Work Text:
The thing is, Kagami knows, okay?
He knows that more often than not he doesn't really fit in. He'll always be an outsider, a stranger in a strange land.
There's no such thing as the best of both worlds when your mom's Japanese and your dad's American, when they are both workaholics who sometimes have to put their jobs before their son.
So he's tall and red-headed and it makes him stick out in any crowd in Japan, but his eyes are slanted enough that in the States everyone recognized him as Asian.
And it's not just his looks. It's his manners and his speech and everything else.
He's been raised bilingually, speaks without an obvious accent and that's pretty damn nifty, but there's more to language than just that.
In America, everyone chuckled at him for being so god damn polite. In Japan, his sempai and teachers frown whenever he speaks too rashly, too loudly, too bluntly.
“You use too many fucking swear words,” Alex had laughed at him when he mentioned this to her. Alex who had studied Japanese at a fancy university and sometimes seemed to have a better grasp of his mothertongue than he did.
So he stumbles over his words and back-pedals whenever he realizes that he's been expressing his wishes too adamantly, hastily tagging on an awkward 'please', though that never seems to make up for it.
And then there are the moments when he doesn't know the Japanese word at all and has to paraphrase. Moments when he's talking to someone and suddenly there's confused silence and he looks up and realizes that he unwittingly switched to English.
He wonders whether Tatsuya had the same problems. But Tatsuya's parents were both Japanese and had always insisted on proper education for their son. In fact, if it weren't for his friendship, his brotherhood with Tatsuya, Kagami rarely would have had the opportunity to speak Japanese during his time in the States at all.
It used to come in handy whenever they played street basket ball together. A shouted discussion across the court that no one else could understand and then they'd launch a joint attack that left everyone gaping in their wake.
Here, he finds himself wincing occasionally whenever his Japanese teammates mangle an English word beyond recognition.
And that barely even scratches the surface of all the reasons why he is constantly reminded of the fact that Japan is not quite his home country. There are just so many conventions that he does not know about, keeps forgetting about.
Wearing jammers at a bathhouse? Check. Marching into other people's houses without taking off his shoes? Check. Scraping clean his plate at a restaurant? Check.
He's had so many faux pas within the first semester of high school, he's surprised there haven't been any repercussions yet.
Sure, the guys at Seirin understand, mostly. And Kagami would think that if there's one place to slack off on manners it's among a group of teenage boys.
But they play basket ball. It's a contact sport, a physical sport. Kagami is a physical person.
His handshake is strong, his slaps on people's shoulders even more so. He means it as encouragement, affection even. He does not expect Kuroko to almost fall over from the force of it.
“Kagami-kun is too direct sometimes,” Kuroko laments, rubbing the sore spot on his shoulder, where the skin is indeed faintly red.
And Kagami could cry because this? This is the absolute worst.
The fact that if shoulder claps in public are considered improper, hugs are even more so. And he can't even call Kuroko by his proper name, can't call him Tetsuya because they supposedly don't know each other that well yet.
And with every squealed “Tetsu-kun” from Momoi, every much too familiar “Tetsu” from Aomine, Kagami is reminded of how close Kuroko is to other people.
Kagami doesn't even know at which point it's considered okay to stop calling someone by their family name. Did you have to be childhood friends? Get married to each other?
With Tatsuya it had never been a problem. You didn't live in the States and go by Japanese conventions. He'd always introduced himself as Taiga, especially during games. It gained him a reputation. The Red Tiger they started calling him when he was twelve and easily won again adult men.
No one at Seirin knows about that, that life he led on the other side of the world.
When Alex and Tatsuya showed up, the lines started to blur. Taiga and Kagami slowly bled into one person, one being, but that doesn't make it any easier.
And the others gape whenever Alex tries to kiss him like it's nothing. They gape because they think Kagami is that high school jock they've seen in Hollywood movies. The guys who travels the world and gets all the girls and good grades to boot.
But Kagami is failing maths and the only girl who's seen him in any state of undress is the coach.
He doesn't even want the girls. He wants to play basket ball. And maybe, maybe he wants Kuroko. Just a little bit.
And that's another thing he can't figure out. Because in the States, there were some gay people around, he's seen them kiss and hold hands and it was no big deal. And he's sure Alex is bisexual anyway, but in Japan? No clue.
And it's not like a high school basket ball team is exactly the place to start looking for input. He's tried the internet, of course, but that left him vaguely traumatized with the knowledge about fetish subcultures and yaoi manga. Those are so far removed from his reality that he finds himself back at square one, baseball reference be damned.
“Kagami-kun looks like he is thinking too hard,” Kuroko quips as they as they are walking home together and Kagami is mulling over his problems again, “Please don't strain yourself. Coach will not be happy if you have to sit out during practice.”
“Why , you-” Kagami growls and is tempted to just reach out and just give Kuroko a good noogie. His hand is already lifted, but he stops himself at the last second. Touch is improper, he reminds himself, arm dropping back to his side. The movement is awkward, though, and obvious. Kuroko tilts his head to the side, staring at him in contemplation. But Kuroko is always staring and all of a sudden Kagami finds himself wondering at that.
Because staring is rude. Looking someone directly in the eyes like that is rude. Standing so close, close enough to touch, close enough for Kagami to imagine Kuroko's body heat prickling on his skin, is considered rude.
Kagami knows this. He's read books on proper Japanese etiquette. Kuroko grew up in fucking Japan. Kuroko is often a bit blunt, but generally well mannered to a fault.
“Hey, Kuroko,” Kagami asks, feeling unusually daring, moving in even closer. It's barely an inch, but he already towers over the other boy and the decreased distance makes their difference in height even more noticeable.
“Yes, Kagami-kun?” Kuroko replies, his tone mellow, but the way his chin cants up to maintain eye contact gives him a slightly insouciant air. It suits him and Kagami finds a smile tugging at his lips.
“May I call you Tetsuya?” he asks boldly, but his voice breaks halfway through.
“Is that what Kagami-kun was stressing about?” Kuroko lifts an eyebrow, “Such a simple thing does not warrant such heavy thinking.”
“Well,” Kagami gives an offhand shrug, “There's something else. But I'd rather show you.”
His smile is mirrored on Kuroko's face now, more subtle but more certain as well. He's a little shit who enjoys seeing Kagami make a fool of himself, but then again, Kagami does make it easy.
“So show me,” Kuroko – no, Tetsuya prompts and his hair falls into his eyes, but his gaze is unwavering. Kagami really should have noticed this before.
He ducks his head and it's not quite enough to close the distance, but then Tetsuya is standing on his tiptoes and reaching his pale arms around Kagami's tan neck. And maybe Tetsuya's seen the same Hollywood movies Kagami grew up with, and this comes really pretty close, he thinks for a moment, but then-
But then they are kissing, and there's no sappy background music, no horrified gasping of some elderly passerby, just him a his shadow, kissing on the pavement.
It's not even a particularly skilled kiss, nothing passionate, because Kagami can slam dunk any ball, but has no idea how to segue into frenching, but Tetsuya's warm and his lips are wet and Kagami can distinctly feel him smiling and-
“Didn't I tell Kagami-kun to stop thinking so much?” Tetsuya huffs and Kagami opens his mouth to reply but then they are back to kissing and... apparently Tetsuya does know how to segue into frenching.
After that, Kagami does not need another reminder. His thoughts die down all on their own.