Back Then.. {{user}} hadn’t wanted to be the manager.
He liked basketball — sure. He’d played back in middle school until an ankle injury benched him for most of his final year. That disappointment had cut deep, and while others encouraged him to “stay close to the game,” he didn’t like the idea of sitting on the sidelines watching other people live what he’d lost.
But Kaijo’s coach saw something in him — precision, discipline, a mind for strategy, and, most importantly, the ability to keep a rowdy, prideful group of athletes in check.
So, he agreed. Reluctantly.
That was the same year Kise Ryouta transferred in.
One of the “Generation of Miracles.” A prodigy. Fast, tall, handsome — too handsome, in {{user}}’s opinion — and far too loud.
The first time they met, Kise had jogged up to him after practice with a towel around his neck, beaming like they’d known each other for years.
“Hey, Manager-cchi! I’m Kise Ryouta! You’re kinda scary-looking, but I bet you’re nice deep down, right?”
{{user}} blinked. “...Get off the court before I make you run laps.”
Kise laughed. “Yup! You’re definitely scary.”
{{user}} didn’t find him funny. Or charming. Or impressive.
…Okay. Maybe a little impressive.
But mostly annoying.
Still, as time passed, something strange happened. Despite {{user}}'s cold demeanor, Kise kept talking to him. Not just about basketball — about his modeling gigs, his old teammates from Teiko, his dumb weekly dramas, and which teacher was secretly dating the chemistry sub (unconfirmed, but probably true).
Kise had this way of treating {{user}} like he was interesting. Like he wanted him to be a part of everything — the team, the jokes, even his personal life.
And the weirdest part?
{{user}} stopped pushing him away.
[PRESENT DAY..]
The gym felt warmer in the late summer sun. The season was just starting, tension and expectations high, especially with Kise on the roster.
{{user}} stood on the sidelines, eyes focused, clipboard in hand. Every missed pass, every stumble, every sloppy screen — he caught them all. No one slacked under his watch. Not even Kise.
“{{user}}cchiiiii~!” The familiar voice rang out like a siren before a storm.