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"He doesn't talk," the woman says. Her voice is simpering and too loud, and surprising enough to hear that Kuroo can't help but look over to get a better look at her. She's tall and thin, extraordinarily similar to the boy that stands next to her. Kuroo wonders what she's here for. Mother's don't tend to bother coming to practices, not even for the first ones. It doesn't seem to make much sense.
Kuroo glances to her side to get a better look at her son. His face is blank, but he wears his frustration in the curl of his fingers and the swaying of his body, the same way that Kenma does.
"I told him that this club probably wouldn't be a good fit for someone like him, but he insisted on coming in today, 'just to ask', anyway."
Judging by her son's reaction, she had also insisted on coming in today. Kuroo watches as the kid's hands drift away from his chest and down towards his back pocket. He pulls out a stack of small cards, but his mom pushes his hands down before he can show what they're for. He lets out a small grunt of frustration that Kuroo can barely hear from where he stands, but the boy's mom ignores the sound easily.
"Can you tell him your thoughts?"
The coach looks her over appraisingly, having been silent throughout the entirety of her little speech. Kuroo glances between him and the cat-like first year, and then over to Kenma, who is sitting in the corner of the gym, earphones in and hood up against the noise and light of the gym. The coach is quiet for a moment more, clearly trying to decide on what his best course of action is. It's obvious that the mother isn't actually looking for his opinion on whether or not her son can be a part of the team. She just wants her own opinion, restated by someone else.
"You can hear?" the coach asks finally, and the boy's fingers twitch in surprise at being addressed in favor of his mom. After a brief moment of hesitation, he nods. "You play?" He nods again, much firmer this time. The coach smiles at him, "Then I can't think of a reason why you wouldn't be able to play on this team."
The boy doesn't smile back, but his hands flap in excitement despite the deepening of his mother's scowl.
"What's your name?" Kuroo asks, jogging over to intervene as the coach and the mom go off to the side to have a talk that looks a bit heated.
Now that his mom is not around to interfere, the boy pulls the small cards back out and hands one over with the slightest hesitation. Kuroo takes it and reads [Fukunaga Shouhei} in large printed text.
"Nice to meet you, Fukunaga," Kuroo says, handing the card back. "I'm Kuroo. We still have a while before practice actually starts. If you want, you can come over and sit with me and my friend, Kenma."
Fukunaga nods, tucking his card back into his pocket and trotting alongside Kuroo over to where Kenma sits. Kenma peers up at them through his sheet of dark hair, and Kuroo doesn't miss the way his hands curl tighter around his PSP in anxious anticipation.
"This is Fukunaga," Kuroo says. "He doesn't talk," he adds, quieter.
Kuroo doubts that Fukunaga wants to be introduced like that all of the time, but he also knows that Kenma needs to hear it, and the relaxation of his friend's grip and the way he looks up at them a bit more without the pressure of anticipating a bombardment of questions and comments proves him right. Kuroo doesn't plan on introducing the new player like that ever again, he can decide for himself whether that's a thing he wants brought up.
"Hi," Kenma offers quietly, his gaze fixed on Fukunaga's hands, which straighten out to wave slightly before curling back up.
He hesitates, uncertain, before he walks over and sits, peering over Kenma's shoulder without getting too close and pointing curiously at the screen.
Kenma blinks at him. "It's Final Fantasy VII," he says after a moment. He shoots a questioning glance over to Kuroo, who nods encouragingly, settling down loosely beside the two of them as Kenma tucks some hair behind his ear and launches into an explanation of the game he's been playing.
Across the gym, the mother leaves in what looks like a huff, and the coach sighs heavily before turning to smile and flash an OK sign over to where Kuroo and the others sit.
Kenma and Fukunaga don't seem to notice, too busy hunched over the PSP screen, but Kuroo nods back, appreciative for them. Technically now Kuroo should go back to what he was doing in order to get ready for practice, but there's still at least another ten minutes before everyone arrives and they actually have to start, so he doesn't feel bad about remaining seated and listening to Kenma's soft voice talk about the combat system.
A movement in the corner of his eye catches his attention, and Kuroo looks over to see Fukunaga's huge eyes staring at him instead of the screen. After a moment of quiet appraisal, the boy nods gratefully at him.
Kuroo grins back, equal parts amused by the boy's gesture and the fact that Kenma hasn't even noticed his audience's shift in attention. Kuroo waves Fukunaga's gratefulness away with his hands, not willing to speak up and interrupt Kenma, but also not willing to let the new kid believe that he's actually done anything worth being grateful for.
If it was Kenma, Kuroo would have gotten a grimace in lieu of a verbal response, but Fukunaga's expression doesn't change in the slightest. Instead, he is still for a moment, before nodding again and fixing his eyes back onto Kenma's PSP, effectively ending the interaction.
Kuroo smirks slightly to himself and turns to look back out at the gym again. He had been looking forward to this season anyway, since Kenma was finally able to play on the team with him, but with this new kid, it looks like this year is just going to get more and more interesting as it goes along.