Oh dear, I'm finally back.

I am very sorry for not having uploaded in a very long time, as might know Venezuela Is going to hell and it has not been easy to find the will to do anything. I had been thinking about this fic for a long time, thought of many things I could change, things I wanted to change. So I'm slowly rewriting the whole thing, though using a lot from the original fic.

Thank you very much for reading. Enjoy! Please leave a review to let me know what you think of the changes and what you would like to see!

A/N: I do not own Kuroko no Basuke.

A/N: English is not my first language, so please excuse the horrifying mistakes you might find here.

There were several reasons behind why it wasn't a good idea for her to join the Home Economy club.

Helping out that day had been nice, oh so very nice. It had been a good experience, and it had been fun- The kitchen like area at Yosen that students could have access to wasn't as big as the other class rooms, but it was bright and it had lots of windows facing the hallway, and it reminded her of her work station back at the shop. The members were welcoming even though it hadn't been long since most of them joined, and the President had been her acquaintance back in Middle School, so at least there was one familiar face to share tips with.

But the reasons were still there, and because they were really good and perfectly backed up by previous experiences, she knew joining wasn't a good idea. Burning down the school or accidentally frying some innocent bystander's hand within the first month of class wasn't something she wanted to be guilty of, and she wasn't desperate enough to ignore the fact that no, they wouldn't be baking every single day, and so, the chances of becoming a breathing, walking threat to general safety were equal to the amount of days the H.E club would be actually cooking.

Those were a lot of days.

So she wasn't going to join.

Which was slightly depressing to say the least.

Or at least that was what she thought as the key resting on top of the counter practically stared at her, also before, during and after she picked it up and held it on her hand. Why had she offered herself to lock the classroom again? Ah, right, she didn't have clue. She also didn't know why Hiraki, the club President, had voluntarily given it to her. It probably had something to do with how exhausted she had looked after narrowly saving five person's cream from being too removed, or those ten tarts from being burned inside the oven, or that girl who had sworn she cut her hand when actually the red thing on her palm had in a better life been a mashed cherry. All in all, it had been worth it- Looking at the small pastries left as her part, arranged inside a plastic container besides her bag, at least that was what it felt like.

"Alright, windows…"

The sky was barely starting to turn orange when she checked the windows were all closed and locked, which was a sign that she had, in fact, more time to lock the classroom and return the key to the teacher's room than what she had originally thought. Some sports clubs weren't done yet though, and the last thing she saw through the window before turning around to pick her things, was the football team playing ruthlessly on the wide backyard. That's what you get from a school that takes pride on sports, she guessed.

It was a normal day in Yosen.

That was how she figured things were supposed to be in High School.

But when she turned, the universe decided to defy what little sense of normality she had been able to acquire over the short time she had been High School student.

It wasn't the slightly open window what caught her attention, even when she had been almost a hundred percent sure it had been closed just a moment ago.

Instead, she focused on the fact that there was an arm –A very, very large arm- dressed in white a purple fabric sneaking and almost squeezing itself through the open space, while a hand –A very large, very wide hand- slowly patted it's way to what she could only guess were the pastries still resting inside the container. When the fingers accidentally brushed against her bag and the movement halted before patting it's way to the right, the girl took a moment to actually raise her eyes to where the arm came from, but the when the only thing she encountered was the top of a purple head, to say she was confused would be an understanding.

It stayed like that for the few moments it took the hand to finally find the pastries and easily snatch three at the same time, and even when the limb slowly retreated and another appeared to silently close the window, her mind was still too occupied processing what was going on. When she finally but slowly snapped out of her perplexed state, something probably should have been said, anything given that someone was virtually stealing her property. But whatever could have possible come out of her mouth was stuck in her throat when the head slowly moved to the right until the person actually thought he was out of danger and slowly stood up. Now, as her eyes went up and up and up and up, trying to follow the person's head, the feeling slowly turned into a heavy something on the bottom of her stomach.

In all honesty, she should have known it.

The arm and the fingers had been too long, and the fact that she was short didn't mean the wall under the window wasn't, in fact, tall enough to reach an average sized teenager's hip. What kind of person, then, could be slightly seen even when crouched behind such a tall wall?

The answer was, someone over 6 feet tall.

From where she stood, taking in the lazy purple eyes and the cheeks already filled with the pastries he was munching, face framed by an almost shoulder long purple hair, she thought he probably was taller than that. Which should have very well been impossible in Japan since Matsuzaka, or at the very least, in a High School. She blinked, maroonish eyes following his enormous frame until he was nowhere to be seen, and even then, it took her a couple of seconds to stop blinking before tilting her face to one side, eyes still wide open, fixed on the hallway as if it were to give her some sort of explanation for the very random…. something she had just witnessed.

It was perhaps an automatic movement when her hand took out the phone after it ringed twice, blindly tapping the right side of the screen before putting it against her ear, finding it in herself to at least hope she had hit the right option and she hadn't, in fact, hanged up on someone.

"I'm done with training, I'm dead tired and I'm being teased by a brainless moron because of it. Let's get out of here before I kill Haruka. Where are you? Still Home Economy?"

There was someone snickering on the back ground after the 'killing' part, an almost dangerous growl that most certainly was meant to scare someone out of their minds, and a few other sounds that couldn't be recognized. But as the girl now stared at her empty plastic container she had slowly approached, then at the window, then at the empty space once more, the only thing that actually came out of her was a hum.

"Um"

"Aoi? Did something happen?" Ryo's voice even sounded curious at the ever so smart answer that she got, the snickering that had at some point turned into laugher stopping on the background "Something did, right? Did you cut yourself, burned something? What was it this time?"

Intelligently, Aoi blinked once more at the empty space.

"I have no idea"

The girl silently wondered if she had just been robbed.

And she also silently decided Ryo definitely didn't need to know that if it had been the case.

It wasn't meant to be.

Even when there was far too much evidence piled up that suggested otherwise.

There had just been a certain amount of things laid out for it to happen effortlessly. A lot of coincidences, a lot of contradictions, and a lot of physical assets that, placed side by side, no one could help but stare at.