Copy, copy, copy, copy, that's all he does.
Replicate. Duplicate. Imitate. That's all he can do.
He's so useless. Imperfect. They're the beautiful ones. Their stride, their aura, the look in their eyes that gives you chills up and down your spine - he doesn't have that.
He never had that.
He's a fake.
Always trying to be better. Always pretending to be someone else. Always trying to become more like them.
What is he?
Who is he?
He sees fingers pointing at him, mouths cheering, hands clapping. People standing, people shouting, people marveling. But it's not him they marvel at. It's them. It's their perfection. Not his.
Never his.
He's a mirror. Can a mirror show its face in itself?
Fake. Fake. Fake.
Aomine. He's savage and wild and roaring thunder in Kise's ears.
One more hour. One more crossover.
Midorima. His angles, his arms. Make me like him. Make me like him.
One more hour. One more shot.
Murasakibara. Why is he so tall? Why is there fire in his usually lazy eyes? Why doesn't Kise have that, too?
One more hour. One more jump.
Akashi. Seeing everything, knowing everything, feeling everything. He is everything. Kise is nothing.
One more hour. One more dribble.
Kuroko. A shadow. What good is a shadow in a court of light? He can't shoot. Can't dribble. Can't play. But his passes -
Beautiful, just like the rest of them.
Because even shadows can be seen in a mirror.
One more hour. One more pass.
I can do it. I can become him. I can become them. I can become bigger, better, faster, stronger. Make me jump higher. Make me run quicker. Make me untamed, make me a miracle. Make those who see me gasp and stare.
Make me them.
I'm not them.
He knows that.
He's a counterfeit, a forgery, a hoax.
He's a clone.
Nothing but a clone. Nothing but a mirror.
Why do even the ordinary people play better than him? Moriyama, Hayakawa, Kobori, Kasamatsu. Even their light shines brighter than his.
Fire and ice.
Sun and moon.
Reflector and reflection.
What is he? Who is he? Why doesn't he have that spark? That fire? That atmosphere? Is he nothing? Is he nobody?
What am I?
Who am I?
Practice longer. Shoot better. Run faster. Be stronger.
I am fire. I am ice.
I am the sun. I am the moon.
I am the reflector. I am the reflection.
I can do it.
Let me do it.
I can become them. I can become bigger, better, faster, stronger. Make me jump higher. Make me run quicker. Make me untamed, make me a miracle. Make those who see me gasp and stare.
Make me them.
Make me shine. Make me glitter. Make me the one reflected, not the one reflecting.
I am perfect.
I am perfect.
I am perfect.
Copy, copy, copy, copy, that's all he does.
He's blank. Empty. Hollow. Fake smiles, rehearsed laughs.
He's a fake.
Just a fake.
He'll never -
never -
never -
be like them.