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Midorima’s hands shook as he attempted to wrap his fingers again. He wrapped and rewrapped them over and over, trying to make them perfectly aligned, so that they were the way they always were. The longer it took to get them right, the more frustrated he got.
“Shin-chan!” Takao grinned, coming around the corner. “You ready for practice yet?”
Midorima didn’t respond, pausing in his wrapping to shoot a glare at his teammate, before turning back to to his finger wraps. They kept shifting at the last minute, laying a millimeter too far down or up his fingers. He could feel it.
That was the whole reason he wore them, after all. If his callouses thickened, or he gained new ones, it could throw off his shot. His shots couldn’t be thrown off. He was known for his flawless three-pointers and the guarantee that if he took a shot it would go in. If he started… missing , then all his hard work over the years would amount to nothing.
He might need to stay late.
He needed to get his finger wraps right.
“Shin-chan?” Takao said, a little more hesitantly. “We have practice with Seirin today.”
“I know,” Midorima bit out, gritting his teeth as he unwrapped his fingers yet again. At least his left pointer finger was good now, so he could leave it wrapped. At this rate though, practice would be over by the time he was done.
“Are… your wraps giving you trouble today?” Takao asked, sidling a little closer.
“ Obviously , Takao,” Midoriya snapped, looking up with his eyes narrowed. “It’s all the fault of those… delinquent first years. If they hadn’t broken the ceramic jar Oha-Asa told me to get today, then I wouldn’t be having trouble with my wraps, and I would already be at practice.
“Right,” Takao said, eyes a little wide and clearly at a bit of a loss about how to proceed.
“Your first years broke your lucky object?”
Midoriima jumped and Takao screeched as they both turned to see Kuroko standing there, eyes passive as ever but attention focused on where Midorima was wrapping his hands. Midorima would have blamed Takao for missing his former teammate, but they’d both been distracted enough that the blue-haired teen had easily made his way to them unnoticed.
At the continued silence, Kuroko’s eyes rose to meet Midorima’s own, and Midorima couldn’t bring himself to hold it. He glanced away, the loose strands of wrapping hanging from his fingers.
A gentle touch a moment later had Midorima jumping. Kuroko had taken hold of his left hand, and was carefully taking the finger wraps from him, unclenching his fingers until Midorima’s hand lay flat atop Kuroko’s own. With careful hands, Kuroko took over the task of wrapping Midorima’s fingers, and the green-haired shooter felt the tension in his shoulders ease a bit as he was no longer in charge of the task.
“Your hands get more unsteady when you’re this stressed,” Kuroko said absently into the resulting silence. “You get more stressed when you are frustrated, too. It’s a good thing I still remember how you like your hands to be.”
“Thank you,” Midorima said, a little grudgingly, but sincere. He hated relying on such small things all the time, but he couldn’t deny that they helped, which only made his dependence on them worse.
“Shin-chan’s letting you wrap his hands for him?” Takao asked from the side, sounding a little incredulous. “He never lets anyone on the team help.”
“Perhaps that is because the team breaks his things,” Kuroko said, voice calm as ever. It was enough to bring Takao up short though, and for Midorima to direct a glare towards the shorter player. Kuroko paid them both no mind though, dropping Midorima’s now-finished left hand and taking hold of his right to repeat the process.
It took even less time for the right hand, Kuroko’s muscle memory apparently having kicked in again. Before much more time had passed, both hands were wrapped and Kuroko had taken a step back.
“Go ahead and test them,” he said, and Midorima flexed his hands out of habit.
Both hands were almost perfect. He adjusted the ends of a few fingers, then flexed his hands again and nodded his thanks to Kuroko. Kuroko simply blinked at him, then turned to walk towards the door to the locker room.
“Practice has started,” he said. “They’re doing warmup drills now, but we’ll be doing a practice game soon.”
It didn’t take long for Midorima to follow after, and he could hear Takao’s footsteps close behind him.
“So, Kuroko knows how to do your fingerwraps?” Takao asked quietly.
“Most of Teikou’s regulars did,” Midorima snapped, without any heat, feeling twitchy without his item. “There was a… steep learning curve, but everyone other than Aomine and Murasakibara eventually learned how.”
“It really matters that much to you…” Takao said under his breath behind him. It was quiet enough that Midorima was fairly certain he wasn’t supposed to hear it, so he ignored it. He wasn’t sure how to respond to it anyway.
They warm up with some drills, and Midorima follows along with the basics for the rest of the group practice, until they split off for a short warmup of individual drills. He throws three pointers from halfway across the court, and feels satisfaction when every one of them sinks in. A few kiss the rim on their way in, and he itches to go replace his ceramic jar.
If he had his jar, he wouldn’t be almost missing.
From halfway across the court.
Embarrassing.
If he were at Teikou, that would not be acceptable. Though, thankfully, none of them were at Teikou anymore.
“Alright everyone, finish up what you’re doing and come over here!” his coach called out, getting all of their attentions. “The practice game with Seirin will be getting started soon!”
Midorima pushed his thoughts away as best he could for the moment, as he listened to his coach. He also did his best to ignore how off-center he felt without his lucky object waiting for him on the side of the court. The coach’s instructions washed over him in the background - the same general rules for practice games, with the minor exception that this was more of a skills practice game than a true competition, and they should all keep that in mind while playing.
It wasn’t long after before they were all immersed in the game itself. Feet pounding against the court’s floor, the squeak of rubber shoes on sealed wood, the hollow thunk of the ball slapping against hands.
It was a language Midorima knew better than Japanese. It was a language he loved, one that he breathed. One that he had at one point missed, and that Kuroko had given him back.
Speaking of Kuroko.
In the middle of the game, a blindingly fast pass from the other side of the court slammed into one of the Shuutoku first year’s gut, causing him to immediately choke and erupt into coughing as he dropped to the floor clutching his stomach. The room went silent as play paused, and all eyes turned to where they had last seen Kuroko. It took most of them a minute, but they eventually managed to spot him.
“Oops,” he said blandly. “It slipped.”
“Kuroko!” his coach yelled from the side of the gym. Midorima wasn’t exactly sure how it worked that she was still coaching the team, after graduating. He didn’t want to ask. “That would be a foul in a real game! Get it together!”
“Yes, senpai,” he said, blinking innocently at her as the game started up again. Midorima didn’t buy it though. Kuroko didn’t make mistakes like that - nobody who made it through Teikou’s training did, much less the regular players.
It happened one more time as they finished up drills to a different one of the first years, and by now, even the rest of Shuutoku knew something was going on, even if they didn’t know quite what. The first years in question also looked somewhat confused and wary about whatever bone Kuroko had to pick with them.
Midorima had his suspicions, but he knew better than to get between Kuroko and a lesson he was trying to give. After all, the last big one Kuroko had set his mind on was toppling all the Miragen from their pedestals.
Seirin was nagging Kuroko as he stood in the midst of their huddle, but he didn’t seem to be letting it get to him. Midorima frowned at him, even as Takao came up beside him.
“You think he’s doing that on purpose, don’t you?” he asked, following the shooter’s gaze.
“Of course he is,” Midorima muttered, trying to figure out what was going on with his ex-teammate. “Kuroko doesn’t miss. Akashi and Teikou saw to that.”
“Right, the psycho ex-captain and the ruthless middle school,” Takao groaned, running a hand through his hair. Midorima turned his glare towards him and Takao lifted his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Ex-psycho ex-captain, and… what did you call it again? A ‘strict school focused on upholding their legacy of success’? Right.”
Midorima let out a sharp sigh of exasperation, before turning his focus back to the game, which it seemed was slowly picking up again. He needed his focus to counter Kagami - especially when Kuroko deigned to step in to help his partner with plays. The dark red-haired teen was improving quickly, and he found himself almost excited to see what the coming year’s official games would be like.
They played hard, getting competitive enough on both sides enough that both Shuutoku and Seirin’s coaches both had to step in and remind them to tone it back a bit, reminding them that it wasn’t that kind of game this time. Kagami sent Midorima a grin at one point during a scolding that was somehow both sheepish and mischievous.
Midorima would never admit how much he wanted to return it, even to himself.
He was so absorbed in playing that he almost didn’t remember that he didn’t have his lucky object. Except, every time he aimed for a three-pointer, he felt it in the way his shot left his hands, the ball nicked the rim of the net, or the net was sent jostling instead of swaying from a clean shot.
The game finally ended neck-and-neck, with Shuutoku coming out ahead by a single point. Seirin looked annoyed more than anything, unlike the first time Midorima had seen them lose. They had less to prove this time, he guessed, so they weren’t as heartbroken about it. It was… nice to see the difference.
“Seirin! Help clean up, then meet up out front!” Their coach called out after conciliatory handshakes were passed around, along with a few competitive challenges for next time. “Try to get out of it, and you’re being put in the crab hold!”
“Yes, coach!” The team responded in unison, looking a little wary as they immediately jumped into motion.
Midorima and Takao exchanged a look at that, before following the instructions and moving to help gather up the rest of the basketballs from practice before the game. A few of the Shuutoku first years see what they’re doing and join in, running around gathering the balls further away to bring back to the cart that Midorima and Takao are using to gather the rest.
“Here.”
Midorima twitched as Kuroko appeared out of nowhere again, and Takao snickered off to the side, having no doubt seen the other coming. He reached out, taking the ball that Kuroko was offering with a sound of thanks as he tossed it into the cart.
The group of first years came back with the last of the balls as Takao, Midorima, and Kuroko began gathering up some of the rest of the supplies. They didn’t seem to notice the latter, until he handed Takao a stack of cones that had been used for running practice drills, and they jumped.
Kuroko glanced at them for a moment, before continuing doing what he had been.
“I trust that there will not be a repeat of the incident that caused Midorima to lose his lucky object this morning,” Kuroko said lightly, as he finished gathering up the game supplies. The first years froze guiltily as they glanced between themselves and the short, blue-haired player with them, realization suddenly alighting on their features. “He is your senpai and your teammate. He deserves that much courtesy, no?”
He glanced over at all of them again, his eyes as deadpan and blank as ever, but there was a more pointed air about him than usual that had the new players shrinking back a little in consternation. After a moment, Kuroko’s eyes switched to Takao.
“I also trust, that my assistance will not be needed in the future.”
Kuroko’s tone was a little sharper as held Takao’s gaze, until the keen-eyed player looked away to rub the back of his neck uncomfortably.
“Yeah,” Takao said quietly. “I’ll do better. So will they.”
“Good.”
“Kuroko, I do not need a babysitter,” Midorima huffed, taking hold of the cart of basketballs to put it away.
“But you do need a friend,” Kuroko said, turning his attention to the green-haired shooter. They sat in silence until Midorima sighed conceding the point.
“Kuroko! If you’re in here, coach says we’re leaving with or without you in ten minutes!” Kagami stood in the door of the gym, eyes scanning fruitlessly for him in the crowd of remaining players. It seemed the others had finished up while they’d been talking and filtered out already. “If we leave you behind, captain says it’s your fault!”
Kagami disappeared from sight again as Shuutoku blinked after him.
“Goodbye,” Kuroko said, walking towards the door without another word.
Several of the people around him sputtered at his abrupt exit, but Midorima just sighed, well-used to the blue haired teen’s antics by now. He also had a taste of what their coach’s displeasure looked like, and understood his ex-teammate’s urge to not face it again.
He shook his head and turned to go change out of his uniform. There was no point in staying late today without his lucky object. If he kept practicing his shooting now, he’d practice badly, and practicing the wrong way was almost worse than not practicing at all.
“Midorima!” Takao called out, jogging across the room to come up next to him again before lowering his voice. “I am sorry for not saying something to the first years sooner. It shouldn’t have taken Kuroko to make me realize that. I said it to him, but I’ll say it to you now too. I’m sorry I didn’t take it as seriously as I should have, either. I know it’s important to you, and that you’ve… had some issues around it in the past. So, I’m sorry, and I’ll do better. The first years will too, I promise.”
Midorima looked at him for a long moment. Then, he huffed and kept walking towards the locker room.
“You are not the one who broke it, and accidents happen, Takao,” he said. He didn’t mention that his shoulders were a little looser than before, or the fact that he’d seen Takao’s gaze flicker towards them either. “Your apologies are unnecessary.”
Takao went to say something again, before a heatless glare from Midorima had his mouth snapping shut again as he waited for what Midorima had to say.
“That being said.” Midorima’s lips pursed for a moment as he forced himself to get the words out despite his discomfort. “Thank you.”
Takao didn’t say anything, knowing better than to bring attention to Midorima being genuine in such an honest moment, even if any other time he’d most definitely be teasing him for his awkwardness. However, the warm smile he was given and the shoulder bump following shortly after said more than enough anyway.