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The only boy in a house with two older sisters, little Kise Ryouta learnt early on that tears would get you what you wanted.
“Ryouta, try this out next time the nanny says no — let your eyes fill with tears, then beg. It never fails!” his older sister whispered, winking at him. Kise soaked it all up.
“No ice cream for you, Ryouta!” his nanny snapped, taking the ice cream away. “You’ve had too much!”
Kise let the tears fill in his eyes, and blinked for maximum effect of the teardrops clustering in his eyelashes. The final touch was a slight wobble in his lower lip. “B-but…it’s so hot today…” She stared at him, then sighed.
“Fine — just one scoop.” Easy and with barely any effort — Kise was a natural.
“Hm, 100,000 yen for half an hour’s work is pretty steep…” the clothing chain executive was doubtful that Kise Ryouta was worth that much. Surely he could get a cheaper model?
Kise just stared at him. Tears slowly gathered in his eyes, and this time he added a voice waver to clinch it. “B-but, that money’s for my higher education fund…” The executive sighed, and agreed, as Kise always expected. Negotiations were always a cinch.
People as pretty as Kise normally mostly got what they wanted. With tears, they always got what they wanted. People never wanted to make anyone that pretty cry.
Then Kise came to Teikou. At first, the tears worked. The girls lapped up the sensitive yet devilishly teasing model persona he seemed to project. Even boys respected the fact that they could never beat him at anything, so he had earned the right to be able to cry.
Teikou’s basketball team was different. The coach accepted as fact that training was so hard boys could be driven to tears. And no matter how much Kise approached Nijimura-senpai with some of his best work, Nijimura-senpai just flicked him in the forehead and told him to “stop bothering me and get back to your laps.”
It had been Aominechii who had first cut through his fake tears swiftly, quickly, almost ruthlessly, the way he cut through his opponents in basketball, a way Kise aspired and wanted to be so hard. Except he cut through Kise’s tears not with skill but with sheer obliviousness.
“What the hell, Kise? Are you crying?” he said, incredulous. “It can’t be that bad, right? I mean, sure, you throw up and stuff — hell, Tetsu throws up all the time! — but, damn, I can’t believe this is happening, I mean, what happened? What can I do? What should I do?“ he was frantic and flailing, so Kise immediately stopped the fake tears. Aominechii was going to call Nijimura-senpai in panic, and Kise had enough of forehead-flicks. They hurt, okay?
Then Kurokochii had calmly saw through his tears, as clearly as he saw through Kise’s model persona and as quietly as he had suddenly included himself as one of Kise’s most respected friends.
“Kise-kun, tears won’t work here in Teikou. You should know that they are expected here. It would be better if you just bore with it,” he had said, so bluntly it could have been cruel. But he always, always gave Kise a sports drink after practice, still cold from the vending machine. He always had a towel ready to pass to Kise as he collapsed to rest on the benches. And somehow, Kurokochii was always around whenever Kise doubted if all this practice was worth it, lending his quiet support.
Midorimachii had no patience whatsoever for his tears, the same way he never had patience for Kise’s whole existence. “You look ridiculous, Kise,” he would say imperiously. “You’re being unseemly — behave yourself.”
But then he would text Kise the morning before an upcoming hard session of practice. “Oha Asa ranked Gemini second last today. It would be wise to eat pancakes for breakfast today. And wear something blue.” Of course, even when he was kind, Midorimachii was still Midorimachii. “You look so ridiculous crying you should prevent doing it as much as possible.”
Murasakibarachii sometimes didn’t even notice Kise was crying. It was a wasted effort to try to appeal to him. But the first time Kise tried it…”Eeeh, did you want some umaibo or something? Sorry, I finished it all…want some Pocky instead?” Kise had wasted some of his best efforts on him.
Then it was Akashichii who had saw through him, as Akashichii saw through everyone. He had called Kise for a private meeting. “Ryouta,” he had said. “Are you having trouble at practice?” All of Kise’s instincts had screamed not to try it on Akashichii, but he had to take the chance. He allowed his eyes to fill with tears, and opened his mouth to beg.
“Because if you feel that its worth it to try to get out of practice with fake tears, perhaps you don’t belong here.” The sentence had shot through Kise with a jolt of horror.
“No — I…” he began frantically. Then Akashichii interrupted him, smiling, a kinder one. It was both less and more terrifying than a non-smiling Akashichii.
“It’s alright. I understand why you do it. It’s just that we take practice very seriously here in Teikou. Are you able to take practice more seriously than we do?” The question was less a question then a test, a challenge. Kise had looked straight into Akashichii’s eyes, determination etched into them.
“Yes.” Within the next few weeks, Kise had made it to Teikou’s starting regulars.
Teikou had made Kise take his tears more seriously. Teikou had made Kise take basketball more seriously. Thus, when Kise cried for real, it had been when he had lost, in basketball.
Because then he had a reason to cry for real.