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Kiyoshi. Had anyone caused Hyuuga more irritation, more physical pain. He was the one who started it, after all: the Seirin basketball team. Causing Hyuuga to slave through grueling training sessions, to take on the mantle of captain, to near constantly be thinking of strategies and how better to utilize their players, when Hyuuga had been – not content – but prepared to leave basketball well enough alone.
He’d had his fill of failure in middle school, no matter how much he loved the game.
He was done.
Till Kiyoshi pulled him back in. Then left him high and dry, after his injury.
The old switch and bait.
To this day, Hyuuga wasn’t really sure how to thank him. It’d all been the ride of his life.
But now, Kiyoshi couldn’t play. He was recovering slowly but surely. For real, this time. All behind that vacant, irritating smile. Really, Kiyoshi was one of the rare individuals who could look like there was absolutely nothing in his head.
Yet he was brilliant on the court. And brilliant at manipulating Hyuuga to return to it.
The season was won. They’d done it, won the Winter Cup. They’d proven they had what it took to compete with the best in Japan. And done it their way.
Incredible, truly incredible. Started with Kiyoshi yelling off the school roof. Something ridiculous to get Riko’s attention. So she’d agree to be their coach.
But now, everyone was tending to the areas of their lives that were left sorely neglected during the season. Friends, family, other hobbies. Some were dating.
It was jarring to have a joint goal they’d all been striving for, now accomplished, no longer there.
Sure, they would do it all again next year. Except Kiyoshi. He was going to get the rest he hadn’t before, no more pushing.
Hyuuga didn’t like to think about it too much. Being on the court, while Kiyoshi couldn’t.
But he wasn’t going to insult all Kiyoshi’s effort, by not going back.
They could still see each other. He saw Izuki. But the difference with he and Izuki was the two of them actually got along. His terrible jokes aside, Hyuuga did not feel the need to whack Izuki on the head, or push him down a flight of stairs on a near regular basis.
Kiyoshi, well, that was a different story.
And that bugged him. Because he missed him.
And he wondered what he could do about it.
So he asked Kiyoshi if they could start walking home together.
Kiyoshi looked surprised. It wasn’t anything loud or obvious; it was that look he got sometimes when he was serious. When something unexpected happened. Slightly raised eyebrows, slightly widened eyes, then a return to his usual serenity.
Kiyoshi said he picked Seirin because it was close to his home. And it was. Hyuuga could barely believe Kiyoshi lived here. It was a blast from the past, a wooden single story, single family house, surrounded by modern buildings.
Made him imagine Kiyoshi was a monk.
The guy kind of was.
It was a little out of Hyuuga’s way, but not much. Maybe why Kiyoshi had been confused when he asked. At first, he just dropped him off, continued on his way, but eventually, Hyuuga started coming inside, having a drink. Kiyoshi’s grandparents were always happy to see him.
It was strange to see them together. Kiyoshi so sturdy and strong, and his grandparents shrunken and frail in their old age. Izuki had later mentioned to him, how Kiyoshi had been at his house before their final game, getting a bite to eat. Hyuuga had already noticed nobody ever came for Kiyoshi’s games.
And he was one of the Uncrowned Kings.
But Izuki had also mentioned Kiyoshi still told them about his games, told them stories and that they enjoyed that. And Hyuuga now saw it for himself – Kiyoshi sharing with them about his day. He even was fielding questions himself, so he followed Kiyoshi’s lead, and was happy when he managed to say something that amused them. They were smiling, Kiyoshi was smiling, and Hyuuga noticed he was smiling too.
It was hard to say who doted more on who: Kiyoshi on his grandparents, or his grandparents on him. Just, Hyuuga could tell they really adored him. And could tell Kiyoshi adored them right back.
Other times they sat outside just the two of them, there was a small yard in the back. Hyuuga had to fight the urge to suggest they go shoot hoops. Kiyoshi could probably manage just that, but he didn’t want them to get carried away, and Hyuuga thought they easily could.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Kiyoshi said to him one day, sitting out there. It was still winter, wasn’t the prettiest time, but the air was refreshing.
“Do what?” Hyuuga asked. Already, the question annoyed him.
“Spend time with me like this. I don’t need your pity. I made my choice.”
Hyuuga had a whole lot of objections to that. Hanamiya and his thugs took away Kiyoshi’s choice. And yeah, maybe he still felt bad about that. But pity was not the same as compassion.
So he scoffed. “Idiot. That’s not why I’m here.”
“Oh?” Kiyoshi’s expression took on a glassiness, like ice over a frozen pond. His hair was sticking up a bit too. Usually that only added to his usual affect, as a friendly, take-it-easy sort of guy. But now, it had the opposite effect: messy, a warning. His tone was chilly, waiting.
Hyuuga didn’t like it. “Yeah,” he punched back, “you got a problem with that?”
Kiyoshi shook his head. Too serenely, too smoothly. “No. I was just attempting to share my feelings.”
“Don’t,” he replied.
It did get Hyuuga to thinking, though.
He hated to admit, but he did wonder: why was he doing this? Kiyoshi was an important person to him, no doubt. But the two of them never really settled out. There was always a prickliness, Hyuuga could just never get comfortable. What was it about Kiyoshi that rubbed Hyuuga the wrong way?
Should he just accept they were more compatible as teammates than as friends?
...Fat chance. He’d told Kiyoshi once there was no way he was going to lose to him, at the game he loved. Even if he was a genius and there was no way an ordinary guy like him could compete.
He wasn’t going to back out now.
He wasn’t going to lose.
Not when there was a game to be had.
Sometimes, Kiyoshi’s grandparents weren’t there: out running errands or doing shopping, some neighborhood club they liked to visit, while they still had the light. Stretch their legs, take a little walk.
The house became very quiet when it was only he and Kiyoshi. Hyuuga was used to apartments. Hearing the muffled sounds and footsteps of everyone else around, but they worked on homework, silently. Only every now and then he’d notice Kiyoshi, looking not at his textbooks or his notebooks, but out the window, or even in Hyuuga’s general direction.
And he was always slightly frowning.
It pissed Hyuuga off. Made him feel there was some secret Kiyoshi was keeping from him. Then he chided himself because whatever his personal complaints, Kiyoshi was still entitled to some privacy. Hyuuga didn’t have to be privy to every thought in his head, and Hyuuga hated people interfering with his own life. It was partly why he’d gotten so furious when Kiyoshi kept pushing him about the basketball team. Hyuuga had to put up a fight based on the sheer principal, had to rebel about being told what to do.
Why he’d defended his bleached hair, too. Everyone was right, of course, in telling him to change it back. But he’d still had to try it for himself.
But speaking of secrets, he still remembered when Kiyoshi had lied, sitting up in his hospital bed in his hospital gown – shocking they’d even had a size that fit him – acting like everything was fine. The golden light that filled the room while he said his leg had only been sprained. Despite having collapsed on the court and howling in pain. Everyone’s confusion, then relief. Short lived, of course. Except he and Riko.
They’d had no relief at all, because they knew.
Hyuuga had felt the need to promise him. They would make it next season. All the way to the top. To give him hope. Because Kiyoshi had gone to such great lengths to snap him out of his stubbornness, his belligerent insistence he wanted nothing to do with basketball. Despite keeping a basketball player on his cell phone home screen.
Kiyoshi: the Iron Heart. Knew he hated that name, but he didn’t understand everyone else knew exactly what it meant. Hyuuga had felt it, Kiyoshi’s protection, of their entire team. It was a palpable force, his presence under the net.
But off the court, he’d rarely seen Kiyoshi’s heart. It was guarded.
Like an iron heart would be.
And now Hyuuga was right back where he started.
Wasn’t Kiyoshi entitled to his boundaries.
But he didn’t like Kiyoshi’s boundaries.
Didn’t respect them.
Never had.
Kiyoshi’s fault, really – he’d never respected Hyuuga’s either. Had literally crashed into him in the school hallway, grabbed and looked at his cell phone. He’d prodded and made assumptions about what Hyuuga wanted, chased and challenged him until he finally got Hyuuga’s undivided attention.
And now Hyuuga wanted to return the favor.
Because just like Kiyoshi had with him, Hyuuga sensed something was wrong, and despite having uttered some of the sappiest, most embarrassing things Hyuuga had ever heard, there was something important Kiyoshi wasn’t saying.
And Hyuuga would hound him until he figured out what it was.
Kiyoshi had said they were basically the same.
Maybe they were.
So Hyuuga kept hanging around. Was surprised when Kiyoshi’s grandparents greeted him by his first name, and also by Kiyoshi’s immediate embarrassment, waving his hands around.
“You don’t mind do you, dear? We’re just getting used to having you around, is all. And to us, you’re such a youngster,” his grandmother said.
“No, I don’t mind.” It was true. He didn’t.
“Junpei and Teppei, even your names match. And we appreciate what good care you take of our grandson,” his grandfather added, and Kiyoshi now looked close to burying his face in his hands, his cheeks going red.
Had rarely seen him so ruffled. Saw a little piece of the Iron Heart, after all.
Only, for some reason, Hyuuga was pretty close to blushing himself. Had to take a long swig of water to cover it up.
It was a rainy day. And cold. Hyuuga noticed Kiyoshi limping ever so slightly. He had turned into one of those old timers, who felt the weather in their joints.
He almost wanted to make a joke about it, except it made him so angry he could barely see straight, and every other word he thought was a curse.
Kiyoshi wouldn’t approve but Hyuuga didn’t give a damn.
He watched him struggle with it all day. Knew his knee was taped under his pant leg. He wanted to help on their walk home. He wanted to fix it and by the time they got inside Kiyoshi’s house, he was steaming mad. It was just the two of them. Grandmother and Grandfather, as he had started to call them, were out.
And Kiyoshi knew. Even he wasn’t that thick.
“Hyuuga–” he started, only for Hyuuga to immediate blurt out: “I want to kill him, I want to kill all of them, and before you disagree, I am expressing my feelings. I want to kill them for hurting you.”
And then he abruptly stood up, knocking his chair backwards in the process, and went to walk away, because he’d said something terribly embarrassing.
Wanted to walk straight into the rain to cool himself off, except he stopped dead in his tracks when he heard: “Thank you. For caring. It means a lot to me.”
He spun on his heels. Kiyoshi was still sitting. Had his hands on the table in front of him. Looked kind of stunned. Was holding himself delicately, ridiculous for one of the most indelicate people Hyuuga had ever seen, except he’d looked like that at the hospital too. Alone, unsure, and somehow so small.
Wanted to hold him, wanted to be with him, wanted to unwrap the bandages on his left knee and touch it, undo everything Hanamiya had ruined. Didn’t care that maybe everything had worked out in the end, that they’d met Kuroko and Kagami, that Mitobe had gotten more play time and more experience to carry them when Kiyoshi wasn’t available.
Hyuuga didn’t care about the Winter Cup right now.
Wanted Kiyoshi to just be angry. To be hurt. That someone had attacked him for no good reason, just to win a basketball game. Wanted to say he was sorry he hadn’t been able to protect him. That Hanamiya beat him up again when they’d next met.
Wanted to tell him he hadn’t deserved that. And ironically, Kiyoshi had been attacked for the very reason Hyuuga had despised him. Because he was so gifted, so talented.
And he hated that fact. He hated it so much.
Wanted to say he was sorry for ever thinking that way. So he walked back to the giant and before he could think about it too much, grabbed his face, tilted his head up, and kissed him with all he had, for all he was worth.
The physical touch of it surprised him. Warm lips against his, his fingers against Kiyoshi’s cheeks. Experimented what happened if he moved his mouth, if Kiyoshi would too. And it was strange to be right there in front of him, as he was trying to take a breath. And to be right there, to feel his lips right against his, as Kiyoshi muttered, “Hyuuga, I don’t–”
He paused, and Hyuuga didn’t stick around to find out what he would have said.
That snapped him out of it.
He ran out the door. Because what the hell had he just done.
Kiyoshi would probably say he had expressed his feelings.
He half hoped and half dreaded Kiyoshi texting him asking him to talk after he left, but he didn’t.
And when he was walking to school, he half expected Kiyoshi to laugh, pass it off like it was nothing when they saw each other, and half expected him to make a scene.
But Kiyoshi did neither of those things.
When Hyuuga walked into class, Kiyoshi was at his desk, pale and sullen, with Izuki hovering, asking what was wrong.
Their eyes met, only to pull away.
Izuki looked to him, silently asking for help, but all he had to offer was, “Leave him alone. Everyone’s entitled to a bad day, now and then.”
“Would you walk home with me?” Kiyoshi asked, after school, his voice deadened.
The weather was still bad, and Kiyoshi was still limping. They didn’t talk as they made their way to Kiyoshi’s house. Hyuuga stood there awkwardly, until Kiyoshi expressly invited him inside. Hyuuga’s shoes and feet felt monumentally heavy, but he trudged in.
Greeted Grandmother and Grandfather, then followed Kiyoshi to his bedroom.
“Hyuuga, I don’t understand. Why did you do that?” Kiyoshi asked, sitting on the edge of his bed, while Hyuuga took his desk chair.
It was only the question Hyuuga had spent the entire night thinking about.
Was sorely tempted to fall into old habits, because he was so uncomfortable: to call Kiyoshi daft, how could he not understand why Hyuuga had done that. Stopped himself, however, because he knew it wasn’t the right thing to say, and he also noticed Kiyoshi’s hands on his lap were slightly shaking. So Hyuuga steeled himself, to tell him the conclusion he had come to.
“Because I love you, dumbass.” Hadn’t quite managed to keep an insult out. But at least he’d said it.
“Oh,” Kiyoshi replied simply, after a nail-bitingly long pause that had severely tested Hyuuga’s nerves, and he couldn’t stop his mouth from running.
“Oh?” he repeated. “You’re supposed to say: I’m so happy, Hyuuga. Or: That’s disgusting, Hyuuga.”
“–It’s not disgusting,” Kiyoshi interrupted, firmly, but Hyuuga carried on as if he’d said nothing.
“Or: I don’t know, this is all rather sudden.”
“It’s not sudden.”
“Or: I hate your guts, Hyuuga.” Then Hyuuga took a moment to process that, and question: “It’s not?”
Kiyoshi fidgeted for a minute, then looked down. “I might say: Kiss me again, Hyuuga.”
How could this guy even stand himself. That was so damn sappy. Hyuuga wanted to scream. Except he was elated, it was exactly what he wanted to do, and exactly what he did.
Kissed him again. And again, and again, and again.
“That clear enough for you?” he took a break to ask.
“No,” Kiyoshi replied, completely deadpan. Like he did sometimes. But Hyuuga shook his head, smiled.
“Yeah. It isn’t for me, either.”
So they kept making things clearer. Until Hyuuga was tripping and bumping into things on the way home, because Kiyoshi had said he loved him too.
Finito