HELLO ALL!
It's your silly author here, haha! ^_^
I just have to say first off – I'M SO SORRY. It's been forever since I posted this up, and although I replied to some of you, most I didn't even respond to when you wrote your ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL reviews! So I'm sure most of you thought this was never going to be updated – yet you read it anyway! T.T
Thank you for being patient and I hope you like this next installment – again, updates are slow because of Lights – my other KnB story I'm working on. If you have never read it, I'd be so touched if you found it in yourself to do so.
Also, I'm so amazed at the response – so many followers and favorites, even after one chapter! *0* I'm so stunned. You have such faith in me. I do admit, I am nervous – I feel everyone has such big expectations of this fic that I won't meet anyone's at all. I ask for your open-mindedness, since I am not a basketball expert and probably will NOT do everything perfectly. But I'll try my best.
Please enjoy the chapter!
(Not edited at all. I'm so sorry! Please forgive me!)
The Rakuzan basketball team was currently in practice. But if a passerby peeked through the door, they probably would've called someone in worry.
Currently, the court was in a massacre.
An orange blur slammed into Hayama's hands with a baritone echo, as final as an ending gong. In a blur of white and blue, he spun towards the far end of the court.
Second string players fumbled to catch up, looking like toy figures in a pinball game at the arcade as the blonde wove between them, a flurry of light and grins. A glint in his eye, his two fingers tweaked to the left.
The world stilled; the ball breathed as it slipped from Hayama's fingers. A light breath escaped his gently parted lips. A burnt orange spun in the air.
And then it stopped with a lurching gasp.
Hayama Kotaro shuddered; the air already disappeared from his lungs. His eyes widened in pain.
He collapsed to the ground. Those brown eyes swiveled in his shock, trying to find the source of the pain. His hands fell to his chest, holding in pain.
A blur of blue passed his vision.
Kuroko Tetsuya gave him only a fleeting glance as his pale hands wrapped around the ball.
And in the next moment, he was gone, leaving Hayama to finish falling to his knees.
The bulky Nebuya came next in line. His muscular form, when you added the full span of his gigantic arms spread across the size of three men. He was the ultimate defense piece of the Rakuzan court – unbeatable in strength and brute force.
His dark and beady eyes scrambled around the court, following from Hayama's gasping body up.
Suddenly, he was lurching forward. His foot screamed in agony as an unnoticed breeze fluttered past him. Nebuya spun around, his hands the size of ping-pong paddles, grabbing at the air. Another paralyzing shot of pain hit him on his upper arm. He froze, every nerve tingling.
Kuroko rushed past as Nebuya attempted to gain control of his body. His left arm looked comical, fumbling at nothing.
Immediately, the bluenette whirled, slamming his palm hard into the thick rubber sphere.
The second string center caught the ball; in moments, it was swishing through the net.
It was all in a day's work at the Rakuzan basketball courts. But all an outsider would probably see was how four team members were lying on the ground or frozen in place, with no visible sign of how it possibly happened. The last one standing, a wide eyed and slender male by the name of Mibuchi Reo stood there helplessly.
One of the poor souls stood up, limping over to Hayama, who waved him away good naturedly, despite a painful wince.
"21-15," a frightened freshman, Fujioka Shu squeaked. His lips were trembling, his throat was dry.
It had been terrifying to see; and as someone who hoped to be on the team, quite daunting to imagine that this – this was his future should he ever get good enough.
His eyes drifted to the second string. Their dark blue practice uniforms clung to their sweaty forms. Each one was clenched and tense – it had been a great workout, to be sure and his senpais seemed to be learning a lot about teamwork.
But if they ever dropped a single pass…
Fujioka remembered Toshiba-san, a healthy seventeen year old – one of the best prospects for the renowned first string – trying not to cry as he was led to the nurse. The angle of his arm had looked frighteningingly off.
The nurse said it was only a greenstick fracture – it would heal up in a couple of weeks.
But still. Gazing at the first string stumbling to their feet and the exhausted second line that was just relieved to get off the court, the freshman wasn't sure which one he'd rather be.
Akashi Seijuuro, captain – and in most ways – coach of the team, was beginning to instruct the players on things that that could be improved on.
"Kotaro, the reason that you didn't notice Tetsuya there was because of your lack of perception. Whenever you feel like you've succeeded, you let down your guard, just like on the last basket when you let go of the ball. Until it's out of your range, it's your responsibility.
"And Sayama – your footwork needs work. That's going to be put on your training menu next week."
Shakily, the rest of the teens who had gotten their remarks sat down for water. Most were trembling, but luckily it was too indistinguishable to be noticed.
The only one who did not join them was their beloved Vice Captain, who had immediately gone for a drink.
Out of all of them, it was true; this boy looked the most tired. He had a frail complexion and a delicate frame. Most wouldn't think it was the most athletic type.
But he was dangerous. After all, it had been him that had thrown that wooden shoehorn laying by the bleachers at Toshiba right during the game.
Afterwards, Akashi told him that breaking people's arms would not be tolerated. It could even lead to expulsion. There had been no real incidents after that.
Thus, no one really protested as the team ignored his presence.
Akashi blew his whistle a sharp three times. The rest of the courts – all linked by adjacent doors, and all open to boot – paused in their practice games. It was the signal for end of practice.
"Good job, everyone," Akashi said aloud, once they were all gathered.
Kuroko sat quietly beside Hayama and Mibuchi, who were some of the only players who had the courage to interact with the VC. Cheerfully, the blonde handed Kuroko a towel, which the boy silently accepted.
Off the court, he looked much less dangerous, his features softened and almost vulnerable.
But it was just a ploy. It was never truer that looks could be deceiving. Everyone here learned that the very first day Kuroko had joined Rakuzan, almost two weeks ago exactly.
Poor Yana. He almost quit that day.
"No Saturday practice, since it's the first week since the end of the summer tournament. But this is the only break. No one in this club is going to begin slacking."
Akashi ran through his list at an almost sergeant-like pace. Rapid gunning of each bullet and notification, with a commanding and clear voice. Akashi was always a very feared and respected captain, capable and instructive to anyone who needed it, but most of the group was also intimidated.
Sometimes you'd ask him for a break from practice because of some excuse and almost a month later, he'd still remember it – and those sharp eyes would tear you down until you admitted to slacking off for some date.
And then the punishment was always terrifying. When angry, the captain's wide and crazed eyes could strike fear into basically anyone. No one stopped him, since his father was on the board of the school district, rich as the Akashi household was. It was a daunting taskforce, really. Most didn't disobey after the first two times they'd tried to get something past him.
They didn't even have the bravery to talk about him behind his back. There was just too much fear.
That had changed though – now, most of the group quite appreciated the red head. It was because Akashi was always fair, always clear, and always right. As long as you did what he said and worked hard, you were fine.
Unless you were first string, of course, then it was more a matter of perfection.
But more of that later.
The main reason why Akashi looked so much nicer was because of their new vice-captain.
Reo was usually a great alternate to ask for directions or favors. He had some sway with the coach after all and he was always motherly.
But Kuroko – you could never expect what Kuroko would do.
One minute, you'd ask him for ten minutes early from practice because of a dentist appointment and he'd be knifing his hand into your neck. Two minutes after that, he'd be hugging you and apologizing.
No – it was safer to talk to Akashi. Akashi never injured anyone unless they truly deserved it.
"We'll start up again at five AM on Monday. Have a good weekend." With that, the captain tucked his clipboard under his arm and walked to the bleachers. Everyone else trudged to the locker rooms.
Kuroko nodded and gave a small smile to Mibuchi, who stood up as Akashi walked over.
"Nice practice, Sei-chan," he greeted cheerfully.
Akashi nodded absently. "I'll call you tomorrow," he said quietly, obviously expecting the blackette to pick up.
Mibuchi nodded quickly and walked inside with Nebuya, who was already chewing on a new cheeseburger.
"Nice job in practice," Akashi said.
Kuroko glanced up at Akashi. Immediately, his eyes dropped. "… Not really," he murmured sadly. His eyes filled with emotion.
"He'll be fine," Akashi said. "That wasn't even his dominant arm that got injured."
"It still means something," Kuroko argued.
Akashi didn't argue with that. He sat down.
Kuroko shuffled through Akashi's bag. "H-here," he said quickly.
"Thanks." Uncapping it quickly, he chugged a good quarter of the bottle in one draft.
With no one in them, the courts were quiet. It was a musky atmosphere, with sweat and dirt seeping in every breath. Yet, Kuroko kept his lips tightly sealed. His nostrils flared slightly.
The boy's throat constricted painfully. He gazed up at Akashi and opened his mouth. Quickly, he shut it again.
Finally, he opened up. "Am I in trouble? With the principal or something?"
Akashi paused. His expression was still serious when he answered. "No, not this time. I can take care of this matter." But his eyes glowed as he continued. "But you can't do this again. Understand, Tetsuya? You have to control yourself."
Kuroko nodded quickly. "I know – I know…"
"And the other teammates are beginning to fear you," Akashi said, still sharply. "You've noticed, right?"
Again, the teen nodded.
"Alright then." Staring a moment at the boy, he relented. "I'm sorry. I know that this is hard on you. And it's so early. But –" He sighed. "You need to control yourself. This won't work if you don't."
"I'm trying." Kuroko's eyebrows furrowed in frustration and anger. Anger, mostly at himself.
"I try but when I see other people – especially on the court, I just –" He gripped his head tightly. Color rose to his cheeks, the same icy darkness was flooding into those light eyes.
"Weakness." The word came out almost inaudible. It hissed past pink lips, like a curse. A wad of spit was swallowed down instead of flung on the remnants of its sound. "I despise it. Despise it…"
Akashi grabbed Kuroko's face, bringing it up closer to his own. Their eyes locked.
"Tetsuya. Tetsuya, focus back on me." The red head stroked the side of the boy's cheek. The heterochromatic eyes fluctuated in the harsh fluorescent lights.
Kuroko's face fell from its cruel mask.
What few knew was that each of Akashi's eyes had flecks of the other color in them. The scarlet with droplets of gold, the warm molten color with speckles of bright ruby.
They complemented each other beautifully.
"Sorry." Kuroko swallowed, shaking his head. "Sorry." His voice grew stronger.
Akashi swallowed. A bit of his usual hardness – the lack of emotion that he'd built up for the last few years came back. "It's okay."
Part of it was his fault anyway. He'd changed and become…the captain of the generation of miracles. The Generation of Monsters, more like. And he'd abandoned one of his greatest friends – his dearest friend, now.
Maybe if he'd just been there, things would've not come out like they had.
But there was nothing he could do about it now. He was just ashamed that it took that to have him snap out.
Still, it was hard not to fall into that cold pace. Kuroko being so mean reminded him of his own behavior. Akashi was also ashamed that he needed that.
Thinking it was time to move onto lighter subjects, Akashi tapped Kuroko on the shoulder. "Hey. What are we doing about dinner? Are you still unpacking things?"
Kuroko sighed. "I'm almost done. We can go out to eat somewhere. Or even cook."
"Well, I'm not sure about your cooking," Akashi deadpanned. "Let's just go out for now."
"Where to?" Kuroko asked.
Akashi shrugged. "You can pick."
"I see…well…" His thoughts moved to Maji's but he discarded them just as quickly. That made him think of Seirin.
Seirin made him both sad and boiling with fury.
"Anywhere with good katsudon would be nice," Kuroko admitted.
Akashi huffed, unimpressed. "I'll have to work on your taste as well."
With a slight edge to his monotonous voice, Kuroko lashed back, "I'm not the only one who has things to work on."
The red head chuckled sadly. "Mm…yeah."
They fell into a gentle silence. Their hands fell on top of each other's, overlapping in a warm and sweaty pile.
Slowly, Kuroko raised the top hand of the stack. His eyes clouded just slightly. Hesitant and ever so gently, he tugged on Akashi's short bangs.
"I always liked them long," he confessed. His words carried along the wind, breathily. Kuroko's face was bruised and fearful, as if he'd just said a dark secret.
Akashi swallowed.
Their breaths were mingling, quickening.
The distance between them shortened, the space between them darkening –
Suddenly, the gym door burst open. They both jumped apart.
"Kuroko-kun!" Hayama called out in a sing-song voice. "Your phone is ringing! What should we do?"
Kuroko's hands clenched suddenly.
"You…" he whispered, almost shaking in anger.
"Stupid…imbecile!" His voice thundered throughout the gym, rippling over the walls again and again.
Hayama's face turned white.
"How many times do I have to tell you to NOT DISTURB ME WHEN I'M BUSY?!" he shrieked. His hand closed over the first thing near him – that just happened to be the metal clipboard that Akashi had set beside him.
Akashi grabbed his wrist tightly. Hayama stepped back before hurrying back inside.
"Stop it, Tetsuya – stop it!"
His chest heaving, Kuroko snapped towards Akashi.
His horrible expression faded and once again he looked broken and horrified, just like after Toshiba's injury. And Yana's too.
"I'm sorry…sorry, Akashi-kun."
He fell into Akashi's embrace and in silence they both sat, until Kuroko had calmed himself and the familiar steel of determination had returned to his face.
Then they went into the locker room to shower and change.
So? How did you like it? Any thoughts? Theories? Questions? ^_^
Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! Please review! They make my day brighter and really help me so much.
