{Author's Notes: Hey, I edited to a more polished version! Hope you enjoy! Hello, welcome to the story of Fujisaki Kotomi! I've always wanted to write a story like this one, so I truly hope you enjoy the ride! Let me know what you think!}
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Kuroko no Basuke or its characters, all the content belongs to Tadatoshi Fujimaki, and published by Shueisha. I do not make any profit on this, and I only own my characters. Please support the official release.
"Mother, I don't understand why she needs to go to school so far away. Why can't she just go to school in London, or even Kyoto has perfectly fine middle schools!"
"Your daughter is a Reinwalt and a Fujisaki. Two proud families built upon millennia of the best money has to offer. She will not be going to "perfectly fine" schools. Teiko will challenge her in many ways, not simply academics."
But she wanted to be in Kyoto with her grandmother and grandfather.
"Well, we can't just pick up and leave England like this. I have to stay at the firm, and Takahiro's transfer over to the Japan office will take months, maybe even years, I—"
"Do you think I'm going to let her father lay a hand on that girl's education? Your sickness must be getting to your head, Eliza. Madoka has been in Japan for the last 5 years and she plans to stay there, correct?"
She didn't want to be all by herself in Tokyo.
"Yes, well, Madoka is busy at the studio, so—"
"Madoka is her godmother. Godmothers watch over their godchildren in the parents' stead. She is merely doing her duty, as I have, and as will Kotomi, since Ayato is being a child and Tomoki is—"
"Mother…please don't."
Deafening stillness signaled the end of the hour-long showdown between a concerned mother and an overbearing grandmother. Beside Eliza Fujisaki stood a tiny teen whose visage closely resembled a doll. She would no doubt flourish into a beauty with her dark hair ending at her chin and her large, bright blue eyes. She gazes up at her grandmother with a stoic, sharp eyed gaze, nodding once. Most people cowered under the gaze of Lady Cordelia Chastain Reinwalt, all but her husband and her granddaughter.
"You will study at Teiko, starting this April, Kotomi. Is that understood?" Kotomi nods once, her expression unchanging.
"Yes, grandmother." Her own words defy all the rejection of the notion, every pore screaming in defiance. She wanted to throw a tantrum, kick the chair, pound her fists, anything. Kotomi's eyes wander over to the mocha brown-haired woman standing behind the beautiful elderly woman. Her mother wouldn't make eye contact with her. She was ashamed, unable to even look at her own daughter at the mercy of her grandmother.
"You're dismissed. Next week, Ezekiel will take you shopping for what you need." Kotomi takes a step back and curtsies politely, as per her grandmother's commands since her 10th birthday.
"Yes, grandmother." Kotomi turns and leaves the room, her bottom lip trembling and her brow furrowing as her façade shatters to smaller pieces as she retreats from the kitchen.
Of course, Japan was nothing new to her. For six years she called Japan her home before her family moved to England, after all. Just not in Tokyo. But a thirteen-year-old just about to start middle school had nothing on her 72-year old grandmother, whose age only made her stricter with every passing awkward birthday party of dull socializing, playing the violin, and reciting 19th century poetry by memory before an entourage of Oxford and Cambridge scholars.
Still, her mother, like Kotomi, was no match, for she too knew of her grandmother's tyranny all too well. And her father was no kind of help, being nowhere in sight once again today. Kotomi moved silently on her feet, away from the scene, her vision blurry as she stumbled, unfocused, to her grandfather's office, where he typed away at his newest novel, the deadline for publication on his heels. Of course, he always had time for his beloved granddaughter, with whom he shared a love for sports, from fencing to ballet to street basketball, though the latter were far in the past for a man who could no longer move as he used to. When he looks up, his light green eyes sparking with mirth and concern for his blood, he immediately stands and moves to his cozy velvet armchair by the fireplace, sitting just in time for the teen to crawl into his lap, curling up and hiding her face in the fine upholstery.
"Grandfather."
"I know, little Alice," he sighed, his nickname granted to her by him, thanks to her ever-curious nature likened to the titular character of Lewis Carroll, her favorite story, and the name of her great great grandmother. "I could hear the both of them from here."
"Can't you do something? I don't want to go."
"Now, now, where is my little adventurer? You know that your grandmother only wants the best—"
"For the family. Not for me," Kotomi insisted, hiccupping softly, though she shed no tears. "For the family."
"What's best for the family is best for you." He sighs, petting her hair affectionately, wondering briefly for how many more years would he be able to share these tender moments with her, knowing that one day he would not be here, or that she would no longer return home. "Because you are the future."
"Why me?" It was a question she asked often, but one she knew the answer to. But she asked it all the same.
"Do you love your mother, little Alice?"
"Of course."
"Your grandmother?"
A long silence.
"Yes."
"Your father and brothers?"
An even longer silence, and with no response, her grandfather sighed, pulling the young girl's face away from its hiding place. "Kotomi…"
"I know," she sighs heavily again, getting down from her grandfather's lap and clutching the fabric of her skirt, pouting childishly.
"You'll get to visit your other favorite grandparents during the weekends."
"I know."
"And Madoka will be watching you, isn't that right? Which means you'll have to stay at the studio, sometimes," His smile widens as his granddaughter's eyes sparked with intrigue.
"But…grandmother said I can't."
"But I say you can. It'll just be our little secret, alright? During the weekends, you can start hip hop classes with Madoka—" He doesn't even finish his sentence before the young girl throws herself on top of him again, squealing with delight.
"I get to dance again!"
"Shh," Kotomi can hardly contain her giggles nor her urge to hug the elderly man as he places a finger to his lips, giving her a mischievous smile. "Remember, our little secret."
"But keeping a secret from grandmother? That's…impossible."
"Nonsense. Sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast!" Kotomi giggles again, her eyes following her grandfather as he stands and retreats to the corner of his office, reaching down into a chest and pulling out two foils, the swords carefully packed within their leather cases. "But in return for my silence on the matter, you simply must practice with me this afternoon." Kotomi grins as she takes one foil, sliding her fingers across its metal handle, her smile growing to be just as mischievous as her grandfather's.
"Only if you join me for afternoon tea, afterwards. It's my unbirthday, after all."
"But of course, young Alice." With the uncertainty in her chest and a gentle hope protecting her heart, Kotomi follows him to the dance hall. What would she find at the bottom of her little rabbit hole?
Months Later
The April air of Japan spoke of clear skies and soft breezes, and yet Kotomi could find no joy as she was escorted by her godmother's son, Ichiro Tachibana. Despite her grandfather's efforts to cheer her up, she was still bitter and reluctant to leave her comfortable life in England. But she shed a small tear when she spotted the elderly man at the doorway beside her grandmother, the only one with a smile and teary eyes. Kotomi received a quiet reprimand from her childhood friend, as she kneeled on the leather seats of Ichiro's Cadillac to watch him disappear behind her family estate's gates.
Ichiro, a stoic, strict, bookish young man in his first year of college at Tokyo University, with his mother's reddish-brown hair and sharp hazel eyes, quietly escorted the younger girl through the confusion that was Narita airport. Kotomi could only stare ahead vacantly, though she was far from empty headed. Her mother could barely meet her eyes as she was brought to the car, likely ashamed that she could do nothing in the face of her mother to protect her only daughter. Her father was off who knows where with who knowns who, likely unaware that his only daughter was being shipped away like a prize horse across the ocean to be trained and polished. She was confused by her sadness to leave them; it wasn't as if she were close to them.
When they finally arrive at the apartment she would be sharing with her godmother, Madoka Tachibana is already waiting with open arms and a wide grin. Instead of using her majors in Psychology and Education to professor at some stuffy school, Madoka much preferred teaching disenfranchised youths how to dance in Los Angeles, California. She even started a YouTube channel to reach even more young people, and those who couldn't afford to make the trek over to her dance studio. Thanks to Eliza pulling some strings, Madoka opening up another studio in the city of Tokyo, where her parents grew up. Kotomi smiles and embraces her godmother. She liked Madoka and her son. They were good, honest people. Madoka spoke first after a long minute of embrace.
"I hope my Ichiro wasn't too boring on the way here, Kotomi."
"Not at all. Though he did scold me." Ichiro huffed indignantly as he unloads her bags from the trunk of his car.
"She was standing on my new seats." Madoka rolls her eyes. "I see you two are getting along as always."
"He's fine."
"She's alright." Madoka laughs again, ruffling Kotomi's hair and giving her son a kiss on the cheek when he comes to greet her.
"Okay, enough bickering, you two," If that could be called bickering… Madoka had forgotten how quiet Kotomi became after the incident with her and both her brothers, though she couldn't blame the young girl. "Let's get your stuff settled. Monday will be on us in no time, and I still need to pick up your uniform." Kotomi and Ichiro both silently set to work, wordlessly agreeing that Ichiro would unpack and Kotomi would bring her things to her room. Madoka watches for a moment, before she sighs.
"Jeez, how efficient can you guys be…?"
The unpacking is quite fun, thanks to Madoka teasing her son to no end and playing her loud, but energetic Zumba music to keep them motivated. The night ends with Tonkatsu curry, a fusion of Madoka's two favorite things, and Kotomi settling into her newly furnished room. Despite the warm welcome to Japan, Kotomi can only dread the coming Monday, when she would start school at Teiko Junior High, her first time since elementary school setting foot in a Japanese school. Though, her grandfather instilled within her a sense of wonder and hope for the future. As she stares at the ceiling, her eyes and body finally succumbing to all the heavy lifting she did today, Kotomi murmurs to herself.
"It's a poor sort of memory that only works backwards…"
When Monday comes, Kotomi is already exhausted from unpacking all weekend. Ichiro had to prepare for his own first day of college, living with his father in Kanagawa half an hour away, and Kotomi insisted that Madoka attend to her duties at the dance studio.
However, this left Kotomi unpacking on her own, as well as purchasing all her necessities for her first day of junior high. Madoka even went out of her way to prepare a traditional Japanese breakfast of mackerel, miso soup, rice, and veggies for Kotomi before heading to work, much to the teen's gratitude. Though not even the tastiest of mackerel could prepare her for the bustling streets of Tokyo, being shoved and pushed in the chaos of morning rush hour until she finally found herself before the gates of Teiko, seating herself amongst the sea of raven haired students for the entrance ceremony, staring at her phone as she texted the group chat of her friends, only looking up when the feedback of the microphone led her attention to the principal on stage.
Kotomi looks on with feigned interest, glancing around briefly and spotting the upperclassmen and their parents, as well as the parents of the other first years, just feet away from their children. Then she looks away. It isn't as if she had anyone watching her anyways. Her grandparents in Kyoto were busy with work, as was Madoka.
"Welcome, new students, returning students. I look forward to a new year with you at Teiko. As you know…" His words became a dull buzzing in Kotomi's ears after a few minutes, and her eyes soon started searching for any kind of stimulation, her tapping fingers wanting to reach for her phone again, which flashed with new messages incessantly.
"Hey, you're pretty popular, I guess?" The whisper has her eyes darting up to the voice's owner, which led them now to a young man with messy brown hair, black roots growing from the top of his head and kind eyes the color of chestnuts. "Sorry, it's just that this guy's so boring. I was counting people's shoelaces when I noticed your phone." Kotomi merely smiled politely, nodding in agreement, before looking away, but he persisted. "So, what's your name? I'm guessing that your family name starts with F, considering—"
"Fujisaki." Kotomi answered quickly, though keeping her voice low, smiling politely again. She supposed this was a good enough distraction. "Kotomi Fujisaki." The young man looks slightly surprised, but then tilts his head, still smiling.
"Are you from Hong Kong or something? Or no, it's gotta be the UK. You've got an accent and you introduced yourself with your name backwards." Kotomi looks away, blushing slightly out of embarrassment of her own mistake, causing the young man to laugh softly."
"I'm Sorry, I just came back to Japan. I've been living in England since I was 6."
"Ahaha, it's alright. That's pretty cool, actually. Welcome back. Ah, my name is Akihisa, by the way. Fujita Akihisa."
"Right…nice to meet you…ah, Fujita-kun."
""Nice, you remember your honorifics. But it's Fujita-senpai." Kotomi turns even redder, causing her seatmate to snicker a little too loudly, the girls on his side glancing over at the two of them. It occurs to Kotomi five seconds later that the first years were all seated together, there's no way he could be an upperclassman. She huffs and puffs her cheeks out, giving him a gentle shove, which he tries to block with another laugh.
"Sorry, sorry! Just helping you out!"
"I would like for everyone in the audience to remain quiet, I am almost done with the commencement speech. I know how excited you are to begin at such a good school." The disapproving tone of the principal and the glares of the student council betray his words, and Kotomi looks down again, head hung in shame. Not even the first day, she was causing trouble. And yet, she couldn't stop smiling, glancing at Fujita, who merely scratches his head and grins, a small blush on his cheeks as he mouths 'sorry' to her. Kotomi only returns a small smile, still giggling to herself.
"Man," Fujita sighs as he stretches, yawning loudly, to the irritation of the girls passing by him. "That was way too long! Don't you think, Fujisaki-chan?" Ignoring the sudden familiarity, or the assumption that she was younger than him, Kotomi nods, though her silence is taken in stride. "I can't believe he expected us to be quiet for that long."
"Well, you were quite entertaining with your finger puppets afterwards."
"Hah! For real? You could tell what was going on?"
"Of course, I speak fluent finger puppet."
"What was your favorite part?"
"When the wizard gave his pet rabbit to the knight."
"What? That was a princess!" Kotomi glances at him in bewilderment.
"Seriously?" Fujita grins.
"Nah, you were right. It was a knight."
"You joke far too much."
"And you speak too proper. Loosen up a little!"
"It's the first day of school and you got me in trouble." Fujita gasps, hand on his chest as if she had stabbed him
.
"I show you my finger puppets and this is how you repay me? By blaming me for something you did? You pushed me first!" Kotomi laughs a little, giving him a gentle shove with her shoulder.
"And I'll do it again if you don't stop teasing me!" The male laughs, shaking his head.
"Fine, fine. I'll stop for now. I gotta go find the location for the basketball club before we go to homeroom, anyway. Hopefully they have some fliers up already…" Kotomi almost stops walking at this, tilting her head.
"Basketball…?"
"Yeah, you didn't know? The basketball team is insanely good here. Guys in the first string end up playing professionally, even!" His eyes shined with a familiar brightness that made Kotomi uneasy, though she keeps her smile and laughs a little without missing a beat.
"First string…? I suppose these terms are exclusive to Japan?"
"Oh right, the whole moving thing. Well! I guess I'll have to teach you then! What clubs are you interested in?"
"Probably the kendo club."
"Kendo, huh? That's surprising. You're all thin and delicate looking, I thought you would go for the baking club or something." Kotomi's giggle sounds endearing, though it was one out of disbelief more than anything. She's heard far worse from some of both of her grandparents' more traditional and conservative friends, so she took it in stride.
"Oh my, you've caught me. I planned to join the fabric weaving club, since the cooking club involves carrying my own bowls, and my tiny arms could hardly withstand all that weight. Oh, but maybe I can join the tea party club, though I think the cups could—"
"Okay, okay, I get it!" Fujita waves his arms frantically in front of her face before she can continue with her speech, clapping his hands together and bowing his head. "Forgive me! I just thought-you know! Ah, man! So!" He shoots up suddenly, shocking Kotomi enough that she stops walking. "You like Kendo, huh? That's cool."
"My grandfather on my father's side is a Kendo instructor."
"Seriously? Really cool. I used to watch the competitions with my older brother all the time. He loves it. He even wanted to study Kendo with his hero, Fujisaki Daijiro! He was—wait." Fujita looks at Kotomi incredulously. Her raises an eyebrow and smiles.
"Oh no, please, go on. I'd like to hear more." Fujita takes a few steps back, his back hitting the wall.
"You're… you're his…?"
"I believe that the word is 'granddaughter.' Though I can't blame you for being confused. Fujisaki is fairly common." Kotomi laughs, covering her mouth to hide her amusement as best she can as Fujita gasps even louder.
"No way! My brother's gonna freak! Is there any way you could—"
"Talk to Grandfather? Of course I can, though I won't see him until this weekend. I can't ask him to accept your brother, but…" Kotomi smirks a little. "I might put in a special word if your brother manages to beat me in a match sometime." Fujita looks as though he's seen a divine figure, though Kotomi ignores the look out of embarrassment and for taking her phone out, opening her e-mail.
"Here, give me your contact info."
"Y-yes ma'am!" Fujita quickly retrieves his phone, almost dropping it in the process. They exchange in silence, before Fujita glances up at Kotomi, who is intent on copying his information, before he speaks again with a bashful grin, his tone laced with playfulness.
"Is this a sly way of getting my number? Are you hitting on m—"
"On second thought, maybe I shouldn't be so involved. I changed my m—"
Gah! Okay, okay, I'm sorry! Forget I said anything!"
After finding out that they were not in the same homeroom, with Kotomi being in the advanced first year's class, and Fujita in the regular class, Kotomi continued her own to the classroom for commemorative photos. As she walks in, she keeps her head held high, her grandmother's voice echoing in her head to "make a good impression." She kept that air about her, that she was welcome for amicable conversation, but she would not stand for disrespect. She surveys the crowd of first years, her soon to be classmates, one catches her eye. A young man with crimson red hair. She remembers such an intense shade of red very vaguely, at a party while she still lived in Japan with her parents and her grandparents in Kyoto.
Her father's parents, distinguished figures in Japan in their own rights, often held elegant but quiet parties in their traditional Japanese estate. It was more than likely that her classmate was the son of one of those business partners, though she couldn't place the name. He seems to notice her staring too, and she almost considers coming up to introduce herself, but the way his shoulders tense ever so slightly tells her that he didn't want to be recognized, and she wasn't one to initiate conversation with someone who didn't want it.
She sits down instead, a little anxious, waiting for the instructions from the homeroom teacher.
"Alright, class, let's get together for our class picture…when I call your name, please line up against the wall. Shorter students in the front…Akashi Seijuro."
Ah, there it was. Kotomi definitely recognized that family name. Akashi Masaomi, a business rival of her father's, with whom he had an amicable relationship, as amicable as a professional relationship can be. She remembered his wife more than the man himself. She was a beautiful woman with beautiful red hair, and she was the kindest socialite Kotomi had ever met in her six years of life at the time, paling only in comparison to her grandfather.
The Akashis had brought along their only son, and heir to the Akashi empire, a polite, but quiet young boy with bright crimson eyes. They shared nothing more than a quiet greeting before her family moved on with Kotomi clinging to her grandmother's kimono. She never saw him again, until now. It was likely he didn't remember her, and honestly Kotomi preferred it that way. She says nothing and doesn't even look at him again, waiting patiently for her name to be called for the picture. When all is said and done, and the first class begins, Kotomi takes a random seat, ending up beside a green haired boy, who was carrying around a small glass bead with pretty swirling colors of red, orange and yellow. But why carry it around?
"Can I help you with something?" Kotomi glances up at the bespectacled boys, taken aback for just a moment.
Pretty eyes…
"Sorry, I was just admiring your bead." She smiles and tilts her head at him, "I like it. It looks like you captured wildfire."
"Hn," He glances away from her, huffing in annoyance, though Kotomi didn't feel the same tensions she felt when she was caught staring at the Akashi boy. "It doesn't have anything to do with how pretty it is."
"But it's pretty nonetheless. There's nothing wrong with thinking something is beautiful, is there?" Another scoff.
"Perhaps." And then nothing more is said, so Kotomi turns her attention back to the board, unaware of the pair of green eyes glancing back at her visage, a nervous hand fiddling with the glass bead.
"I can't believe it," Madoka gasped, stretching carefully by placing one of her legs against the ballet bar and bending forward into it. Kotomi watches her as she does her own stretches, wearing a loose long-sleeved t-shirt and leggings. Her balls feet are pressed together in front of her as she bends forward, the stretch welcoming to her legs. "You made a friend already? I guess you're more like old Callum than Cordelia?"
"He spoke to me more than anything. He was quite nice."
"Don't be getting a boyfriend now, Kotomi!" Her tone is not nearly as authoritative as her grandmother's would be if she found out about Fujita.
"We just met."
"If he thinks you're pretty, and he probably does, time stops existing for young boys." Kotomi rolls her eyes as she stands up, doing a few squats and buttkickers, then jumping up and down, her lips turned up slightly. Madoka smiles as well, knowing just how much her goddaughter loved dancing. It was her grandfather who suggested Madoka that Kotomi dance in secret in Japan, since he couldn't convince his wife to keep here in England in the first place. It seemed like a good hobby for Kotomi to let herself breathe and have fun with. "And if he saw you dance, well, I think her would be kissing the ground you walked on." Kotomi merely laughs as a group of shy young girls and a few boys enter the room, politely greeting Madoka and Kotomi. Today was for beginners, ages 13-15.
"I highly doubt that." Madoka glances with a smile as Kotomi turns to set up Madoka's I-Phone to the speaker, knowing that the teen wouldn't notice how the boys in the group stared at her as she walked by.
"Oh, little Kotomi, you have no idea…"
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Love, Silky