The inception of this story goes way back to 2015. I think it was, may be, August or September. As one can see, I haven't manged to write much, its completion will not be promised. But please keep encouraging me as I continue to write it at a snail's pace. To appease you, I have 506 words written for the next chapter.

The story itself was suppose to be a long one-shot but...Oh, well. Back to the present circumstances, it might be a three shot, approximately.

And Fei-san, I hope you get better real soon. I miss writing with you.

Tetsuya uses his rear to push the final carton of his literature and history books under the bed. His roommate looked like an ass as of the moment. Not like he was as doing anything. He could help Tetsuya unload and maneuver his things at least, instead of pretending to read the newspaper. A sort of dread fills him at the thought that no cellphones, or other gizmos for that matter, work on this topography of the planet.

He hauls himself up the floor and drags himself to other such cartons stuffed with his belongings. He was thinking of moving out from this motel soon because he has left Japan for good. He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon and to settle in he'll need some assistance in finding a place to stay in. A small dinky apartment will do since it was only he, himself. So a kitchen, a room and living room or an extra room will do perfect.

For now, he decides he will just push these things to his corner of the rented room. And then he will head out. He has read about the solo pub in this village of Oymyakon on the internet. Of course he has done his research while he was plotting his escape. No, he was not a criminal. Only a guy whom no one understood, the love of whose life loved his best friend, whose ever varying writing was considered taboo in the industry. There were multiple ways to depict and describe the paroxysm of human emotions. But no. The industry wanted the traditional, unctuous stories projected in what he wrote, the same dull idea of love that was not even considerable for him to be love. Only for the foolish dogmas.

He had fallen into depression. He knew what it meant for him. Reams of people coming to visit him, to pity him and pamper him, trample on his self-respect as a strong person who prioritized struggle and strength. The only way was to escape. To find and acclimate himself to a place that did not haunt him of his broken dreams and losses. And then, forget that his whilom self, existed in the first place.

He had his books. He's brought a hundred. When he's done reading all of them, he will move again to another place. Probably Switzerland or another city of Russia that wasn't too heavy on his pockets. Find another hundred books, read them and move again. Again and again. And again.

It is only when he has been shaken roughly, he realizes he had just lost himself in another loop of his miseries and why there was no way for a resolve.

Tetsuya does not comprehend what his roommate is saying because he has yet to learn the language here. Add gaining command on Russian to his list of things he must do before relocating himself. A hundred books and mastering Russian. That had a nice ring, like a literary work of an author. An obituary or an autobiography of himself.

"No. English." He says, using his limited vocabulary and command of the language. May be he would learn this one, too.

The man gives him a nasty face, one which Tetsuya believes he did not mean to, it's just the way his opulent face ended up in an attempt to frown. "You, OK?" His English is broken, too or may be it,s an accent.

"Yes." He reclusively replies, not very thrilled about making a clown of himself by speaking something gratuitous.

The man wordlessly picks up three of his loaded boxes and dumps them on the floor at the end of his bed. Before Tetsuya can even say wait you don't have to, he picks up the remaining two and dumps them at the former spot, too.

He felt bad for cursing at him so early. His depression spoke to him in that voice sometimes. He was not usually so rude, even in his thoughts, by nature. So, he humbly bows. "T-thank you." He says.

"No problem. Just buzz me if you need to mount stuff. Since you look like you can hardly support yourself. "He gruffly replies back and instead grabs his hand to shake, jolting him in the process.

Tetsuya could not make out half of what he said but it sounded like a genuine gesture so he firms their handshake. "Yes." It comes out in Japanese by mistake.

"You're Japanese?" The man says in surprisingly fluent Japanese.

"Yes. You, too?" He asks back, still bewildered by this stroke of luck.

"Yup! By my roots at least." He was so much taller and not at all Japanese height, that Tetsuya strongly wanted to pinch himself to confirm reality.

"That's great. I'm Kuroko Tetsuya." He properly introduces himself.

"Kagami Taiga." The man standing in front of him may look scary upfront but his eyes were the very embodiment of sunpretentious. That or Tetsuya was a homesick fool, already.

"Thank you for helping with my things." Tetsuya rudimentarily says in good rapport.

"Uh, no problem." Kagami scratches his head and he looked like he was trying to remember something he had to say. "Yeah! I was going out to the pub. Earlier I wanted to ask if you wanna come?" He excitedly asks and Tetsuya agrees more than readily. This place was definitely his lucky site on the planet if it responded to him like a god to a wish.

...

The club was jam packed. How Kagami spotted a couple of empty bar stools by the counter, Tetsuya has no idea. May be he could just see with his humongous height.

Kagami takes him by the hand and effortlessly lets the rally of teeming drunkards part for him.

He pulls him closer and in front of his chest when they reach the counter. "Go on sit." He says. "Hurry up."

"Yes!" He yells above the den, not like it made much difference. His yell was so antsy.

Once he has settled down, Kagami joins beside him, like a fortress or a knight stationed to protect him. "You doing alright, Kuroko?" Even Kagami has to raise his voice, though it did not sound like his own neurotic yell. He felt shaken from this over whelming mob.

This time he reserves to nod and mouths 'Thank you, Kagami-kun. "

Kagami is apparently assured and starts to order their drinks. He orders for him one of the weaker drinks, he was probably unimpressed by his dependence. But Tetsuya chooses to practice his right to remain silent because...he never drank before. Today is going to be the day when he finally becomes a full-fledged adult. He can rely on Kagami to haul him to the motel like stack of rafters.

"There you go." Kagami pushes a mug brimming with form. "It's beer." He explains and Tetsuya hears challenge in his tone. "It's safe for you."

He restrains from giving Kagami a stink eye and instead glares at the opponent standing before him, looking as innocuous as possible with fluff and form. Tentatively, he wraps his hands around it. The temperature was normal.

Kagami's eyes still on him, he chugs a gobful of beer. And it feels more like a tussive as he chokes on its sharpness. But Kagami is a steady figure beside him as he rubs his back soothingly with his big warm hands-he can feel their warmth even from under the truck of sweaters he is wearing.

Tetsuya takes a smaller amount this time, he still grimaces but thankfully does not choke. He coughs a bit. "Is it always so crowded here?" He tries to distract himself from it and observe his surroundings more. He'd never be able to break this habit.

Kagami has to lean closer to listen to him as he's given up on torturing his voice box. "Only since the new guy who sings at the bar. He's Japanese, too." This manages to surprise him and he peeks at the stage -if a raised platform made of logs tied together can be called together.

"He's not here, yet. He starts in ten more minutes. He'll be coming out any second to adjust his" Kagami's whole face frowns in concentration before he settles with "things." And a shrug.

"Oh...what's his name?" Tetsuya was mildly curious and kind of excited to meet another native. Though with such a stuffed place, Tetsuya doubted they could meet.

"Akashi Seijuro." Tetsuya memorizes the name.

"Did you ever talk to him?"

"Hah?" Kagami was offended. "It's not like he's a celebrity out here. Maybe for some scintillas hours of the night but nothing more."

"You didn't answer me, Kagami-kun."

Kagami sighs. "Yeah yeah, I have." He mutters some more under his breath bit even without hearing it Tetsuya knew they did not get along. Tetsuya almost felt bad about it. Being from the same place and not being able to get along. But Kagami did not appear very Japanese, either.

Tetsuya taps Kagami's elbow and he what's?! "Since when has Kagami-kun been here?"

"About a month. For endurance training. I can't wait to leave next month. Seriously, coach did not have to be so drastic." Halfway Kagami seems to have forgotten he was here and was talking to himself. But Tetsuya was happy about the essence of purity in him. And sad because there was only around 30 more days left to relish it.

"I see." He sounded upset to his own ears. "Training?" He asks, returning back to the topic at hand.

"Yeah. I'm a NBA player." Kagami says and goes back to ordering himself another round.

Well, Kagami's built didn't lie. But he's got to admit that this was quite an aggrandized way to train. Tetsuya, however, liked people who were dedicated to their cause.

A clamor of girly squeals suddenly reverberates the air inside the bar with such intensity that Tetsuya could feel it flowing to his fingertips from the mug.

"He's here." Kagami says without sparing anything a glance. "It's always like this, don't worry."

Tetsuya turns just in time to see him climb the stage and finds no reason why Kagami does not like him. There is elegance in his poise and a smile on his face as he reverently waves at the throng of overexcited women. He is very princely. No doubt these women were bonkers for him. But there was something else, too. Despite the coldness, he only wore a sweater and jeans but managed to look healthily pale. His very existence in this place was like warmth sucking the cold right out of the temperature with the gentle fire in his hair and eyes. Like moths to a flame.

Akashi Seijuro pickets the mic stand he has been carrying and plugs it to the pub's sound system -Tetsuya found it unbelievable that they even had one. Having a heater was a blessing as it was already. Akashi straps the acoustic guitar he had been carrying across his chest, playing a short staccato. Everyone in the club, especially the ladies, go eerily silent with that small intro.

Then, he starts playing the guitar with such beautiful lucidness that it appears effortless. Tetsuya couldn't wait to hear his voice.

Just as he brings his mouth to the mic, their eyes meet. Both widening a fraction.

(Insert A Team)

Floored, that was what happened to him when Akashi Seijuro opened his mouth and flawless vocal cords. Tetsuya could just ignore the guitar but still listen to that paroxysmal singing. Everything was suddenly different.

From the lyrics, it was easy to decipher that the singer himself was the owner and Tetsuya could only marvel more at the excellence of its quality.

But why, why was someone as talented as him was here? He could be anywhere he wanted, anyplace and any stage could have been his. A lot of raw talent went ignored in daily life but Akashi Seijuro was on a league of perfection of his own that was impossible to miss so there was no way it needed to request for attention.

This was the type of phenomenal radicalization Tetsuya desired in the music industry. His sight was peeled on the guy.

...

It's been 5 days since he arrived here and with or without Kagami, he hadn't failed to visit the bar every day. Kagami is pretty much a tsundere who won't admit that Akashi was really good at what he did.

"Going out again, tonight?"

Tetsuya nods to his fellow itinerant. He wears a jumper and a thick wool overcoat. Newspapers tucked inside it can act as insulators, too they say, but he has not bothered to try it yet. He was sure he'd have aplenty opportunities in the future. He further syncs it by volsuting a muffler around his neck. Next, he helmets his head in a black ushnak. Lastly, he wiggles on his warm gloves. All set to gad around the Tomtor village to his favorite pub.

He struts to the door, past his mate's bed, to put on his boots. The man passes him a fleeting look and waves his hand in dismissal. Tetsuya wags his head once more in affirmation before opening the door. On que, the frosty air leaves him flappable. But he hurries out and closes it swiftly.

Behind him the man maunders. "Man, I hate this place."

He hauls up his muffler around his mouth and nose so, only his ice blue eyes are visible.

In spite of the arctic zone, Oymyakon valley is an extremely fantastical region to dwell in. It is a kingdom of ice and a cold heaven. Everywhere he looks its ice-blue. Riveted water beds and frozen ground, traffic lights, crystallized causeways, frosted tree stems and sculptures. Barren roads because people scuttle from one place of warmth to another and usually stay indoors. A store sized convenience store, scarcely remote fuel station and small cozy houses, stuccoes with intricate skeins of ice.

Since his landing here and Tetsuya is already readily into this place from the bottom of his heart. Reindeer hunting, fish shaving, jaunty populace, peaceful and most of all a bar where all the obstreperous men and women gather to listen to the staccato of an acoustic guitar and the sleek vocalist.

His own reasons for being here were grotesque enough and he was genuinely sparked by the exotic events skulking behind Akashi's tale. Like rafts of those mystery novels he has had delivered in packages and slumbering under his bed in heaps.

Celerity flows to his legs as he sights the pub. The mob here is thicker as it can be with only 500 residents in a village. The exodus is like iron-bars or needles or anything that a magnet could attract.

Tetsuya elusively joins them and immediately his muscles flaccid as they acclimate to the warm interior. Modern conveniences were rare to come by. People mostly ferried them here from the more futuristic cities. Others burnt coal and wood. Either way, he was glad that his inn and this pub were equipped with heaters.

He descries the front tables packed with younger women torridly debating and pontificating the best candidate to court the aspiring vocalist. Men, whereas, are more invested in card games. And alcohol runs rampant. Every now and then someone raptly veers towards the stage which is more of a curb of rafted logs than the actual stages he had grown up seeing.

Tetsuya silently claims his place on the bar stool and conventionally greets the bartender who is meticulously wiping the hutch till it shines. He is a local with thin blistered gray hair who is about as young as Tetsuya. A little older may be. But that is a view of a dabbler. Ruminant, he greets back and asks, "The usual?"

"Yes, thank-you." Not very long-winded either.

Unlike his brown-haired female contemporary who is a sticky beak, a scare merger and a chatterbox. "Tetsuya! Hey, sup?"

He has yet to get used to the immutable informality of the natives.

"I am fine." He redundantly answers and avoids facing her vibrancy by shucking his overcoat and trooper hat.

"You are both such sados." She pouts and starts clap-trapping other customers. The guy is quiet business and leaves after sliding Tetsuya his cold drink to serve. They go well together.

Tetsuya sucks, slurps and quaffs his vanilla milkshake, twirling the straw in his buccal. He had undergone a massive trouble while moving here that is, if there will be any delicatessen vanilla milkshakes on this mound of the planet or not. His first excavation had been in search for the very spice that he found closer than he thought.

A tack of noise suddenly spires followed by howling and yowls. Tetsuya swirls the barstool as the voices hoot to greater decibels. His head spins. He had never been complacent with noise.

The singer mounts the stage and suspends the guitar across his chest. The women come down from their high instead they keenly observe. Men aren't much deterred but Tetsuya knows they are revitalized as well. A facsimile of his own excitement.

Oxymoronically, the throng attains blithering silence when the microphone is tuned on and the vocalist murmurs a few hellos. And then the infinitesimal strumming of the acoustic guitar begins.

(Insert Yellow by coldplay.)

Tetsuya intently listens, his feet swinging with the rhythm and his emotions blue. His singing struck s a chord within. Past the milkshake this is the reason he comes here. He reminds Tetsuya of home.

Everyone is drawn in by him.

One, two, three songs go past and Tetsuya remains mesmerized and interminably attracted. His shake forgotten.

When Akashi retires for the night, hordes of women uncirculated him squealing, giggling and... Tetsuya removes his gaze when he finds that a woman had tried to grope him.

"It's pretty late. The outside is the grounds for drunktards at this hour." The brown haired girl says. "Do you need one last shot? We are about to wrap up."

Tetsuya checks his watch. Time was an uncertain quantity when the sky is always dark. "Whiskey." Since he was in trouble either way. Or not, may be. No one will notice him.

"You know she is not exaggerating for once." Tetsuya jerks up from his watch. "Have I seen you before?"

Tetsuya stares in disbelief. The very person he had been dreaming of approaching had waylaid to him instead. Those women will surely be jealous. "No. I doubt that." He replies monotonously in an attempt to mask some of his surprise mixed with befuddlement.

"Sorry for being rude." He cordially holds out his hand. "Akashi Seijuro." And then he smiles and Tetsuya's heart turns jelly. He berates himself.

"K..Kuroko Tetsuya." He takes the hand and they firmly shake hands. Now, it felt like someone was pricking the jelly with a fork and it was juggling. He will ask Kagami to hit him, later.

The male bartender leaves two glasses of whiskey and disappears indoors. Leaving only whatever sound they would make to resonate the room.

Seijuro picks his glass and drinks. Tetsuya wraps his hands around his own.

"I really enjoy your singing and guitar play." He carefully comments.

"Thanks." Seijuro says swirling his glass and taking a big swig. "I enjoy it, too." A caprice of sorrow and nostalgia flits his face before he is smirking at Tetsuya again before he could see through the cracks. "I do really think I have seen you somewhere."

Tetsuya jogs his memory but naught is retrieved. "I don't recall. Perhaps we passed each other by in Tokyo?"

"5 years before? I doubt any of us would remember that."

Tetsuya thinks some more and epiphany descends in bits. "May be in high school? Did you use to sing then?"

"Yup!" Then he puts down his glass and excitedly asks. "Do you sing, too?"

Tetsuya sheepishly scratches his nape. "Not much. I was a supporting singer. And our school didn't make it to the inter-high."

Seijuro leans his face against his fist. "Hmm...your talents probably floated through unrecognized."

Forget the jelly, it was like someone stabbed his 15 years old self with a serrated knife.

"Hm? Are you feeling unwell?" Seijuro asks when he sees his aura's caprice.

"Actually, yes. Please be more considerate of other people's feelings Akashi-kun." He says in a gloomy depressed voice. All those times that he was ignored because of his low presence rewind in his stream of consciousness like a record of his failure.

"Ah! No! No! I did not mean to offend you." Seijuro defends a little panicked. He honestly was not expecting such prudish affects.

"It's alright." Tetsuya says amicably. There wasn't much point in crying over spilt milk.

"So, will you like to collaborate with me?" Tetsuya stares at him in consternation. Vandalized between hearing him right or the suggestion itself. Collaborating with him meant, Tetsuya will have to write again and sing again. Both of which he had given up on before coming here. He promised himself he will never repeat something that drove him into a corner with mania.

"No, I'm sorry. I'll have to decline your proffer." It comes out more rudely and bitter than intended and he had to keep himself from lashing out at Akashi without any plausible reason. His hands were shaking.

Akashi seems to realize it though and he puts down his own glass and leans over his shoulder with his eyes constricted in a worried frown. "Are you alright?"

This is what Tetsuya hated the most: the pity. "I'm fine." He says and hops of the stool, quickly putting on the coat and hat he had expired earlier. He wanted out of here. The place was too dense and he felt his claustrophobia begin to creep up without much preamble. "I'm leaving."

"Wait. Listen." He ignores Akashi behind him, intent on keeping his distance and with every intention of making to it to the door. However, Akashi holds his hand before he could wrap his muffler around his neck. "Can we please talk a little longer?"

Tetsuya was already feeling bad as it was on his rudeness and with Akashi imploring with his red eyes wasn't doing much except to exacerbate it. "The pub will close down in a few minutes and it is late enough as it is already." He really ought to ask Akashi how he kept himself so warm, his hand against Tetsuya's wrist was unfairly inviting. "I promise to be here tomorrow."

Akashi's hold on his wrist slackens but does not disappear. His eyes stare unblinkingly at him for a few seconds more for Tetsuya to become suspicious of the delayed response. "You promise?"

He is surprised at the earnestness of his own nod when he smiles it at Akashi. "I'm sorry about earlier." He says, embarrassed.

"No, it's okay." Akashi casually shrugs. "It's of no matter. By the way, since you'll be my guest tomorrow, will Kuroko like to taste my personal cocktail?"

Tetsuya thinks about his unexplored boundaries with drinking alcohol and the likely beverages, about the one beer he had once with Kagami -it made him warm and nothing else- and concludes being wild won't hurt for once. Plus, Akashi did not strike him as a guy who may poison him. Even if he did in the end, Tetsuya won't particularly mind because with the way things were with his vulnerable mind and insecurities, which might even prove helpful.

"Kuroko-kun?"

Once again, just like numerous times Kagami has been pointing out, he had spaced out. "Yes. Okay." If Akashi had asked anything else, he does not know. Though, he does realize the barmaid whispering and elbowing her colleague behind the counter. "Thank you. I look forward to it."

"Me, too." Akashi says for an entirely different reason than his. "I shouldn't hold you any longer. Be careful on your way." Tetsuya's hand twitches to hold onto Akashi's warm hands and he resolutely tells himself that his heart did not just drop when he gently lets go.

"You, too...Akashi-kun." Akashi either does not take note of how he ended his sentence or just over looks it, Tetsuya takes it as a sensible lead to haste out of the door.

The last thing he hears is Akashi speaking Russian.