#tongzu

Maybe a God really existed out there and just wanted to make Kise suffer even more, because this was definitely a test of his resolve! His eyes happened to check out those very... Weird looking onigiri-- Wait, what was that smell even? He's pretty he hasn't smelt something like this before! A new secret poison, maybe? "Oh, Rikocchi! I see you've been... Practicing", for lack of better word and as to not hurt the coach's feelings.

It's been a while since he's hung out with Riko one-on-one -- and not in the basketball sense, though that could be entertaining in its own right. They're both busy with their own teams, after all; who has time to fraternize with the enemy when preparing for matches and training with teammates? Though to be fair, Takao doesn't consider Riko the enemy, not really. At worst she's part of a rival team when Shuutoku and Seirin share the same court, but Takao isn't one to consider basketball rivals enemies outside of matches.

They've already covered all the bases of friendly conversation: How are you? Yes, I'm still biking Midorima around, don't laugh at me. When are we gonna do a joint training camp again? Surely there's something more fun they could talk about or do together.

​` 𖥔 ݁₊ 𐔌 . ⋮ photoshoot    concluded    after    what    felt    like    hours,    though    in    reality    it    couldn't    have    taken    all    that    long    at    all . . .    a    fleeting    ordeal    dressed    up    as    something    far    more    taxing.    thoroughly    drained,    nonetheless,    fatigue    settling    deep    beneath    skin.    the    only    small    reprieve    being    the    fact    that    now    it    was    xiao    yueqing's    turn,    which    gave    perfection    incarnate    a    sparse    moment    to    relax    in    his    dressing    room . . .    he    certainly    ought    to    be    more    annoyed    when    he    spots    blue    hair    and    a    heap    of    food    on    the    floor    before    her,    a    careless    scatter    of    wrappers    and    crumbs    that    disrupted    the    room's    pristine    order,    but    as    he    sits    down    on    the    couch,    sinking    into    the    cushions    with    a    quiet    exhale,    nice    really    can't    find    the    energy    for    it,    irritation    dulled    to    nothing    more    than    a    passing    thought.

hiding    away    from    one's    manager    certainly    wasn't    something    he    was    about    to    prevent    her    from    doing,    not    when    the    world    beyond    those    walls    demanded    so    much,    so    relentlessly.

with    blue    hues    squeezed    shut,    he's    quiet    for    a    long    time.    she    fills    the    space,    letting    the    girl    ramble    on    and    on,    bright    and    unfiltered.    only    glancing    down    when    she    has    the    slightest    of    pauses,    a    brief    fracture    in    her    stream    of    chatter.

❛❛    isanami,    i    don't    think    it's    possible    for    tanghulu    to    develop    sentience    ❜❜    a    soft    smile    curving    his    lips,    subtle    and    fleeting,    gold    materialising    in    the    form    of    a    comb.    ❛❛    come    here    ❜❜

Good son? What kind of house play was Kuroko into these days? No, better yet-- Was anyone remotely normal in Seirin High? (Not like he was one to talk, considering how extravagant the members of the Generation of Miracles are, but this was not about him! Well, it kinda was-- Not the point, though). "..Hah?" was what his brain managed to blurt out, because what did Seirin's coach mean by 'Herculean Trials'? What had he gotten himself into now?

​` 𖥔 ݁₊ 𐔌 . ⋮ sat    in    a    quaint    little    café    tucked    away    from    the    busier    streets,    it's    quiet,    the    food    delicious    —    judging    by    the    way    isanami    devoured    her    own    sweet    cake    with    delight,    and    then    moved    on    to    polish    off    half    of    nice's    slice    when    he    showed    little    interest    in    finishing    it.    the    air    smells    faintly    of    roasted    coffee    beans    and    warm    sugar.    sat    perfectly,    close    to    looking    relaxed,    back    straight    but    not    stiff,    hands    loose    around    the    delicate    porcelain    cup,    the    few    eyes    on    them    are    easily    ignored,    crystalline    hues    instead    watching    the    girl    shovel    another    bite    with    a    kind    of    reckless    eagerness.

abrupt    and    as    energetic    as    always,    not    an    ounce    of    surprise    colours    alabaster    features    at    her    sudden    outburst.    her    voice    is    too    loud    for    the    small    space,    drawing    the    brief    attention    of    strangers    before    fading    back    into    the    soft    background    murmur    of    the    café.    though,    what    does    give    the    hero    pause    mid    sip    of    his    tea    is    his    'brand    new'    nickname.

❛❛    xue . . . ?    ❜❜    the    syllable    hangs    oddly    on    his    tongue,    drawn    out    and    almost    sceptical.    when    it    came    to    nicknames,    it    most    certainly    wasn't    creative.    snow.    it    isn't    even    the    first    time    nice    has    been    adorned    with    this    exact    name.

( snow captures the marvel of anyone who gazes upon it. but when it falls to the ground, it's beauty, too, then dissipates . . . ) @tongzu