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“What do you mean they’re not dating? Kise-senpai is all over him!”
“Yeah, and haven’t you seen how Kasamatsu-san looks at him?”
Ryouta stands up. He glances over his shoulder, a small part of his relishing how his underclassmen’s faces slowly sink from shock to horror, matching splotches of red spreading across their faces. No wonder Kasamatsu-san and Hayakawa-san yelled so much; being captain was generally boring, and frequently thankless. Not flashy at all. You had to get your kicks somewhere outside of practice and games, and, usually, that meant a well-placed shout or threat of conditioning to watch a gymnasium full of teenage boys jolt to attention and a little bit of fear.
Of course, Ryouta never shouted and never threatened. Shimazaki got to have that pleasure. Ryouta had a reputation to maintain.
Also, yelling causes wrinkles.
“Kise-senpai.”
“Captain.”
“Senpai.”
He smiles. Unfortunately, none of his underclassmen relax. If anything, they look more nervous.
“A captain’s job is never done.” Ryouta gestures at the scattered acquisition forms and tournament applications across the desk, “I drew the short straw, so Shimazakicchi gets to do all the fun stuff like plan conditioning and practice drills. He went easy on you today, huh?”
Inoue, the only one to not say anything, takes a tiny step forward. “Sorry, senpai.” He doesn’t quite bow, but Ryouta isn’t going to hold that against him. Not like Ryouta can lecture anyone else about displays of humility. “We were just looking for the extra cleaning sprays.”
Ryouta waves at one of the metal cabinets along the back wall. He returns to the papers, shuffling the completed ones into a pile. He leaves the uncompleted ones fanned out so he can finish them tomorrow. There’s some hushed conversation, and a low grunt when Inoue elbows Yukimura in response to some whispered comment. Inoue might make a good vice-captain someday; Nakamura and Kobori were also good at de-escalation tactics.
Ryouta listens as his underclassmen shuffle about. He hums. He thinks about Kasamatsu, and his cheeks start to warm. When his underclassmen yank the door open, he says, keeping his voice light, “Just because we won the Winter Cup, doesn’t mean we can get distracted now. I’m depending on you all to take Kaijou to the top next year, too.”
The chorus of yes, senpai! makes him grin, even as he turns their words over in his head.
- - -
Haven’t you seen how Kasamatsu-san looks at him?
Ryouta turns the words over in his head as he walks home. Of course, Ryouta hangs all over Kasamatsu. That’s not an issue, and Ryouta won’t treat it like one. With Kasamatsu away at college, their hangouts are limited to when Kasamatsu comes back to Kaijou to play volunteer coach or the odd weekend meet-up for basketball and lunch. Most of those meet-ups turn into group meet-ups, with Kobori, Moriyama, Hayakawa, and Nakamura crashing to catch up. And if it isn’t any of those guys, then one of the STRKY guys will show up and that usually guarantees Aomine or Midorima and Takao will show up to see (and harass) their former senpai. And that’s assuming one of Ryouta’s friends isn’t already at the basketball court when he and Kasamatsu arrive.
All that means is that when Ryouta does see Kasamatsu, he can’t help but cling a little. Maybe get a little of the skinship he’s been missing since his first year when Kasamatsu dragged him around, shook him up, tousled his hair, pinched his face, and smirked at Ryouta when he cried.
Ryouta sighs, scrubbing his hands across his face. He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Ah, I’ve got it bad.” He murmurs, hands falling to his side. He winks at an elderly woman who smiles at him, and she laughs, swatting at him as she walks away. The interaction cheers him up for a moment before he remembers his underclassmen.
It’s the hope that gets you.
- - -
There’s an awkward period after the winter competitions, where sports captains and vice-captains are expected to resign, but everyone resigns at different times. Losing team captains and vice-captains resign earlier; winning team captains and vice-captains stay a little longer.
Kasamatsu and Hayakawa waited a respectful week after the Winter Cup to resign, sticking around a few practices to make sure their replacement didn’t look too incompetent and stepping in when they inevitably did. Ryouta also liked to think it was nostalgia and a desire to stay and play with their beloved team.
“Captain is so sentimental,” Shimazaki says, the corner of his mouth ticking up when Ryouta suggests they wait another day to resign. “The Goodbye PowerPoint has been done for a while now.”
“Who’s sentimental?” Ryouta ties his sneakers and rubs at a smudge near the toe. “Maybe Sasaki-kun isn’t ready yet. What sort of senpai would I be to throw him into the deep end of leadership? Are you saying I’m cruel, Shimazakicchi?”
Shimazaki pulls on his compression sleeves. He closes his locker with his hip and glances at Ryouta. “We need to study for entrance exams, Kise.”
“I have faith in my vice-captain. You are at the top of our class for a reason.”
“I’m not worried about myself.” Ryouta gives him a betrayed look, and he smirks. “They worked very hard on the PowerPoint. Tanaka is excited to present it.”
The Goodbye PowerPoint is something the first years came up with, as a way to memorialize and honor the graduating third years. Ryouta secretly thinks it was also a way to suck up, but Kasamatsu-senpai still disagrees and says it's just “what a respectful kouhai might do, take notes, Kise.” Whatever the reason, it is a sweet gesture, even though Ryouta has been steeling himself for days for the probably terrible photos his underclassmen chose. Knowing his fellow third years, Ryouta knows they probably went out of their way to procure and turn in terrible pictures of him.
After all, Ryouta would and did do the same.
“It was funny,” he defends. He tries to look apologetic, but Tanaka scowls, unconvinced. Ahead of them is a blown-up photo of Tanaka tripping over his feet while the girls’ volleyball team passed by. Shimazaki laughs into his fist. “You laughed, too. Later.”
There are photos of their summer training camp and practice games. Of course, there are photos of their Winter Cup victory, Ryouta and Shimazaki holding up the trophy between themselves.
One of the players, however, made it their goal to take surreptitious photos of Ryouta and the other Miracles at tournaments. There’s a particularly striking photo of Ryouta, chin on his hand, watching Murasakibara down a family-size bag of shrimp chips during some downtime before their match.
“And you took it while hiding around the corner,” Ryouta says in awe. “How talented. You could be a professional.”
“Thank you, Kise-senpai!”
The next photo . . .
Oh.
Logically, Ryouta knows the clubroom does not go quiet. The guys are laughing and jostling each other, reminiscing over Kasamatsu’s brutal practice drills. Kasamatsu-senpai had cemented himself as a valuable resource to the Kaijou team, coming back and assisting with practices. He was as strict as ever, but anyone willing to work hard and show some humility benefited from his advice. He was tough, and the team respected him.
Haven’t you seen how Kasamatsu-san looks at him?
Ryouta remembers that day. He remembers practice was going well. They were tightening up their new strategy against Shutoku, and everything was just coming together. Tanaka was coming into his own as center. Yuma’s conditioning was paying off. Ryouta could stretch out his Perfect Copy for half a minute longer.
On the projector screen, Ryouta is grinning. His collar is soaked with sweat, and he’s reaching to pat Yuma on the shoulder, a small good job already forming on his lips.
And in the background, looking away from the layup drill, Kasamatsu-senpai. Just looking at him, something tender and soft in his expression. Wistful.
Ryouta swallows hard, throat clicking.
(It’s not the only photo. There’s a team dinner one where Kasamatsu’s eyes are on Ryouta while Ryouta is chatting with Shimazaki. There’s an Interhigh visit where Kasamatsu, Kobori, and Moriyama joke around with Ryouta, and Kasamatsu smiles at his animated gesturing, eyes so soft it makes Ryouta feel warm just viewing the photo.
There are others. And in all of them, Kasamatsu looks at Ryouta like there is no one else.)
- - -
By the time practice is finally over, Ryouta feels wrung out. Shimazaki rubs at his eyes, his cheek and nose pink. Ryouta sniffles, trying not to suck in snot. His eyes itch. He thinks about Kasamatsu-senpai and the curve of his smile. He thinks about how he’s never going to play basketball at Kaijou again.
(He thinks about how he won’t see Kasamatsu-senpai at Kaijou anymore. How they won’t have a one-on-one after practice, talking about Kaijou’s chances at the tournaments in between good-natured trash talk.)
He thinks about how he had to pass on the number 4 jersey, even though it feels like just yesterday Hayakawa-senpai handed it to him.
His heart aches a little, a few stray tears spilling down his cheeks, freezing in the winter air. He hoists his schoolbag higher on his shoulder.
The team knew better than to follow him and Shimazaki out to the water fountains.
“I love this team,” Ryouta murmurs. The sky is still soft with the pink of sunset, some stars already appearing at the edges. He wonders if Kasamatsu and Hayakawa felt like this, too.
Shimazaki punches his arm, but there’s no weight to it. His knuckles press against Ryouta’s jacket sleeve. “This team loves you, too.” He waits until Ryouta looks at him. “And this team supports you, no matter what.”
- - -
The smart thing to do would be to wait until the weekend, text Kasamatsu-senpai that he would be visiting, then ignore his phone until he got to Senpai’s apartment, so he wouldn’t try to talk Ryouta out of visiting, and then confess.
Ryouta still isn’t that mature. And he’s not that patient. How can he be patient when Kasamatsu looks at Ryouta like that, tenderly and so beautifully that Ryouta wants to ask that if Kasamatsu is always looking at him, like that, why can’t he see that Ryouta likes him, too?
Kasamatsu has a night lab, and Ryouta takes the second-to-last train. He catches Kasamatsu outside the building, conversing with his classmates.
Kasamatsu sees him, his eyes narrowing and then going wide as his face opens in surprise. Ryouta sees the way his mouth curves into a smile before he scowls. Ryouta waves and Kasamatsu rolls his eyes. He takes his time saying goodbye. Ryouta rocks back and forth on his heels, shivering a little. The cold in Tokyo is a little deeper than Kanagawa, settling into his bones. Maybe he should have stopped and grabbed a scarf. Or at least a hat. He felt really bad turning down autographs.
“Idiot,” Kasamatsu scolds, throwing his scarf around Ryouta’s neck. “You—are you crying?”
“I resigned as captain today,” Ryouta says, voice coming out more wobbly than he’d like. His lip quivers, too. This confession is going terribly; he feels so uncool. But Kasamatsu sighs, pulling off his gloves and giving them to Ryouta.
Ryouta nearly drops them when Kasamatsu wipes a stray tear off the curve of his cheek. “So you cried the whole way here?”
“And now you’re bullying me for it,” Ryouta whines. He looks at Kasamatsu through his lashes. His senpai looks fond, giving one last pat to Ryouta’s face before he shoves his hands in his pockets. Ryouta likes him so much. “University has made you mean.”
“I’ve always been mean,” Kasamatsu retorts, bumping his shoulder against Ryouta. Warmth spreads across Ryouta’s face. “Come on, brat.”
- - -
“You were a great captain,” Kasamatsu says when Ryouta finishes his stew. He stretches his arm across the back of the couch, and Ryouta eyes the curve of his bicep. “As expected of Kaijou’s Kise.”
Ryouta smiles, the praise filling his chest. Kasamatsu gently tugs the ends of his hair, and Ryouta thinks he might burst. Kasamatsu-senpai is so handsome, half-smiling at Ryouta. Ryouta wants to press his hand against his chest, splay his hand over Kasamatsu’s heart, and kiss him.
He looks into his empty bowl. “You were a great captain,” he says. “And so was Hayakawa. I just tried to keep up.”
Kasamatsu snorts. He looks at Ryouta consideringly. “I never thought I would say this to you, of all people, but be less humble. It doesn’t suit you.”
“Mean,” Ryouta can’t help but laugh. He shakes his head. Kasamatsu tugs his hair again, his knuckles skimming the line of Ryouta’s neck. Ryouta shivers and Kasamatsu jerks away. He sits up out of his easy sprawl, pressing back against the arm of the couch.
Ryouta turns to him. He grabs Kasamatsu’s sleeve when he starts to stand. Ryouta's heartbeat picks up, and he holds fast. “Hey senpai, I heard a rumor.”
Defeated, Kasamatsu settles. He sighs, and Ryouta gives him a second to collect himself. He likes Kasamatsu so much.
“This is the part where you let me down gently, right?” Kasamatsu gives him a small, tired smile. Just a quirk of his lips. Ryouta hates it. “I know your speech, Kise.”
Ryouta softens his grip, until his hand curls loosely around Kasamatsu’s forearm. The other boy glances down at their contact. “You don’t know this speech, Kasamatsu-senpai.” Offended, he adds, “Do you think I’m going to let you down gently?”
“Kise—”
Ryouta scoots forward, determined. “Who’s this insecure guy, and where is my cool and confident senpai?”
“Kise, no games, just . . .” Kasamatsu cuts himself off with a sharp inhale. He starts to move away, shaking off Ryouta’s hand. “I get it, I just thought—”
“I like you, Kasamatsu-senpai,” Ryouta says. When wide slate blue eyes meet his eyes, Ryouta scoots closer. Just a little closer and—
Kasamatsu touches him. His hand slides over Ryouta’s side as he pulls him closer. Just like his senpai to know. “Yeah?” He looks over Ryouta’s face, voice low.
Ryouta wants to sprawl against him completely and trace the sharp features of his face until Kasamatsu’s expression softens into affection. Until he kisses Ryouta instead of longing for it for someone else to photograph. He wants Kasamatsu to keep looking at him.
“Did you really think I’d let you down gently?” Ryouta splays his hand against Kasamatsu’s chest, over his heart. “I like you, senpai. I really like you.”