This was written for Mother's Day. This fic was supposed to be mainly about Akashi on Mother's Day, and then it evolved into Rakuzan fluff/Akashi and his father's reconciliation too :"). I really hope I wrote an accurate representation!
I would really appreciate it if you could leave a rating/review on this!
(Happy Mother's Day to all mothers out there!)
"Mother's Day"
"母の日"
(3,061 words)
14th May.
Although he did not notice it, his teammates did. Something was off about Akashi today.
Impossible, one familiar with Akashi would think. Akashi is never off his game. "Off" is something not in his vocabulary.
And it was true. Akashi was not doing anything far from his usual standards – he still passed, dribbled and shot the ball with the same ease. To someone who did not play with Akashi often, nothing would seem out of the ordinary.
But for the Uncrowned Kings, it was different. They had been training with him for over a year now, and in that time they had gotten used to nothing less than impeccable playing. So all of them were able to sense that something was not quite right. The passes Akashi sent were excellent, but not perfect – they could feel it every time they caught the ball. It was the same with his shots – excellent, but not his usual standards of precision.
Most concerning of all was the slightly glazed look he had in his eyes.
As the game ended and they filed away for a break, the three players gathered while Akashi went to retrieve his water bottle.
Hayama was the first to break the silence.
"So…is it just me or is there something wrong with him today?"
"Don't be so loud. Sei-chan might hear us." Mibuchi quipped, casting furtive glances around.
"There's something definitely wrong. Did something happen? Anyone know anything about it?" Nebuya said, volume still loud as ever.
It went unsaid, but they were all feeling more anxious than they had expected. Ever since their captain had opened up more to them after the game with Seirin, all of them had a fondness for the crimson-haired point guard.
"If there's something up and he doesn't want to say it, it's probably something we can't force out of him." Mibuchi added ruefully. "We must trust Sei-chan on this matter-"
"Hang on," Hayama interjected. "Now that I think of it, Kuroko did send me a text this morning. I think it might have something to do with this."
He pulled out his phone, and upon tapping a few buttons, a message appeared onscreen. The other two craned their necks to take a closer look.
Please look out for Akashi-kun today.
"Today? What's going on today?" Nebuya asked incredulously.
"May 14…May 14…ah, it's Mother's Day. But what does that have to do with Sei-chan's game being off today?" said Mibuchi.
Hayama shrugged. "I honestly have no clue-"
"Hayama, Mibuchi, Nebuya."
As if on cue, the three of them froze simultaneously. They gingerly turned around to see their captain staring at them.
"Practice has ended early today. You are all dismissed."
Silence was all that remained as Akashi picked up his bag and walked away with hurried footsteps.
The three nodded at each other, a wordless conversation being carried out between them from which the same conclusion was reached.
It was time to play detective.
14th May.
He hated that day.
No - that wasn't all true. He did hate it with a burning passion, but he loved it with the same burning passion as well.
Every year, on the second Sunday of May, he would wake up. Though he did not show it, he would feel it all the same. Indescribable pain.
Time heals all wounds, they said. But it wasn't true. The pain never lessened, much less went away.
He would reach over to his bedside table and crack open the first drawer, swiping away the dust that had gathered around the edges. For this particular drawer was never opened, except on three occasions.
One, the day his mother was born.
Two, the day his mother had died.
Three, today. Mother's Day.
In the drawer sat just one object: a simple, framed picture. He would pick it up, his finger gliding over the smooth glass, until it settled on one person.
His mother.
Akashi Shiori was undeniably beautiful. She was gentle and fierce at the same time, her eyes containing warmth and love and passion. While sitting there in silence for ages, gazing at that photo, Akashi would feel that same, comforting heat enveloping him.
It had been years.
Then his alarm would beep incessantly, harshly pulling him back into reality, reminding him of his duties as a student. The picture would be softly set down again, the drawer shut for a couple more months.
In the days leading up to Mother's Day, he would walk down the hallways, and his shoulders would inevitably tense ever so slightly. All he would hear are conversations surrounding plans to treat and surprise mothers.
"We're going for dinner! I haven't seen her in so long…"
"I'm cooking for her…"
"Have you bought a gift yet?"
He would sit quietly in class, as usual – a routine he had gotten accustomed to on such days. He would feel glad, then, that his father had taught him how to maintain perfect mastery over his facial expressions, for though he felt like he was being slowly torn apart inside, his face would betray nothing.
Akashi, what are you doing for your Mum this Sunday?
I'm getting her a gift.
It wasn't totally a lie.
Just my luck that there's extra practice today.
Whenever basketball training fell on one of those three occasions, it was always especially painful.
He would hold the basketball in his hand, feeling its roughness, feeling the smooth patches where it had been worn down by multiple plays. The same scene would always involuntarily appear in his mind.
Here, Sei, this is a basketball.
He would imagine that soft, pale hand handing the ball over to him, the exuberant grin spreading across his face.
He had not known then, when his mother had handed him the ball on that fateful day, how much basketball would mean to him. How much he would cling to it like a lifeline, the last vestige of his mother he had in his life.
It was something precious to him – something his father was and would never be able to take away.
My father. Just those words would inexplicably send shivers down his spine.
We mourn the passing of Akashi Shiori…
She was a good wife, a good mother to our child…
Monotonous, empty, careless words. Stock phrases that could not fully capture who exactly Akashi Shiori was. Worse still – emanating from the mouth of someone who should have known her best. Someone, who he eventually realised did not care at all. He would clutch the ball, hands trembling ever so slightly. He thought that he had forgiven, but perhaps he had not. And he was sure he would never forget.
"Sei-chan, it's time for practice! Are you alright?"
He would snap out of his stupor. If anything, he had to do his best for his mother.
As basketball practice began, he would immediately brace himself. He knew that in those particular practices, time would pass ever so slowly, because ever so often his eyes would dart over to the clock. Anticipation, of what would come after.
If he had his way, perhaps he would not even have come for practice on those days. But he was the captain, and the captain had responsibilities. Like always, he separated his professional and private life, and there was no way he would let emotions get in the way of his role.
But invariably, his mind would wonder. And it was only on such days that he would let it do so.
Questions – there would always be questions. What if his mother was standing on the sidelines then? Would she be proud?
A few months ago, the answer would have been a resounding no, though he hated to admit it. His mother would have been shocked at the way he was leading his team – with viciousness instead of kindness, by force instead of by guidance, with harshness instead of consideration. He probably would have gotten heavily reprimanded.
(His other self would not have admitted it, but a part of him had yearned to hear his mother reprimanding him again.)
This time, however, he could be more certain. Ever since that fateful match, his world had been turned upside down, and his ways had changed for the better.
He knew he could confidently ascertain that his mother would be proud.
As he played, he did not notice the glances cast between his teammates.
Strange, for the Emperor Eye.
Practice ended early, and secretly, Akashi was glad. He noticed that his teammates had gathered to discuss something, but this time he felt no inclination to find out what exactly it was they were talking about. All he wanted was to get away, and get to someplace he was supposed to be.
After dismissing them, he picked up his bag and hurried out, not stopping to change, and headed out. He stopped at a small shop on the way to pick up the bouquet he had previously ordered (if he had the choice, he would have ordered the freshest of flowers from countries across the world, but his mother seemed to have a particular liking for this florist) before making his way to the Akashi mansion.
The house was silent, save for the butler who immediately took away his bag. Akashi was free to pad down the hallway, through the numerous corridors, before he stopped in front of one room.
His hand rested on the doorknob.
Take a deep breath.
Tentatively, he pushed the door open.
Somehow, the room was even more silent than the entire house itself.
Noiselessly, Akashi moved over to the candles and picked up the matches next to it. The matches were struck and the candles lit, their soft glows illuminating the room. When Akashi was young, he would light the fire himself. (Secretly, of course - his father would have been furious at any butler who let him near fire. Nevertheless, he suspected that the head butler knew about it, but chose to turned a blind eye to his actions.) Now that he lived away from his home, he could no longer do it on a daily basis, but it had become a ritual every time he returned.
He lay the bouquet down beside his Mother's framed picture before taking a step back.
"Happy Mother's Day."
His soft words were swallowed by the empty silence. He imagined his mother listening to his words.
What would she say?
What could he say now? He remembered how, as a child, he would be filled with excitement whenever Mother's Day rolled around. He would greet his mother with a hug – rare signs of affection he showed to no one but her. His mother would respond with a laugh, and would embrace him equally tightly.
What could he say now?
His recent developments in basketball seemed like a good place to start.
"I lost a match a few months ago."
The candles flickered in the background.
"It was against Seirin – the team with Kuroko Tetsuya. The Winter Cup finals."
Silence.
"I'm glad though – it made me find my love for basketball and my team again. Something you would have liked to see. I think you would have been proud."
It's been so long since you've seen me play.
When he was younger, he would sit there and ask nothing but "Why?". When his personality changed, he no longer mourned (he had convinced himself that he did not need his mother anymore), but something always drew him back to the room.
Now that he was himself again, what could he say?
"I'm sorry, Mother. I…I destroyed what you gave me. I didn't enjoy basketball like you wanted me to, and I hurt many people in the process."
His apology stopped short there, for he was suddenly aware of how blurry his vision had become.
A quick swipe across his face confirmed his suspicions. Tears.
Why am I crying?
Why?
Why?
He couldn't remember crying when his mother had first passed away. There was so much pain, for sure, but he had not cried. So why now?
Why?
His eyes darted up to the photo again.
Why?
Why weren't you there?
Why didn't you stop me before I was in too deep?
Why weren't you there for me when Father wasn't?
Why did you have to go?
The tears streamed down faster now – and he couldn't even make out his Mother's figure in the photo now. He was angry. He was so angry and he was so guilty because he should not be angry but yet he was. And he could not help it.
It was the first time visiting that he had broken down. This had been the only room where he had shown vulnerability before – but this was the first time that his façade, no, his entire self had crumbled. He had sworn not to cry after his Mother's death because crying was useless and wouldn't bring her back but he was breaking so many of the rules he had set for himself nowthat he didn't care anymore.
A few minutes, and he composed himself again.
"Seijuro?"
The door was tentatively opened, and a crack of light entered. Quickly wiping his eyes and lifting his head, Akashi saw his father standing at the doorway.
"Father." His voice emerged in a choke.
Instinctively, Akashi straightened his posture and clenched his fists. "Why are you here?"
"For the same reason you are."
Akashi Masaomi walked into the room and set down a separate bouquet of flowers next to Akashi's.
Akashi stared at them wordlessly. They were identical.
Father stood beside son, both silent as they gazed at the portrait of the woman with the red hair, who had been so cruelly torn away from their lives years ago.
"I didn't think you would come." Akashi began in a low voice, the words escaping from him before he had time to think it through, time to phrase his words carefully, time to ponder whether he even wanted to broach the subject. A peculiar experience – he was usually so in control of himself.
But if he was going to have the conversation, now was as good a time as he could get.
"Your mother…she was special to me too."
He was softening. It was the first time Akashi had seen such a thing happen.
"Really? I couldn't tell."
You never came here.
His words were harsh and accusing and he knew it. Yet, he could not stop himself. It was something that he needed to say.
There was a flicker in Akashi Masaomi's expression, but almost imperceptibly. Akashi may have mastered his emotions, but he was merely the apprentice. To even elicit such a response from his father was a feat in itself, and it made one thing clear – he did care.
"I know I seemed not…not to care about it. And I don't know if you will believe me, but I did. It hurt every single day after that, even till today. She was…someone who supported me through and through, and it was my fault that -" He stopped himself. "But I'm not here as a husband. I'm here…as a father. A father who failed."
Akashi was silent then.
"Penitence." He was unable to meet Akashi in the eye. "Penitence to your mother, and penitence to you, for all the times that I failed both of you. That's why I came."
For the second time that day, Akashi found his vision blurring. Though his father hadn't exactly said the words "I'm sorry", what he had said was as good as an apology. And as someone bearing the Akashi name himself, he understood how hard it was to do that.
As tears rolled down his cheeks, Akashi realised it. For many years, he had been waiting for just that – an apology from his father.
"I forgive you," he whispered, and he thought he saw his father's eyes turn glassy, but the latter quickly turned away.
And maybe it was a figment of his imagination, but he saw his Mother's smile grow a little wider in the photo.
Thank you for that gift.
"Akashi-sama, you have guests. They are in the living room."
Akashi blinked in surprise as he emerged from the room to the waiting butler. As they headed to the living room, Akashi spotted his guests, and could not help but chuckle. The three Uncrowned Kings were sprawled out over the couches, all fast asleep.
At the sound of footsteps, they stirred, and blearily opened their eyes. Hayama was the first to catch sight of Akashi, and promptly yelled, "Crap!"
Amusedly, Akashi watched as they collectively sat up, and
"Akashi, ARE YOU OKAY?"
"Sei-chan, we are so worried for you-"
"Akashi-"
A look of confusion spread across Akashi's features. "What do you mean?"
"You seemed off in practice today, then Kuroko sent us this!" Hayama waved the phone right beneath Akashi's gaze. As he read the message, he could not help but smile.
Please look out for Akashi-kun today.
And here they were – all fussing over him. Something about this reminded him of the days filled with warmth he had spent in Teikou, for in Rakuzan Akashi had finally found what he had been looking for once he had graduated from junior high – people he could call friends, even family.
He wasn't the kind to delve into his personal details, but he felt that lying to them would not do justice to the trust he had finally built. So he was honest with his story, and almost felt bad when all showed sorrowful looks upon learning the truth.
"Akashiiii-" Hayama barreled towards him, enveloping him in a hug.
"Sei-chan." Mibuchi wiped away a tear. "We are so sorry, and we will always be here for you." He joined in the hug.
Nebuya did not say anything, but his tight hug spoke more than words ever could.
Akashi was thoroughly surprised by his team's over-the-top affection, but once he had recovered from the shock, he slipped his arms around them as best as he could. They were all as surprised (all of them had secretly feared a thorough scolding or a promise of extra drills, though they would never admit it), but took it as a good sign from their captain.
Mother, can you see me now?
You would be so happy.
It was indeed a happy Mother's Day.