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Spring.
It’s when it started really, the beginning of the end—when the numbers of their jerseys change, and they grow a bit older, more authoritative on court.
Everyone’s watching them now.
Touou and Seirin are established rivals ever since their win against them in the Inter-High and the loss in the Winter cup, some very short years ago. For the sake of securing another trophy or another win against the other school, news of the other team travels fast, spreads like wildfire and reaches the gym in whispered hushes of did you hear about—?
Mid-spring.
Aomine is lounging on top the stage, a folded basketball monthly magazine in his hand as he reads about Shuutoku’s and Kaijou’s recent practice match. From his left, he hears some stretching team members whisper about a promising freshman and the Seirin captain staying overtime for the past few weeks.
Watch out for #9, they say, the captain is training him to replace him as the next ace.
Aomine lets the magazine fall just a bit, ears prickling at the news. He’s not surprised, really; most of the more talented players of his age are doing the same to make sure their schools carry on the legacy that they had set two years prior.
What he is surprised at is the fact that Kagami’s been brushing him off for the past two weeks for some reason unknown, and this was the reason why? The magazine crumples under his grip as he shoves it into his open duffle bag next to him.
“I need to go,” he says to Sakurai, who all upperclassman had unanimously voted for as the new captain of the Touou basketball team. “Skipping practice today.”
“Aomine-san,” he says with a stress in his voice and a threatening edge. Aomine has come to respect him, that shaking, nervous wreck of a freshman he used to be some years ago. Now, Sakurai has a quiet, commanding air to him, seemingly weak-willed but pulls through with sheer stubbornness. (Aomine still knows how to boss him around, but if anything, Sakurai is the passive-aggressive type.)
“Yeah, something important. I just remembered it,” Aomine lies through his teeth.
He hasn’t skipped since the last month—amazing, isn’t it—so he’s still in the clear. Sakurai and Momoi both kindly (and repeatedly) remind him that the underclassman think of Aomine as co-captain—(Ace no longer sounds as cool as it used to be, it’s been reused and rewashed a million of times like an old sock stretched and worn from wear.)—and he must set a good example for them no matter what.
Aomine thinks he does a pretty good job.
He keeps them in line, in check, orders the basketball team to undergo extra rounds of practices (himself excluded, of course), and whether the death menu is for his amusement or to build a stronger team, no one really knows—but that aside.
“All right, Aomine-san. I will see you tomorrow then?” Sakurai asks, standing up after his shoelaces were neatly tied. Aomine jumps from the top of the stage and to the court, basketball shoes squeaking on the varnish.
“Yeah.”
—
so he’s an ugly, little green-eyed monster
—
Tokyo is a vast city, it takes him two bus stops and a twenty minute walk to finally arrive at the gates of Seirin. Aomine doesn’t come here often, but he remembers it as a place with an over abundance of cherry blossom trees, petals floating down and turning the ground into a mush of muddied pink.
There is a crowd of lingering students strolling out from the gates, many would giggle or laugh and pass by, like he’s a ghost and not a hair out of place. Aomine strolls in with the bag strap hanging precariously over his shoulder, seeking out the gym.
He’s only been here three times, once was for a practice match, the second was for a training camp hosted over the summer holidays, and the third was for the Seirin captain himself.
It isn’t hard for him to find the gym, it stands out against the other buildings—rounded dome, glistening in the bright sunlight. The doors are wide open, he hears squeaks of rubber soles of shoes smearing against the court and chaotic beats of basketballs echoing against the ground, rebounding off the hoops.
The gym is almost identical to the one at Touou, dirty light filtering from the windows overhead, trickling dust floating in the high ceilings above; there are benches on the opposite side of the wall, the curtains for the stage are murky red here and not green.
“Once more, continue the lay-up!” he hears a voice shout after a shrieking peep from a whistle. The female coach, still in her school uniform, stands commanding from the side-lines, yelling names, criticism, and praises alike with the same gusto.
The team has grown considerably since their measly eleven member team in their first championship win. There’s quite a number of them, buzzing around the half-court, balls weaving between feet and bodies spinning to break free from marks.
Kagami, when Aomine finally spots him, is on the other side of the court, alone with a brown haired guy, thick glasses, with a height that challenged Kagami’s (which would explain why he’d be training as the ace.) Kagami’s dark blue shirt (which is a nice change from the black he normally wears) is soaked with sweat and the long sleeves are tucked up into rolls near his elbows.
“I’ll show it to you again,” Kagami says, patiently. “Watch how I move.”
He takes the ball, controls the pace, muscles in his arms stretching with each flick of his wrist, and then it quickens. Kagami suddenly drops, knees bent and he becomes something like a quick blur, snapping from the left to right, ducking away from the underclassman after his fake, and Aomine thinks its beautiful.
With a jump, effortless, like he’s almost weightless, Kagami has connected his hand to the hoop, dunking the ball in with ease. There’s a split second when he’s suspended in air, his jumping power keeping him afloat, and it’s beautiful.
Aomine’s hand tighten around the strap of his bag, as the ball trail towards his feet. He marvels at the sweat glistening on the nape of Kagami’s neck, at the furrowed brows as he talks and purposely slows his movements, stretching his arms and playing an imaginary foe—
“I think you know what I’m talking about, Mori,” Kagami says and puts his hand on the underclassman’s shoulder, Aomine frowns at that and glances down, at the basketball, so conveniently there. “We can have a one-on-one later afterwards, and then when we’re back at my place, I’ll show you something nice.”
The guy doesn’t have the decency to look like he’s imposing on his upperclassman. What nerve, Aomine grumbles under his breath.
“Captain, I brought some things for you since you’ve been helping me a lot.” A vein snaps and with his entire upper body, Aomine is about to hurl the basketball from the door to the guy’s face. “I hope you don’t mind.”
Kagami laughs, oblivious. Can’t he see the guy’s clearly getting too comfortable? “No, not at all.”
“Then, I’ll—“
It’s that particular moment when Kagami catches sight of him, eyes widening and mouth opening. Aomine almost forgets his annoyance and smiles at him—almost.
(The ball in Aomine’s hand would incriminate him then and there, so he opts to juggle it with his hand. Nice save, nice save.)
Kagami has completely forgotten about Mori and walks up to him, heaving deep breaths, which is odd. He didn’t seem to be out of breath while he was watching him.
“What are you doing here?” (It doesn’t sound like a question, more like a demand; Kagami looks tired but there’s that undeniable spark in his eyes, the kind he gets when there’s a discount off at Maji’s or—whenever he manages to break past Aomine during their one-on-one’s, which hasn’t been happening for about two weeks.)
Aomine feigns bored casualness but the quirk in his lips betrays him. “I had time.”
“You had time…” Kagami echoes.
Vaguely, Aomine notices the dwindling silence from the other half court. They’re taking a break, drinking from their water bottles, and all eyes are on their captain and the stranger—Touou Ace—that he was talking to.
“I was let off practice today,” Aomine says and places the ball right into Kagami’s hands. Kagami doesn’t look convinced but he doesn’t press it. “Decided to scout your team for a while. You’re doing rather well.”
“Hah, if the ace has that kind of luxury, Touou must have some kind of trump card up their sleeves,” Kagami says, tossing the ball to the side to join the many others lolling about on the floor.
“I suppose,” Aomine mumbles with a shrug. Over Kagami’s shoulder, he sees Mori, awkwardly standing there, in a trance with what’s unfolding in front of him. The much respected captain and ace of opposing teams, supposedly rivals, are talking civilly with one another at the door of the gym.
It must be amazing for the underclassman, Aomine thinks, and he entertains the idea of putting on a little show for them, instill some fear before the championship games, and dunk into a hoop hard enough to break it.
(Though Kagami would show them an even greater display, one that would involve beheading and Aomine’s death, so maybe not.)
“I see you’re training Kagami Jr., you’re ready to retire, huh?”
“Fuck off,” Kagami mumbles and punches him in the shoulder. It barely hurts. “What are you really here for.”
“I want you to take me home,” Aomine says loudly, and everyone hears him now. “You know. I’ve been so lonely the last few weeks, you’ve been ignoring me, Taiga-kun. I’m hurt.”
There’s an eerie silence from his team that makes Kagami blush red, from ear to ear, and he grabs Aomine by the front of his jacket and pulls him right out of the gym. Aomine leers at that over-friendly underclassman who’s trying to get into Kagami’s pants by saying he’d stay over the night, (as if Aomine would let that happen)—then Kagami jerks him around the corner, smashes him against the concrete wall and bites him.
On the mouth.
Like a kiss, but not really. (Sure, they’ve kissed before. Soft nips and almost kisses maybe counting, but kisses like this—hard, and satisfying a hunger—were hard to come by and it’s surprising, pleasantly surprising.)
Sharp teeth bit down against his lip, drawing from him a low growl and a smirk. Aomine sneaks his hand under his shirt, and touches the small of Kagami’s back. The skin is sweaty, still warm and he lets his fingers chase the lines of Kagami’s body, muscles twitching under his touch.
“I’m going to guess I’m not the only one who’s been lonely?” Aomine whispers, lips sore and red with a touch of fondness easing away at the corners. He laces his arms around Kagami’s waist, holding him, trapping him there. “Should’ve returned my calls, asshole. I was worried.”
“Yeah. I got busy. Sorry,” Kagami says and lets go of the fistful of shirt. He tries to move and finds that he can’t. There’s a frown and then a growl. “We’re at school.”
“Mm,” Aomine laughs, their breaths are mixed and he contents to pressing his lips against his again. Kagami doesn’t fight, doesn’t put the effort into pulling away; he leans closer, lazily, drowsily. “You kissed me first.”
“Very mature.”
“I’m younger than you.”
“By only a month,” Kagami laughs with a light lilt in his voice. He tucks his head into the crook of Aomine’s neck, body pressing against his, relaxing in Aomine’s hold. It feels like the weight of the world is melting from his shoulders, and Aomine wonders how much stress Kagami had to deal with on his own.
If someone was to walk out from the gym, turn a corner, they’d see their respectable Seirin captain, rigid and always holding himself up as the role model for the entire team, melting in the arms of their sworn enemies’ ace.
Aomine can imagine it being quite a shock to both schools if word got out.
(Though, he can imagine the coach and the other third years being smart enough to make sure they are alone, otherwise Kagami would blow a fuse.)
“Forget Kagami Jr.,” Aomine finally says against the shell of his ear, pressing his hand against the sharp bone of Kagami’s hip, thumb rubbing aimless circles through the cloth and at the skin. “Show me something nice instead.”
“I was going to show him tapes of the other schools, jack ass, what else do you think we do,” Kagami laughs, breath muffled into the dark Touou jacket and mixing into the seams. “I can’t believe you’re jealous of an underclassman.”
“Well, yeah, anyone would be, bastard,” Aomine mumbles in breaths and in between kisses dropped against Kagami’s temple.