𝙇𝙀𝙂𝙎 𝘾𝘼𝙍𝙍𝙔 𝙃𝙄𝙈 𝙏𝙊 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙂𝙔𝙈, such a fluid, familiar thing and Hanamiya peers into the mostly empty space; a ghost of a smile crossing his lips yet not quite reaching his eyes. Hands are kept comfortably in the pockets of his jacket and through strands of jet black hair, eyes slowly fall upon heart-shaped visage.
“ Ah, Kabocha~san, ” he greets, voice near melodic and he walks to where she sits, standing aside her only briefly before deciding to join her on the bleachers. A good amount of distance still lay between them and Hanamiya stretches out along hard seating, the slouch of his spine providing adequate comfort for the moment.
He gives her a single nod, greenish-gold orbs peering through the corners of his eyes. “ Correct, ” he replies simply, sliding his phone from his pocket to offer the semblance of an explanation for his presence. “ I forgot this here earlier. ” Smirk follows, before he asks her a question of his own. “ And, what brings you here? ”
★» --was it possible that someone who meticulously curates every crisp edge of his existence would forget something so mundane yet so valuable as a cell phone? possible? yes, as possible as every probability fractionated into percentages so minuscule that calculating the string of numbers trailing after that decimal point was a worthless venture. plausible? not very. easy alibis are like afterthoughts, everyone has them and wishes they ran with something cleverer. but probing for intent over minute details is pointless and furthermore, boring.
“Uh huh,” misao lilts, antiphony, an admission of disbelief both nonchalant and damning in its briefness. she lingers for a second before her gaze returns outward, toward the court, as do her thoughts.
“Just club business,” the inflection on the euphemism is intentional--the faintest note of self-satisfied amusement in her voice. “It’s been a while, but the upperclassmen are very accommodating.”
(minamoto was a diamond in the rough, glimmering and sharp and eager to cut teeth; a jewel that required sifting through chaff, but valuable. miura’s recruitment was underway, easier now that minamoto was on board. courting takes time and patience, the secret is in letting them scrounge for the answers you already know. not leading, but guiding. ushiba and yori were predetermined variables and therefore accounted. all a matter of ousting the old before gradually introducing the new.
ten minutes prior, misao met with the current starting point guard in the coach’s room, a thick folder tucked under her arm. convincing someone to retire from their position was significantly easier with evidence of cheating. the color drained from the girl’s face, wan and sickly, for a split second and misao smiles beneath her skin.
all she needs is a niche, a bank, a foothold and everything else would fall into place.)
“--Speaking of, it must be difficult for someone like you,” she says, ripping off a fingernail absently, ignoring the freshet of pain, “to work your way up from the bench.”
--And what do you intend to do about it?
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