Disclaimer: Kuroko No Basket doesn't belong to me. Only Akira Junta and whatever created events are mine.
P.S, this chapter is just a taster to who Akira is, and what she has done.
Prologue
"You sure you want to leave?"
The blonde male asked casually, though there was an undetectable tone of worry. He looked at the girl by his side, who nodded.
"Yes. It been almost a year already. It's about time I returned to Japan." The girl with the orange curls said softly, as she clutched her fist a little tighter.
"Do you want me to send you off? When's your flight?"
"...Tomorrow."
The girl all but whispered, as the male stiffened. He hadn't expected such a quick departure. But it wasn't out of character for her. Making split second decisions was a trait that nearly all of their kind possessed.
"I'll be fine. There's no need for you to take time off. Go to school." She shrugged.
"Akira..."
"Don't give me that Junior." She teased, as she jumped onto the taller male's back.
Automatically, he grasped the back of her knees and steadied her hands around his neck.
"You know that I could throw you down now for calling me that." He grunted.
"Yes, but I know you won't." Akira sang, as she pressed her lips against his ear.
"Because I know that you're my friend. Even before we met, we were destined to be friends. We are the unlimited stars Nash. And we'll stay that way."
"What do you think of Kise Ryouta?"
"Eh? Why the question? If even the head coach is prompting me to arrange for his transfer into the first string, than he must be good." Akira shrugged, more focused on the drill at hand. Her off-hand answer made Akashi Seijuro sigh.
When it came to practise, Akira could be considered almost ditzy. After all, she had an unusual combination of two left feet and natural talent, and the orange haired female often ended up with more bruises and muscle aches than even the regular Teiko player. But on court, during official or non-official games, Akira was almost a complete different person. Her eyes would become brighter, and her legs seemed to obey her. Combine that with her talent, and walah, here was a prodigy unsurpassed.
"He seems to have an ability similar to yours." Akashi probed, as the girl paused.
"Is that so? He should be fun to play." Akira laughed, and raised her hands into a shooting form.
Akashi sighed. This girl was incorrigible.
"Ao-kun."
"Don't call me that!"
Aomine Daiki snapped as the offender offered a sheepish half grin in apology. He huffed, and turned his attention to his popsicle, before it decided to melt and drip on his uniform.
"Than what do I call you? Aiki-chan?" Akira mused, and Aomine almost spat out the icy treat.
"Are you nuts? Just call me Aomine!" He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Eh? But Atsu-kun calls you Mine-chin, and Ryou-tan calls you Aominecchi! Why can't I give you a nickname too?" Akira pouted, as she reached up to ruffle the tanned miracle's head of navy hair.
"...Aiki-kun."
"Huh?"
"You can call me Aiki-kun." Aomine almost blushed, as the shorter girl whooped, clambering onto his back as a sign of celebration.
She grabbed his popsicle and Aomine properly supported her knees as Akira laughed.
"Okay, Aiki-kun!"
"Akira-chan."
The green-haired boy scowled when the girl in front of him screwed her face up, looking for recognition.
"Do I know you?" She asked, bouncing the orange sphere in front of her as she did so.
How was it that after six months of training together, in the same club, in the same gym, in the same string, under the same coach, that she still did not know his name? Midorima Shintaro was scrawled across the school's notice boards, for he was the Vice-President of the Student Council as well as a constant top scorer. But that was until she had broken his record.
Bested at by an air-head! How it pricked his ego and caused thunderstorms of frowns for the shooting guard. For during the proficiency test, he had been beaten soundly by Akira, a good five marks away from him. Even at his best subject, she and Akashi had tied for first, and he was clinging to miserable second place. Or third, if you counted the tie as a first and second place.
Akira had been second in the whole level, with an average score of 99%. How was is that he, Midorima, only had an average of 97%?
"Ah! You must be Midorima-kun!" She clapped her hands, as she finally placed his face with his name.
Midorima sighed. She was such an air head at times, but her basketball skills were legitimate.
"Atsu-kun, pass me the ball."
"...Don't wanna."
"Eh? Why not?!"
Murasakibara looked lazily at the sweating girl, determined to do more drills after practise. He had merely entered to gym to retrieve a packet of forgotten candy, and the basketball had rolled to his feet. Akira had been doing shooting practise, and this was the last ball in her cage. Standing at the half-line, Murasakibara assumed she was practising Midorima's shooting technique.
"Cause than Kira-chin won't want to leave the gym." Murasakibara hoisted the basketball into the crook of his arm.
"What are you talking about? This is the last ball, I swear!" She denied, jogging over to retrieve the ball.
"I don't believe you. Besides, Aka-chin told me to get you out of the gym before eight. He said that you would over work yourself or something." Murasakibara held the ball up above his head, way further than she could reach.
Akira pouted, as she made to grab the ball. Murasakibara didn't even budge, and the girl sighed. She bent her knees, and with a launch, Akira shot herself up into the air, and snatched the ball, as she would against Midorima's super three-pointer.
With the ball tucked in her hands, Akira toted back to the half line, leaving a surprised expression on Murasakibara's face.
"Did, did she just jump to get the ball?"
"You must be the new first-string guy."
Akira pondered, as she studied the blonde, unfamiliar guy.
"Yep! You're to be his trainer until the head coach deems otherwise." Momoi Satsuki nodded, and Akira smiled.
"And what's your name?"
"Kise Ryouta."
For some reason, the girl with the orange eyes and same colour hair was making him nervous. Her eyes seemed to display both a childlike innocence and a shrewd cunning at the same time, in her stance, the quiet dignity in which her calve muscles flexed, clinging to her bones enough to be labelled as skinny. But when she turned to continue the shooting drill, her whole image changed. From scrawny and weak to toned and experienced. There was no hesitation in her moves, from the transit from dribble to shot, and her balance in the air.
She was the perfect trainer for him.
"Do it this way."
Kuroko followed the subtle eye movement that Akira displayed and when he fell for the trick, she bounce-passed the ball to Aomine, who was helping with the session.
Akashi had instructed Akira and Aomine to help Kuroko out with his misdirection, with it being a new trick. Because it as Akira who had suggested the use of misdirection and been Kuroko's trainer, it was her who would come up with his training regiment. And it was also that Akira was the only one in the whole team who could pull off misdirection.
"Use your teammate's overwhelming presence to diminish your own even more. Instead of holding the ball, change its direction within a second. A slap and go. Once you master this, I'll teach you the second level you can achieve." Akira smiled, as Aomine passed another ball to her.
"Like this?" Kuroko, eyes ever so bright, looked at his left, and while still looking there, imitated Akira's bounce-pass.
Out of habit, she cut it.
"Sorry! Its a habit. But that's better already. We can end here tonight." Akira offered, and Kuroko and Aomine made to leave.
"Oh, and one last thing."
Kuroko turned around.
"Fighting spirit is essential, but for the players like you, the sixth man, you keep it inside. Your eyes, must show nothing."
And Kuroko looked into Akira's eyes, seeing absolutely nothing.
"Good."