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It takes Kise two weeks to figure out where Kuroko disappeared to and a year to stop making excuses to himself about being too busy, by which time Kuroko is no longer hiding in his bookstore. Where he goes after the bookstore job is what makes Kise sit up and take notice. Kuroko could have had his pick of orchestras, could have gone anywhere he pleased with just the mention of "Teikou Youth Orchestra"— but he didn't.
The first time Kise visits the Seirin Chamber Orchestra is a little embarrassing, a lot depressing, and goes like this:
“Hi, Kurokocchi!” he says, cheerful as ever even though it’s ass o’clock in the morning. Kuroko looks at Kise, looks at the stunned faces of his own orchestra members, and lets out a very small sigh. For Kuroko this means he’s fairly annoyed—probably best if Kise turns down the theatrics a little. It isn’t hard. After all, he’s been waiting next to their staircase thirty minutes already, he’s a bit tired.
“Good morning, Kise,” Kuroko replies, unfailingly polite. This little chamber orchestra is quick to get themselves together, Kise will give them that; after the initial omg-it’s-Kise-Ryouta!!! thing the girl manager shoots them all a Look as she unlocks the staircase grille and they settle down immediately, file past him with only the subtlest of sideways glances. The conductor comes up to him while he’s watching this. They’re very sorry, the conductor says, they weren’t aware Kise was coming, but would he like to stay through practice? Kise smiles the work smile and says yes, yes he would.
Strange, is what Kise thinks of Seirin’s music the first time he hears it. They’re playing something Kise vaguely recognizes as the theme song of some game or other, and they’re so far from serious it’s almost laughable. The first and second violins are making stupid faces at each other, and the tall redhead on the marimba is barely holding back outright laughter. Everyone looks so—relaxed. It’s weird.
They play a few other things that Kise doesn’t really listen to (they’re okay, they sound fine but it doesn’t really hold his attention, not least because Kuroko doesn’t really have a big part in anything), and then they start up a slower, jazzy number that Kuroko is completely free for. He perks up when Kuroko comes over, trailed by the guy on the marimba earlier.
“So, I hear you’re one of the famous Miracles?” marimba-guy says before Kise can open his mouth.
“Yeah,” Kise replies easily, with a raised eyebrow in Kuroko’s direction. It’s not often that people don’t know who he is. “And you are?”
“This is Kagami-kun,” Kuroko says, then turns to Kagami, “and this is Kise-kun.” He stands there like he’s expecting something from them, and because Kise can think of nothing else he holds out his hand for Kagami to shake. Kagami takes it—and wow, what is that? Kise can feel something from this guy, the same sort of something he feels from Murasakibara on a good day and from Aomine all the time (but not any more). He looks at Kuroko again, who only gives him the barest of smiles.
“Nice to meet you, Kagami-kun,” Kise says, putting that something aside for now. “You play the marimba?”
“Piano’s my main instrument, actually.” Oh. This is what Kuroko wants Kise to see. This is probably why he’s at Seirin, of all the orchestras in Japan he could choose from.
“Is it?” Kise hums, darting a glance at Kuroko. He’s irritatingly blank, for some reason so much harder to read than Kise remembers. “What do you like to play?”
Kise doesn’t bother waiting for Kagami’s answer before going over to the little baby grand they have in a corner (can they really not afford a full-sized one? Cute, Kise thinks) and picking up the book on the stand. It’s the music for Ravel’s Gaspard de la Nuit, open to the first page of Scarbo. His mouth stretches into an involuntary grin.
“Ravel, huh?” he comments. Kagami isn’t meant to catch any amusement at his expense, it’s just a little self-satisfaction, but of course Kuroko hears the implication.
“Kise-kun likes softer pieces,” Kuroko says to Kagami, who snorts. Kise is irrationally annoyed by this. It’s true that he likes Ravel himself—loves, even. But Kuroko is supposed to be on his side.
“Yeah, Gaspard is a bit—”
“Scarbo isn’t soft!” Kise interrupts, pouting. Kagami blinks, then laughs.
“All that tinkling about isn’t really my style, but I guess to each his own.” Tinkling about. Really. Kise realizes his smile is fading, and drags it back with some effort.
“You know, Kurokocchi, you should join a different orchestra with me,” he says, sweet. Kuroko just looks at him like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.
“I don’t think so,” he says, “I like Seirin.” Kise doesn’t know what to say to this.
Then— “Are you that good?” Kagami asks him bluntly. And then Kise gets a brilliant idea.
“Why don’t I show you?” he offers, gesturing to the piano. It sounds like a challenge, which is his intention. By this point the other members of the orchestra are done with practice and are looking in their direction interestedly. Kise gives the conductor his best beseeching smile. The guy has a silent conversation with the manager, his eyebrows scrunching crazily, and then nods with badly-hidden annoyance.
Kuroko has a slightly displeased expression on his face, but when Kagami grins at him he smiles back. Kise hasn’t seen that smile in a long time. What is it with this Kagami guy? What makes him a better option than Aomine, or Kise himself?
Well, Kise thinks, that’s fine. I can just show Kurokocchi what he really wants.
Scarbo is—not simple, especially when he’s been playing only the violin for so long, but it’s easy for him to bring out. It’s easy for his fingers to fly across the keys and make every note sound like it’s important. Momoi used to say Ravel was perfect for Kise, and he’s hard-pressed to disagree when it feels so right playing him. Now he sits at the bench and sweeps his fringe back, shakes out his hands even though he doesn’t need to (because there are people watching, and when there are people it’s always a performance), sets them on the keys and he’s off.
The first bars are quiet, like the deep rumbling of a great beast, and he hunches over the keyboard—then here, the lightning, the feeling of urgency that straightens his spine. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Kagami reaching to turn the page for him, but Kuroko puts a hand on his arm and he stops. The tremolo Kise plays, then, when he glimpses Kuroko’s closed-off expression, is a rising question. It’s the only way he knows how to ask anything from Kuroko without turning it into a joke.
But Kuroko doesn’t answer.
Kise tries to swallow his frustration because he’s practically stabbing the keys on every staccato—that won’t do, it’s all anger where the song calls for playful malice. When he’s feeling like this he’s glad he has every measure of Scarbo written into his bones because then he can just skip smoothly ahead to where the nightmare fades with the morning, letting the music dictate his emotions instead. His hands linger on the last quiet note, and he can hear the whole room holding its breath.
There, he thinks, with some satisfaction. Let’s see who’s laughing now. But when he turns to look, Kagami is… excited.
“Kuroko, dude, you didn’t tell me they were this crazy,” he’s saying to Kuroko, who has on a relieved sort of look that disappears when he notices Kise’s looking over. When he looks at Kise, it's a careful non-expression, and just like that Kise knows with stomach-cramping certainty that Kuroko isn't going to change his mind.
“So, are you gonna come with me?” he tries anyway, pretends he doesn’t see the tinge of sadness that colours Kuroko’s features. There's something about Kagami, there has to be.
“I’m afraid not,” Kuroko says softly, and, well. That’s that.
“That was fucking cool, I didn’t know Ravel could sound like that,” Kagami says to him with literal stars in his eyes. Like, Kise is something of an authority on sparkles and even he’s never been that shiny-eyed. It's weird— he's practically shown Kagami up in front of his own orchestra and all Kagami has to say is this? Kise'd come here to check out the competition, but all of a sudden he doesn't feel like playing charades any more.
“Step up your game,” Kise says breezily, “because if you don’t I’m gonna take Kurokocchi away!” As if he could ever take Kuroko anywhere.
He politely rejects Kagami's eager offer to show Kise his own playing ("I'll watch you when you're on stage for real!") and makes his excuses to leave. Kuroko nods at him when he goes, and Kise hopes he does a good enough job of hiding the old hurt.
A week after he visits the Seirin Chamber Orchestra, Kise auditions to join Kaijou Symphony. The owner, Takeuchi, snaps him up instantly. Kise thinks he might not even have needed to audition, but there’s procedure and all that.
“You played first violin in the Teikou Youth Orchestra, correct?” Takeuchi asks him at the audition. Kise smiles and thinks of Aomine, of Kagami, of the two pianists who have some unimaginable hold over Kuroko’s heart and hands that he’ll never understand as long as he’s just a violinist.
“Yes,” he says, “but I’m better at the piano.”
*
Kaijou Symphony is markedly different from Teikou in that no one is accustomed to being good. When he’d played with Teikou, he'd been playing with prodigies on his level and better. In Kaijou he has to adjust himself, has to stop improvising whenever he wants because sometimes they can’t keep up. The other members notice that he's doing this, and a lot of them resent him for it. It's not like Kise can help it— he's just better, is all, and if they're not one of the Miracles then they're probably never going to be good enough.
He signs the long contract anyway, because he doesn't have anywhere else to go and Akashi doesn't want them in the same orchestra (except Kuroko, who wasn't included in the "don't play with each other any more" order but left them all the same). Kise plays a few concertos for Kaijou, makes shallow small talk with most of the musicians and is careful to keep an aloof distance from them. Sometimes he watches how Moriyama plays and thinks, meanly, I could do better.
Honestly, there are a lot of things he thinks about Kaijou that he feels guilty about thinking, but the one he regrets the fastest and the most is thinking Kasamatsu isn't a capable leader.
When they're rehearsing Kasamatsu is strict and quick to shout at people who aren't keeping up. Kise's distracted in the first few weeks by watching his bushy eyebrows wiggle around like caterpillars and doesn't pay attention to the conducting; he plays the piano on autopilot and Kasamatsu yells at him, but he doesn't really hear it. Often he's not thinking about Kaijou at all.
One day, Kasamatsu takes him by the shoulder, pulls him to a corner of the rehearsal hall and kicks him off his feet.
"K-Kasamatsu-san?"
"I'm going to make this very clear," he says, voice even and icy. The other orchestra members are trying not to be obvious, but they're all staring. "You have a year-long contract with us now, not with Teikou. I don't care who you are or where you came from before this, but while you're at Kaijou, you either play with us, or you get. Out." He takes a breath.
Kise blinks. Kasamatsu is nowhere near as scary as Akashi was— is— but his cold fury is intimidating all the same. Staring up at him from the floor gives Kise a familiar chill that is entirely unwelcome.
"I do—”
Kasamatsu cuts him off. “Don’t say you haven’t done anything wrong. Did you think we wouldn’t noticed? You act as though you’re slumming it down here in Kaijou, and even if Teikou was the god of all orchestras or what-the-fuck-ever, we deserve better than that. Make your choice, Kise.”
And the annoying thing is, he’s right. Kise has been going about this all wrong if he really thinks about it. He’s going to be playing with this orchestra, with these people for a year at the least, and besides the crush he suspects the eyebrow guy from brass is harboring, he doesn’t have any real relationships with the rest of the players. Kise’s been coasting, on his talent and on the charm of his smile.
So while Kasamatsu stares at him and the rest of the orchestra sneaks glances, Kise finds himself looking away, a humiliated flush rising to his cheeks. He doesn’t want to admit aloud that Kasamatsu’s got a point, but at the same time he can’t deny it either.
After a long moment, Kasamatsu, thankfully, lets it go. He sighs loudly, nudges Kise’s ankle with his shoe, and says, “You know, Moriyama and some of the other strings are going for drinks after rehearsal. You should go.”
No. “... Okay.”
Kasamatsu nods. He looks away, and Kise follows his line of sight to where Moriyama is making a pinched sort of look, and Kobori’s shoulders are lifted in a shrug. They don’t look too happy, but if Kasamatsu’s the one to give the order then they, like Kise, aren’t going to object.
Kise feels something like nerves settle into his stomach and finds himself amending his decision mentally.
Maybe.
*
Bug Rvvho NAU, says the text from Moriyama. Kise has been eyeing it with some trepidation for the past couple of minutes. Quite aside from the fact that it's Moriyama, whom Kise suspects doesn't like him very much, it's already a quarter to eleven and it's going be eleven by the time he gets there. Also judging by the fact that Bug Rvvho seems to be a misspelling of Big Echo, they're probably already drunk.
He really doesn't want to go. But Kasamatsu has probably gone out of his way to make everyone include him, and after the scolding of the other day Kise's ears are practically still ringing.
You should go.
Kise wavers, then heaves a put upon sigh. What can it hurt, right?
He thinks better of this when he actually sees Moriyama standing on the table screaming lyrics into his beer mug. Kobori is having silent paroxysms of laughter from where he's stretched out on the seat, microphone waving wildly in the air. Kise doesn't think they've noticed him yet; maybe he can just back away slowly—
"Oi, watch it," Kasamatsu says from behind him. Kise whips his head around and flounders a little, because for one, he'd definitely not expected to be stopped by a very sober Kasamatsu, and for another, he's never actually seen Kasamatsu outside of rehearsal before.
The jacket and tie that he's usually never without are gone. His sleeves have been rolled up to expose strong forearms covered in dark hair, and surprisingly delicate wrists. Kise's eyes travel back up, slowly, taking in the unbuttoned collar and the slight flush spreading up Kasamatsu's neck. He doesn't know when another chance like this is going to come, so he looks his fill even knowing Kasamatsu is getting more and more edgy.
"Just got here?" Kasamatsu's tone is sharp when he asks. Maybe Kise's been looking too long. He regretfully stops his appreciation of heretofore unknown territory and tips his head in the direction of Moriyama and Kobori (who seem to be making up their own lyrics to an AKB48 song).
"You need help with them, right?"
"Ah," Kasamatsu looks at the other two, "I don't usually, but you're welcome to pay for their cab." His expression changes when he looks at them, into some foreign blend of affection and annoyance. Kise's never seen this side of him before.
"Did you call me here just to pay for your cab? That hurts!" Kise whines, feigning tears. Kasamatsu rolls his eyes and pushes past him to sit next to Kobori.
"I didn't ask you to come, one of these idiots did that all by their drunk selves," is the slightly distracted reply, because Kobori is attempting to conduct Moriyama's off-tune warbling with his microphone and Kasamatsu looks like he's dying to make snide comments. Kise takes this in absently, stuck on the fact that Kasamatsu hadn't been the one to suggest him coming.
"You didn't tell Moriyama-san to text me?"
Kasamatsu looks at him like his intelligence is on par with the drunk idiots. "Isn't that what I just said?"
"Oh— sorry, I," thought they were being nice because you asked them to be, he doesn't say, "couldn't hear you properly. Moriyama-san has interesting ideas about singing."
"He's your senior, keep your snark in line," Kasamatsu grumbles, but it sounds almost fond and Kise is maybe a little pleased with that. Even if most of him still really wants to leave, because Kobori is getting weirdly handsy and neither of the other two seem to care.
"Yes, senpai," Kise says cheerfully, pretending not to notice Kasamatsu's irritated huff. He might even sing something if he can find the last microphone.