Hello everyone, it's nice to meet you all. I hope you will enjoy.
Do you prefer the title Dear Sunshine or Dear Mr. Sunshine for the title? Both are alright to me.
I will be using the words -kun, -chan, -san and (maybe) -sensei, -senpai and -sama, but if I could not do it, it would be perfect. I don't think there is an equivalency for any of those words (I know that –san means Mr. / Mrs., and that –sensei means professor / teacher, but it just… doesn't feel the same.)
Oh. I'm so horrible at angst and drama.
This will be gen (meaning; no pairing).
Feedback would be nice; I'm not forcing you though.
[1]
Kuroko Tetsuya opens his eyes, and blinks a few times at the sight of his blank ceiling. He takes a deep breath, placing his hand over his pulsing heart, reassured to find it beating. He blinks again, breathing out shakily.
He looks around, surprised to see his old room, from his parents' house. He struggles to get up, his limbs shaking from the pressure and his still present panic. He stumbles away from his bed, almost falling when he reaches the door. He opens it silently, understanding that his parents aren't home from the lack of noises. He walks down the corridor, reaching the bathroom in no time.
He hesitates, his gaze falling on the white wall for a few seconds, as he mulls over his most recent thoughts.
Tetsuya looks up at his reflection in the mirror, eyes widening in shock as he sees his own face. He looks… young; too young. His breath gets stuck in his throat, and he chokes.
He takes a few steps back, his whole body trembling without his own consent. His back slides against the wall, and he hugs himself tightly, trying to forget what he has just seen. He closes his eyes tight, biting back tears of distress.
So… it hadn't been a dream.
Tetsuya really died, and gone back in time.
[2]
Tetsuya sighs, rearranging his hair in a neater fashion. He grabs his bag, slings it over his shoulder and walks out, not bothering to call a farewell, as he knows that no one would hear. He looks around, not surprised to find that no one has seen him. His misdirection is working, as usual.
The trip to the school is rather long, and as his young body is lacking muscles, his legs are aching when he finally reaches the gate.
He looks up at the big building, almost drowning in the loud mass of the students hurrying to their classes for the entrance ceremony. He can feel nostalgia seep in, and he narrows his eyes to keep the remains of tears in his eyes.
He shakes himself out of his thoughts, walking forward. He doesn't bother looking for his class number; he can still remember it from his last time. He goes along with the flow, even if he hates being pushed by the crowd.
"Ah, sorry," he hears, as he is pushed again. He turns around, recognizing the voice. "I didn't see you there." The teen pushes his glasses up – not noticing the almost-shocked look on the smaller teen's face.
"It's alright." Tetsuya inwardly pats himself for not stuttering. The two walk to their classes, not saying any other word, until they reach the classroom.
"S-so," Tetsuya glances up as Midorima begins speaking. "You are in A-2 too?" He asks, as Tetsuya nods mutely. They sit down, and Tetsuya promptly realizes that their seats are close to each other.
He looks at his – future? – friend. Tetsuya is lost; he doesn't know what to do. Should he try to befriend him? He knows from experience that Midorima didn't appreciate outgoing people, and that Takao (and maybe Kise) is the only exception. He thought that talking to other people would waste his time, time that he found precious. But then, this isn't the Midorima he used to know; this is a young Midorima who doesn't have friends, who is alone and who doesn't know how to properly communicate with other. Tetsuya guess that he can help him now in order to let him have some friends later on.
He blinks out of his daze, and looks at Midorima.
"What's your name?" he asks, as politely as he can. He tries to placate the slight hurt he feels when Midorima flinches – he has already forgotten his presence.
Midorima seems to consider his question, and he pushes his glasses up as he answers. "Midorima Shintarō," a short pause, and then, "You?"
Tetsuya tilts his head, taking a better look at Midorima's face. "Kuroko Tetsuya," he finally says. "It's nice to meet you, Midorima-kun." It isn't really the first time Tetsuya meets him, but Midorima doesn't need to know that.
To be honest, he is a little surprised that Midorima hasn't asked about his blood type and his astrological sign. He has always known the teen as that; asking (almost) everyone he met about their blood types and their signs. Akashi had once told him – as they were playing shōgi – that Midorima hadn't always been like that, but that his faith in Oha-Asa had lead into this pseudo-fear of opposite blood types and bad horoscopes. Tetsuya – even as he respected Midorima's belief – didn't like that aspect of Midorima's personality.
An adult – Mr. Ukita, he recognizes, with a bit of fondness and nostalgia – enters the classroom, announcing loudly that he is their teacher for the rest of the year. He then proceeds to gather all of them in the corridor, and leads them to the second gymnasium, where the entrance ceremony is to take place. Tetsuya finds himself walking side to side with Midorima, but they don't exchange a word.
Soon enough, he is in the gymnasium, staring at the – raised for the occasion – scene. The gymnasium is filled with voices, laughs and awkward squeals (from reunited friends, maybe?), but a loud, serious voice, coming from the microphone on the scene, cuts through the entire racket.
"Your attention please," the director's voice says. "The beginning of the year's ceremony is starting." The voices finally stop. Tetsuya swears he sees the director smirk. "Prepare yourself to sing the school's anthem."
He looks around, not bothering to take his diary – that Teikō's direction has given to its students – even as he knows that no first year would know the anthem by heart. He does though. It isn't like anyone would see anyway, he is sure that no one has noticed him.
The ceremony passes by like a breeze, and it was only when the words ever-victorious are repeated like a mantra, that Tetsuya feels his blood boil, his pupils dilate with rage and his fists tighten. He doesn't show any other outward reaction, and only continues to stare at the scene with unseeing, dazed eyes – he is thinking about what he should do from now on. Before he can reach any conclusion, the ceremony ends, and he and his classmates are lead back to their class.
Mr. Ukita rapidly overviews their planning for this year, and gives them their schedule. Not wasting any time – he can remember his teacher's obsession with time – he immediately instructs them to present themselves to the rest of the class.
Tetsuya – remembering all the times he had to present himself, and that people jumped in fright as whispers broke out – can feel the headache coming.
[3]
On the third day, as class finished, Tetsuya sprints off to the first gymnasium, knowing that the people wanting to be a part of the basketball club have to be there this evening, as the club directors would never accept anyone trying to join later on.
Some students already are there, but they are waiting for the coach to open the door of the changing room. He walks to the side, taking a good look at his future teammates – he remembers that all of those who had tried joining had effectively joined the club.
With a start, Tetsuya catches sight of the future Generation of Miracles. His heart hammering inside, gaze lingering on each of their faces, he tries to memorize their young faces. There is almost no trace of the deeply incrusted stress and worry that had been there in Tetsuya's future. They all look so young, so carefree and so oblivious; Tetsuya can only ask himself what had happened to make them as they were in his future. Maybe it was his fault – maybe it was because he had left them to their own devices when they were in need of a trusted friend, one who could help them overcome their fear and pain. But is he really to blame, – he, as heartbroken and depressed as he was, who has helped them in the end – what has he done wrong? Tetsuya has no answer for this, and he is sure that he will never get one; there is no one who can answer this (oh so important) question.
Tetsuya looks up as Midorima arrives, a strange plushy squished in between his arms. "Hello," he greets politely, and ignores the flinch of everyone around him. "I didn't know you played basketball, Midorima-kun." It is a small lie; he is sure no one will mind – not that Tetsuya ever plans to tell them about his time-travel experience. "Do you believe you'll be placed in the first string?" he asks as soon as everyone else's gazes fall elsewhere – though he is sure some of them are listening, it is one of the only conversation going on in here.
Midorima blinks, looking as if he wasn't expecting Tetsuya to continue the conversation. "First string? What are you talking about?" It is obvious to Tetsuya's eyes that Midorima hates not knowing the answer.
"There are three strings in Teikō. The first string is the main team of the club; the strongest members are in the first string." Saying those words leaves a bad taste in his mouth, but he tries to ignore it. "The second string is a reserve for the first string – though they still play some matches on their own. The third string… is somewhat a 'dumpster.'" Some of the members listening to him flinch, suddenly sweating. "The third string members are encouraged to train and become part of the second, or the first string, but it is unlikely to happen."
"What?" Midorima seems surprised at his knowledge, but he doesn't comment on it. "Why wouldn't they go in the first string? Or even the second string? Wouldn't they want to become stronger and join Teikō's official team?" One look at Tetsuya, and understanding flashes through his eyes. "I see. So they lack the motivation; why?"
He takes a deep breath. "Imagine," he says quietly. "You are a third string member. You have just joined, and while you are sad you didn't join a higher string, you are convinced that if you train with everything you have, you will eventually get to, at least, the second string. But at times goes on, you realize that everything you do in there is basic, useless training. You are used as a model for what people shouldn't be, and you are called 'basketball trash' by your own teammates." He lays his eyes on Midorima. "How do you think you would feel?" Tetsuya can feel almost every eye on him, some surprised and other thoughtful.
Surprisingly, Midorima isn't the one to answer him. "I would feel helpless." It is one of the (future) third string members – he played with Tetsuya, and that is enough of a reason to consider him one of his friends. "I would want to give up, and I would quite the basketball team." Just like Tetsuya's, his voice his quiet.
He nods. "That's what they're aiming for." Now, every eyes are on him. "They're trying to make you feel weak. You will only be weak if you think you are." He almost adds 'it's common knowledge of psychology' but restrains himself at the last second.
There is a moment of silence, as everyone still stares at Tetsuya. It is broken by (once again, surprisingly) Akashi. "Who told you all that?"
(His voice isn't half as strict as it was before, and Tetsuya unconsciously lets out a breath of relief. Akashi's eyes narrow.)
He almost says 'it was you Akashi-kun,' before restraining himself, and grounding out, "Most people don't notice me," he ignores the guilty looks, "and sometimes, I hear some things I'm not supposed to know." He takes a second to think. "You could say I often eavesdrop, even if it's not on purpose." Cue to sweat drops.
No one has the time to say anything else, as the coach finally arrives and opens the changing room.
[4]
"In which string do you think you will go?" Midorima asks as they are waiting for the results of their tests. The coaches (there is one coach for each of the string, plus the coach responsible of the whole basketball team) made them stretch a little, and then they had to do some matches. Right now, the coaches are reuniting and discussing about who will go in which string.
"Hmm," Tetsuya hums. He doesn't let go of the ball in his hands, liking the sensation of the rough material on his skin. "Probably the third string; I'm not anything special, anyway." He spins the ball on his fingers, and looks at Midorima.
Midorima's eyes widen from beside his glasses in incredulousness. "What?! What was this long speech about then?!" He then frowns. "Don't tell me it was just idle talk."
Tetsuya lets out a breath; he knows that Midorima despises idle talk. "Even if I don't join the first or the second string, I'm not planning on letting my hope down. I know that even if I don't become part of the second or first string, I will still be able to enjoy basketball. I will still have someone in high school. Of course, I will be sad to let Teikō's team go; but I know that there already are some people waiting for me in high school." And in America, he adds silently.
"Huh? What you say makes no sense." Incomprehension is plastered on Midorima's face.
Tetsuya blinks at the face Midorima pulls, and chuckles – he feels at ease around Midorima, his friend. The sound is foreign in his mouth, and he can feel Midorima's surprise, along with some stares from his teammates. "I guess it doesn't," he says quietly once he has calmed down.
Midorima stares at Tetsuya's small smile. What a weird guy, he thinks as his lips quirk up.
"Everyone, listen up!" The main coach has walked forward, calling them. It seems that they have finished assigning them to their strings. The gymnasium falls into silence, as everyone waits with berated breath the results.
"Atsushi Murasakibara, first string." The tall teenager only nods. "Daiki Aomine, first string." Aomine smiles, not looking any surprised. "Seijūrō Akashi, first string." Akashi smirks, and crosses his arms in confidence. "Shintarō Midorima, first string." Midorima pushes his glasses up, but if you look closely, you can see the slight happiness and surprise in his eyes. "Shōgo Haizaki, first string." Haizaki smirks. "Tetsuya Kuroko, first string." Tetsuya's eyes widen slightly in surprise, and he freezes.
It wasn't supposed to happen like that, he thinks, frozen.
He blinks, takes a deep breath, and ignores the half-worried half-curious eyes on him. Why would they worry over him, anyway? They just met him; they aren't friends, not yet, at least. They can't know.
Tetsuya opens his eyes again and looks at the coach, listening to the rest of the list. He only remembers half of the names, and is almost ashamed at the thought – how could he forget them just like that? He had always been so concentrated on the Generation of Miracles, that he had forgotten about his other teammates; he is determined to not make the same mistake again. It wasn't like anyone would mind. What's more, he could make some friends, or companions, that way. Thinking about that, Tetsuya glances at his old – future – friends, and his eyes soften without his consent. Oh, how much he would do for them—how many days, how many hours had he spent trying to help them through it all? He wouldn't know. It doesn't matter anyway; all of it has gone up to dust. Everyone – except him – has forgotten.
Shaking himself out of his depressing thoughts, Tetsuya glances up as the coach's speech finishes, and they are dismissed. He quickly walks to the changing room, changes and walks out before anyone can call him. (He notices Midorima searching him – staring at the locker Kuroko used; and curses silently. How did he manage to attract Midorima's attention?)
As soon as he's safe in his house, he drops his deadpan mask, and lets the panic break on his face.
It changed. Why? His body is still so young and weak; there's no way he could have been as good as before, so why did they put him in the first string? Tetsuya can't understand. Right now, he's nothing.
He can't do anything.
He can't help them.
Tetsuya lets his head drop, and his back slides down the door; he hides behind his arms and knees, pretends the world behind his eyelids doesn't exist.