Work Text:
When Riko sees Satsuki sitting across from her on the other end of the campus lawn, head buried in a book and pink hair falling from behind her ear, along the sharp line of her cheekbone and onto her milky collarbone, it feels like high school all over again.
She can practically hear the shouts from the spectators, feel the bench tremble beneath her as the boys (her boys, her team, the one she raised and the one that gave her so much in return) jump up as the whistle blows, and when Satsuki raises her head and their eyes meet across the wide expanse of sun-yellowed grass, it’s like she’s just a few meters away, clipboard in hand, sly eyes seeing everything and somehow always finding Riko’s.
Satsuki (because somewhere between Satsuki being amazingly, astoundingly brilliant and Riko giving her all and pushing and pushing they had drifted into using first names) stares for a second before her eyes widen in surprise.
She practically falls all over herself trying to gather up her things, skirt riding dangerously high making Riko contemplating the murder of quite a few college boys, and then she’s there, bending down, down, until all that’s left to Riko’s world is that familiar, picture-perfect, absolutely glorious smile, the edges fuzzy and tinged bubblegum-pink.
“I knew we’d meet again, Riko-chan!”
(I always hoped we would, Satsuki.)
oOo
It started with coffee, one time, after class, two girls sprawled across the lawn, and it only got worse from then on.
Satsuki was speaking of her management class and how boooo-ring it apparently was and how she hadn’t been able to concentrate because she knew she’d meet up with Riko later and oh how excited she’d been while Riko looked down at her fingers idly plucking out bits of grass to hide her blush.
Something about being with Satsuki like this made her on edge. Riko wasn’t shy in any sense of the word and she’d known Satsuki for quite a few years. She shouldn’t feel this out of place. She shouldn’t be so quiet. She shouldn’t –
“Is Riko-chan okay?”
Her fingers caught on a daisy and tore it in half. When she looked up, Riko only saw her own startled reflection in sunglasses that nearly swallowed half of his Satsuki’s face. They should have made her look ridiculous but they didn’t. They should they should they should. Riko’s life was so unfair.
She blinked a few more times. “Uh- Yeah. Sorry. I was just thinking.”
Riko held her breath against the onslaught of what was probably raspberry or strawberry or something until Satsuki leaned back again, pretty flower-y skirt neatly draped over legs that looked miles too long to fold like that but somehow they did and supporting her hands on her knees. Riko should really stop the running commentary. It’s not like she actually cared about fashion or legs or Satsuki. Really.
“You know, Riko-chan, I’m really happy I met you here. A girl gets lonely.”
Riko couldn’t resist the laugh that escaped her.
“What?” Satsuki pouted.
“It’s just- How can you- I can point you to at least 4 different guys who’ve been dying to be your company for the last hour!” Riko gesticulated widely and ended kind of lamely. She had poor volume control sometimes. People were staring a little, including all of the guys she had been talking about. Satsuki just laughed a little.
“Aw but Riko-chan I’m sure I wouldn’t enjoy their company half as much as yours.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t think – “
“You know Riko-chan, this is where you say you enjoy my company too!” Satsuki squeaked, and suddenly Riko had an armful of giggling college student.
“Agh… What - “
Riko flailed and shouted indignantly until Satsuki finally rolled off her onto the ground, and then had the gall to start laughing.
“Okay, you know what, that’s it for today, I’m leaving,” Riko said, trying to sound annoyed and mature and not at all like she was holding back a grin.
“Ooooh, Riko-chan!”
Satsuki was leaning up towards her from her position lying on her back, and had grabbed one of the legs of Riko's shorts.
“Monday, same time?”
The sun was catching in pink strands of hair and Satsuki had tipped her sunglasses down on the tip of her nose, staring up at Riko and wow, she should really stop with the commentary right this second.
Riko tugged free of Satsuki’s grip, grumbled a quick “sure, whatever”, and made her way across the lawn, accompanied by Satsuki’s soft giggles.
oOo
One day, Satsuki complained about not having one photo of Riko (“What would you even want with a photo of me, stupid?”). She’d gotten out her phone and there was a sparkly pink little gem dangling from it, one that Riko was 100% sure she’d seen hanging on that model’s phone when he’d insisted on taking a photo of all of them on that street court they’d painted.
Satsuki had thrown her arm around Riko and put up a peace sign and grinned, eyes nearly shut against the sun and she looked so absolutely gorgeous contrasted against Riko’s vaguely grumpy expression.
Satsuki had scooted back to her spot opposite of Riko and looked at her phone, then at Riko, then back at Riko again, and the look she got on her face then was so intense and so much like Kise’s carefully dissecting stare that Riko’s breath got stuck in her throat.
“You know, Riko-chan, you’re really cute when you’re leaning in to me like that.”
And okay, maybe Riko had been leaning into Satsuki, because the girl was warm and familiar and smelled like raspberries and raspberries had always been one of her favorite fruits but Satsuki didn’t have to know that and it only occurred to her months later that Satsuki probably did know that because she was Satsuki and that was just what she did.
oOo
The thing was, Riko was lonely, sometimes. Sure, she’d made her fair share of friends at College (mostly guys) and she’d joined several general fitness clubs (and quit every single one that aimed just for reducing body fat in unfortunate places. She wanted fitness, not a lesson in feeling bad about herself).
She still had Hyuuga and Kiyoshi and the rest of the former Seirin basketball club made sure to text her regularly about their new training schedules. Kuroko sometimes texted her about a good new recipe that Kagami had tried that he should really try teaching to her.
She even sometimes got messages by that annoying Kaijou ace about his amazing and wonderful life, though she was pretty sure the guy just liked to send mass texts to every single one of his contacts, Riko included.
All in all, she hadn’t adjusted badly. She went out with her roommate every second Friday to get something to drink, the girls from her clubs invited her along after practice to whatever they had planned and she always had someone to call up when she was feeling lonely.
She didn’t need those coffees with Satsuki.
She wasn’t even really sure she wanted to meet the other girl.
Riko couldn’t deny that she liked the feeling she got when with Satsuki. It reminded her of how great it had been, in High School, to have something like a real rival, another girl in the basketball world of boys, who was smart and resourceful and a fucking genius, someone who could give Riko a challenge, someone to get her to give her all not just because she wanted the boys to win but because she wanted this.
Meeting Satsuki had thrown her off. She had gone to university and decided to leave all of that behind. Monsters and geniuses and crazy super-powered basketball that she could only ever wonder at (why should she even try when they were all that good she hadn’t held a basketball in her hand for over a year now why should she even try why- ).
And now, she was afraid to slide right back into all that.
Except now, a couple days after that last coffee date with Satsuki (Riko cringed at the wording), she had found out why she was so on edge.
They hadn’t talked about old times and never even once mentioned the word ‘basketball’. It was weird, being with this girl who in the past had been basketball and determination and genius and even more basketball, and just sit across from her and laugh with her and not talk about the one thing who they both knew gave their lives meaning (as sad as that may sound).
Their relationship was intense in a completely different way than before. It was also easier, more complicated and all these other things more.
Not that she was actually interested in Satsuki or anything. She only went along with Satsuki’s plans because she was stupid and sentimental and didn’t have the time to argue against them. Totally.
oOo
Satsuki was extremely good at getting people out of bed in the morning, something she had demonstrated when she decided Riko and her would go to an art exhibition at 7 am so it wouldn’t be too full and she managed to somehow connect Riko’s alarm to her speakers. Riko’s roommate had been angry at the both of them for days to come (her name was Maya and halfway into the semester Satsuki had been over often enough that Riko’s friends knew her and dreaded her).
Riko figured that was a trick Satsuki learned from basically having to be the Aomine brat’s guardian (she never asked though. Except for a quick “oh no that’s just Dai-chan calling it’s not important” now and then Satsuki hadn’t mentioned him even once).
There was something in the way Satsuki moved, though. They’d never actually done any sports together, Riko was sure it would be even more pronounced then, but Satsuki moved sure and sleek; when she reached for a book in the upper shelves that Riko couldn’t reach the muscles in her shoulders shifted (and Riko was sure those hadn’t been there in High School) and her calves tensed as she raised gracefully on her tip toes. Everything about her movement screamed strength, only softened by the endless array of flowy skirts and low-cut blouses she seemed to possess.
oOo
One after the other, Riko was reminded of all these people that she had been so happy to leave behind when she graduated. She had to admit, after two years of facing them on the court they had all grown on her in a way, but life was just easier without them around.
She’d never understood how such a small group of people could have so many issues (she’d always wondered how Satsuki fit in there, quirky perfect Satsuki, who didn’t know about the concept of boundaries but was otherwise brilliant and thoughtful and socially competent; now that she knew her better, she didn’t wonder anymore. Now, Satsuki seemed to fit right in with her former team).
One time, when it was cold and rainy outside and they moved their coffee meet-up to the library because they both had projects due pretty soon, Satsuki had explained to Riko a ridiculously complex system of structuring study notes. It implemented about 50 different colors of pencils, post-its, glue and a weirdly precise order of what belonged where on a page.
When Riko asked, Satsuki said that this was the system Midorin, Akashi-kun, Mukkun and she had come up with to make their notes actually comprehensible for Ki-chan and Dai-chan.
“That’s why the paper is evenly spaced. Dai-chan gets overwhelmed when there’s too much information at once. And there’s only so many colors to keep Ki-chan interested. You wouldn’t need so many to make it comprehensive. Just don’t tell him that.”
And she’d winked and thrown her ridiculously long infuriatingly pink hair over her shoulder and gotten back to studying.
It was weird, hearing Satsuki talk about her past like that. For Riko, Teiko had always been this unattainable, far-away thing, this perfect dream of unbelievable talent and inconceivable greatness, even after Kuroko had told them all about his experience. She was sure no amount of talking could change her view of it.
She was sure that’s what it was like for everyone who’d seen Teiko’s rise to the top (except there hadn’t been any rise to observe, there’d just been Teiko’s team and then there’d been Teiko’s Team, and a series of staggering victories and unbelievable scores and then an invisible boy in Seirin’s gym who wasn’t at all what she expected and then proved to be so much more).
Satsuki’s version of Teiko seemed bright and friendly and polished and Riko knew that it couldn’t have been like that, because she’d seen Aomine’s bored stare and Murasakibara’s pretend apathy and Midorima’s fragile grip on matureness and composure.
Teiko seemed to have written itself into its players; she saw Satsuki’s dedication and how her intelligence flourished and she just got more and more radiant with every day, but there was something about her that Riko just couldn’t quite grasp.
She didn’t know anything about Satsuki’s past. She’d always imagined her running around with Aomine (she had never been able to imagine that boy actually laughing and having fun, but he had changed during high school and it was right there in his play, hidden but there), getting him out of trouble and being even louder than she was nowadays and being right there by his side as they got better and brighter every day.
And now there was Satsuki, sitting across from her in the library, a girl who, Riko had realized, she didn’t know all that much about, slumped over books and worrying her lower lip and studying and studying and looking so much bigger than her almost-20 years.
And just maybe, her and Satsuki weren’t all that different from each other.
oOo
It had been one whole semester, measured in endless afternoons sprawled across sun-heated grass and more than enough nights spent at the little bar near campus that Riko found herself at a street court again.
It was the middle of the night, windy and freezing and nearly unbearably cold in her shorts and loose sports shirt. She hadn’t been able to sleep and basketball had been on her mind again lately, on and off but always in the background and she was sure only 90% of that was Satsuki’s fault. It had been so long.
It was easy to close her eyes and hear the squeak of new shoes on well-used gym floors, to imagine the smell of sweat and old basketballs and to hear the shouting, partly her own, partly that of over-zealous basketball idiots who were so close to their goal, so close to being on the top and Riko had brought them there.
Riko turned the ball over in her hands a few times, letting her fingers feel the places where the structure had come off with use.
She knew the steps. She knew exactly how to place her feet, how much strength she needed to put into her calves to reach just that high enough, how far to extend her arm, how to twist and turn her body and how to land again, both feet firmly on the ground.
What if she couldn’t do it?
Basketball was her everything. She knew everything, from every complicated strategy to the simplest movement, but what if she lacked the talent?
Her high school years, she had been surrounded by talent. By genius. People with so much talent people stopped calling them people. (Monsters.)
It all seemed like a dream now, standing in front of that hoop. How did anyone reach that high? How did Kagami jump so high he could touch the board, how did Midorima get his arms to direct the heavy-leaden ball into that perfect arch. How did Aomine move with such speed towards it when it was so unreachable, so overbearing –
“I’m sure you know how to throw a ball, Riko-chan. Staring at the hoop won’t get the ball to move.”
Riko nearly jumped out of her skin, turned around and punched Satsuki straight in her stomach on instinct (she instantly placed her hand on her shoulder in apology).
“What the – How the hell did you find me here? This is so creepy, damnit.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Satsuki panted, still a little out of breath, but she reached up to place her hand on Riko’s where it was resting on her shoulder, “and I always come to this court.”
Riko’s hand slipped out from under Satsuki’s to dangle limply at her side. The other girl stood up from her halfway folded position (Riko could really pack a punch when startled) and moved to push away a strand of hair the wind had blown into her face. It had gotten caught on her lips, for once not painted or glossy but slightly chapped from the dry summer week that was behind them.
“You play?” Riko exhaled, not sure if she meant in general or now, after everything, I thought you’d left basketball behind you I thought this was behind us. Except that basketball could never really be behind them, and Riko had known, had known that the reason they didn’t ever mention the sport couldn’t possibly mean that; they were both here now, after all.
Satsuki shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her loose shirt traveling up a bit atop her thigh.
“Of course I play, Riko-chan. Of course.”
Her head tipped to one side and she looked at Riko curiously. Riko stared back, not really knowing what to say, what to do other than silently scream in her head.
Why didn’t you say so, what happened to us, why is all of it so hard now why are you here why are you here why are you
Suddenly, Satsuki was right in front of her, carefully reaching for the ball Riko had stuck under her arm and forgotten. She lightly pressed it to Riko’s chest, manicured fingers tapping over the surface making Riko feel the reverberation, tap-tap against the fast taps of her heart.
“Come on, throw, Riko-senpai.”
Riko blinked down at the ball in front of her nose a few times, quick breaths steaming out into the air, and she didn’t even remember to react to Satsuki’s ridiculous honorific. She just grabbed the ball and turned around. She could feel every muscle in her body tighten in preparation for the jump, wonderful tension rushing through her.
She was tensed to the point of breaking and it was exhilarating, overwhelming, so much better than doing fitness exercises because there was a ball in her hand and a hoop in front of her and she was strong (invincible, in that small moment on that street court so far from home, so far from anything that got her to this point), until suddenly there was a puff of breath on her neck and a small breathy noise that could’ve been a laugh –
and she was moving.
oOo
This was their time.