Chapter Text
Midorima was the first boy who looked at her like she wasn’t a doll.
To be fair, it was because he saw her as an idiot first and person second, and in all reality, he may have been a robot (she would find proof one day, she swore), but it was still refreshing. He was uptight, but he let her snuggle his lucky items if they were soft, and he let her watch him practice his full court throws. When everyone else looked down on her, even all the other boys on the first string, he had handed her a ball, looked her right in the eye, and told her she had to earn her spot, same as everyone else. He had emphasized the word same, and then glared at the boys staring at her legs and snickering behind her. And when she had proved worthy, he welcomed her with the same strict rules he imposed on everyone.
He rarely let her speak to him during lunches because he said she dragged too much attention to him and it was annoying to have to speak to classmates when he could be studying or practicing shogi; but when she had wanted to play him, he had been patient and told her when she had better options she wasn’t taking.
After a grueling practice session where Akashi found out she was on the verge of failing more than one class, she followed him home. She was quiet, hoping he wasn’t too angry about having to tutor her; noone said no to Akashi after all.
She had hoped to outlast him by going through her post shower routine slowly. He was too proper to bang on the door, so if she took long enough, maybe he would leave like he sometimes did when everyone was being slow. He was more afraid of Akashi and smarter than her though, so he had made Aomine yell at her to hurry up before they left her and got food without her. She completely forgot why she was taking her time, rushed to put away her tools, and exited with a hurried, “Wait for me!” to instead find Midorima waiting.
He held her wrist as he pulled her, ensuring she couldn’t escape. It was late enough that there weren’t many people their age on the streets, but one or two had definitely taken pictures of the two of them. She would have to remember to tell her manager so she would know ahead of time.
When they entered his house, his mother answered from the kitchen. He led her through his home.
“Who is this?” his mother, a beautiful woman with long hair and long lashes that matched her son’s, asked, “A girl? Shintarou, I expect better from you. You didn’t tell me we were having a guest.”
“She’s a classmate and teammate mother. She needed help with schoolwork so she is able to continue playing with us.”
His mother cocked an eyebrow, and she suddenly remembered her loose hair and necktie and untucked shirt. Which all looked great in photos, but now she desperately wished she had thought to straighten up before entering.
“You’re the new girl on the team. Shinatarou’s sister has mentioned a rather pretty girl was on the court before,” she looked at her son, “You didn’t tell me she was so beautiful.”
“Mother,” and Ryouta was delighted to see the beginnings of a blush on his face, “she’s a teammate. I’m helping her, that’s all. And my sister,” the girl in question squeaked from behind the open doorway she was hiding in, “should know better than to gossip about my classmates, as it’s unladylike.”
“Oh,” Ryouta intervened, “she’s harmless Midorimacchi! I’m honored to know you think I’m pretty! I thought you were beautiful when you came by the school.”
His sister peeked shly from the door, and grinned at her, “Really?”
She nodded, “Yes, really.”
“Well, we should go study,” Midorima steered her towards a small den just off the kitchen. His sister followed.
Ryouta looked around curiously as she took her bag off.
“What?”
“Nothing, I just expected anywhere you studied to be filled with books and paper.”
Midorima gave her a withering glare, “I study in my room. It wouldn’t be proper to be alone with you up there. I don’t want you to disturb my things. I know what you’re like.” He then settled in, and despite her pout (which had gotten her out of trouble and into whatever she wanted), forced her to focus.
As he tortured her with flashcards and essay composition for the next hour and a half, she glanced up to see him occasionally pass a marker or crayon to his sister. The little girl was drawing a picture of the three of them, and she realized with a start that Midorima chose to study here not because he didn’t trust her, but because he knew his sister wanted to be included.
It made her robot theory feel a bit less likely. It also made her feel warm and soften. Before long, it was fully dark out, and she needed to get home.
“Thank you auntie, for letting me study here. Midorimacchi is the smartest and he’s really helped me.”
“Do you have to leave?” a small tug on her skirt made her look down.
She knelt down next to Midorima’s sister, “Yes, I need to go home. But, next time, I could come play dress up with you if you wanted?” she asked. She knew full well that Midorima was probably going into apoplexy behind her for essentially inserting herself into his home without permission, but this little girl was the cutest thing she had ever seen.
And she now knew that Midorima was also going to say yes if it made his sister happy.
“Yes, please!”
“Then, it’s a promise, as long as your brother invites me back.”
“Nii-chan, invite her back soon!” the little girl demanded.
“We’ll see. Kise-san is very busy, she also has work.”
Pouting, but accepting the answer, she hugged Ryouta tightly and gave her the picture she had worked on. Kise beamed at her, returned her hug just as tight, and waved goodbye until the door closed and she could no longer see the house window.
“Hurry up,” he stated, “I still need to return home and look for tomorrow’s lucky item.”
He went with her to the station, onto the train, and didn’t let her walk off on her own until she reached her front gate. It would take him another 20 minutes to get home, and she felt so horrible for taking up that much of his time that he so carefully portioned out. Still, it didn’t stop her from looking at him, peering up through her lashes, and suggesting coyly, “Would you like to come in? It’s getting late, you could stay over?”, just to watch his face get red and see his shoulder hike up to his ears.
So, he definitely wasn’t part robot then.
He yelled at her about propriety for two full minutes without taking a breath. She burst into giggles and wiped away a tear forming in the corner of her right eye.
“I was just joking, but I’m glad to see some boys learned their manners. Thank you Midorimacchi, for tutoring me, and for walking me home. I’m sorry you had to go out of your way!”
“It’s only right. It was dark by the time we finished, it would have been dangerous for someone as airheaded as you to be out on your own.”
“Mean!” she huffed. She put her hand on the gate and pushed it open. “Good night Midorimacchi, tell me when you get home?” she asked.
“I will. Now go inside.”
She felt him watch her open the door and close it behind her. Throwing out a hello and hearing her mother from the kitchen, she rushed upstairs. She ran into her sister’s old room and turned on the lights and went to the window.
In the dark night, just out of reach of the lamps, she watched Midorima’s back getting smaller and smaller. She had never felt safer.
This boy, who insulted her intelligence and often scolded her for unladylike behavior, had let his sister play with his lucky pencils and scribble while they studied, had moved to an open area for their comfort rather than his, had walked her home when he didn’t have to (when most boys their age wouldn’t have thought to), and even watched to make sure she made it in.
She crossed off her robot theory about Midorima in her head, and replaced it with all the new information she had about him.
The next morning, she latched onto him until he started screaming at her, and pretended like they had done something romantic when nothing had happened. She let the team think Midorima had done something none of the rest of them had been able to achieve. It made him immensely popular for two whole weeks.
He would never let her interfere with his life, but he still asked her a week later if she was free to play with his sister, though he covered it with, “you should honor your promise to her, I don’t want her to think it’s alright to say things meaninglessly.”
She said yes, half to see that adorable girl again, half because now she wanted to know more about him. As his sister played with her hair, brushing and clipping barrettes in, she looked over at Midorima, carefully plating cookies onto his sister’s toy plates. She knew he was never going to look at her. She wasn’t book smart, too blond, too over the top. He was smart, he was going to be a doctor, and still be as confident in himself as he was now. So instead of trying to woo him like she was wont to do, she sat next to him, and hugged his lucky items, trying to get over what she told herself wasn’t first love.