Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroko no Basuke or anything in it.
General Warnings: soulmate AU, first words, angst, swearing
Summary: It's nothing like how stories say it will be, nothing like the fairy tales say it should be, nothing like anything at all. Soulmate AU, Angst, MidoTaka
Author's Notes: So, I know I haven't updated anything in a year. Or two. So...um, sorry? I won't promise to update my other fics regularly or even anytime soon because I'm terrible at updating, and I don't like to break promises. But recently, my muse has been either stuck in a ditch somewhere or jumping around fandoms too quickly to follow, so I've got bits and pieces written for every fic I've published and more besides, but not enough for a full chapter. So, yeah. Whatever. Don't get your hopes too high for any of my already published fics. Be on the lookout for some new fics though, I've been dabbling in the KnB fandom a lot lately...
Chapter 1
"My shots never miss."
Kazunari freezes, heart stuttering to a stop. The green-haired shooter doesn't seem to notice, already turning away as the ball swishes through the net and the buzzer sounds. The words, curved along the small of his back, seem to burn into his skin as he watches the shooter ― his soulmate ― walk back to his bench.
Kazunari had always thought he'd be happy when he finally heard those words. Ecstatic. Awed. He's awed, yes, but in a terrible, cold sort of way ― the sort that comes with watching this prodigy accomplish the unbelievable, watching him jump like a rising tsunami, the ball soaring from his fingertips and across the court, impossibly high and impossibly long, watching it sink into the hoop with a swish, always always always; an unfeasible, unthinkable inevitability.
He had always thought his soulmate would be someone he would like. Someone confident, someone amazing; someone he could introduce to his friends and family and feel proud of. Someone- someone he would be happy with.
Right now, he's so far from happy he wants to cry. He might feel better if he does. His teammates are ― Kazunari can see his captain trying to comfort their newest member, a first year named Ichiro, whose face is hidden under his towel, fat droplets of sweat or tears ― Kazunari can't tell which ― dripping down his chin. This is Ichiro's first game. From the slump of his trembling shoulders and shaking hands, Kazunari won't be surprised if it is his last.
"Takao!" Kazunari's captain calls, exhaustion lining his voice, and Kazunari jerks. They're lining up for the customary post-game handshake. Kazunari hurriedly falls in line. Beside him, Ichiro's hands are still trembling. By now, the tears, if there had been any in the first place, have stopped. But there is a dullness in Ichiro's eyes, blank and numbing, that makes Kazunari think that he might have preferred the tears.
It's unexpected, when Kazunari finds himself in front of the green haired boy, his soulmate. But- this is his chance, isn't it? To say the words that are no doubt inked upon the other boy's skin, to let the other boy know that they are soulmates, perfect halves of the other. Kazunari holds his hand out mechanically, opening his mouth to say something, anything, but- but-
"Good game," he hears himself say distantly, and the words taste like ash in his mouth. He wants to say more, say something different, something defining, but it's all he can do not to choke on his lies. His smile is fake and plastic, brittle even to himself. The green haired shooter never even bats an eyelash.
"You too," he says dismissively, and then he walks away.
For a long long second, Takao can't move, staring woodenly at the retreating back of his green haired soulmate. He isn't even sure if he wants to scream or cry or just sit down, because god how is this his life? This- This is nothing like how stories say it will be, nothing like the fairy tales say it should be, nothing like anything at all. Isn't there- isn't there supposed to be something? Anything? Not just two strangers saying predestined words imprinted on the other's skin, and then walking away as if it had never happened. Shouldn't there be some sort of connection?
Kazunari doesn't remember filing into the locker room with the rest of his team. He only snaps back into reality when his captain claps a hand on Kazunari's shoulder. His captain smiles hollowly, humorlessly at the rest of the team.
"Well, that was...fun," the taller boy says. It's probably meant to cheer them up, but, suddenly, Kazunari just- can't. He can't do this anymore. He can't- he can't watch his captain plaster on a false, plastic smile and try to cheer them all up when it's clear that all the other boy wants to do is curl up and sob. He can't watch as Ichiro trembles with blank, dry eyes, can't watch the rest of his teammates putter around as if everything's alright when they're all a hair's breadth from screaming, in anger, in frustration, in helpless rage, because they've been crushed in a game in which they never even managed to be players, so uselessly weak, not even good enough to be a blip on Teiko's radar. He can't.
So he slips out the door to the bathroom. Ten minutes later finds Kazunari dry retching over the toilet, gagging as quietly as he can. Bile churns in his stomach, but nothing comes up.
His phone buzzes with a text as he sits back against the stall door, panting from the force of his heaves. Where are you, Takao? It's from his captain.
I'll find my own way home. Don't wait up for me, Kazunari texts back, before dropping his phone with a clatter, and burying his face between his knees. He takes a deep breath and then another, and all of a sudden, he really wants to laugh.
His soulmate is a prodigy. A genius, with a form so stunning it's unreal. His shots are incredible, unbelievable, absurd. He's an impossibility made reality, a player so far out of Kazunari's reach it's not even funny. Which is why it is.
Kazunari scrapes his hands across his face, buries his fingers into his hair and yanks, because it's really really not that funny. Stupid. He's so stupid. What's so funny about not being good enough for the other half of his soul? Apparently something is, because he's giggling, quietly at first, then louder as the giggles turn into half muffled sobs, hiccups spluttering from his throat and only making him giggle harder.
He's lucky no one comes in. When the giggles and sobs finally die down, Kazunari feels...tired. Worn out, and it's not all just from exhaustion. He checks his phone again. Three missed calls from his mother and a text from his captain asking him to text back when he got home. It's been almost three hours since the game ended. Kazunari drags himself to his feet, swaying as the blood rushes back into his legs and unlocks the stall door.
He doesn't remember how he got home. He doesn't remember trudging up the stairs, or locking himself in the bathroom, or taking off his shirt.
What he does remember is staring at his words in the mirror; staring at the elegant, green calligraphy along the small of his back, staring at the my shots never miss penned like a damning shackle to a person he does not want to know, and Kazunari doesn't think he's ever hated anything more in his life.
(Mama, tell me a story!)
(Well, how about this one? Once upon a time, a boy met his soulmate...)
Kazunari reaches out and scratches a hand across his words. And again. And again.
(Soulmates are perfect halves of each other, Kazu-kun. You'll see when you meet yours.)
(Do they always live happily ever after, Mama?)
His back is a rash of red and welts now. It throbs, and the green of the words still peeks through, but the words are undecipherable.
(Yes, yes they do. They're your soulmate after all.)
(You'll have a happily ever after of your own too someday. You'll see.)
Kazunari takes one last look at the mess he's made of his back and reaches for the medicine cabinet to wrap it up.
He's getting too old for fairy tales anyway.
Notes: So apparently, I can't write anything other than crack and angst. There is no in-between. This is written for cywscross's Fandom Bingo. It's super late, but...eh. I'm just glad I even got it out. This may or may not have a happier bonus chapter later on. But that's up to my muse and work ethic.