Chapter 3

It took almost an entire summer for Aomine to put Tetsu at least somewhat out of his head. But while he appeared to his teammates to have reverted back to the arrogant, lazy ace they all knew and loved (read: despised with a hot, fiery passion and would leap at any chance to throttle), the beleaguering conflict Tetsu had triggered during that fateful match against Seirin had by no means diminished. No, it only continued to haunt him; to grow and latch itself deeper inside him, multiplying and festering like a poisonous cancer...he'd just gotten better at hiding it from them.

The quarterfinal match against Kise served as a good distraction. Imayoshi had not followed through with his threat to bench Aomine, and though it was a...mildly interesting game, as clashes with Kise always were, and the copycat blond put up a tremendous struggle; of course in the end, Aomine triumphed easily. He'd known he would before he even stepped on the court with him.

The sidetrack was only fleeting, though; after the brief perk of interest the game induced, the dullness, the washed-out grey the world had faded to since his final year at Teiko, settled right over him again. And, like an old dog he couldn't bring himself to put down, the memories - Tetsu's memories - and all the stupid, painful regret that came with them crawled back to him as well. But he didn't break down in the locker room again, after yet another lifeless victory against one of his former teammates and friends that he could have achieved in his sleep. He held his head high, sneered at the retreating Kaijou players' backs, and left the building without a backward glance.

It turned out a plastic smirk and a strategically-placed gravure magazine could fool his teammates into thinking everything had returned to normal, but he couldn't say the same of Satsuki, who continued to pester him relentlessly, apparently forgetting she was supposed to be giving him the silent treatment after her cold-shouldered words on that rooftop. Or his parents...who he was beginning to think were convinced he was depressed or some shit. He'd eavesdropped on a few conversations he wasn't meant to hear, and they had noticed he played with his food more often than he put any in his mouth, and said very little when he could get away with it, avoiding seeing both of them and just holing up in his room most of the time. He deliberately brought them the news of his victory against Kaijou, and that he would be playing in the finals of the Inter-High, to see if that eased their worry and stopped them from snooping in his personal business, and it must have worked, because his privacy remained undisturbed.

He was still dogged by vivid, random flashbacks that froze him in his tracks and even wormed their way into his dreams sometimes...and he still skipped practice, even after the finals, where he'd been forced to stay on the bench on Akashi's orders - and Satsuki's, supposedly on account of him "injuring" his elbow - both of which pissed him off to no end.

The latter had lead to an honest-to-God fight between Satsuki and himself, in which he'd accused her of meddling in his business, and insulted her; promptly receiving a book to the face when she flung it at him in retaliation...and then she'd turned around and burst into hysterical tears, running away from him before he could scramble up a goddamn apology. He'd never been able to stand seeing her cry, and being the cause of her tears made some deeply-integrated, brotherly part of him that he'd tried and failed to suppress over the years cringe with shame.

The next time he'd seen Tetsu had been during Seirin's match against Kirisaki Daiichi, and even though he'd been in the stands, Aomine had almost felt his anger at the deceitful team's underhanded style of basketball, radiating off the court like waves. It was rare that Tetsu showed real passion of any kind - though he was in fact a very passionate person behind that impassive blue stare - and Aomine hadn't expected that he himself would revel in watching a pissed-off Tetsu just as much as a happy Tetsu, but he had...to the point where he'd had to make some half-assed excuse for his sudden escape to the bathroom at half-time. No way in hell was he admitting that he'd gotten excited, watching his one-time friend and teammate misdirect the shit out of those cocky, backstabbing bastards.

To tamp down the inconvenient and rather obvious evidence of that excitement, he'd opted to turn himself off, instead of get himself off, though. A sad five-knuckle shuffle over a public, porcelain bowl to whatever vague, juvenile fantasies he could invent of Tetsu seemed just a little too pathetic for his taste. Not that he would have had much to work with anyway; he'd never gotten both feet off first base with Tetsu while they were kind-of-sort-of together...or even saw him nude. Their relationship - whatever it had been - had circled more around emotional attraction and friendship, and the physical stuff had only caught up later on. ...At the worst possible times, in Aomine's case; he couldn't believe he'd actually popped a boner just watching Tetsu play ball.

So his emotions concerning Tetsu - when he acknowledged them - were definitely muddled, and weren't getting any simpler with time. Time that was, it seemed, against him. Running into each other again and straining the tension between the two of them was of course inevitable...but it came much quicker than Aomine had expected.

Almost directly after Seirin's game against the douche squad Kirisaki Daiichi, Satsuki informed Aomine - and the rest of the team, but it somehow seemed like she was singling him out - that she'd nabbed the match-ups for the Winter Cup, and their very first opponent was...Aomine should have guessed. He refused to show any visible reaction to the news of their impending rematch with Seirin, muttering an aloof "Is that all?" before gathering his things and swaggering out of the locker room, to the annoyed gazes of his teammates.

The act of indifference was just that, however. An act. Beneath the surface, his stupid, conflicting emotions were at war. He wasn't sure if he should be elated because he was going to play against Tetsu again, or uneasy because holy shit, he was going to play against Tetsu again. Scorn seemed like his best bet; after all, he had trounced Seirin once, it should be no real trouble to do it again. And yeah, that would mean digging the hole he'd put himself in even deeper, and he didn't look forward to the prospect, but at least the thought of another mindless, unsatisfying victory was comfortingly familiar, in the face of standing on the same court as the guy who'd ignited his passion for a while, kissed him a couple times, and then dumped him.

He'd prepared himself for that reunion. What he hadn't prepared himself for was Imayoshi announcing out of the blue that they were going to give Seirin a little pre-battle greeting, and meet up with them at the hot springs they were apparently visiting. Naturally, he'd dug in his heels and adamantly refused to go - claiming the idea was retarded and pointless - for as long as he could, but in the end Satsuki had chastisingly hit him over the head with the sheet of Winter Cup brackets, called him a whining five-year-old, and effectively convinced him to come along with the rest of his team.

So there he was. Rolling his eyes as the big bad captain of Touou's revered and feared basketball team conspiratorily whispered to the others that they were going to sneak up on the Seirin guys while their backs were turned, and then reveal themselves through the steam and act like they'd been there all along. The whole lot of them were like a bunch of damn Tetsus - except a great deal less terrifying phantom and a great deal more cheesy pop-up book.

...And they called him the immature idiot.

He would not take part. He was Aomine fucking Daiki, and while he might, if conditions were right, occasionally prank, it would at least be a good prank. Besides, he wasn't particularly in the mood to get wet, or strip, or any of that bullshit. Muttering that he was going to take a piss, he ditched his idiotic company and ended up loitering in the hallways of the bath house, wondering what the hell he was even doing there.

Leaning against a rather shabby wall, he cocked up one leg and crossed his arms, closing his eyes and considering taking a nap until this stupid trip was over. He hadn't tried napping standing up before, but he wouldn't put it past himself, and he was tired after yet another restless night chased by words he couldn't take back and piercing blue eyes, calm and still as a lake in winter. It occurred to him distractedly that if he'd gone with the others to give Seirin their "greeting", he might have had opportunity to see Tetsu naked. He didn't know if the sinking feeling in his stomach was disappointment or nerves, but either way he supposed he'd missed his chance.

Sternly commanding himself to stop thinking about it, he broke off and froze as he heard lowered voices coming from around the corner from where he was standing, muffled through the wall between him and the speakers. With a minor jolt he recognized the first person's deep voice as Kagami's, and with a decidedly not minor one he recognized the lighter, softer voice of the person who answered as Tetsu. He couldn't hear exactly what the exchange was, but he caught a few words here and there; a "Pocari" from Tetsu, a "sold out" from Kagami, and then there was the fading sound of footsteps.

Indecision was probably Aomine's least favorite human response to pressure. Those goddamn "fight or flight" instincts kept animals alive in the wild, but just caused him unnecessary stress and made him call himself ten kinds of pussy for overthinking the situation...overthinking the convenient, familiar brand of drink he held loosely in his hand that would serve as the perfect ice-breaker.

Heaving a sigh, he steeled himself and rounded the corner, stalking soundlessly over to where Tetsu was laid out on a bench, eyes hidden by the small blue towel draped over them. He argued with himself for another few seconds as he stood beside that bench, glancing ruefully at the bottle in his grip, then at Tetsu's reposed figure...and then, fuck it, he made up his mind.

"Here," he said tonelessly, setting the Pocari on the bench, beside Tetsu's uncharacteristically flushed cheek.

"Thank you," Tetsu answered primly, lifting the cloth covering his eyes slightly, and Aomine saw the exact moment that he realized who he was looking at; his whole body went tense and his dizzy, possibly overheated eyes widened the barest bit. "...Aomine-kun," he murmured, sitting up with obvious difficulty and looking him over with critical, but deceptively impartial blue lasers.

Aomine took a few steps back, trying not to look like he was retreating, creating distance for himself. He busied himself feeding the drink machine beside the bench a few yen and punching one of the buttons, bending to retrieve his beverage at the satisfying thunk that followed; when he straightened, he was very aware that Tetsu's eyes hadn't left him for a second, practically boring holes in his tracksuit. He popped the tab of the can in his hand, releasing a hiss and a burst of fizz, and slouched against the wall across from Tetsu, taking a sip that he pretended was relaxed.

The tension in the air was so thick and rigid, Aomine could smell it, taste its bitterness that had nothing to do with the grapefruit-flavored drink he'd swallowed, feel it pressing against his face like a thousand unfamiliar hands. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, but he managed to convince it to produce sound, say something; insurmountable as the task seemed.

"I saw your game," he muttered, recognizing what he was saying was even a diversionary tactic; turning to the one subject on which they could almost always agree, "Was that the new technique Satsuki mentioned?"

He didn't honestly care much about fancy disappearing drives, unless they were being used against him; he just wanted an excuse to talk to his former "shadow" again. However many exhausting emotional acrobatics he'd suffered through over him, however many sleepless nights he'd weathered, some tiny, tentative part of him admitted that - underneath everything else - he missed Tetsu. Missed him like a friend, missed him like a brother, missed him like the captivating, star-crossed lover he'd never had. It was a physical ache with no alleviation; not even seeing and speaking to Tetsu right this moment soothed the gaping hole his absence still left.

"Yes," Tetsu replied after a moment, not breaking his mostly inscrutable, but definitely wary gaze, "I developed it to use against you."

So that was it. Since his devastating loss, Tetsu had been working on new ways to try to beat Aomine and...what, redeem himself? The idea itself was pretty laughable; Tetsu beating him, that was impossible, but even so...he had to grudgingly admire the sentiment behind the statement. The same way he'd more openly admired how Tetsu had stayed long after practice in middle school to hone his skills on his own, with the hope of being promoted to Teiko's first string. He'd been working hard, and Aomine supposed he couldn't fault that.

He could, however, pass the notion of Tetsu defeating him off as ridiculous, "Is that so?" he chuckled lazily, mockingly, taking another swallow from his can, "Well, I would wish you luck if I didn't already know you won't be needing it. Hit me with your best shot, but the one who will win the Winter Cup has already been decided."

Tetsu rolled the Pocari that had been offered to him between his palms absently, "Nothing is decided," he stated quietly, but with conviction.

Aomine opened his mouth to answer, but he was interrupted as a long, powerful arm was casually slung around his shoulders, and Kagami drew up right alongside him, smirking all over his damn, brainless face.

"Kuroko's right; we might just give you a run for your money, Ahomine."

"Get off me, bastard." Aomine scowled, extricating himself harshly from the buddy-buddy gesture that Kagami had no right to perform, "And not even in your wildest wet dreams; the only one who can beat me is me."

To his surprise, a flush of embarrassment flooded Kagami's cheeks, turning them close to the color of his hair, and he ducked his head away briefly, "D-dumbass, don't say it like that," he stammered indignantly, before straightening and appearing to regain his composure.

It was a strange, strange thought, and one that really didn't belong within ten meters of Aomine's mind, but as he set down his drink and scrutinized the redheaded, American idiot before him scornfully, he couldn't help but think that somehow Kagami Taiga was capable of being stupidly adorable.

TBC