Summary: Akashi Seijuro was not one for gossiping. But when the rumours about the haunted doll reaches his ears, he could not help but be interested. Of course, he never would expect the rumoured doll to fall into his hands. When it comes to life, Akashi realises that there is more to the doll than what meets the eye, and sets out to uncover their chained past, and maybe love along the way.
Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroko no Basuke or Lover Doll. I only own the plot of this story and my OCs.
Pairings: Akashi Seijuro x Kuroko Tetsuya (Main)
AN: Hello and welcome to my story! This is a rewrite of my old fic, inspired from the manga Lover Doll. I restarted as my writing style had changed too much for me to continue writing an old fic.
Warnings: BL, Yaoi, Boy x Boy. Not your cuppa? Please leave. Thank you.
Akashi Seijuro was not one for gossiping in almost any situations. He did not see the point of exchanging rumours that could be false for a he knew about a stranger. Their daily actions will not do anything to affect his life, so Akashi saw no reason to taint his mind with something so trivial when he could be learning about something that will contribute to his studies. But sometimes even the absolute emperor took a break from his tightly scheduled life to gather with his friends, exchanging pleasantries and their highs and lows in their lives. Which eventually lead to the hottest gossips at the time, much like the current situation that he was in. Sitting in a corner of an isolated café, surrounded by some of the most idiotic and endearing- not that he will ever admit it- friends, Akashi pondered about why he had even bothered to join this group of gossiping children. Every single time they met up to socialise, the conversation always took a turn to the newest gossips. And Akashi hated gossiping.
"Akashi-kun," Momoi Satsuki, his team's basketball manager with bright peach coloured hair and matching eyes, tugged on Akashi's sleeve. "Are you listening?" She pouted, cherry lips perfect and shining in the lighting that would lure any average person into a trap. Thankfully, Akashi was not normal, and was immune to his manager's charms. Spending a whole childhood with Momoi does that to a person. Akashi simply nodded, knowing that it would send the girl into another rant about whatever she found interesting at the time. Momoi was the queen of gossips, somehow managing to remember anything that comes out of another person's mouth. While irritating at times, it proved her to be an extremely useful source of information.
At Akashi's acknowledgement, her eyes lit up and she started off with yet another new topic that she had heard from a classmate. "The Bloody Doll, you see, is a beautiful doll with a soul," she whispered, eyes narrowing as if to create suspense, Akashi blinked, suddenly entranced by the tale. That did not escape Momoi's watchful eyes and she grinned, "They say, that if you ever gain possession of the doll, it will come to life and kill you!" Throwing her arms up, she giggled at the small squeak that emitted from Kise, whose hands had the table in a death grip. Akashi tilted his head, storing the piece of information into his mind for later use. Conversation waned until Momoi changed the topic yet again by rambling about one of their fellow classmates, allowing Akashi to sink into another pool of sounds that he never bothered to comprehend.
Hours passed, marked by the darkening sky as Akashi continued to laze blissfully in the haze of colours and sounds, making agreeing noises every now and then. Now that he thought of it, meeting up with his teammates isn't all that bad. He could be lax and unguarded with the people that he had known since birth without feeling defenceless and vulnerable. While around the student body and his family, Akashi had to act like the sharp and cold heir he was raised to be, with his friends, he could let down his façade for a while. Sadly, his mental vacation came to a rapid end when the shop owner informed the group of the closure of the café of the day. And with a quick goodbye and the promise to meet again in the holidays, the group dissipated, each going their own way.
It was mid-September, and Akashi could already feel the forewarning of winter in the coldness of the air. Supressing a shiver, because it was unbecoming of his reputation, Akashi treaded his way through the empty streets that were dimly illuminated by the light of shops that were still open in the late hour. A glance to his expensive watch told him that it was already a quarter to ten. Time had flown by in the company of his friends.
Exhaustion suddenly hit him like a truck as the activities during the day finally took its toll. Despite his sudden bout of tiredness, Akashi still managed to catch a glimpse of a shop in the alley, tucked away from prying eyes by the shadows. And, against his better judgements, Akashi let curiosity overtake his body. Gently easing the old glass door open, he heard the crystal chime of an old bell that signalled his entry. The shop was small and packed with many objects, each one of a kind and looking like an antique. A small woman sat at the counter, engrossed in a heavy volume. Deciding to help himself to his findings, Akashi browsed through one of the many crowded shelves, more often than not finding intricate jewellery covered in a language that he did not recognise. And although the trinkets were beautiful in their own right, Akashi did not feel the pull that he felt when his searching eyes met an isolated, battered old box in the very back corner of the shop. It had an aura that pulled him to it, whispering promises of happiness that were never there. Akashi was terrified, and spellbound.
Before he knew it, Akashi was walking out of the shop with the box in his hands, having paid the price to the clerk who had given him a knowing smile. The box was heavy, but felt weightless in his hands after he had exited the shop. Turning back, Akashi blinked in shock, the small shop was gone. He had been sure that it was there a second before. A small beep interrupted his thoughts and Akashi was reminded of the late hour. Determined to reach his house without another interruption, he never did notice the small jolt inside of the box. In the dimly lit streets, the metal plate on the box was briefly brightened enough for words to come to light. They were dull and rusted, but if Akashi had looked, he would have seen the carvings that labelled the object inside of the box. "The Bloody Doll".
Thank you for reading. Reviews and well-aimed critics are welcome. No flames, though. Thanks!