Work Text:
“Is this your so-called invisibility trick at work?”
“Haaaah?”
Despite the unpleasant interruption to his solo training, Chuuya continues dribbling the ball, an even rhythm that could just as quickly turn into a way to drive the ball into the other’s gut should he say the wrong word. He’s seen this guy around on campus, all sparkling glitter as he charms his way into the crowds of tittering cheers. Definitely a shitty person, because who tries to woo five girls at the same time? Possibly a magician too, because this ‘wooing’ is done very publicly and yet nobody tries to slap him.
“Oh. Did you not hear me?” Dazai Osamu—and Chuuya only knows his full name because everyone is gossiping about him very loudly, he has no other choice but to know details about him—asks with a (fake) friendly smile on his face. He’s not sure why the other bothers, his shitty stench of being an annoying asshole reeks worse than week-old rotting mackerel. Chuuya couldn’t ignore it, even if he tries. And he’s trying really, really hard.
Just as he’s nearly biting off his own tongue in an effort to not give in to the urge to dribble the other’s head instead—never mind the fact that the first order of business would be to jump high enough so he could decapitate the smiling bastard—Dazai proves that he’s allergic to common decency, and smiles wider, adding fuel to his words.
“Mm, I figured you wouldn’t hear me from all the way down there.” And then, as the smile stretches up in a crescent that’s just asking to be punted all the way to the goddamn moon, Dazai even goes ahead and squats down in front of him, exaggeratedly low. It would be admirable, seeing the other man’s flexibility—but it shouldn’t be surprising, really. The other man does look like a venomous snake, after all. Dazai talks to the air in front of Chuuya’s knees. “How about this? Can you hear me now?”
Chuuya bounces the ball hard towards the other man’s face in response.
Quick reactions. The ball is flicked away, landing smoothly on the cart at the far end of the court. Not a lot of wasted motion, the other’s wrist rotating deftly to accomplish the shot. It would be admirable if the person doing it isn’t so annoying. As such, it’s really just a waste.
He tries to remind himself of their manager’s words. Of the team captain’s words. Dazai is talented enough to catch the eye of so many scouts. He’s going to be essential to the team’s victory, provided he gels with the current members well enough. And perhaps, that’s not even necessary, given his particular talent of being able to analyze the opponent’s moves so thoroughly that he can copy them as his own. The important thing is, he’s still in high school. It would be such a shame if he ends up going to jail because he ended up murdering a goddamn asshole.
With the air of the truly aggrieved, Chuuya says with an overdraft of kindness and grace for his entire lifetime: “Shut the fuck up and get the hell away from me, you piece of shit.”
“Mm, I came here because I heard there’s someone they’ve been calling an important gear in the basketball team’s victory.” Dazai continues squatting in front of him, seemingly unperturbed by the attempt to crush his skull via a basketball. Also impervious to the hate radiating from Chuuya. He even has the gall to add, “A phantom sixth man on the court… and yet I do not see anyone? Is it a true phantom, perhaps? Or maybe he’s just as short as a mushroom?”
“You would know all about mushrooms,” Chuuya mutters with a roll of his eyes.
Because his classmates collectively eschew the concept of ‘indoor voice’ (neither does he, but that’s not the point), he’s been made aware of the recent shenanigans concerning this beanpole. During an outdoor science class, this idiot apparently tried to pluck and bite into random mushrooms he could get his hands on, without checking to see their edibility. Hallucinations were had, apparently.
“Oho? What is this?” Fingers, wrapped in bandages, tap against the man’s lips. On anyone else, Chuuya would think the bandages are there to protect his fingers from injuries, but this asshole in front of him is 90% mummified, 10% preserved by copious MSG. (Yet another thing that Chuuya’s heard about him: his torrid love affair with Ajinomoto, sprinkling it liberally over even the most undeserving of foods, such as a goddamn salad. Way to miss the point of it being healthy, urgh.) Chuuya’s attention is wrenched back to the shitty bastard in front of him, when the other continues, simpering, “Are you actually one of my fans?”
He huffs. “I am a student of this school. And I just happen to possess ears.”
“Oh, so you like to gossip about me.”
“Were you listening to me?! Which part of what I said led you to think that?! Are your ears just there for show?!”
“And now you’re blushing so cutely.”
Chuuya kicks the other’s knees, as he yells, “Because I’m so fucking angry, damn it!”
“That’s what all my secret fans say.” Dazai nods sagely while nimbly dodging his kicks. All fluid motions, as the two of them end up with an odd chase all over the court. “It’s their secret code, so they wouldn’t be so obvious in their desire for me.”
Chuuya almost screams, there’s nothing secret about their desire for you!
Because there really isn’t. Dazai’s popularity is also bolstered by the fact that he’s got really great grades (even if he does nothing but slack off), a really rich family behind him (even if he carries himself like a poor mooch) and a really wide fanbase. Because he also part-times as a model. Somehow. Chuuya really has A Lot of Questions for society in general. How could fashion companies sell anything that’s been worn by a mummy? Are there more history nerds than he’s ever expected?? Are they all dying to know how to appear like some cheap horror show???
But more importantly: “How the fuck is that a secret code if you know about it?!”
A smug smirk. They’ve reached the other end of the court, the one with the cart filled with basketballs. Dazai picks up one and spins it over his index finger. “Haven’t you heard about my talent? I can analyze anything and everything with just one look, to the point that I can apply it thoroughly as a Perfect Copy.”
“Yeah, you’re the bastard who slacks off in training because you’re contented with copying everyone else’s moves.” Chuuya rolls his eyes and swats at the other’s hand, swiping the ball away from him. They literally are beside a cart that has dozens of balls, but of course they’d fight over just one. “The super-genius who’s too shitty to think of his own moves, lacking originality.”
Dazai pouts, displeasure obvious. “They call you the phantom sixth man on the court, since you can surprise the opponents by appearing ‘invisible’… but isn’t it just because you’re super short?”
“You bastard, wanna fight it out then?!”
Eyes gleaming, “Challenging me to a 1 on 1? Race to 10 points?”
“Ha? No! I’m challenging you to a fistfight!”
-
The end result?
Both of them are benched for the next five games as punishment for causing a commotion in the basketball gym.
…They’ve also been made to thoroughly decontaminate the area, just in case there are still suspicious stains left behind. Nobody listens to Chuuya when he clarifies that the only body fluids that got spilled are blood and sweat. Nothing else!!! Chuuya also thoroughly denies anything that happened aside from a fistfight, but only because he isn’t aware that Dazai has released a statement about how he’ll be pausing his work as a model so he can focus in school. Not in studying. Not in club activities. But because he’s apparently going to devote his full-time efforts to ‘wooing an angry dog that likes to bite him’. This statement is accompanied by a picture of Dazai with what seems to be imprints of half a basketball on his face, and also a huge hickey high on his neck.
…On-court, they form a perfect duo with Dazai’s techniques and Chuuya’s speed. A formidable duo that nobody wants to use or cross, lest they get a repeat of the basketball court incident.
-
and so, they lived happily ever after (very questionable LOL)