The first time Himuro Tatsuya fell in love was with a game; gleaming, rusted hoops and a airbrushed sunset in the background, platinum rubber ball bouncing rhythmically on asphalt, joyous cries echoing in the air as the object soared in without touching the frayed rim.
He had been peering in behind ivy bushes, head barely peeking out of the top, drawn to the place by laughter and warmth, curious despite his urgency to return home.
Somehow, as the third consecutive basketball was thrown in, he had found himself clutching the crossed wire metal of the surrounding nets, mouth half open and eyes gleaming. The boys playing were teenagers, around 14-16 years old, long and loose limbed, fast and free. One of them had spotted him, and beckoned the others over, gazing at Himuro curiously as if he was a strayed animal. (in which he guessed he was, in some sort.)
"Do you like basketball?" The boy at forefront grinned, still holding the basketball nestled between his hip and elbow.
"B-Basketball?" Himuro stuttered, face flushing from humiliation at his poor English. "What..."
"What we were doing just now." The boy at the right smiled slightly, looking down at him with what seemed to be an endearing expression. "Do you like it?"
"I've never played before, so.." Himuro sheepishly said, awkwardly tucking a strand of wayward hair behind his seven-year old ear.
"Then why not learn?"
Himurofigited for a moment, torn between returning home or staying to play 'basketball' with these teens.
"Ano-I-gomen!" He said brokenly, stuttering. "I have to-return home!"
"Ah, that's too bad." One of the boys grinned, squatting down so he could be at eye level with Himuro. "Next time, come play with us, okay?"
"Y-Yes!" Himuro blurted out, face flushed even more, jaws stretched out so wide in a grin that he couldn't imagine looking anything but ridiculous.
~X~
The first time Himuro felt real, geninue, choking fear was the moment he got home on May 14 to find his father strangling his mother, harsh hands wrapped tightly around his mother's neck, her own scrabbling hands desperately trying to loosen the grip.
Himuro was rooted in place in the doorway, a shadow to the conflict unfolding in front of him, only to watch in terrified silence as his mother started to cry, eyes filling up with residue and spilling onto his father's hands and reflected in his dark, dark eyes.
"…." His father quickly stepped back, abruptly letting go of his mother and quickly striding to the doorway, paying Himuro no heed as he brushed passed him and walked down the porch in a brief, scatted beat, that sound being replaced by faint whimpers from his mother, still curled on the floor, head in her hands, soul at her feet.
"Mom.." Himuro finally moved, jerky steps as he approached the figure, stretching out a hand to help her up, when he was slapped away, face burning as he staggered back, lifting a hand to his cheek slightly to feel the blood already rushing there.
"Don't touch me." She rasped, picking herself up off the floor and gripped the wall all the way to the bathroom, where he could hear the sounds of painful retching echoing off the thin walls.
At that time, he could do nothing but slump against the wall and cry, naïve still at the age of 11.
At that time, it seemed as if the house echoed with the emptiness and despair that he was emitting so strongly, mourning along with him.
At that time, he wondered for the first time where people went after they died.
~X~
The first time Himuro felt lost was at the judge's feet, scrambling to pick up his 'lucky charms', a rabbits foot and a string of wooden beads.
"Tatsuya." His mother had reprimanded sharply, voice too tired and worn to have an edge. "Leave them."
Himuro opened his mouth slightly, to protest, but another hard shake from his father stopped him, making him draw back to his place between his parents.
The judge cleared his throat, eyes flickering to Himuro in some sort of bizarre guilt, as if apologizing for this separation unfolding in front of him.
"Do you..."
Himuro sat in the backseat of his mother's car on the way back, watching the trees flash and blur together in a canvas of green, listening only to echoing silence on the way to her new home.
"Tatsuya, this is going to be a new start, you hear? A new-" She swerved on the road, throwing Himuro off his equilibrium and into the windowpane.
His mother sat in shock in the front seat for about a minute, then started shaking, shoulders trembling with the effort of it as her thin frame shuddered.
"What am I going to do?"
She started crying again, hands splayed on the steering wheel, staining the object with her tears.
And Himuro had to remind himself for what seemed like the 100th time that no matter what, he couldn't, wouldn't cry, because that meant nothing but pure and utter weakness, and the weak were thrown aside in this world.
He left her alone in her utter sadness, the space around her seeming ten times more empty because of it.
Instead, he pulled out his earbuds and plugged them, listening to yet another song by The Fray.
Where were you
When everything was falling apart?
Seen too much at the age of 12, glass already half-empty.
~X~
The first time Himuro felt exuberance was in the form of a grinning boy, flaming crimson hair and brilliant smile.
"Hello, I'm Himuro Tatsuya."
Never had he felt so purely exalted until he was on the court, basketball already bouncing lightly on the asphalt, feet flying as if he was walking on pure air, head soaring with vertigo and heart singing with dreams.
He almost felt as if he'd gained a disciple in a sense, Taiga followed him around everywhere, almost every waking second of the day, chattering about this and that, until Himuro finally felt something no other than endearing affection.
He underestimated him sorely.
Oh, how much of a fool he was.
The rings that glittered in the sunlight on both their necks was nothing but a tangible symbol of their bond, nothing more, nothing less.
So why did he feel so broken as Taiga soared in the air as free as he himself was?
Why did he feel so jealous of Taiga's obvious talent?
Wasn't he the one who'd been working harder?
~X~
The first time Himuro's heart had beat fast, each thump quick and furious, was the first time he saw the former WBA player, Alex.
He and Taiga were walking along the streets, each holding a battered bottle of water, chattering idly about their game and what they both could've done better, when a basketball flew out and hit Taiga square in the face, making him stumble backward and fall onto the pavement.
Himuro quickly helped him up, eyes searching for the culprit basketball, most likely in the bushes by now.
"Alex!" a man's voice roared, blocked by the wire mesh of the court they were standing by. "Look what you did this time!"
"Sorry, sorry!" a woman's voice trilled, hurried footsteps heading towards them. Himuro was frozen in place, eyes growing wider as he saw the blond woman heading towards them, muscled legs and arms moving in perfect synchronicity. She flashed a quick smile as she saw Himuro and Kagami, and went bounding after the basketball that had ensnared itself in the bushes.
"Did it hit any of you?" She asked as she retrieved the ball, brushing off leaves of its padded surface. Kagami groaned, and Himuro pointed wordlessly to him. "Ah, sorry!" She crouched down, eye level with the two. Himuro flinched as her hand descended, only to feel his hair getting tousled. "Little boys like you shouldn't be running out this late anyway! Where are your parents?"
"We were playing basketball!" Kagami intervened, grinning.
"Ah..." the woman smiled, eyes growing distant.
"You play basketball too, right?" Himuro quietly asked, eyes wandering to the battered ball cradled in her arms.
"I suppose." She suddenly stood up, walking back to the court hidden behind the mesh. "It was nice meeting you two!"
Her form disappeared behind the wire, and Himuro tugged on Kagami's arm urgently. "Let's follow her!"
"Tatsuya, I'm tired-" one look from Himuro was enough to shut him up. "You said that we should get a coach, right? This is our chance!"
"Tatsuya, we don't even know-"
"Come on!" Himuro gripped his arm and nearly hauled him to the mesh, Kagami stumbling all the way.
The scene that greeted them was nothing like Himuro had ever seen before. The woman was crouched in a defensive position, arm effortlessly snapping the ball up and down, eyes narrowed at the man towering above her. Suddenly, without warning, she jumped up, only to duck back down and run to the left and oh god the man was too slow he wasn't going to make it he wasn't going to make it he wasn't going to make it and the ball went in in a beautiful arc that left Himuro breathless.
"Tatsuya, you're hurting my arm!" Kagami half whispered, half whined, tugging his arm out of Himuro's vice-like grip.
"We need her to become our coach." Himuro murmered, and as he turned around, his eyes were gleaming, cheeks flushed.
"How?"
Himuro's plan was apparently to stick around her until she grew irritated and brushed them off; even then Himuro and Kagami didn't give up, pestering her until, one day, she gave in with a disgruntled sigh, running her fingers through her tangled hair.
~X~
The first time Himuro had felt delirious was when he went out drinking for the first time, sweet taste of cocktails in his lips and throat, head spinning wildly without end, always without end.
As he gazed around lazily, lights were flashing and bodies were twisting and turning on the dance floor, but all Himuro could think about was basketball, and how those movements would help fakes so much, subtle but deadly, all at once.
He really was messed up, wasn't he?
"Tatsuya, I'm going to Japan." Taiga hesitated as he said it, shuffling his feet and bowing his head.
Himuro would be the first to admit that some part of his heart broke, scattering off in millions of microscopic pieces in the wind.
.
The next year, he moved across the world.
~X~
The first time Himuro had his breath stolen from him in pure awe and jubilancy was the first time he watched Muraskibara Atsushi play.
That body that could move so fast, those lithe, yet awkward looking limbs, that unruly purple hair; Himuro didn't realize that he was romanizing him until he actually talked with the boy.
"Hello, I'm Himuro Tatsuya." He smiled, his public facade plastered on.
All the things he expected the boy to do, to smile back, to shake his hand, to at least introduce himself formally.
Of all the things he expected the boy to do, a lazy yawn wasn't one of them.
"Nice to meet you." He continued after awhile, after no attempt at conversation was fore coming.
"Hm? Ah, yeah." Muraskibara yawned again, white towel draped over his head as he headed to the locker rooms.
Himuro chased after him, on a desperate instinct. "So, you're the incoming freshman, right? Do you think you'll make tryouts?"
Murasakibara eyed him shrewdly, eyes slanting shut. "Is that even a question?"
"A-ah." Himuro stuttered in response, smile dissipating.
This guy is a complete and utter jerk.
"Welcome to the Yosen basketball team!" Masako roared, thumping her bamboo sword for good measure. "In order to join this team, you have to be committed,"
Himuro, who had already heard this once before, sneaked a sideways glance at Murasakibara, who was nodding off, head lolling forward onto his chest. He couldn't help a small breath of laughter; he was drolling.
"Murasakibara-san." He called after the first grueling pracitce was over and his limbs felt like they were on fire.
"Hm." Murasakibara yawned again, turning back to his bag.
"What did you think of the coach?"
"….She's pretty?" There was a slight raise at the end of the response, and Murasakibara slouched over again.
"She is, isn't she? If she catches you saying that, she'll have your head." Himuro chuckled, fully aware that he was the only one laughing. Murasakibara was looking at him carefully, eyes narrowed.
"You're the one who was doing all those fakes, right?"
"Yeah." Himuro nodded in confirmation.
"What's your name?"
"H-Himuro. Himuro Tatsuya!" He blurted out, a move that seemed desperately uncool and most definitely not the impression he wanted to make on this underclassman.
"Muro-chin." Murasakibara drawled out, zipping up his bag.
"Excuse me?"
"Muro-chin." Murasakibara yawned, looking back at him. "I don't feel like crushing you just yet, so.."
Himuro couldn't help the wide grin that split his face at the sound of that, shifting his weight from leg to leg. "Then, Atsushi."
"Hm?" Murasakibara looked slightly surprised.
"Can I call you that, then?"
"There's only one other person who calls me that..." Murasakibara yawned again; apparently this was not a problem.
They walked in silence out of the locker room for awhile, silence suffocating, until Himuro finally decided to open his mouth, Murasakibara interrupted him with a sad statement of,
"I ran out of snacks."
"There's a convience store just a bit past here, would you like to go?"
"Does Muro-chin know where it is?" Murasakibara asked, peering down at him through long bangs.
On an impulse, Himuro brushed them back, exposing a better view of Murasakibara's unsurprised eyes.
"Yeah."
~X~
Himuro's first time could actually be counted as a mistake. He was at a partythat his friend dragged him to, already drunk by the time he had 2 bottles, vision hazy as a warmth settled in his lap and he saw a blond, voluptuous girl straddling him.
"Hey." She smiled at him coyly, fiddling with his school uniform. "What's your name?"
"Himuro."
No more words were said after that, only brief words exchanged after they stumbled upstairs into the vacant rooms, hands touching and legs tangling together on the bedsheets. desprete for body touch and heat.
As he moved into her, he wondered if she could sense his ineptness, but all she did in response was claw at his back and cry a bitter "Himuro-san..."
And somehow, all he could think in his mind was how the call of "Muro-chin" was far more sweet.
~X~
The first time Himuro collapsed was, (as expected) at a basketball practice, legs giving out under him and arms bending under his body weight, head and hair dripping with perspiration and eyes unable to see. He could hear a shrill ringing in his ears, a bright, blinding light in his eyes, but everything was hazy and numb to the touch; and all he could think as he was lifted was Have I become a burden already?
He woke up in his dorm, a towel on his forehead and something cool over his eyes. There was another presence in the room, and he lifted the sheet over his eyes to see Murasakibara, sleeping face on the edge of his bed, legs curled under him and arms supporting his head. Wei Liu was in the kitchen, busying himself with what seemed like the smell of soup, a clattering of pots from what could only be Fukui-hell, even the Captain was here, reading a book by Himuro's small table.
"...Muro-chin?" Was Atsushi's sleepy remark as he saw that Himuro had gotten up, rubbing his own eyes and yawning so wide that Himuro could see his canines.
"Himuro?!" Fukui burst out of the kitchen, face a expression of such relief that it looked absolutely ridiculous, until it turned quickly into a furious mask, and almost instantly he lifted up the spatula in his hand and roared, "Himuro Tatsuya, I swear to god, if you ever-"
"Let me handle this, Fukui!" Okamura shouted, apparently feeling like his role as captain had been taken from him. "Himuro Tatsuya, if you ever-"
"Himuro! 我的妈呀!" Wei Liu wailed, clutching a hand to his chest. "Fukui was already planning your funeral, Atsushi wasn't eating snacks, and Okamura almost dropped you when he was carrying you to the dorm!"
Himuro didn't say anything for a moment, shocked into silence, towel slowly unsticking from his forehead and falling into his open hands with a soft thump.
"You...all..."
Okamura suddenly walked over and pulled him into a rough hug, crushing his windpipe. "Hey, kid." He said gruffly, voice thick. "Don't ever do anything like that again, okay?"
Wei Liu was the first to join the hug, arms trying in vain to wrap around Okamura's gigantic waist, when Fukui scowled and joined in, hair tickling Himuro's cheek.
Only Murasakibara stayed in the background, face screwing up in an expression of discomfort, when Himuro quietly untangled himself from the huddle and walked over to him, squeezing him in another embrace.
There was no reaction from the boy, body still and stiff, until Himuro moved to let go and Murasakibara's arms suddenly wrapped around his waist, burrowing his head in Himuro's shoulder.
"Muro-chin is an idiot."
Himuro could do nothing but laugh.
~X~
The first time that Himuro actually cried, tears dripping down his face and into his mouth, salty and overflowing, was durning the Seirin match, gripping a fistful of Murasakibara's uniform in his fist and sobbing, choking out words, desperately scrabbling for something to fit in his emotions.
No matter how hard he worked.
"People like you..."
He could never be like them.
The only thing he had was that of an ordinary man.
"Every time I see you like that, I lose control!"
The Zone wasn't even allowed, no matter how he pounded at the doors and screamed for entrance.
"Atsushi,"
He would never be better than his limits, after all.
"Geez, Muro-chin."
No matter how long he practiced,
"You're annoying."
No matter how much he persisted
"In fact,"
Nothing would change the fact that he was not born with talent at his fingertips.
"It's so annoying, I actually think it's worth it."
After the game, Himuro was left with a dizzying vertigo, almost staggering to the bench and collapsing in his desperate relief. Taiga had won. What was he supposed to work for now?
"Let's play again at the next match, okay?" He patted Murasakibara's back gently, feeling the sweat beneath his fingertips, a testimony of the boy's hard work.
"I'm never playing basketball again. I hate this game, I hate it, I hate it."
"Really?" Himuro murmered, hearing the wavering unsteadiness under the words. "But that's not what it seems like to me."
Murasakibara was crying, gritting his teeth and gnashing his lips together, nose starting to leak, not anything near what novelistic crying was like.
"Let's play again." Himuro blurted out, lips trembling minutely, sucked into Murasakibara's own tears and feeling his come again. "And this time, we'll win."
Cliches were comforts to the standard man.
He was nothing past normal, after all.
A/N: This was actually the result of several chats about Himuro's past on Tumblr with the wonderful Blue-Delight , thanks for being so supportive and kind!
I feel like HImuro's one of those people who works so hard but never gets who they want in the end, hence Aomine's name for him-
"The Miracle who could not become a Miracle."
I want to portray his character better in the future and hopefully write more murahimu \(/ /)/