Chapter Six

Our next game was against the thugs that Kagami, Kise and I had beaten that one time in the outdoors court. And like that time, it was an instant kill.

The thugs vacated their bench, leaving room for the next match. We were a bit slower; the Coach talking with the Captain about something and the rest of us lazing around, not quite willing to pack up yet. That was when an unnatural silence descended upon the gym. I looked around for its cause: a team with orange jerseys had just made their entrance.

A waterfall of sound shattered the silence. "Shutoku! Shutoku! Shutoku!" The spectators on the stands roared.

Seirin fell quiet as we watched them approach. Shutoku, the King of the East. According to Riko's chart, if both teams won all their games, we would face them in the finals to determine the winner of A block.

Also the team that had recruited Midorima, the number two player of the Generation of Miracles - the shooting guard. Someone who, as incredible as it seemed, I had never seen miss a shot.

Partly this was because he only took shots that he felt confident would go in, but mostly, he was just that good. He could take very far shots as well, all the way back from the half-court line. And due to his incredibly high arc, they were almost impossible to block, and the flight time allowed him to go back to defense before the ball even went in, cutting off the possibility of a counter.

He walked with poise behind his captain, the fingers of his left hand bandaged and holding a random item - today, a teddy bear. Like Kise, he was different now than from my memories - taller, sharper, and I was certain his skills had sharpened too.

I wondered whether I should get up to greet him. He and I had never really gotten along. He was a deeply religious and superstitious person, hardly ever smiling, arrogant and judgmental and not at all pleasant to be around. We had numerous topics of disagreement, but only one that I couldn't forgive.

Despite his quirks, he was a very intelligent person, and...he'd known.

Back in Teiko, he'd been aware of the change earlier than anyone, even myself. He'd seen it coming, perhaps because he'd been the closest to Akashi. He'd known exactly what was happening to our team.

The other four Miracles didn't dedicate a thought to an opponent after we beat them, but Midorima did. Just a glance, just enough to convince me that he'd seen, that he'd acknowledged the disastrous consequences of Teiko's philosophy for the people we faced. The same small indecipherable look that he gave Murasakibara when he announced he was skipping practice or to Akashi when he started kicking bench players off the team.

So yes, Midorima had known what we were becoming. But he hadn't objected or tried to do anything about it; in third year, he'd started claiming a basket to himself and spending the entire two hours of training shooting silently. When it ended he left without a word. As time went on, he became more antisocial and withdrawn. He stopped passing in games. If he got the ball, he would invariably shoot it, score, and turn back to defense unperturbed.

It grated, that went along with it knowing it was wrong. Still, the polite thing would be to go and say hello.

I glanced at Kagami, who sat on the bench besides me. He was staring intently at my old teammate, and I smiled to myself. It was so easy to read him. When he declared that he was going for a talk, I quietly followed behind him.

"Your name is Midorima, right?" he asked.

Midorima raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Yes, but who are you, in fact?" With just that one sentence he'd already succeeded in ticking Kagami off (then again, our ace was very easy to rile up).

Another Shutoku player stood behind Midorima. He was lean and slightly taller than me, but not too tall for a baller - probably a point guard. A thin, relaxed smile played on his lips, like he was finding amusement in the situation. His hair was combed back, but black strands of it fell over a pair of sharp slate blue eyes.

I startled.

It was the stranger from the park a few days ago. He was a Shutoku player?

Then he did something mind-boggling. He looked away from Kagami's and Midorima's conversation-turned-stand-off and frowned at me.

I was still partially hidden behind my light. With two strong presences so close to siphon all the attention, he shouldn't have been able to see me at all. But his eyes had no trouble fixing on my face, like the lack of presence that defined my entire existence didn't mean anything. "Yo Shin-chan," he said, nudging his teammate with his elbow. "Who's that dude?"

I refused to be shaken, and left Kagami's shadow to make my own introduction. "Hello. My name is Kuroko Tetsuya."

His eyebrows flew up. "The Kuroko? The Kuroko this weirdo has rambled on about for the past week?"

Midorima pushed up his glasses. "I have done no such thing."

The boy chuckled, rubbing his head sheepishly. "Oh man, I don't know if you remember, but I think we met at the park."

"I remember," I assured. Like there was a chance of me forgetting that.

He smiled and bowed. "I'm sorry for being rude back then. I thought you'd been trying to mug me or something. I'm Takao Kazunari."

I nodded. "Nice to meet you, Takao-kun." He straightened from his bow, and for a moment, we stared at each other in silence. On impulse, I misdirected. I glanced at Kagami and Midorima and angled my body and leaned back slightly.

He smiled.

Admittedly, it had been a half-hearted attempt. We weren't playing a game and I'd made our conversation his primary focus already. But still. His gaze hadn't wavered from my face even for a second. This was alarming.

His smile widened. "Shin-chan's told me all about you!" What did he mean, all about me? "I'm looking forwards to the final."

"Don't get ahead of yourself. We still have other games to play," Midorima chided. He glanced down at me. "Kuroko."

"Midorima-kun."

His olive green eyes traveled up and down to take in my appearance. It was clinical and indifferent, the universal appraising glance between players, the type of look you would direct to the opponent's side of the court during the warm-up to gauge their strength. I was an enemy to him now. Nothing more, nothing less.

He looked up from me to Seirin's bench. "I'll never understand you. Burying yourself with a mediocre team, after going through all that effort to be able to compete."

Kagami jumped into the conversation, with a challenge, as was his way. "You'll understand plenty when we beat you."

Some trash-talk ensued. I had the usual disagreement with Midorima about fate. "At most, all you can make is a prediction," I stated. "You won't know what will happen until we actually play the game."

His eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "You were always so naive." He started walking towards his bench, but turned back before reaching it. "Watch me carefully - I'll prove you don't have a chance."

"Don't mind him," Takao mouthed from his teammate's blind spot. He saluted with two fingers and a grin before falling in step behind him.

While seeing Midorima again was interesting, it was Takao's smiling face that I couldn't get out of my head for the rest of the day. Those eyes… they were too sharp, too knowing. Did he know I was a girl? He didn't seem to have any malicious intent, but the possibility still made me uneasy. And the fact that he could see me didn't reassure me either.

I'd convinced myself that the incident at the park was a freak accident. Now I was off-balance. I didn't know what to think. No one had ever seen me before.

Watching Shutoku play was enjoyable. They made basketball seem so effortless, so fluid. While Kagami and the rest of my team was awed by Midorima's shooting prowess, I watched Takao. He was a well-rounded player, fast and powerful, calm and discrete on the court. He had excellent court vision, moving the ball seamlessly into the holes of the defense. Good sportsmanship too, I thought as he helped a player of the opposition to his feet after a collision.

His passes were… very good. He couldn't use misdirection, but his timing and precision might have been better than even mine. Overshadowed as he was by Midorima, I doubted many spectators fully appreciated his skill - but as a passing specialist myself, I couldn't help feeling some professional admiration.

Like me, teamwork was the core of his basketball. My respect for the guy climbed in par with my uneasiness.

Any player with a number of years of experience could learn to read the game. In Takao, there was something else… Something that set him apart from the rest of his team, something in those perfectly-timed passes and in the way he moved. And yet, although he was skilled, he wasn't at the level of the Miracles or Kagami.

So why was my gut instinct screaming at me that he was dangerous? I thought back to middle school. I would have clearly remembered someone who could see me if I'd played him before, but his face didn't stir up any memories.

Kagami finally noticed my thoughtful expression. He tore his eyes away from the game for a bit. "Don't make that face. We'll figure out a way to block him."

"Midorima isn't the one who concerns me…" I trailed off. He was the biggest threat, of course, but he was a threat I already knew. "Takao… He could see me."

"Huh?"

I didn't elaborate, since I didn't understand it myself. One thing was certain: Shutoku was going to be tough.

Extra: Kise

Of course Kise went to watch the finals of Tokyo's A-block.

His team had already won their way to the top of the Kanagawa prefecture and thus guaranteed their place at Interhigh. Coach had given them the weekend off to celebrate. Needless to say, he'd jumped on the first train to Tokyo. It was Kuroko playing against Midorima and he was surprised that the other Miracles weren't there to witness the epic showdown.

Kasamatsu, his (killjoy) captain had accompanied him. Something about checking out the competition and making sure Kise behaved himself. They'd found seats at the very bottom of the stands, the closest possible to the courts.

He rooted for Seirin. He still felt sore and frustrated about his loss against them, but that was exactly it: he would never wish those feelings on Kuroko. He wanted her to win. Not just because it was her, but because his own experience with defeat, while unpleasant, had opened his eyes to certain things and he wondered how it would affect Midorima.

He was getting a bit ahead of himself, he supposed. Both Seirin and Shutoku had yet to win their respective semifinals before they played the final in the afternoon (even to Kise two games in the same day seemed excessive). Seirin had it especially tough, since their semifinal was against Seiho, the King of the West, the team with the best defense of Tokyo. A team that had tripled their score last year.

He had a feeling this time would be different, though.

"Hey, Kasamatsu-senpai," he leaned forwards, crossing his fingers under his chin. "Let's make a bet."

Just as he spoke, players from the four schools trickled into the court. He spared a glance for Midorima – who looked ridiculous as always, wearing that unflattering orange jersey and carrying a weird statue in his hands – before his eyes roved the court for Kuroko. He finally spotted her walking next to Kagami, saying something to him quietly. When they reached the bench she shrugged off her jacket and slid on a pair of black wristbands, clenching and unclenching her fingers. An absent smile floated on Kise's lips. It was so adorable when she tried to act manly.

Following his line of sight, his captain frowned. "I know they beat us… But realistically, I don't think they can win against both Seiho and Shutoku."

"Let's bet on it, then," he repeated. "If Seirin wins, you let me borrow your motorbike for a day."

"Goddammit Kise, you're fifteen. You don't even know how to drive."

"I'll just watch you for a bit."

Kasamatsu grumbled under his breath something that sounded suspiciously like fucking geniuses. "Fine," he relented. "If they lose, you… Y-you get me a date with a girl. A-and she has to be at least a nine."

Kise's smile widened. "Deal."

But it turned into a frown when he spotted a familiar player in Seiho's line-up. "That… It can't be…" He slapped his hands on the railing in front of him, surprised.

"What?"

"That baldy!" Kise exclaimed.

"Have you played him before?"

"Yes," he admitted. He pouted and added, "I only scored six points."

Kasamatsu's eyebrows shot up. "He managed to stop you?"

Admittedly, it had been early on in his basketball career, and the bald monk himself hadn't scored a single basket (Kise had made sure of that) but it grated. He could still recall the hours of extra practice he'd had to do for failing to meet his point quota. His eyebrow twitched. "Crush him, Kurokocchi."

Six minutes into the first quarter and Seirin was losing twelve to zero.

Seirin's ace couldn't get away from the bald monk (and Kise had very mixed feelings about that). In contrast, Kuroko was amazing. He'd always admired her style – humble and graceful and fluid, giving rise to smooth and beautiful plays. Today she moved with more poise and confidence that he'd ever seen in her. He watched her body coil as she recognised a pass-course; the tension in her muscles as she shifted her weight to her pivot-foot, the arch of her back when she extended a thin, elegant hand behind her to tip the ball away.

In moments like these she knocked the breath out of him.

Careful there.

It was such a shame that the majority of people in the audience couldn't fully appreciate her talent; though at the same time, it made him feel special to be one of the few that could.

Thanks to her Kagami finally managed to score, but he was also getting charged with offensive fouls like an idiot. The bald monk's strategy was obvious yet the moron was too single-minded to realize it. He made his fourth and Seirin's coach took him off – along with Kuroko, much to Kise's chagrin.

He watched Shutoku's game for a bit while he waited for her to come back on. It was boring. The King of the East was smashing, even with Midorima on the bench.

One of Seirin's second years got injured racing for a ball going out of bounds. Predictably, Kagami stood up, asking to be let back on, but to everyone's extreme surprise, Kuroko slapped a hand over his face while he was mid-sentence. "The guy with four fouls should keep quiet."

"Why, you punk-" Kagami put his own hand on her head and gripped it like a basketball.

She mumbled something against his palm, too low for Kise to hear from his seat. The coach seemed to agree with her and subbed her on instead of Kagami.

Something akin to jealousy permeated through Kise's surprise. In middle school, Kuroko had been quiet and reserved most of the time. She didn't express her opinions unless asked directly (except if the conversation was about vanilla shake). She'd never demanded to be subbed on like that - she'd lacked the confidence. Kise had needed to nag and whine and flirt for two years for her to to develop the easy interaction she now had with him, and yet here she was, being comfortable with a group of people she'd barely known for a few months.

Another reason to dislike the red-haired idiot.

Seirin did win, much to Kise's relief. It was a close thing, their points only pulling ahead at the last second thanks to a buzzer-beater adrenalin-filled three-pointer from their captain. He watched as Kuroko celebrated, one of her teammates wrapping his arm around her shoulders. It summoned another wave of mixed feelings because while he would normally support anything that made her happy, he was also acutely aware that she hadn't shown anywhere near this level of happiness when Teiko won.

"It was a good game," Kasamatsu commented. "Both teams played well. I don't think anyone expected Seirin to win."

"It's only because of Kuroko," he stated. Even though she hadn't scored, she'd been the one that most contributed towards victory; she had been the ace in that game, and it wasn't just his bias talking. Seirin wouldn't have stood a chance without her passes. They didn't deserve her.

And yet she looked so happy. Had she really disliked Teiko that much?

Half an hour into the break and Kise was unable to stay still any longer. He left Kasamatsu on the stands and went to look for her. He found her standing in front of a vending machine in the corridor behind the stands. "Kurokocchi!" he exclaimed cheerfully, putting an arm around her waist from behind and lifting her in the air. Her elbow caught him in the nose. "Ow!"

"Oh. Hello, Kise-kun. Sorry, you startled me."

He wondered why it was that every time he touched her she reacted by hitting him. Other girls liked it.

"It's alright." He put her down and winked. "You can hit on me all you like."

Kise did put some effort into his lines. He would have liked to see evidence that he affected her at least once. Just one little blush would be enough for him. Unfortunately, her expressionless face was a universal constant. "I didn't know you had come to watch."

"Of course I did! It's you against Midorimacchi. How could I not?" He grinned. "Congratulations on your win against Seiho. It was an exciting game."

"Thank you," she replied, and though she didn't smile, he could see how the simple reminder of the victory lit up her eyes. "Seirin played well."

"Only because of you. You were the best player on the court," he insisted.

"You think so?" He nodded. "Thank you," she repeated, pleased by the sincere compliment. The vending machine clanged, and the bottle she'd purchased fell down. She bent down to get it, uncapped it and drank greedily.

Kise was going to say something else but his eyes fell on the way her lips sealed around the bottle and his thought process whirled to a halt.

It was like the world momentarily stopped spinning. He watched her throat move as she swallowed. The soft popping sound when she separated the bottle from her mouth made his own mouth feel dry. He licked his lips.

"Are you thirsty, Kise-kun?" she asked, bewildered by his fixed stare.

"Maybe." He leaned his elbow on the machine and brought his face closer to hers. His voice came out low and husky. "But water's not what I'm thirsty for."

She blinked.

Too forward. Oops.

She pushed the bottle into his face. "Just take it," she grumbled, turning to get a new one for herself.

"Kuroko! We've been looking for you!" one of her teammates called from the end of the corridor. "Coach wants to talk to you."

Kise cleared his throat, catching her attention before she left, and gave her a grin he didn't really feel. "Good luck on your game against Midorimacchi. I'll be cheering for you."

She smiled and nodded once and followed her teammate away. Kise's grin fell as he watched her leave. When she was out of sight, he looked thoughtfully down at the bottle before bringing it to his lips.

Most people who played team sports outgrew the whole indirect kiss thing pretty fast since sharing water bottles was the norm. But back in Teiko, Momoi had kept the only female player's bottle separate from the others, since according to her "boys' stupidity could be contagious". And when it came to certain things Kise could be a bit immature.

He felt the rim of the bottle against his lips. Just the fact that his mouth was on the same place Kuroko's had been a second earlier made his pulse jump.

He'd wanted to kiss girls before. He had kissed girls before, more times than all the boys in his grade combined. So he was familiar with this, this yearning. He was even familiar with wanting Kuroko (this wasn't the first time he thought about her in that way). He'd never acted on it before, he wasn't sure why; perhaps because while kissing didn't mean anything to him he knew that other people felt differently. Perhaps because Kuroko was too precious to lump with all the other girls he kissed and forgot on a daily basis. Perhaps because the rest of the Miracles would lynch him.

Maybe he was afraid that she'd get angry and stop talking to him if he took it that far and he didn't want to lose her friendship.

Maybe he'd never wanted to kiss anyone as much as he wanted Kuroko and he was terrified of the inevitable rejection.

Something was different this time, though. The residual jealously and complex emotions that the game had awakened built a knot in his throat that made it hard to swallow, and the image of her lips around the bottle knocked the breath out of his lungs. Kuroko hadn't had this effect on him a year ago.

He couldn't help imagining it. Her lips and... He groaned and slumped his forehead against the vending machine.

Careful.

Kise went back to his seat and spent the following two hours drinking from the bottle and daydreaming, much to Kasamatsu's annoyance. He only snapped back to himself when the starting whistle blew, and he leaned forwards in his seat, wondering how he could have missed the players lining up.

The first two minutes of the final were intense. No one scored. The game seemed to be locked at a standstill, neither team willing to give an inch. The tension in the gym was so thick he could almost taste it.

Until, of course, the balance was shattered by one of Midorima's half-court threes.

"The first quarter will go to Shutoku, then," Kasamatsu predicted.

But then Kuroko actually caught the ball, drawing the whole gym's attention, and stepped behind the baseline. Kise's eyes widened as she started to pivot, pulling wind around her and making her hair flutter, momentum building up in the arm extended behind her until the ball shot forwards, straight past Midorima to the other side of the court, where Kagami was already waiting. Seirin's ace caught it with a grunt and slammed it into the basket.

The whole thing took less than a second.

Kise's jaw dropped.

It was a display of pure, raw power. It was something he would never have thought Kuroko capable of. Sorry," she said, and her quiet words were heard clearly in the silent gym, "but I can't let you take the first quarter so easily." She looked powerful and confident and determined.

Kise just sort of… gave up.

He gave in and let himself fall.

A.N. Sooo... did you like that? I prefer writing in first person, but I've been thinking of doing some extras with the POV of other characters. Yay or nay?