"You," Akashi is standing much too close to Aisaka to be comfortable, "are not a Point Guard."

He's glaring like he's just been offended beyond belief, and Aisaka struggles to stand upright. Short people can be absolute devils and he honestly hates that.

"Uh-- yeah," he steps back, but Akashi follows. He tries not to cry. "I usually play Point Guard to fill in positions, but I'm a Center at my best."

Murasakibara and Nijimura perks up simultaneously. Then they turn to Aomine, who didn't look the least bit surprised.

Aomine raises an eyebrow, "you didn't know?"

Nijimura groans.

"Go tell the managers before the set up the next practice," he waves a hand in the others' direction, "we have a position-based system here and Momoi works really hard on them."

"But Momoi already knows--"

"She knew??"

"Well, I pretty much can play any position except Shooting Guard--"

The karate chop that lands on his head hurts like a sharp gong. He wisely decides to shut up.

"Are you actually pouting, Akashi?" Aomine teases, (and immediately gets socked in the stomach by Nijimura but details) and Akashi folds his arms and huffs.

"I suppose I am upset," to the horror of everyone, Akashi doesn't deny it, "if Aisaka can coordinate his attacks with Aomine, they might conjure a rather fearsome combination."

"Exactly!" Aomine looks up from where he's groveling on the floor, "we're unstoppable together!"

"Then why didn't you play like that from the start? It's been weeks since we've all been here!"

All eyes are now on Aisaka. Aisaka doesn't meet them, he simply looks away like a child getting lectured for stepping on ants.

"As long as it's fun, why does it matter?" he says, "and I'm a little short to be playing Center, anyways."

-

Akashi dribbles the ball, and swerves to a stop when Aomine rushes up to face him. He doesn't even blink. He expected this, after all. His gaze flickers across the court-- he takes one step back and hurls the ball to the ground.

The bounce-pass is scooped up by Aisaka, who transfers into a dribble-- only to skid to a halt when he crosses the three-point line and Murasakibara comes before him.

He only takes half a second to falter.

He searches for Midorima, but he's ducked by Nijimura much too far away. Akashi isn't anywhere close enough either-- Aisaka plants a foot halfway behind him, and turns half his body back.

Murasakibara frowns. Is he running away from a direct confrontation?

Then Aisaka leaps. One arm tucked back, his jump is twirled like a spun spring. His arm releases the ball in a hook toward the net, and it bounces against the rim, sinking right in.

Murasakibara, caught off guard, doesn't react in time.

"Woah, a turnaround hook," Nijimura gapes.

"Huh, is that what it's called?" Aisaka looks at him like he's just said something strange.

"You don't know what you just did?"

"I mean, it just kinda happened."

"Ah, I totally understand."

Aisaka looks back to see Murasakibara glowering at him.

"I hate those kind of plays," he mutters, like Aisaka's offended his greatest ancestors. He scoffs and looks disdainfully at Aisaka, "it's annoying."

Aisaka feels a sense of deja vu. That's something an amateur player would usually say when they fail to block a shot-- but this is different.

Murasakibara wasn't an amateur at all-- he's only saying this because, although he has the ability to block Aisaka's plays, it will take him a certain amount of effort he really doesn't want to put in.

Honestly, Aisaka think it's fun trying to get over taller opponents.

Maybe it isn't the same way around for said taller opponent.

"Ah, sorry," he says, "Murasaki...bara, right? Actually, that's kinda a mouthful. Can I just call you Atsushi?"

"Huh? Anything's fine," Murasakibara dismisses, and Aisaka can tell that's not the first time he's been told his name is a mouthful, "if you jump around like that again, I'll swat at you."

Aisaka bursts into laughter at that, "what am I, a fly?"

"You just keep buzzing around everywhere."

"Yeah, that's kinda annoying, eh?"

"Hey, you're pissing me off."

"Oh, okay, sorry!"

Watching from the sides, Akashi isn't quite sure what's going on over there. Neither is Nijimura, because he actually points at them and has to ask Midorima of all people, "are they getting along or do they hate each others' guts?"

"How the hell would I know?" was Midorima's answer.

"Hey, both of you! Clock's ticking!" Coach Sanada realizes the childish bickering and raises his voice over half the entire gym.

They all scramble back in position, and practice resumes.

-

"You didn't make it this time either?"

It hurts Kuroko a little when Aisaka doesn't sound too surprised. He nods, a little dejected, unable to look up to meet the boy in the eyes.

A hand lands on his shoulder, and Aisaka hums assuringly.

"You'll come around," and Kuroko isn't sure what that means, "it's just a matter of patience and perseverance now."

Aisaka is telling him to endure?

Kuroko pays attention for a second longer, and barely catches the next words Aisaka mutters under his breath.

"The main character of this story is you, after all."

Kuroko always feels so conflicted by it. Sometimes, it's as if Aisaka is being so optimistically encouraging-- who else would believe that Kuroko, Kuroko of all people could make first string?

It's so flattering that Aisaka believed in him so much-- but why, under what basis, was Aisaka saying it so confidently?

How can Aisaka say it in a way that makes it feel so inevitable, so matter of fact?

Why is it that Aisaka thinks so highly of Kuroko, so much more than Kuroko thinks of himself?

It's confusing.

For the first time in the handful of years they've met-- Kuroko realizes that he really doesn't know anything about the boy known as Aisaka Hiroto.

-

"Ogi sent another letter? God, I don't want to read his chicken scratch."

First string practice ends later than the third and second strings', so Kuroko takes to staying after for more practice. Aisaka would usually join him after his side was over, then they'd walk home together when the security guards threatened to lock the gates on them.

"His handwriting is improving," Kuroko weakly offers, "if you really don't want to read it, I'll tell him to transcribe it into an email."

"Just read it to me, we all know his dumb phone doesn't have enough cash for it," Aisaka mutters with a wave of his hand. His hand grasps his burger messily as he takes another uncomfortably juicy bite.

Then why don't you read it yourself, Kuroko doesn't ask in retaliation. They were both incredibly aware that Ogiwara's handwriting isn't all that messy-- Aisaka just has a hard time reading in Japanese and he doesn't want to admit it.

Kuroko takes another sip of his vanilla milkshake, and flaps up the letter in his hands.

"He's recently gotten his uniform, and is now a benchwarmer," he summarises, "he's looking forward to playing against you, though..."

Kuroko trails off, and they both know what comes next. It's a frequent end note of their usual correspondence-- I hope you make it up here with us soon, Kuroko!

Kuroko doesn't hate it when he says that, though he does feel bitter. He's always been lacking compared to the both of them, and it aches to know that he's being pushed down the pedestal of their promise by Aisaka who joined their duo later.

It's a little unfair.

"Do you have paper on you? I wanna write up a response," Aisaka says, and Kuroko jerks, taken by surprise.

"But you hate writing letters," Kuroko can't believe what he's hearing.

"I just feel like writing one right now."

"Are you sick, Hiroto-kun? Maybe you should take time off the first string practice, I think it's really too hard for you."

"Tetsuya, I'll punch you."

Aisaka ends up texting instead. Kuroko doesn't see what he says, so now they held secrets between themselves and Kuroko tries very hard not to pout.

Ogiwara is unfair.

(Wait, wasn't Hiroto the unfair one?)

-

"Aisaka, this is Haizaki; he's new to the first string. Haizaki, this is Aisaka; he's your mentor. Get along now," Aomine points at them alternatively for a messy introduction before going back to his dunking drills.

The first thing Aisaka is glad about is that his new student looks like a picture book delinquent. That's adorable.

The second thing he's glad about is the fact that Haizaki is glaring at Aisaka, like everyone else does when they first meet him. There's something about a pompous, friendly indigo-haired boy that makes everyone want to underestimate him.

"Pleasure to meet you, welcome to the first string," Aisaka says without even batting an eyelash, "I've heard about you, heard you're an explosive sort."

"I've heard a lot about you too!" Haizaki obnoxiously mirrors the smile, but there was a clear venom in his voice, "people say you jump like a fairy."

Aisaka snorts at that, "is that your way of calling me a sissy?"

Haizaki smiles victoriously, "if I may be honest, yes."

Aisaka sighs. So he tucks his hands at his hips and grins. This was nostalgic. So, so nostalgic, it's almost humorous.

Haizaki is an overconfident little shit. Well, so is Aomine and Midorima, but details. Aisaka doesn't really hate that at all. In fact, he loves them.

People have been deeming him the least of a threat among the five big rookies. He's not sure how they came to that conclusion, but that gained him plenty of letters in his shoe locker asking for a challenge, especially after he got the starters' uniform.

"One on One, just a half court game, first to score five wins," he says, and begins moving, "that fine with you?"

Haizaki didn't particularly ask for a challenge, but it was deeply insinuated. So Aisaka is pleasantly amused when Haizaki quietly follows him to a corner of the gym while he asks Midorima to lend them the spot.

"Again?" he hears a senior groan, exasperated.

Haizaki hears it too, so he snorts proudly, "this happen to you a lot?" he says loftly, "is it cause you're the weakest?"

There's a little more curiosity than gibe in his tone.

Aisaka honestly isn't sure if he's the weakest. People seem to say whatever they want, but perhaps that's because he's a player with too little height compared to Murasakibara. They always line him up with the purple giant to see the obvious differences. They never do that to Akashi because he freaks people out either way.

All of them were individually strong in their own right. If they were to face off in a One on One, the winner would be hard to say.

Who cares anyway, as long as they make a good team?

-

A right to left crossover, jump, dunk.

Barely five seconds in, and Haizaki loses a basket. He's not particularly faltered by that, though-- he smirks like he's got a scheme up his mind.

Aisaka sees the problem immediately.

Haizaki starts this time-- a dribble, a fake to the right-- then a right to left crossover, he jumps, and dunks.

Aisaka laughs when he heard the rim creak and spring back into place. He can't even feel frustrated that he was just copied like that. It's so amazing he's just left in awe.

Haizaki's smirk is a little more excited this time. Aisaka can't blame him.

Aisaka jumps again-- but this time, he doesn't jump high enough for a dunk. He switches to a layup at the last moment, and Haizaki knocks it away.

Aisaka lands a second before Haizaki does, and they both charge at it. Aisaka gets it first, easily bypassing the gray-haired boy with a clean reverse dribble-- then he leaps and shoots right inside the three-point line.

He doesn't have a second to compose himself. Haizaki has the ball, and he's making his way back in.

"What's going on?"

"Aisaka's having a match with the new kid. It's a close match."

Aisaka freezes, and Haizaki takes the moment the toss an unguarded layup. This takes everyone by surprise, and Haizaki scowls at the letup.

He turns to Aisaka-- and stills.

Aisaka thinks this is stupid. People think this is a close match? They must be kidding. This is child's play-- he's an adult in a child's body, for god's sake. He has so much more experience that anyone in this life can imagine.

He's not going to lose to a brat who doesn't even have manners. Not even close.

"Oh fuck, Aisaka's angry."

"Get back to practice, guys, this ain't a show anymore!"

-

Even Haizaki has to shrink at the glare Aisaka is fuming off his features. Indigo eyes seem to gleam (no, it's just pure determination, scary) as he lowers his stance, ball in hand--

Haizaki was standing right before him.

Then he wasn't.

He spins around, suddenly realizing that Aisaka's gone past him-- but the boy's already jumping. He couldn't do a thing but watch himself lose another point.

The ball is passed back to him, and he breathes deeply. Now wasn't the time to freak out. Calm down, calm down.

It's not like he disappeared-- he just moved quickly. Haizaki could see him move, he just couldn't react in time.

Two seconds into his dribbling, the ball is tapped away. When did Aisaka get behind him? Fuck, the ball!

Aisaka picks it up, leaps from the three-point line, and his hands land harshly on the rim, a dunk so loud and strong the entire gym watches in bated breath.

There is no way a thirteen-year-old can jump that high! What in the world are his legs made of?

He jumps like a fairy, Haizaki heard the managers gossip during lunch.

It's like he's completely weightless, he jumps and lands and he dances through the court, because he's too light for gravity to chain him down.

He lands, and without even a second to regain his balance, he's running. His footsteps are soundless like feathers, quick and nimble.

This might be the first time Haizaki's ever thought fairies were scary.

Aisaka scores the last shot in easily, and marches off in a fit of anger, weight in his heels but the sound nothing more than a sharp tap, like stilettos.

"Bloody hell, could they quit it with that fairy thing, I'm sick of all these dumb challenges!"