They sat in uncomfortable silence w

They sat in uncomfortable silence waiting for their orders to come until Kise said, “Midorimachi, hadn’t you better dry your hair? You’ll have a headache otherwise.”

Midorima glared at her, but unraveled her dripping pigtails, and squeezed water out of them with a towel retrieved from her bag, looking more and more like a bedraggled dog.

“It’s so long now,” said Kise. “You could do something really nice with that, Midorimachi.”

“It’s unnecessary,” said Midorima, black-faced. Behind her, Kuroko and Kise could both see her teammate craning his head unsubtly towards them. She pulled it all to the side, and loosely braided it, so that it draped over her shoulder. The difference was unsettling.

“You really have no sensibility as a woman,” said Kise.

“Just because I’m not vain like you-“ said Midorima.

“Kise-san has too much,” said Kuroko, quietly.

“Kurokochi, that’s mean! Kagamichi, don’t you think that these two could stand to make more of themselves?”

All three pairs of eyes focused onto him. “Leave me out of this,” he said. “It’s none of my business.”

“It must be boring being on a team with him,” said Kise to Kuroko, mournfully. “Not as boring as being on a team with you, though,” she said to Midorima. “Pass me the ball! Three-pointer. Pass me the ball! Three-pointer. But you seem to be doing well with them.”

“Die,” said Midorima. “Why shouldn’t we do well with our teams?”

“Sometimes you’re difficult to deal with,” said Kuroko calmly. “It’s just that.”

“You’re just thinking too much,” said Midorima, but Kagami thought in that moment about Alex, and being wolf-whistled down the street and talked down to on the court, and maybe he knew about why Kise and Kuroko would be worried about this weirdo getting along with her new team, no matter how good she was.


.0.

“Oh,” said Kasamatsu. “Worst thing about Kise hands down is that she’s more popular with the girls than we are.”

“She is?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, with the dead resignation of a man pushed past his edge a long time ago. “Bentos, love letters, cheering squads, fanclubs… at least the girls throttle the flow of boys because the last I heard if you wanted to give her a love letter you had to go through our manager, the manager of the soccer club, the student council secretary and the kendo club vice-president.”

“Ah,” said Takao. “People just kind of think Midorima is weird. They’re right, mind you, but that’s pretty much all the attention she gets.”

“Isn’t that good, then?” said Hyuuga. “With Kuroko- well, mostly we forget she’s a girl. Or that she’s there. Sometimes.”

“Sometimes Kise will swap shirts right on the court,” said Kasamatsu mournfully. “She pulls someone aside and uses them as a screen while she does it. It drives opponents mad.”

“It’s good that that won’t work on us, then,” said Riko.

“…that would definitely work on us,” said Koganei. “Are you joking, coach? Look at her.”

“Oh, it drives us mad too,” said Kasamatsu, while Riko tried to and was restrained from stabbing Koganei with a spatula. “Mostly because she’s so careless about it, but there you go.”

“Midorima doesn’t even show her knees if she doesn’t have to,” said Takao. “What’s really intimidating is when she takes off her jacket and the guns come out.” He patted his bicep. “That scares them.”

There was a lull in conversation as everyone looked towards what they had mentally dubbed the ‘troublesome’ table and Midorima’s tall straight back was softened by the long loose braid falling over her shoulder, Kagami’s massive bulk next to her further shrinking the impression of overwhelming, enduring superiority. Kise, just across, was just about as big as Midorima- sleeker, maybe, where Midorima was self-contained.

“I’ve had this thought before,” said Hyuuga, “But they’re really different when they’re not playing basketball.”

Takao looked at Midorima and thought about seeing her at lunch or in between classes, clutching her lucky item, away from everyone else, and at practice, clutching her lucky item, practicing away from everyone else. But the Midorima he’d seen bits of just now, sharp and raw and dangerous, racing towards some pinnacle that no one else could see- “On and off the court, maybe,” he offered.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” said Riko. “This is only the start of the matches! We’re going to be playing basketball all year.”

“Well, if we don’t knock you out first,” said Kasamatsu, putting a portion in his mouth.

“Oh, taunt the losers, sure,” said Takao. “I’m flipping this over now, watch and learn.”

.0.

Riko pawed through her closet and passed Kuroko the swimsuit.

"Sorry for the imposition," said Kuroko, and took it.

"It's alright," said Riko. "But do you really not have any other swimsuits than your old school one or bikinis?"

"I outgrew them," said Kuroko, with a faint air of dissatisfaction. Riko did get the impression that Kuroko would run and do the exercises whether or not she was wearing a bikini while she trained, but just preferred not to go through the rigmarole. Riko didn't blame her.

"Does it fit?" she called.

"Yes," said Kuroko, and stretched her arms above her head as she came around the partition. Kuroko was muscle of an entirely different kind from Riko's, conditioned differently, trained differently. Kuroko could throw a basketball all the way across the court without blinking. It showed, in how Kuroko's shoulders bunched, and the muscles in her forearms moved under her skin. Riko looked again, blinked.

"It's just a little tight around the chest," said Kuroko, confirming her suspicions.

There was a moment of silence as Kuroko stared straight ahead and Riko tried to pretend she hadn't been staring at their number eleven's breasts. They're... there. That's all Riko is willing to cop to.

"Well, if the boys have any energy to care after the workouts are done," said Riko, just cheerful enough, "Then obviously I'm not working you guys hard enough!"

Kuroko nodded, and hid a gulp. It wasn't as though anyone else was going to care about what she trained in.


#enter Momoi #Kuroko-san Aida-san's swimsuit is waaaay too tight for you #everyone else: whelp we're dead

.0.



Meeting one Generation of Miracles member was like explicating the ends of another, the way they bleed into each other, on each other, like old paint-stains on a white wall graffitied beyond recognition, until the center part of them was a muddled mess, and that core was the Teikou middle school basketball team, the place where they’d tangled together so deeply there was almost nothing left to any of them but basketball.

But Aomine appeared to mostly consist of basketball, and there’s her mark on Kise, the flash-bang of her game, the cool dangerous sway; Kuroko, the wild-soft unyielding pressure of total control. There are the contrasts of each other, too, Aomine’s insolent swagger and Kuroko’s calm self-possession, her smirk and Kise’s bright smile. There's Midorima’s beaten-tight game and the way Aomine eels around him, without seeming to, without meaning to, like there’s nothing she’ll ever do better than this.

Kagami plays Aomine and understands for the first time how Teikou has written itself into its children, and how right they are to carry that birthright, how they’ve beaten dominion into a generation of middle schoolers; that defeat can be precipitated on an unbreakable wall of despair.

And here’s Kuroko, again, or the echoes of her, in how Aomine stares at him like a personal disappointment, in how he gasps for breath when she downs him, inescapable, inexorable, unbeatable.

Aomine is waiting for someone to try again, try harder, and Kuroko will never stop trying. Is this what Kagami’s been looking for? Have his senses been dead until now?

Kagami plays Aomine and it’s a revelation; loses and it’s like the first time he tastes air.


.0.

Something that Kaijou isn’t sure if they love or hate Kise for is that in the gap between middle and high school, with no one to shout at her until she thought better of it, she did a gravure shoot, and it always, always came up as part of their opponent’s research.

Fucking always.

Kasamatsu would be the first- the very first, followed in quick succession by the rest of Kaijou’s regulars, pissed off as hell- to point out that Kise in a bikini in all her airbrushed , made-up perfection was not the same, even remotely, as Kise in her basketball unform with her game face on, but Kise with her game face on tended to get there first, and devastate them without so much as a second glance, dazzling.

And there were the actual fans, who were actually much, much worse.

Kaijou sometimes amused themselves by coming up with random rules for opponents who wanted to talk to Kise, or get her autograph, or possibly send their manager to deliver a love letter. “Only if you’re over a hundred and eighty,” was one of the crueller ones, delivered to a point guard who just broke even a little shorter than Kasamatsu himself. “Score at least ten points personally, and we’ll talk.” “What’s your rank in school? Top thirty? Are you joking?” and the ever-popular “You get only three love letters a week? Seriously? Back of the line, punk.”

“Actually I used to get eight,” said the pink-haired punk, who did not break a hundred and eighty but was pretty enough to bypass that, according to the whispered debate currently ongoing in the background, as the club members warmed up for practice and tried to stare down the stranger. “Then I asked them to stop, because my heart is taken. And I’m top ten. Where’s Ki-chan?”

“MOMOCHI,” cried Kise, and threw herself onto his reasonably wide shoulders, where he lifted her up and spun her around, both laughing and so pretty the team’s collective eyes hurt.

“You naughty boy,” she said. “Coming all the way over here just to see little old us? Touou must be

Kết quả (Việt) 1:

Họ ngồi trong im lặng khó chịu chờ đợi các đơn hàng của mình tới cho đến khi Kise nói, "Midorimachi, đã không bạn tốt hơn khô mái tóc của bạn? Bạn sẽ có một nhức đầu bằng cách khác."Midorima glared vào cô ấy, nhưng unraveled pigtails nhỏ giọt của cô, và vắt nước ngoài của họ với một khăn Lấy từ túi của mình, tìm kiếm nhiều hơn và nhiều hơn nữa như một con chó bedraggled."Đó là nên dài bây giờ," nói Kise. "Bạn có thể làm điều gì đó thật sự tốt đẹp với điều đó, Midorimachi.""Nó không cần thiết," ông Midorima, phải đối mặt với màu đen. Phía sau của cô, Kuroko và Kise có thể cả hai đều nhìn thấy đồng đội của mình craning đầu unsubtly đối với họ. Cô kéo nó tất cả sang một bên, và lỏng lẻo bện nó, do đó nó draped qua vai của mình. Sự khác biệt là đáng lo ngại."Bạn thực sự đã không có cảm như là một người phụ nữ," nói Kise."Chỉ vì tôi không phải là vô ích như bạn-" nói Midorima."Kise-san có quá nhiều," nói Kuroko, lặng lẽ."Kurokochi, mà là có ý nghĩa! Kagamichi, không bạn nghĩ rằng cả hai có thể đứng để thực hiện nhiều hơn nữa của mình?"Tất cả ba các cặp mắt tập trung vào anh ta. "Leave me trong số này," ông nói. "Nó là không có doanh nghiệp của tôi.""Nó phải được nhàm chán vào một đội ngũ với anh ta," nói Kise để Kuroko, mournfully. "Không phải là nhàm chán như là một nhóm với bạn," Tuy nhiên, cô ấy nói với Midorima. "Vượt qua tôi bóng! Ba-con trỏ. Đưa tôi quả bóng! Ba-con trỏ. "Nhưng bạn dường như đang làm tốt với họ.""Chết," ông Midorima. "Tại sao chúng ta không nên làm tốt với đội của chúng tôi?"“Sometimes you’re difficult to deal with,” said Kuroko calmly. “It’s just that.”“You’re just thinking too much,” said Midorima, but Kagami thought in that moment about Alex, and being wolf-whistled down the street and talked down to on the court, and maybe he knew about why Kise and Kuroko would be worried about this weirdo getting along with her new team, no matter how good she was..0.“Oh,” said Kasamatsu. “Worst thing about Kise hands down is that she’s more popular with the girls than we are.”“She is?”“Oh, yeah,” he said, with the dead resignation of a man pushed past his edge a long time ago. “Bentos, love letters, cheering squads, fanclubs… at least the girls throttle the flow of boys because the last I heard if you wanted to give her a love letter you had to go through our manager, the manager of the soccer club, the student council secretary and the kendo club vice-president.”“Ah,” said Takao. “People just kind of think Midorima is weird. They’re right, mind you, but that’s pretty much all the attention she gets.”“Isn’t that good, then?” said Hyuuga. “With Kuroko- well, mostly we forget she’s a girl. Or that she’s there. Sometimes.”“Sometimes Kise will swap shirts right on the court,” said Kasamatsu mournfully. “She pulls someone aside and uses them as a screen while she does it. It drives opponents mad.”“It’s good that that won’t work on us, then,” said Riko.“…that would definitely work on us,” said Koganei. “Are you joking, coach? Look at her.”“Oh, it drives us mad too,” said Kasamatsu, while Riko tried to and was restrained from stabbing Koganei with a spatula. “Mostly because she’s so careless about it, but there you go.”“Midorima doesn’t even show her knees if she doesn’t have to,” said Takao. “What’s really intimidating is when she takes off her jacket and the guns come out.” He patted his bicep. “That scares them.”There was a lull in conversation as everyone looked towards what they had mentally dubbed the ‘troublesome’ table and Midorima’s tall straight back was softened by the long loose braid falling over her shoulder, Kagami’s massive bulk next to her further shrinking the impression of overwhelming, enduring superiority. Kise, just across, was just about as big as Midorima- sleeker, maybe, where Midorima was self-contained.“I’ve had this thought before,” said Hyuuga, “But they’re really different when they’re not playing basketball.”Takao looked at Midorima and thought about seeing her at lunch or in between classes, clutching her lucky item, away from everyone else, and at practice, clutching her lucky item, practicing away from everyone else. But the Midorima he’d seen bits of just now, sharp and raw and dangerous, racing towards some pinnacle that no one else could see- “On and off the court, maybe,” he offered.“That’s where you’re wrong,” said Riko. “This is only the start of the matches! We’re going to be playing basketball all year.”“Well, if we don’t knock you out first,” said Kasamatsu, putting a portion in his mouth.“Oh, taunt the losers, sure,” said Takao. “I’m flipping this over now, watch and learn.”.0. Riko pawed through her closet and passed Kuroko the swimsuit."Sorry for the imposition," said Kuroko, and took it."It's alright," said Riko. "But do you really not have any other swimsuits than your old school one or bikinis?""I outgrew them," said Kuroko, with a faint air of dissatisfaction. Riko did get the impression that Kuroko would run and do the exercises whether or not she was wearing a bikini while she trained, but just preferred not to go through the rigmarole. Riko didn't blame her."Does it fit?" she called."Yes," said Kuroko, and stretched her arms above her head as she came around the partition. Kuroko was muscle of an entirely different kind from Riko's, conditioned differently, trained differently. Kuroko could throw a basketball all the way across the court without blinking. It showed, in how Kuroko's shoulders bunched, and the muscles in her forearms moved under her skin. Riko looked again, blinked."It's just a little tight around the chest," said Kuroko, confirming her suspicions.There was a moment of silence as Kuroko stared straight ahead and Riko tried to pretend she hadn't been staring at their number eleven's breasts. They're... there. That's all Riko is willing to cop to.
"Well, if the boys have any energy to care after the workouts are done," said Riko, just cheerful enough, "Then obviously I'm not working you guys hard enough!"

Kuroko nodded, and hid a gulp. It wasn't as though anyone else was going to care about what she trained in.


#enter Momoi #Kuroko-san Aida-san's swimsuit is waaaay too tight for you #everyone else: whelp we're dead

.0.



Meeting one Generation of Miracles member was like explicating the ends of another, the way they bleed into each other, on each other, like old paint-stains on a white wall graffitied beyond recognition, until the center part of them was a muddled mess, and that core was the Teikou middle school basketball team, the place where they’d tangled together so deeply there was almost nothing left to any of them but basketball.

But Aomine appeared to mostly consist of basketball, and there’s her mark on Kise, the flash-bang of her game, the cool dangerous sway; Kuroko, the wild-soft unyielding pressure of total control. There are the contrasts of each other, too, Aomine’s insolent swagger and Kuroko’s calm self-possession, her smirk and Kise’s bright smile. There's Midorima’s beaten-tight game and the way Aomine eels around him, without seeming to, without meaning to, like there’s nothing she’ll ever do better than this.

Kagami plays Aomine and understands for the first time how Teikou has written itself into its children, and how right they are to carry that birthright, how they’ve beaten dominion into a generation of middle schoolers; that defeat can be precipitated on an unbreakable wall of despair.

And here’s Kuroko, again, or the echoes of her, in how Aomine stares at him like a personal disappointment, in how he gasps for breath when she downs him, inescapable, inexorable, unbeatable.

Aomine is waiting for someone to try again, try harder, and Kuroko will never stop trying. Is this what Kagami’s been looking for? Have his senses been dead until now?

Kagami plays Aomine and it’s a revelation; loses and it’s like the first time he tastes air.


.0.

Something that Kaijou isn’t sure if they love or hate Kise for is that in the gap between middle and high school, with no one to shout at her until she thought better of it, she did a gravure shoot, and it always, always came up as part of their opponent’s research.

Fucking always.

Kasamatsu would be the first- the very first, followed in quick succession by the rest of Kaijou’s regulars, pissed off as hell- to point out that Kise in a bikini in all her airbrushed , made-up perfection was not the same, even remotely, as Kise in her basketball unform with her game face on, but Kise with her game face on tended to get there first, and devastate them without so much as a second glance, dazzling.

And there were the actual fans, who were actually much, much worse.

Kaijou sometimes amused themselves by coming up with random rules for opponents who wanted to talk to Kise, or get her autograph, or possibly send their manager to deliver a love letter. “Only if you’re over a hundred and eighty,” was one of the crueller ones, delivered to a point guard who just broke even a little shorter than Kasamatsu himself. “Score at least ten points personally, and we’ll talk.” “What’s your rank in school? Top thirty? Are you joking?” and the ever-popular “You get only three love letters a week? Seriously? Back of the line, punk.”

“Actually I used to get eight,” said the pink-haired punk, who did not break a hundred and eighty but was pretty enough to bypass that, according to the whispered debate currently ongoing in the background, as the club members warmed up for practice and tried to stare down the stranger. “Then I asked them to stop, because my heart is taken. And I’m top ten. Where’s Ki-chan?”

“MOMOCHI,” cried Kise, and threw herself onto his reasonably wide shoulders, where he lifted her up and spun her around, both laughing and so pretty the team’s collective eyes hurt.

“You naughty boy,” she said. “Coming all the way over here just to see little old us? Touou must be