Chapter Text
Walking down a hallway of the Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium for the Interhigh Preliminaries, the Rakuzan team appeared completely composed. Led by their first-year captain, Seijuro Akashi, the former captain of Teiko Junior High School’s legendary Generation of Miracles, they were terrifying. Other teams and spectators shifted away from them as they passed through the halls, uneasy and intimidated.
“How far to the conference room, Akashi?” Kotaro Hayama inquired, hands casually tucked into his pockets.
“Not much further,” came Akashi’s cool response. “Though, perhaps you should ask Coach Shirogane instead.” Their coach, Eiji Shirogane, cleared his throat. Hayama jolted, apologized, then redirected the question to their coach.
Coach Shirogane nodded. “Yes, it is as Akashi said,” he confirmed. “The conference room is just ahead. We will use it for our team meeting to review the tapes for our opponent, then proceed to the main floor of the gym to warm up before the match.”
Eikichi Nebuya swallowed a large bite of his protein bar. “Do we even need to warm up to face them? They’re a no-name school—”
“Nebuya,” Akashi cut in coldly. “You would do well not to underestimate even the easiest of opponents.”
Chihiro Mayuzumi snickered, amused, but didn’t look up from his manga book. Reo Mibuchi sighed, side-eyeing Mayuzumi, but didn’t draw attention to it. “Anyway,” Mibuchi said, changing the subject. “The conference room was booked by a group before us, right? Should we have someone go in and clean it before we go in?”
“I doubt that anyone will leave a mess in the conference room—” Coach Shirogane started, hand reaching out to grasp the handle of the conference room door.
The door slammed open, nearly hitting Coach Shirogane in the face. Hayama made a strangled yelping sound of utter shock. Nebuya, luckily, caught the door on his forearm and bodied Coach Shirogane out of the way so the door wouldn’t be slammed into his face. Despite the ache in his side from being body-slammed by someone as large and as sturdy as Nebuya, Coach Shirogane’s grimace was lined with a quiet gratitude.
“Damn,” a lazy voice drawled, stepping out of the conference room. “Are you always stupid enough to walk into doors?”
Nebuya’s eye ticked, irritated by the guy’s blatant disrespect. “Walked into the—You’re the one who shoved it open into us!” he barely held back from shoving the guy in the chest. “You almost hit Coach Shirogane in the face, you—!”
“Haizaki,” Akashi said, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant, wavering, even.
Mayuzumi looked up from his manga, eyeing the newcomer with guarded curiosity and suspicion. Something about the guy with charcoal hair braided into dreadlocks with ash gray eyes just rubbed him the wrong way. The guy smirked, jagged and mocking. He didn’t seem to be aggressive, but the smell of smoke lingered around him, and Mayuzumi had a sneaking suspicion that the conference room would smell of smoke, too.
“Seijuro,” the guy, Haizaki, greeted Akashi with a lazy smirk. He licked his lips, hands in his pockets. He seemed like the delinquent sort, acting all sleazy and gross. Akashi seemed completely unbothered by it, though. “It’s been a while, yeah?”
“Indeed,” Akashi affirmed with a hum, ignoring the shocked looks of his teammates and the barely suppressed anger of his coach. He paused. “You seem to be in a good mood, Haizaki. You addressed me properly with my full first name.”
Haizaki shrugged, humming noncommittally. “I just had a smoke, so, yeah. Feeling a bit loose,” he agreed. “You here with your new team?” he tilted his head to the side, as though considering the Rakuzan team and their worth. He wrinkled his nose, frowning. “Ah. I know you three annoyances—Reo, Eikichi, and Kotaro. Three pathetically uncrowned kings,” he paused, sparing a glance at Mayuzumi. “And who are you supposed to be?”
Mayuzumi blinked, shocked that Haizaki had noticed him. His presence was low, and his habit of ignoring everything around him only diminished his already-lacking presence. Yet this Haizaki guy had spotted him right away and was arguably paying more attention to him than he was to the other three players.
“Chihiro Mayuzumi,” Akashi said smoothly, speaking for Mayuzumi.
Haizaki’s lazy smirk shifted, replaced by a scowl of displeasure. “I wasn’t asking you, Seijuro-kun,” Haizaki said, words too-sharp and voice too-bitter.
“Ah,” Akashi said. “I’ve annoyed you, have I?”
“I’m Chihiro Mayuzumi,” Mayuzumi cut in to introduce himself. “I play power forward.”
Haizaki hummed in acknowledgement, though he eyed Mayuzumi critically in a way that made Mayuzumi think he was looking for something particular. “Power forward, huh?” he said, scowl shifting to a more neutral but also bored look. “Damn. Guess we won’t match up on the court,” he muttered. “I’m Shogo Haizaki. I play small forward,” he sighed. “That’s too bad, Chi-kun.” he grinned wolfishly. “I would’ve liked to challenge you head-on.”
“I would appreciate it if you would apologize to Coach Shirogane,” Akashi interrupted. “You nearly hit him with the door, Haizaki. Had Eikichi not—”
“I don’t give a damn what Eikichi-kun did or didn’t do, Seijuro-kun,” Haizaki growled, his face twisting into a too-sharp grin that was all teeth. “I won’t apologize. The old man should’ve been looking where he was going instead of walking straight at the door.”
There was a grain of truth to Haizaki’s words, but stubborn pride and righteous anger would not allow either party to concede the point. Rakuzan was certain that Akashi would push the matter, would sternly demand an apology, and that Haizaki would fall in line like everyone else when faced with the terrifying emperor.
But Akashi didn’t demand an apology, only huffed in mild irritation as his lips pressed into a thin line of displeasure. Haizaki flinched almost imperceptibly, but did not back down or give any other indication of fear. “Yeah,” Haizaki muttered. “That’s what I thought.”
He shoved past them, shoulder-checking Mibuchi in the process. “Who are you to talk to Sei-chan like that?” Mibuchi demanded. “And you have to apologize, too. It’s not right for you to just walk away like that.”
“Sei—” Haizaki cracked a smile, then laughed. He turned to face Mibuchi, a wide, mocking grin on his face. “Turn and watch, Reo-chan.”
Mibuchi turned.
“I wish you nothing but the worst of luck from the bottom of my heart,” Haizaki purred, a cruel smirk on his face as he voiced those too-sharp words in a too-sweet voice. “Sei-chan,”
And Rakuzan could not miss the way Akashi’s shoulders tensed when Haizaki said Mibuchi’s affectionate nickname for him in such a disgusting tone, the way Akashi’s eyes widened just a fraction, and his lips parted in surprise before he clamped his mouth shut by pressing his lips into a thin line.
Haizaki turned on his heel and left.
Akashi said nothing as he walked away.
Haizaki never looked back.
Akashi never looked away.
He didn’t look away from Haizaki’s retreating figure. Not until Mibuchi put a hand on his shoulder, a look of concern on his face. Akashi only blinked at him. “I’m fine,” he said flatly. Then, as though nothing had happened, he turned on his heel and walked past the conference room doors. “Let us proceed to the locker room ahead of time. Haizaki’s smoking habit has yet to leave him, and I would rather us not sit in the stench.”