They nod and stare, because apparently Kise of Teikou is just that intimidating. Her phone is already in her other hand, toys dangling off it so that it looks like her wrist would snap under it's weight. She shakes her lovely head ruefully, and says to the coach, "I'd be very pleased to consider Kaijou," meaningless politeness pouring out of her mouth. On the tour of their- if he does say so himself, and he does- amazing gym and court, she picks up a basketball in the silence of the few stragglers around to give prospective stars a look at their future teammates, and almost bounces it before she catches herself ruining her nails. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she says, hands with their deco nails clasped in front of her and bowing profusely, "It's just that since Teikou doesn't need us anymore I'm booked so much now and they just won't let me go! Coach, Sempai, I'm so sorry!" Kise swans in a few minutes late for her interview in between jobs and is impossibly, improbably, even prettier in real life: long light hair, curled and styled and highlighted huge eyes and long lashes every inch of her height showcased in her fluttery little Teikou skirt and thigh-highs. Sometimes he thinks of it as the start of everything, the long graceful arc of the ball, floating lazily downwards towards victory, and Midorima jerking her head at him, saying "We're on defense," as she strolls by. But she's unravelling the tape from her fingers and they curl into the unconcious curve of a basketball, eyes fixed on the hoop, and she ran all the warm-ups and drills without shirking or condescending, and Takao wants to shine too, the only way he can, in every way he can. No one wants to sit in the shadows forever. This is their chance to shine, to make the regular team, and Takao can understand that, at least. "Get the ball, and pass it to me." The other first years bite back their protests under the watchful eyes of the coach, but Takao can read the gleam in their eyes, they won't do it if they can help it. "You're the only other one here who has the potential to make the regulars, even at a school like this," she says. Weirdest of all, their brand new ace wears her uniform long and her hair in pigtailed plaits and carries a tape dispenser which she calls her lucky item (Takao looks back on this, sometimes, and sighes for his naivete the lucky items have only gotten worse), and when they're picked from the first-years for a showcase match against the seniors, she adjusts her glasses and says to him, "Pass me the ball." Looking at Midorima in the halls, it's easy to think that this person should be a musician, or an artist, something else just as suited to those jealously kept fingers, meticulously wrapped. Teikou's Miracle Shooter is tall, taller than maybe any human has a right to be, serious-faced, stern and strange. When Takao first meets Midorima in high school, it's just weird, weird, weird.
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