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”Seriously, wow,” Takao says on their way home. He has his hands behind his head, facing the sky, as he walks a few steps ahead of Midorima. “It’s another thing to see it. Seems way more implausible from the sideline, you know? So freaking cool.”
He’s talking about the improbable yet impeccable passes Midorima received during the game. The passes he received from Akashi. Without it being stated aloud, Midorima knows. He doesn’t say anything yet, for he also knows that Takao hasn’t finished speaking.
“Don’t hate me for this, but I kind of wanted it to fail at first. What kind of petty guy am I, that I’d wish you would fail, right? But in the end, I’m happy it went in.”
Midorima hesitates, which Takao can probably tell. Even when he’s facing another direction he’s acutely aware of his surroundings. Midorima in particular.
“I’m not,” he says. He studies Takao’s profile, though Takao has expertly hidden his face with the positioning of his arms, elbows pointing upwards.
Midorima continues: “I did not think to do it since you were not in the game, as should be obvious. It didn’t occur to me that it could be done until Akashi made the suggestion.”
Takao chuckles. Midorima thinks that it’s not as rippling as it should be.
“Why are you acting like I blamed you of something? You don’t need to justify anything, I get it. Shin-chan, like I said, I’m happy it all worked out. It’s not like I copyrighted it or anything.”
“You aren’t listening,” Midorima says, keeping his frustration at bay. It won’t help to get aggravated at Takao now, not when that’s the opposite of his intent. “I would use any mean at my disposal to secure victory. I was confident that it would work with Akashi as well.”
“Yeah, gotcha. Like I said-“
“Shut up, Takao.”
Takao drops his hands and places them on his hip. He stops, and looks back at Midorima. His eyes are somehow lightless. Midorima doesn’t particularly like that Takao has gotten the moniker of being his shadow.
Since Takao has stopped Midorima shortens the distance between them when he walks forward. Takao turns completely to face him, impressively struggling to keep his smile. Midorima knows that it’s a farce, for Takao’s honest smile is always the most obvious thing in the world.
“Whilst I knew that it would work, and whilst I knew that it needed to work, it didn’t sit right with me. I felt conflicted, as should be obvious to you.”
Takao’s fake smile fades. Midorima says: “I thought of it as our technique as well, Takao. The idea of replacing you upset me.”
“Oi, oi, Shin-chan, watch what you’re saying,” Takao says. He chuckles mirthlessly. “You know I can’t take it when you get all emotional with me. Seriously, even though you’re a guy, I might fall in love if you keep that up.”
His eyes seem a bit desperate when he says that. Midorima thinks to console him, for he chooses to listen to Takao’s actions and not his words, but before he can reach out Takao starts walking again. He doesn’t give Midorima a chance to say anything more.
“Don’t worry about it, Shin-chan,” he calls over his back. “What kind of partner would I be if I just rolled over and let myself be replaced?”
Midorima follows.
“No, the more I think about it, the more excited I get!” Takao states in a louder voice. “This is the motivation I needed. I can’t keep slacking if I wanna keep playing on the same court with you. Relying on the same old technique, or using someone else’s, that’s so lame! Totally uncool. Who’d want to keep playing like that?
“Just you wait, Shin-chan. I’m not the kind of guy who gets jealous someone else shows up wearing the same shirt as I am. I think, hey, that shirt is awesome! I’m glad someone else appreciates it too! But I’m also the kind of guy who’s gonna keep looking for an even cooler shirt the next day.”
“That’s a ridiculous metaphor, Takao,” Midorima says. He pushes up his glasses, fully aware that Takao can tell, before he elaborates: “Buying a shirt subjectively labelled as good is nothing like developing a new high-level technique in basketball, as you should know.”
Takao laughs, this time in earnest. Midorima thinks to hear him say: “That’s my Shin-chan,” in between the laughter.
Too quickly, however, it dies out, but they end up walking next to each other. When Midorima looks down at Takao he frowns at the uneasy expression he sees. He thinks about Takao’s words, and wonders why it is that Takao protests even when Midorima is being open about his emotions.
What a troublesome guy, he thinks, before deciding to only say one thing more. Takao doesn’t want his consolation, and he doesn’t want excuses. He doesn’t seem to accept how Midorima felt, for some inexplicable reason he can’t fathom. That leaves Midorima with only one option to make that expression go away.
He allows himself a slight smile, enough to not seem mocking, and says:
“Then I will continue to look forward to receiving your passes, old and new, Takao.”
He looks forward, but from the corner of his eye he sees a nearly flustered grin appear at long last on Takao’s face. It’s endearingly subtle.
“You better, Shin-chan.”