Author's Note: Whoa, hello there! I'm back, yay! As promised, here is my Kise/OC;Kasamatsu/OC story. If you've read any of my stories before, thanks and welcome back! If you're a new reader, also thank you and nice to meet you. I'm really happy you decided to clink on this and give it a try. Hopefully you'll at least make it to the second chapter, lol. As mentioned, this is a Kise/OC with Kasamatsu/OC parallel story. It's told in two alternating POVs (the OCs' POVs, not Kise and Kasamatsu's). Hopefully it won't be too confusing.
As with all my stories, this fanfiction has been completely written and edited - so don't worry about it being abandoned or anything. It totals at about 67K words, 45 chapters. I will do my best to update at about a 1-2 week rate. Since this is just a fun project of mine, it's only been loosely edited. So, yes, there're probably still a lot of typos and other errors. Feel free to point out anything you see. I always welcome any feedback you have for me.
Obviously, I do not own Kuroko no Basuke. Just the OCs and the story. And that's enough rambling for now. I hope you enjoy the story! Thanks once again for reading.
Part 1 — Chapter 1: Susumu
Of course, it had to be today that I spill juice on my pants, spend fifteen minutes looking for my sister's sweater, miss the train by three seconds after sprinting all the way there . . . and then realize I've forgotten my purse back at home.
Growling softly, I push through the hordes of crowds moving through the city streets, berating myself for being so airheaded this morning. I should've woken up sooner in anticipation of this happening. The way things are going, I'm going to completely miss my interview.
I turn a corner sharply, huffing at the thought — but someone was also moving at the same rapid speed I was, and the two of us collide into each other. There's the brief feeling of their sturdy body against mine, and then I feel myself falling backwards. My heart lurches and an image of the concrete pops into my mind — as well as a ticking clock.
I flail, my arms pinwheeling, but before my elbows connect to the ground, the person reaches out and grasps my hands, and pulls me up straight. I glance up, about to thank whoever I'd run into, and I see that it's a boy about my age.
A very cute boy.
My mouth falls open. I attempt to push away my thoughts and take a step back, allowing his hand to fall from mine. I say, "A-ah, thank you very much. And I'm sorry. I'm just in a hurry, you know? And I don't really know where I'm going. For all I know, this could be the entirely wrong direction." I let out a strangled laugh, and run my fingers through my hair.
He seems a bit irritated, but before he can leave, I reach into my pocket and thrust a slip of paper toward him. "This is the address of the place I'm going to," I blurt out. "Do you — do you think you could point me in the right direction really quick?"
He blinks, and I notice his eyes, a pure golden color, like nothing I've ever seen before. Looking taken aback by my abruptness, he glances down at the hastily written words. After a moment, he lets out a laugh. A laugh? What, do I have funny handwriting or something? I stare at him and am about to ask what's so amusing, when he says, "Well, this makes things infinitely easier."
He smiles at me, and I gulp. That smile isn't a thing to be trifled with — it changes him from being cute to stunning. As people shift around us, each going to their own individual business, some moving as fast as I was, he slings an arm around me, and shifts me around so we're facing the direction he'd been walking — in other words, I'd been going the complete opposite direction.
"The place you're headed," he explains. "It just so happens I'm going there as well."
"Whoa, really? Do you have an interview, too?"
He looks at me funny. I'm starkly aware of his arm around me. Why's he suddenly being so friendly? I try to concentrate on the buzz of people around me, some on their phones arguing with who-knows-who, some holding their children's hands so they don't get lost, some walking through the crowd in a leisurely manner, like they don't quite know what they're doing or why they're here.
"You have an interview?" he says. "So that's why you were in such a rush."
I nod and shift, hoping that he'll get the hint and move his arm. He doesn't. Maybe he enjoys making me uncomfortable.
"Why are you going there?" I ask.
"I already work there," he explains, and he finally drops his arm from my shoulders. Then looks at me expectantly.
For a few moments, we just stare at each other.
I take in his blond hair, his eyes with the perfect long eyelashes, and the silver earring in his left ear. Together with his clothes, it creates an image that . . .
Wait. Do I know this person?
We start walking once again, an air of disappointment surrounding him (I get the feeling I was supposed to respond with something other than just awkward staring), and he pushes through most of the people for me. I catch a few girls staring at him, and it finally hits me.
"You're a model," I blurt out.
He brightens considerably. "Yeah. And you? What are you applying for?"
"Mmmm." I twirl a piece of hair between my fingers. "Definitely not modeling. It's like an internship. I get to shadow one of the photographers there."
"So you like taking pictures of people?"
"You sound surprised."
"Not really. I was just curious."
"To answer your question, I do like taking pictures of people. But that's not . . . exactly it. To be more specific, I guess you could say I like seeing people shine. I like to see their talents, how they react when put into the spotlight. I like to see them when they understand that everyone else in the world can see them."
He raises an eyebrow. "That's quite an explanation."
"Is there something wrong with that?" I defend myself.
He lets out a small laugh. "Not at all. I just wasn't expecting it."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. Nothing." He smiles, then he stops before a large building, and waves his arm before it. "Here we are. What do you think?"
I stare up at the huge construction, glass windows glittering in the sunlight, and gulp. I wish I had time to check myself in a bathroom; no doubt my brown hair is a mess, windblown and tangled. "Let's do this."
"Nope, you've got it wrong."
"You're doing this. And I'm sure you're going to nail it."
I gaze at him for a few moments, a random stranger I met on the city streets who is now suddenly giving me support, and I smile. "You're right. But you're not completely helpless in this either. I still don't know where the room I'm going to is. And besides, you can provide emotional back-up."
He sighs, almost like he'd expected this. "Riiiiight. It's not like I have a job to get to or anything."
"And here we are." The boy opens the door for me, and I nod in thanks before entering.
At first, it appears dark and empty. I trip over a cardboard box and papers scatter across the floor. I wince and attempt to gather them back up as the boy finds the light switch and flips it on.
"H-hello?" I venture through the room, which is littered with all sorts of things, ranging from assorted documents to cameras to wild props and costumes. "Is anyone here?"
Half of the room is sectioned off with a curtain, and at my voice, it shifts, and a person emerges. I almost jump at the sight of him. He has messy, shoulder-length hair, glasses that are almost falling off his nose, and his clothes look a bit ragged. This . . . is the person I'm supposed to shadow?
"Hey there," he says. He blinks a few times, like he's not used to the light, then spots the boy standing behind me. "Kise-kun? What are you doing here?"
"I led, um . . ."
"Nakahara," I supply. "Nakahara Susumu."
"I led Nakahara-san here. She'd gotten lost."
"Oh. I see."
Right! I bend into a bow. "I am very sorry for being late. It was not my intention and I should've put more effort into being on time."
". . . you were late? For what?"
The boy — Kise (haven't I heard that name before?) — and I stare at the man. He looks owlishly back at us. I say, "My name is Nakahara Susumu. I made an appointment for an interview to shadow a photographer here."
"Oh, that? Don't worry about it. You can have it."
"Yeah. You get along with Kise-kun."
I glance at Kise, and he shrugs back at me. I can sense him repressing a snigger. It seems he's dealt with this man before.
"Uh . . . sir . . . thanks, I guess? So, um, when will I be starting? And what will I be doing?"
"The name's Abe. Abe Ryuushi. I'm not really picky about when you come in. Say, where do you go to school? You're a high schooler, yeah?"
"Y-yes. I'm a second-year. I attend Kaijou High, Abe-san."
"Kaijou?" Kise perks up. "That's where I'm going!"
"Yeah," he says eagerly. "I'm going to be a first-year. So, that'd make you Nakahara-senpai, then? Haha."
"That's great, then." Abe-san nods, and combs a hand through his tangled hair. "If it works, you can just come when Kise-kun comes. If you want to schedule other times, I'm fine with that, too. Kise-kun, you usually come after school, don't you?"
"Yeah. Depending on basketball, I'll probably be coming once or twice a week."
"That's right. You get pretty involved with your club."
Abe folds his arms across his chest, looking satisfied. He's barely looked at me during this whole conversation yet seems perfectly fine with letting me work for him. Just how relaxed is he?
Kise turns to me and grins. "Well, isn't that great, Nakahara-senpai? You got the internship!"
"Yeah . . . I guess."
Honestly, I can't tell if I'm feeling overwhelmed or underwhelmed. It's a toss-up.
A/N: I'll try to update Chapter Two soon so you can get introduced to the other POV character. Oh, by the way, there is no love triangle in this story (in case you were worried . . .).
As a note, I would like to say that I have absolutely no idea how a modeling agency works in America, much less Japan. So I basically just wrote a bunch of junk in those parts. Please excuse my ignorance.
For some self-promotion, I'm assuming that if you're reading this story, you're a KnB fan? I have also written a Kuroko/OC one-shot, an Aomine/Momoi one-shot, and then novellas for Mayuzumi/OC, Midorima/OC, and Aomine/OC. (Yes, I like OCs.) I'm currently working on an Akashi/OC. And no, I won't be doing Murasakibara, sorry. I can only imagine him being in a relationship with food, honestly.
Kise is my most favoritefavoritefavoritefavorite character in the series. He's just so CUTE. And his character is so interesting, too. And he's SO FUN TO WRITE. Because he's my favorite, I really wanted to perfect his story, so this story is actually my third Kise/OC draft. Of course, this story's not perfect (as no story is), but it's as close as I'm going to get, and I'm pretty happy with it. (Also, I added in the Kasamatsu/OC, which was fun, since Knee-socks Senpai is pretty cute, too.)
Whew. I'm super excited to hear what you guys think of this story. So, if you have the time, please review! Comments, thoughts, constructive criticism, etc (reviews give me energy). Until next time. Thanks!
~ J. Dominique