"There are three minutes left on the clock, and Team USA is down by five points. Number 4, Seijūrō "The Emperor" Akashi takes possession of the ball. The pressure is incredibly high, as Team Japan sends its three largest players, Murasakibara, Kagami, and Aomine to stop him."

"You know, Jim, Akashi said in an interview last week that he went to middle school with most of the opponents of Team Japan."

"You wouldn't know they were friends by watching the play out of the court, Marv. Both teams are playing for keeps."

"That's right, Jim, Akashi fakes left as the shot clock runs down. He has only seconds… he bounce passes the ball through the legs of Murasakibara to number 6, Shintarō Midorima. The Shooting Guard has no time to shoot, but the move gives Akashi time to break free of his marks…"


POV Midorima

Takao sits at his desk, a pile of homework is laid out before him. I still think of him, at least in my head, as Takao. Out loud I refer to him as Kazu, unless we are in bed and then I call him Kazunari. It is complicated, as always inside my mind, even though our matching rings tell another, simpler story. This year we will celebrate our sixth wedding anniversary and I love him like the day… no, I love him in a much different way than when I first realized I loved him. There are smoother edges to my feelings now. I don't have to weigh and analyze them… they just are.

"Source language...," he mutters.

This semester he is taking a full load of credit hours in an attempt to finish off his online Master's degree from the University of Massachusetts in Amherst. It is not required for his scholarships, but his tuition covers it, and because of the birth of our daughter, he's put it off for too long. He continually makes sacrifices for me, and for Akira, but he needs to do this for himself and I will go to any lengths to make sure it happens.

"Oh! Baka!" Takao chides himself as he suddenly attacks his homework with more vigor.

He only has nine hours left, Problems and Methods in Translation (three hours), and Thesis and Practicum (six hours), and if he successfully defends this spring, he can accompany me to Japan and the Olympic Games without the thoughts of his thesis swinging over his head like the sword of Damocles.

"...that's a homophone. No wonder it looked wrong, tsk."

On top of all that, he teaches Japanese at NYU as an adjunct and is the adviser of the Japanese Cultural Club. And on the weekends, he teaches English to our fellow countrymen online. How he keeps up with the demands of an NBA player husband, an almost three-year old daughter, and the "wives" club of the Knicks, while teaching and studying is beyond me. He is, in a word, unbelievable.

"Subject... verb... object..."

I am simply sitting on the couch in the office behind him, reading one of Akira's children's books. She is fed, bathed, and in bed and we enjoy these quiet moments, even when we aren't speaking. The book is a gift from our neighbor, Elizabeth, and serves both to entertain our precocious daughter and to improve my English. I can speak English with only a modicum of embarrassment, but my written and reading skills are lacking. Akira, even at her age, can manage the words in the picture book as well as I.

I finish the one about the curious little monkey, which I can completely understand, and turn to the rhyming book by a doctor that confounds me with every word.

"...rearrange the words in the idiom and..."

Takao has been away in California for the past week, working with Kise on a photo shot. We don't need the extra money, but Takao insists that it will pay for Akira's college someday, and that sometimes it's nice to be considered beautiful by someone other than his husband.

Ever since Takao returned, I can't be close enough to him. I hate when he has to go to class, or I to work, but he doesn't mind my obsessiveness, at least not at the moment. I am a quiet study partner, I have always been so, and I know he can block out distractions. Takao yawns and stretches.

"Why did I wait until my last semester to take Problems in Translation?" he whines. If he initiates conversation, I know that it is safe to respond.

"How about dinner?" I say, gladly shutting the gaily-colored book.

"What will Shin-chan makes us tonight?" he ponders. If he wants anything edible, he knows I will not be making dinner. "Or should we order in?"

"Order in," I confirm. It is my money we are spending. His teaching position only pays a pittance and the money left over after his scholarship disbursement is comical; I can do the conversion in my head. Takao searches through the stack of take-out and delivery menus I have collected for the days when it is my turn to provide sustenance.

"What do you feel like tonight?"

"Anything, your choice. As long as it doesn't involve getting off the couch – or better yet – if we can eat it while soaking in the tub – I will be happy," I amend.

"Do you mind if we eat something stereotypically American?" he asks for more clarification.

"No, not at all."


He picks an alliteratively named sub-sandwich place that specializes in quick delivery. I indulge myself with a vegetarian club with rich, decadent avocado spread and fresh cucumbers, among other vegetables. My sub is gone within moments, my calorie load is extravagant, but the team's dietitian assures me that with my level of exercise, I'm barely getting enough to eat.

Takao has tuna fish, American-style, with mayonnaise, celery, and onion. It is brain food for him and as he slips a little lower in the water, he looks extremely satisfied with the bite he has just put in his mouth.

I am across from him at the other side of the tub, my feet on either side of his head. He is exhausted, I can tell, but he's valiantly trying to eat and stay awake so that he can spend time with me.

When I'm done with my sandwich, I take one of his feet in my hand and rub at the instep. He puts the remains of his sandwich back in the bag and tosses it on the floor away from the tub. He purrs and sinks down so that only his nose and is above the water.

"Don't drown, Akira would be devastated," I say.

He smirks at me and blows bubbles in the water.


Like clockwork, Akira stumbles into our bed every morning at exactly 4 am. We don't know how she does it. When we put her in her big girl bed at night, we close the door. She is too short to reach the handle, yet somehow our little escape artist manages to wind up in between us. This morning when she kicks me on her way into bed, Takao rolls over and turns off the alarm which would have gone off in fifteen minutes anyway.

"Good morning, princess," he says and kisses her on the head. She snuggles under my chin and grumbles something that isn't English or Japanese.

Takao spends a few precious seconds watching us, then crawls out of bed. I go back to sleep, while he prepares for his morning class.


"No, daddy, don't drink it," Akira says, "you have to stir the tea first."

"Ah, yes, forgive me," I respond, smiling as I swirl the imaginary spoon inside the pink plastic tea set cup with Disney's Mulan plastered on it.

Her little brow creases and I stir until she is satisfied and only then do I sip again.

"That's better," she comments on my technique.

She has inherited Takao's observant gray eyes and my hair color and OCD. After we are done with tea, Akira places each tiny cup and saucer back into the original cardboard box they came in.

"Daddy, don't fit!" she pouts, frustrated that the molded plastic that cradles them no longer holds its shape properly. Again, for an unknown amount of days in a row, I take the plastic from her and pop it back enough so that she will be satisfied with the fit.


A/N: To help tide us over until KnB comes back from Hiatus, I decided to post this first chapter of my sequel. I won't be posting on a schedule like I did with Partners or Priorities, but I'm excited about the prospect of this story and I will be working on it diligently. Since that is the case, your reviews WILL directly influence the direction of this story. While I'm not making any promises, I'd love to hear what you want to see!

I hope you enjoyed the tease of the main story and the taste of what the Midorima family has been up to in the last six years.