed when they saw Kise pull in front of Aomine to stop his play. It pushed their arms flush against one another, but neither could pull away.
Kiyoshi felt the searing heat between them, but he was frozen - paralyzed by the combination of the impressive play plus the intense physical sensation.
"Kaijo's in the lead. I didn't expect this." Hyuuga voiced their thoughts.
"Me neither." Izuki slumped back into his seat, the upper part of his arm maintaining contact with Kiyoshi. It just felt . . . right. He probably should stay in his own space, but Kiyoshi wasn't pushing him away. In fact, if he wasn't going to react at all, then why should he say anything?
"Hey guys, I'm curious. How did you manage to pull off a win against Kaijo?"
The pang of hurt and anger that went through all of them was simultaneous, bordering on comical. Kaijo was good. Sure, they had a smooth and refined offense, and a tenacious and persistent defense, and yeah, Kise copying the moves he worked weeks on after one look was frustrating but-
How did they manage it?
"With spirit, maybe?" Kagami's unlikely explanation was the best anyone could come up with.
Izuki could remember how mad he was when he saw how dismissive the Kaijo coach was of their entire team. He'd looked down on them like some two cent road side show. Ever since the championship league last year, they were looked down on as a second rate school. Had they known the tragedy that happened before that tournament… maybe the stories would be a little different. He couldn't wait for the chance to show off the new Seirin, now complete.
Touou took control immediately, just like in the first quarter, and Kise was having trouble keeping up. Still, despite him getting blocked, Kaijo was still relying on Kise.
"Kaijo's got a lot a of trust in their ace." Kiyoshi's quiet voice was filled with warmth.
"Touou does too. They all gladly let him play like he wants."
"There's not a big disparity between them, so it would be up to the aces to tip the scales."
"A showdown between Aomine and Kise. It's exciting to not be able to predict what's coming."
"If playing them is as exciting as watching, I can only imagine how you all felt facing them."
It was the first time he'd managed to catch Izuki's eyes since the start of the game. It was brief, nothing more than a brief turn of their heads, but it magnified the feelings in him; both excitement and something new he hadn't yet been able to name.
Kise and Aomine were facing off yet again, and Kiyoshi was waiting for Kise to stop him, but he managed to get around him and went for a dunk before Kise even flinched.
But Kise wasn't out there alone. Watching Kasamatsu draw a foul from Aomine was shocking. His position is not really suited to match a power forward, or at least, not one like Aomine. It also made him think of his own point guard, who may not have all the same flashy tricks, but was just as fearless.
So he did it on a chance , not because he knew it would work. Going up against Aomine while he was moving that fast could he have ruined the play, or he could have gotten seriously hurt. He believed in their ace . Kasamatsu wasn't playing for himself. He knew he wasn't the star, but he cleared the path for his team.
"Izuki. Would you take a shot like that?" In this context it could have sounded like he was asking if Izuki could shoot like Aomine just did.
Izuki looked at him, so soon again. He held Kiyoshi there, and for a moment, he was worried Izuki was confused, or worse, offended. But the look in Izuki's eyes told him he knew exactly what he meant. "Of course. Any day. Whether it's Aomine shooting or not."
"Kise is using his copycat skill. He's copying Aomine's signature style."
Kuroko stole both their attention. Kiyoshi wanted to grab Izuki, turn his face back. He wanted - no, needed - to see those eyes again. He even reached his right hand toward the shorter boy. He stopped himself, realizing what he was doing. He was lucky that for once Kuroko was demanding attention, and he could return his hand to its spot, unnoticed.
The thing was, when they both turned to look at Kuroko, the contact between them broke. How long had they been in contact? He heard his team talk about Kise's potential and tried to make sense of what he was attempting. Despairing at his loss, still, he tried to give his attention to the conversation.
"If Kise is trying to pull off an acquired move, then it's because he thinks he can do it."
Izuki gave a small huff. "You would know, as someone who also doesn't give up until he gets it right."
Neither said anything else the rest of the quarter, only a few short minutes, but both slowly drifted back towards each other, not touching, but centimeters from it. They both jerked away when the loud buzzer signaled the end of the half, Touou ahead. Commotion arose within the stadium, numerous fans jostling around. The second the announcement ended, some of the team got up, Hyuuga and Riko leaving to get a snack, Kuroko taking Nigou out for some air.
But Kiyoshi and Izuki didn't move. Kiyoshi and Izuki talked. And talked. They spoke the entire break about the first half. Kaijo's improvements, the infuriating Touou captain, that loud mouth Kaijo center, laughing over the funny stories of Sakurai shouting "Sorry!" as he makes a perfect three-pointer. He and Izuki could not be stopped if anyone tried. The world faded around them. They came to watch the game, but they were so enraptured in one another, a passerby might think they weren't watching at all.
Kiyoshi asked many questions about his experiences playing against two legendary teams, and he was hooked on every single word Izuki had to share. He talked with that bright smile on his face, like he was proud to have been thoroughly crushed by Touou at that championship league.
Working hard, dedicating yourself to being the best… That's what he and Izuki both believed was the definition of fun. Sure, defeat has a bitter taste, but when the odds seemed so impossible that giving up seemed like the only solution, Izuki persevered. He didn't even need to get up because he was never truly knocked down.
As if released from hypnosis, the familiar buzzer signaling the beginning of the second half was the only thing that broke their trance. With their conversation choked short, the two of them snapped their vision back to the court. Kiyoshi felt disoriented, the bright lights on the wood floor blinding him. His eyes focused enough to make out the sight of back-to-back plays which seemed oddly similar.
"Watching Kise play is like déjà vu."
Izuki chuckled, pulling his attention in confusion. "Watching you watch Kise play is like déjà vu."
A small bit of pink dusted Kiyoshi's cheeks. He bristled and tried to cover it, "Well excuse me if someone so good at copying is new to me. He's a tough opponent."
"You say that as if you aren't a scary-tough opponent yourself. Well, dopey-tough. You don't have a scary bone in your body."
Kiyoshi liked that; was it a compliment? It didn't matter.
Kise pulled off yet another move Aomine had done in the first half making it look effortless. Koganei voiced his amazement at the display of skill. But that wasn't quite right, and Coach understood why. "He's not there. He's only doing it when anyone except Aomine is marking him."
That was it. Kise hadn't approached Aomine yet that quarter, which could only mean, "That's right. When Kise goes one-on-one with Aomine again, he'll have perfected his copy."
Izuki leaned over to respond, pushing his arm back against Kiyoshi. It seared, yet again. Izuki's longing for connection hadn't faded, just moved to the back of his awareness. But now that it has resumed, every word evaporated off his tongue.
Kiyoshi definitely noticed his hesitation, brows lowering in wonder. But before the questions came, a stadium wide gasp pulled them back. There was no motion on court, but a glance at the scoreboard showed that Touou earned two more points. Aomine made a shot? With that follow through form?
Kaijo seemed tense after that. Kasamatsu drove in even though he was sure to be defended. IT was almost a foolish play. Izuki almost laughed when he realized what a fool he'd been to forget about Kaijo's center. He almost barreled through Wakamatsu, of all people, for the rebound.
He was already touching Kiyoshi, so a gentle shrug of his arm was enough to garner his attention. "Know any centers as stubborn about rebounds as Kaijo's number ten?"
Kiyoshi returned a smile of his own. "Are you trying to tell me something, Izuki?"
"I'm just saying. Maybe someone should work on their rebound stats. He is a center after all." They both knew Izuki was only joking. Kiyoshi was a monster on rebounds. The only one on their team who came close was Tsuchida. Izuki definitely was not one to talk about poor rebound stats.
"Do you even have a rebound stat?" They chuckled together, a bit louder than was probably appropriate for the setting, but they tried to keep it down. A gentle "woah" from Koganei was enough to pull them back to reality. They sobered as they realized what Kise was doing. He was going up against Aomine.
This was it.
And Kise broke through. It took almost the whole game, but Kise made it look effortless, like side stepping Aomine was habitual to him. Aomine jumped at Kise to block the shot. Even as they collided, Kise still nailed the shot with next to no form. These guys really weren't messing around.
The stadium burst into chatter, no doubt talking about the dramatic turn for Touou: Aomine had four fouls.
The energy on the court was different than just seconds ago. Touou's lineup had matching looks of concern on their faces, no doubt because they knew if Aomine fouled out, there was no one left to take on Kise. They'd lose.
But if Kiyoshi understood a thing or two about how the ace might feel when having four fouls, Aomine might see those looks of fear, and misinterpret them as pity. And based on what Kiyoshi had observed about Aomine, both back in middle school, and his current game, he would hate their pity more than anything. He might not be a team player, but that shame that comes with knowing your team is worried about you, it's hard to get over.
In the next play, Aomine fumbled. The result let Kise make an attempt at hoop. Inches from Kise clearing the hoop, Aomine was there, swatting the ball back down to the court. The scowl on his face was deep, clear enough that he could make it out from where he sat in his seat. Say what you would about Aomine, but he never backed down. Not even with four fouls. It was oddly inspiring. Kiyoshi hadn't had a chance on a real court yet that year, but watching Aomine play made him want to jump the railing and join in on the fun.
Kiyoshi threw his arm around the chair, forcing his body to lean to the left and into Izuki's space. It was arguably worse than the touching of their arms before. Before, their spaces were side by side, but now they were overlapping. In a way, he felt more heat than before spreading through him. He'd meant to just stretch out; sitting for so long just watching after getting the all-clear to play again was not good for him. What also was not good for him was being 193 cm tall with massive limbs. But now that he'd done it, he'd have to suffer. He'd only draw attention and raise questions if he moved quickly now.
Why was Kiyoshi so close? His teammate had stretched out, but did it have to be into his space? Yeah, they'd been touching part of the game, Izuki initiating some of that, but this was different. It was like Kiyoshi was trying to tease him.
Stop it, stop it. That is not true.
To force the thoughts from his mind, he focused his attention back on the game. "Any normal player with four fouls would have lost their edge by now. What's gonna happen?"
Right off the bat, Aomine proved them all naïve, because he made a shot almost parallel to ground. It may as well have been a declaration of war, because they were now fueled by fire hotter than before.
Kiyoshi folded himself back into his chair, crossing his arms. The performance from both of them was breathtaking. It was hard to believe they were only high schoolers. The fatigue was clear on each of them, the rest of both teams clearly running out of energy.
But Not Kise. And not Aomine. Both were going at full power.
"How does he do it? Play like he's got nothing to lose." Kiyoshi's voice rang in his ears.
"How do any of us do it? If anything, Kise is playing with the same intensity. But if you ask me he's playing like he has everything to lose. You should know. I've never seen you back down from anything." With each word he spoke, the two drifted closer, neither noticing when they made contact again.
Kaijo had only a few plays to take control, trailing by ten points, and they all knew it. Kiyoshi talked about the pressure, and the possibilities. Izuki was hooked on every word Kiyoshi was saying, resonating with every single statement.
Kise jumped for a formless shot, and right when he was sure Aomine would block it, he turned the ball back to attempt a pass to his captain. Only to get blocked by Aomine anyway. "Their last chance slipped right through their fingers." Izuki's heart ached. It ached for the despair and feeling of failure that was no doubt settling into Kaijo at that moment.
He tried to imagine himself in Kasamatsu's place as Aomine swatted the ball from Kise right before he could complete the pass. That was their last chance. He didn't want to imagine. He thought of his own number seven, trying to send the ball back to his point guard, only to have it shut down.
In that moment, the two of them pressed so closely together, it only took a turn of his head and Kiyoshi's ear was right within earshot for him to say something he, and only he could hear. "If our ace passes the ball to the point guard, he'll pick it up, guaranteed." Izuki allowed himself to meet Kiyoshi's gaze when he looked over, smiling to himself at the surprised look. It took a lot to surprise the center, so he would take the victory while he could.
To anyone else it might have sounded like a criticism of Kise or even Kasamatsu, failing to take control of the game, but like several of the exchanges between them that day, it didn't mean what it seemed like at first glance. They both knew that Izuki wasn't talking about the moment in the game currently playing out on the court. He was talking about every postponement the year prior when Izuki naturally received a pass he never anticipated. Over and over again. They played together like no one else did. Kiyoshi brought out things in him that no one else did. Izuki was the point guard, wasn't he, so why was Kiyoshi the one who always seemed to pull them through?
That's Seirin's center for you, not truly a traditional center. He was Seirin's leader on the inside. And when their leader on the outside was out of options, Kiyoshi was there, always reminding them to have some fun.
Eventually, Kiyoshi returned it with a gentle smile of his own, and a small nod. "Yeah. I know he will." Kiyoshi was only a breath away, like if he'd bobbed his head forward he could have those lips against his own. He could -
Since when did he want to kiss Kiyoshi ? The desire was urgent, unmistakable and devastating. On top of all, it was impossible to ignore. He'd had many suggestive thoughts about various athletes, famous ones in his magazines, and those he faced as opponents, but he'd never once imagined kissing them. There weren't enough memories of naked women to replace the intense longing to grab Kiyoshi by the head and kiss him until they both couldn't breath.
The end of the game was a blur. Everyone on Kaijo's team knew they had lost, but they didn't back down. Not one bit. It was truly an admirable effort from Kaijo, losing by twelve points. But even more disheartening than the loss was watching Kise struggle to stand up. He'd left every bit of himself on the court. He knew Kise was not only carrying the weight of the loss, but also the shame of being an ace who was not able to pull through for his team.
Before he could stop himself, he moved his hand to gently grasp Kiyoshi's leg, just above his knee. Kiyoshi hissed in a breath, but it was not one of pain. Izuki didn't know what he thought exactly, but he could tell Kiyoshi at least understood what Izuki was trying to communicate. He was silently reminding Kiyoshi of the support he had, like the support Kasamatsu offered as he hauled Kise off the court.
We'll play against them again this winter. Kiyoshi had been tense since watching Kise collapse. He knew the pain, both physically and mentally, he knew the deep hole Kise could be falling into. Kise gave everything, but look where it got him. The gap between us is still too great. Especially after his long stay in the hospital. He'd wanted so much to get out, play again, even if it meant he-
The same warmth he felt from his arm bloomed near his knee. He sucked in a quick breath, the touch grounding him. Before he could continue into his spiral about his absence from the sport, he was pulled back from the edge. He saw Izuki's pale hand resting there, holding him, as if mirroring the actions of Kaijo's captain.
Kiyoshi had always pulled himself up. He always figured he had to, because that was how he always did it. But perhaps, if Kise needed a shoulder to learn on, maybe he could find-
Hyuuga was loudly berating Kagami for his naïve comment about getting a hotel when he managed to pull his attention away. Izuki's hand left its spot, and Riko roused them all up. The sooner they got home the sooner they could hit the road running. The end of the game changed the mood drastically. no one knew what to say, but they all felt the need to get back to work.
Their team shuffled out of the stadium, Kagami grumbling, "Can we at least get something to eat before getting on the train?"
Kagami was bored the second the whistle blew. The action stopped and he was just counting the seconds until it started again. It was only a few minutes in, and Kagami couldn't get enough of watching the two go head-to-head. When his attention wasn't stolen entirely by the stunning display from both Kise and Aomine, he tried to find interest in other things. Mainly, why the hell Izuki and Kiyoshi could not shut up during the game. Every play, the two were leaning over to each other and whispering. They're watching the same game, aren't they? Shut up and watch, of course he saw Aomine block Kise, they all did!
Hyuuga almost cursed out loud when the first points of the game were scored by Sakurai. That damn apologetic mushroom. He felt slightly vindicated when Kise copied the move exactly, nullifying any lead Touou hoped to gain with that shot. His celebration was brief, however, as he heard Kiyoshi murmur something about déjà vu and then he and Izuki were snickering together. A basketball game was hardly the time for jokes. He rolled his eyes and ignored them.
Furihata took his chance to escape to the restroom when the half ended. He had made a risky decision about ten minutes prior between being able to watch every second of the incredible game and avoiding his bladder exploding all over himself. As he pushed as politely as he could past the other spectators, he caught an ear full of Kiyoshi and Izuki loudly discussing the first half of the game. Damn, he wished he could have joined in talking about it with them. But he was seconds away from a disaster if he didn't get to the restroom immediately.
He walked back into the arena with a fresh attitude. Now that his problem had been dealt with, he could finally think about the incredible things he'd seen the first half. When he made it back to his seat, he saw that Izuki was still talking animatedly to Kiyoshi about it. He felt jealous. He almost took a moment to join them, but he felt like he should stay away. His observation made him feel as if doing anything to upset their conversation would disrupt some kind of balance. Oh well. He'd just have to wait until the second half started.
When the play resumed, Riko leaned forward, giddily resting her head in her hands, eyes trained on the court. Hyuuga couldn't steal back his girlfriend's attention if he tried. They'd been mid conversation, discussing the upcoming half of the training camp, and she just stopped talking, acting as if they hadn't been speaking at all. He smiled; he'd never tell her, he'd be too embarrassed, but her passion was one of the most attractive things about her. She didn't know the meaning of a half effort.
Completely disregarding the eyes of the team, too enraptured by the fact that he could , he let his left hand trail to her lower back, making small shapes with his palm. She wouldn't mind, so long as he behaved and didn't let his hands wander. Besides, now wasn't the time. Some enjoyed basketball by cheering. Some, if you were Izuki and Kiyoshi, talked the entire time , (those whispers aren't hiding anything, you two!) and he and Riko did it in the comfort of one another's company.
The longer the game went on, the more heated Kagami got. He still remembered the feeling of watching Aomine crush his team after he got benched, but the feeling he had now could only be described as "needing to kick their asses." He needed to get onto the court immediately. But, to his misfortune, he happened to take a seat behind Kiyoshi "Loud Mouth" Teppei. He and Izuki had been talking about who knows what, annoyingly pulling his attention away from the game.
Kagami got particularly annoyed when Kiyoshi stretched those giant arms above his head, blocking almost the whole court. Damn it, Aomine had just pulled off a steal too! He lurched his head to the left, to see around. "Kagami-kun, please stay in your own seat." Kuroko scolded quietly. Kagami was offended. Did Kuroko not see what Kiyoshi was doing?
He glared at his upperclassman even if he couldn't see it, and he noticed that Kiyoshi had thrown his arm around the back of his and Izuki's seats, pulling himself toward the point guard. The two sat even closer, making it easier to make those distracting comments even more. He rolled his eyes so hard they would have fallen off his face. He would have grumbled but he was not going to pull a comment from Kuroko again.
When Kaijo lost their last chance at a comeback, the arena fell silent. Well, mostly. Kagami caught sight of Izuki whispering to Kiyoshi again. He couldn't hear what he said, but if they were sharing secrets at a time like this, it'd piss him off. Man, ever since that giant showed up, Izuki had been even more on his case, like he could analyze any of Kagami's play errors, but then he goes and gossips like a middle school girl during the Inter High Quarter final. Those two were smiling over something, and it just irked him. Watching this game, he was itching to get out onto the court! Shouldn't they feel the same way? Wasn't Kiyoshi some uncrowned king or whatever?
"Kagami-kun, I know you are fired up, but could you please stop mumbling?"
Kuroko was almost enough to set him over. "Are you serious? I-" He started, but when he looked at his fellow first year, Kuroko had his finger over his mouth in a hush signal, his brows slightly furrowed together. Damn it, Kuroko was getting pissed. He'd let it go, for now, only because making up with Kuroko after he irritated him last time had taken way too many vanilla milkshakes.
After the game, knowing they all felt the same way about watching the tournament, all Kagami did was suggest getting a hotel. Hyuuga did not need to lay into him like that. Kagami didn't even do anything wrong. If Captain was going to lay into anyone, it should have been Kiyoshi or Izuki.
First, Coach made him run on the beach all camp and then he was getting grief from all angles during the game. He was at his limit when Kuroko wandered off. He went looking for him, knowing he would be at a court nearby. Sure enough, he found him practicing. At least there was one person who spoke his language and was ready to play after watching that game.
Hyuuga almost gave himself a pat on the back for getting his team out of the stadium in a timely manner and gathered for departure. Then, he discovered they were missing not one, but two first years. "I swear." He grumbled to those nearby. "This team needs to stop pairing off and taking turns to test my patience."
Some days Hyuuga felt like a dad who had to wrangle his ten oversized children. The first years shaved enough years off his life. If Izuki and Kiyoshi picked up that habit, he'd definitely be planning his funeral before he graduated.
