Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroko no Basuke! Can I stop saying this one day?
"And I try to remember if this happened before, because this is a memory I would want to keep.
But there is no echo of it in my mind."
― Beth Revis, The Body Electric
Kuroko's face seemed to become blanker, if that was even possible in the first place.
"Are you okay, Akashi-san?" He finally spoke, his eyes filled with concern.
The referenced person raised his eyebrow. "On the contrary Kuroko, I'm perfectly sane and serious."
"I beg to defer, Akashi-san. I am sure that you know of my limitations," replied Kuroko offhandedly. "Although I have a reasonable amount of speed, it is currently physically impossible for me to keep up for forty minutes. The style and technique I use is classified under 'ferocious'. If you know of the rumor, then you should be no stranger to the fact that the Kurokos are famed for their brutality in skill when aiming straight for the vitals."
"Stamina can be trained with the right regime and diet, and so can the restraint of strength," objected Akashi.
"My effectiveness lies in being underestimated." He countered. "If I am in your team, they will presume that I am of the same caliber. Even with my weak presence, if they know that I exist, it will be for nought."
The redhead interrupted his train of thought. "You mistake my words, Kuroko. I do not wish for you to be the main fighting force. I have another role that perhaps only you can fulfill."
Everyone present except the speaker raised their eyebrows quizzically.
"Reconnaissance," he answered.
"Reconnaissance?" echoed Kuroko.
"What do we lack the most in the game itself?" Akashi asked rhetorically. "That is, of course, information about the enemy's movements. Coordination without information can only thrive to a certain extent and much more is required of individual skill. Furthermore, voice signals are out of the question because it would relay our current positions to the enemy."
"But what if there was someone with low presence to sneak around—" he brought up a finger to start numbering— "skilled in burst power to protect their person, astute and flexible? He would naturally be the perfect person for reconnaissance."
Finishing that sentence, he gazed earnestly at Kuroko. "And some traits that are difficult to achieve because they are unfavorable in most situations in life are found in you, Kuroko. You will be underestimated, but you will hold a greater role than they would expect. It would also increase your experience in swordplay, something that would appeal to you."
'Is there even a point to go against his decisions?' The teal-haired person let out an inaudible sigh. "I will participate, if that is what you wish, Akashi-san. But I do not know anything about the War Games except the brief details."
"We can help you with that," Akashi reassured.
"Poor unfortunate soul…" Aomine muttered under his breath.
The redhead continued with his instructions while ignoring his companion's comments but the dark-haired boy swore he felt evil intent directed his way. "We'll meet back here in half an hour and wearing your exercising uniform is advised. "
"Duly noted," they said in unison.
"Aomine, your training menu is doubled today. Fetch Nijimura-senpai and Haizaki will you?"
The mentioned person suppressed a groan. He had thought right.
WAR GAMES
Conditions to the match:
Win Three Rounds out of Five
Conditions to win a Round:
Capture the Flag in 10 minutes*
Complete Elimination of Opponents 10 minutes*
*Accomplishing one does not amount to completing both, unless they are done simultaneously.
Number of Participants allowed per round: 6
Number of Reserves allowed per team: 2
Fake weapon(s) allowed: Sword, Dagger, Shortbow, Longbow, Arrows
Rule(s):
- Each team is only allowed three carrier pigeons. They are not allowed to be shot down.
- Only one person is allowed to enter the match grounds ten minutes beforehand.
- Excessive force is not allowed.*
- Any other object that is brought in is has to be authorized by the Judging Committee first.
- No usage of real/sharp weapons.
- A player is allowed to speak against the referee in unfair/biased circumstances.
- Once eliminated, fighting or helping of teammates is not allowed.*
- No removal/moving of official equipment is allowed.*
*If any of the starred rules are violated, the point will immediately go to the opposing team.
"The War Games are typically hosted on a randomized Academy ground with an equal chance that it might be held in our Academy. Finals are usually held in the forest. The winner of each match is the first to three bouts out of five, each round lasting for ten minutes. You have to eliminate all your opponents or capture their flag to win a bout. I will first explain the elimination point scoring system of the War Games." Akashi said, pointing towards the dummy that had a cloth wrapped around it. "Aomine will demonstrate."
The dark-haired boy, upon receiving approval from the redhead, swung his sword that had been dipped in ink. Two large splashes of color appeared on the dummy; one cutting across the heart and another staining the head.
"A slash across the heart and the head is one point." Akashi signaled for the next set.
Casually, Aomine strode round to the back of dummy and jabbed the back of its neck before quickly moving in to slide his sword across the dummy's throat.
"Hitting the back of the neck or slicing cleanly across the throat is worthy of two points."
Before Akashi could issue the next command, the demonstrator had already moved ahead. With lithe grace and monstrous speed, he made quick work of the dummy, slashing its four limbs and at a point a few inches below its stomach. He then swung down his sword triumphantly, splattering the remnants of the paint on concrete.
"—and that is a three pointer." Akashi narrated dryly about his companion's enthusiasm.
Aomine gave a thumbs-up to someone behind them.
Kuroko wasn't even allowed the chance to turn before two arrows shot timely one after another, varying in trajectories. The first was simple; an accomplishable straight arrow for the heart. The second however, was a far cry from the first with its insanely high trajectory that curved dramatically before it descended with astonishing speed, hitting the middle of the dummy's head exactly. He couldn't help but bite his lip to hold back a laugh. As impressive as it was, why was it necessary for it to be shot at such a high angle where the arrow would then be susceptible to the winds of the atmosphere?
That impression, however, was only momentary.
When he finally turned around to see who had shot the arrow, his eyes couldn't help but widen slightly in shock. Midorima stood at least two hundred yards away from the dummy, not even looking triumphant about his feat. His expression was bland, as if it had only been natural to achieve such an impossible task.
Even if he was armed with a longbow that allowed shots to be taken over a great distance, it still did take considerable arm strength, accuracy and calculation to achieve such a standard. Taking all the external factors in his stride with minimal error, Kuroko could no longer find the heart to laugh but was only left awestruck at his skill.
"An arrow to the heart or head is a three pointer," Akashi voiced, making him snap out of his self-induced reverence for Midorima. "It is determined by a single small spot, like how the slash to heart is determined by the indents on the foam that will be strapped over your heart.
"The elimination point scoring system serves two purposes. One, should no winning condition be met by the end of ten minutes, the amount of points each team has accumulated determines the score. Two, the total score from Inter-High is used as a means to filter out weaker academies and schools. It is to make things fairer since we do it in a group stage fashion. Some might be unlucky to have extremely strong opponents and using that factor to moderate instead of just looking at the winner of each match serves as a good tool for equality."
"That is quite detailed." Kuroko asserted, a rare tone of excitement seeping into his voice.
"Not without years of trials and testing," replied Akashi before continuing. "To match you to the standards of a nationally strong team, you will go through a vigorous training regime designed by Momoi and myself. I would ask of you to cut down on the vanilla milkshakes you enjoy and eat more substantial food if you want to survive."
The teal-haired person froze. 'He noticed?'
"Yes, I have." The redhead answered his silent question. "Thankfully, summer vacation is approaching. Nothing yields better results than constant training."
Aomine ruffled Kuroko's hair in pity. "Good luck with your demon—I mean vigorous training. You'll need it."
"Aomine, your training menu is quadrupled."
The dark-haired boy cussed under his breath.
He wasn't one to be reduced to tears so easily, but receiving fourfolds of Hell from Akashi no less would make even the toughest men cry. He looked around desperately for his pink-haired childhood friend to spare him a thought and lighten the punishment, only to restrain his desperate cry, for she was still in the infirmary.
But truly, Kuroko couldn't find the heart to disagree with his reaction when he had received his training menu.
It was nothing short of the seven levels of Hell as he glanced through it, wondering if he could even survive the ruthless regime they called a training menu. He didn't even dare to flip to the next page where his schedule for summer vacation was held, fearing its content and for his life.
Silently, he waved goodbye to the days of comfortable sleep without sore muscles and the vanilla milkshakes that he craved.
The detail-oriented redhead had incorporated what he should intake as food, apparently.
And underneath it, bolded and underlined in an elegant script was a note: You will follow it.
The teal-haired boy clapped his hands together with the paper in between, muttering a prayer: "If I live through this, I'll start worshipping a God."
Because Akashi Seijuuro was definitely a demon in disguise.
CHECK MY PROFILE FOR THE MAP LINK! (Trust me, you'll need it)
Kuroko's hands shook in nervous anticipation for the War Games he had trained so hard for.
He recalled the months of toiling in the heat, and the varying levels of pain he had endured for this moment, for his first official match.
Kuroko wasn't sure how he had lived through the tight regime and the constant pressure of being pushed beyond his limits.
He had nearly drowned, fallen off a cliff, face planted a window and felt so sore that he thought he wouldn't be able to move for a month. All sorts of harrowing tales had blossomed from the hellish training, forming memories he suspected that he wouldn't be able to forget even if he tried. It had brought him an awkward sort of relief when he had found out that the abilities of his newfound acquaintances didn't come from natural talent alone - albeit to the fact that they had plenty to spare - it had to be cultivated to some extent.
But alas, who was he to complain?
It had yielded great results at the price of momentary pain and scarring experiences, inevitably allowing him to participate in something that he was growing to love. While his stamina was still abysmal (a fact that Akashi was still puzzling over), he had to admit his swordplay had become more refined and his archery wasn't as horrible as before. All the different exercises had increased his speed immensely and his pivots and twists could be executed with greater finesse.
Kuroko had shocked everyone when he had passed the tests to enter the first string participants on his first try, although he still looked as if a breeze could knock him off his feet. Although the coach and first string members had affirmed that it wasn't a fluke, it had done nothing to stop them from treating him like a social pariah.
He personally didn't care about their additional schemes, even if they had remembered him. He had never felt the need to prove his strength – he didn't need someone else to define his worth. He knew he had worked hard, so why should he feel guilty?
In fact, the teal-haired practitioner wasn't sure if he should feel offended that they had originally excluded him from their own stratagems to win such that he had easily bypassed all their plans and clutched victory in the course.
To be specific, he didn't understand why they found it necessary to use such underhanded methods to win when they were capable of marvelous feats themselves. He was not amused that people would resort to such methods for victory – it felt downright idiotic in fact – especially since they could have expended the energy and brain cells that they had used to plan such elaborate ploys for proper productive training.
Hell, he knew some of them were more than capable, having been in the same torturous camp as they were.
Kuroko snapped out of his reverie when the coach tapped on the clipboard thrice, the sharp sound catching his attention. He gazed up at the speaker intently, ready to absorb any plans that were already in place for the match.
The coach, seeing that he had captured everyone's attention, began speaking. "The starting members will be Akashi, Aomine, Haizaki, Kuroko, Midorima, and Murasakibara. That is all."
Hearing his name announced made the teal-haired member freeze in place, wondering if he was hearing things. His cerulean blue eyes suddenly looked unnaturally wide on his face, his mind still repeating the words in his mind in horror.
Aomine, seeing his partner even more pale than usual, slapped his back, causing him to flinch.
"Tetsu, stop being so tense," joked the dark-haired boy.
Kuroko's head twisted jerkily to look at him. "... Eh? Did you say something, Aomine-kun?"
Said person sighed in exasperation. "Like I said, relax… Seriously, didn't you manage to pass the test in one shot? You'll do fine."
"It's different, Aomine-kun." He deadpanned. "I was mentally prepared last time. This is too sudden… It's my f-first time in an official match."
"Don't stutter, it's weird." Aomine remarked before his expression morphed into shock. "Wait, seriously? You've never been in a match even during camp?!"
The phantom player looked away. "They didn't notice me…."
"Just don't drag us down and you'll be fine." Murasakibara commented, overhearing their conversation.
"And what are all of you doing?" The coach demanded. "Get to the meeting point!"
The participants murmured their apologies, standing up and trudging towards the middle building.
When Aomine turned to check on Kuroko again, he couldn't help but ask in concern. "Are you really okay, Tetsu?"
"I'm fine, Aomine-kun." Kuroko muttered, his face looking ashen despite the hood covering his face.
'He's definitely not okay…' He thought warily, seeing how his shadow looked like a newborn lamb with the way his legs trembled as he walked. 'He's not going to make it….'
"Kuroko calm down. First, relax—" Akashi tried to console him, only to be stunned speechless when the teal-haired person fell flat on his face.
To be exact, he tripped on positively nothing.
"Tetsu, are you okay?"Aomine asked in alarm, completely bewildered. Where did the usually stoic and composed person he knew go to?
Kuroko got up unsteadily after a moment, nodding. "I tripped on my own feet. I'm fine."
A trail of blood trickled out of his nose.
"No you're not!" Aomine snapped, slapping his forehead.
"Kuroko, you're subbed out for the first bout." Akashi decided, the resolution in his eyes leaving no room for discussion.
Kuroko could only sulk as he walked back to the bench. Nijimura patted his shoulder comfortingly and took his place.
"Kuro-chin is impossible…" Murasakibara sighed, chewing on a carrot.
Midorima pushed his glasses up as if in agreement. "He was subbed out after one second."
"That is truly beyond my expectations…" Akashi mused.
"Tetsu…."
"But there are no benefits from dwelling on my miscalculations," Akashi said as he started to walk towards the middle building again, signaling for the rest to follow. "Kuroko will regain his bearings soon and we have a round to win."
"Let's win this for Kuroko, shall we?" Nijimura said, striding in front of them.
Kuroko could only make out a few details from the position he was seated at since the location forced participant and spectator alike to seek higher elevation in order to see what was happening. And being at ground level, skirting around the official compound no less, he was at a disadvantage, having to deal with seeing only heads and fleeting shadows.
But with the buildings so close together, exposing oneself to higher ground wasn't a valid option either because it would make one vulnerable to being targeted.
All he had known was that his light - despite being a prodigious talent - had been stopped by an 'annoying pest', quoted from the boy himself and nothing more. Kuroko hadn't managed to catch a glimpse of the action or the method used to stop Aomine and his feral instincts. However, from the disgruntled look on his partner's face and the blue splatter that went across his heart when he returned to the tent, it clearly wasn't a pretty scene as he had been dominated.
If one knew Aomine Daiki's skill well enough, they'd be surprised by it because Aomine was a force to be reckoned with on his own, and stopping his streak was a difficult task. Even if he was still developing his talent, it was not something that most could match up to.
From the dark-haired boy's refusal to speak and the way he worked his jaw left and right with narrowed eyes, it was clear that agitation was too mild a description for his state of mind. He was deaf to all the world and anyone could figure out that he was planning how to get even with his newfound enemy.
Things continued to spiral downhill in the first bout.
All the staff and members of Teiko could only suffer in silence and look impassive as they watched a pair of Seiho members charge at Murasakibara, their assault obstinate in nature until the purple-haired giant fell to their offence. They hated the exultant look that came over their faces as they looked at them over their shoulders, clearly trying to rile a reaction out of them.
A bald boy with thick eyebrows had even went as far as 'whispering' insults, pushing Aomine to the brink of his short temper. Had Momoi not kept an iron grip on his hand and forced him to concentrate on calming his mind, he would have had no reservation in punching that trash-talking miscreant.
From the way Midorima returned with a blue spot on his chest while clenching his lucky item tightly, probably having fallen to the opponent's arrow, he clearly shared the same opinion as Aomine.
The greenhead, having come from a noble family, was less vocal about his frustration, only cursing his horoscope's damnable luck for the day. Murasakibara looked enraged; his usually bored expression becoming one of annoyance, and that emotion alone was enough to give him the incentive to strike back at them hard in the second bout.
Only Akashi came back to the resting tent unscathed, but from the lack of his usual easy attitude, he was also affected by the sour mood of his allies.
The second bout should have been Teiko's.
But of course, there were always the disagreeable words of 'should have'.
Teiko had quickly eliminated three members of Seiho, one dispatched by the annoyed purple giant and a pair meeting the same fate after having stepped into the warpath of the dark-haired fiend.
They were confident that they would win this round. There was no room for doubt when they had yet to suffer any casualties and they knew how much of a monster Murasakibara was when emotions forced him into motion. They had an impenetrable defence and rapid offence – all the pieces needed to control the game according to their will.
Seiho had no pieces left to move. The defender had to religiously guard the flag and their playmaker Ryuhei had already been taken out. All that they were left with was the estranged with movements that went awry without command.
But with the loud horn that pierced through the still air, signifying a foul instead of defeat – the thunderous bass that sounded in two quick clips - tension immediately filled the air.
Which side got a foul? Who would face defeat?
The answers that both sides wanted were quickly answered when they arrived at the site of the commotion. Satsuki and Kuroko could only mentally rub their temples as they looked at Aomine who looked ready to kill, but only to have his attempts ruined by Nijimura and Midorima who were tasked to hold him back.
The dark-haired boy looked furious – he struggled against their vice-like grips without a care for his appearance, his pupils enlarged and glaring fixedly at his injured opponent. His feet occasionally flailed in the air impetuously to try and land a blow, his teeth gnashing together.
Aomine didn't care if he would get a second foul for beating Tsugawa into a sorry pulp; he knew it would gain him enough satisfaction from teaching the bald boy a lesson with his fists. And at the very least, that foul would be well deserved compared to the act that Tsugawa was currently putting up.
He loathed the grim expression of pain that the bald boy put on and the way he gripped onto his supposedly injured arm. Everything about it screamed that it was a lie to him who had purposefully restrained himself to avoid such situations, partially stemming from all the gruelling training and consequences he had been through. With all that considered, it was infuriating how blind the referee was, especially since it had happened right in front of him.
He didn't care that the vision-impaired referee was signalling for him to stand down and he was definitely all but deaf to the words of his own companions. Their soothing words and warnings went unheard although it prodded the back of his mind; all that consumed him was piping hot fury.
The short smirks that Tsugawa often gave him when the referee's attention was turned away from him did not go unmissed by his senses that were sharpened by anger. The red gleam that smeared across Aomine's eyes seemed to intensify, an almost tangible bloodlust seeping out from him.
There was no room for doubt – he was ready to slaughter, blunt weapon be damned.
The referee, seeing that the perpetrator was not one to become composed any time soon, quickly gave the verdict, not wanting to see bloodshed. Judging from the expressions of the Teiko members - many of them masking their own anger behind their exasperation - the judge swore that he was frightened by the damage that they might have been able to wreck.
He quickly perished the thought – it was unthinkable that students from a distinguished academy and the majority from noble peerage would be able to cause the damage he visualized. They would be savages if they had gone to that extent and they were certainly raised with morals.
Yet why did he still feel tingling fear course through his body as he saw the gleaming in their differently coloured eyes? They all looked focused and deadly – especially the red-haired whose pupils had become vertical slits.
"Aomine Daiki of Teiko Academy has used excessive force against Tsugawa of Seiho Academy. Following the rules, Aomine Daiki is fouled and the round point immediately goes to Seiho. Seiho match point, Teiko nil."
Akashi shared an exasperated look with his greenhead friend who could only sigh, complying with his silent command. He slapped his hand over Aomine's mouth in disgust, preventing him from shouting profanities and losing them the entire match.
Collectively, Nijimura and Midorima hauled the hot-headed prodigy back to their resting tent, only releasing him when he was well and away.
The rest of the unoccupied Teiko members sent a fleeting glance at the backs of Seiho who were helping Tsugawa away, frowning when they saw him swing his arm like crazy when he had just turned the corner.
Unconsciously, they clenched their fists in annoyance, suddenly realizing that they wished that Aomine had beaten him up.
Only when they had reached their resting tent, the pair tasked with subduing Aomine let him off, ignoring the glare that he gave them. The dark-haired boy stomped his feet, wishing so much that the ground beneath him was Tsugawa.
"That baldy bastard," Aomine snarled, kicking the tree behind their resting area and causing some leaves to shake loose.
"Dai-chan, language!" Satsuki scolded while she passed the enraged individual a canteen and towel.
He snatched the towel and wrapped it around his neck; her words went unheeded as he continued to talk in raps. "Excessive force? What excessive force?" The dark-haired boy spat. "I bet my arm that he'll be back next round like some energized and annoying bunny."
Nijimura chuckled, disregarding his anger. "Aomine, you're being too hot-headed. You should calm down first."
"I'll calm down when I tear that smug grin off his face and separate his limbs and—"
The hilt of a dagger thwacked him suddenly, effectively silencing him.
Aomine turned around swiftly to glare at the offender, ready to vent some of his fury - only to have some of it quelled when he realized who it was. Ever since the beginning of their partnership, the calm, complementary shadow of his had never been his target of ire. Or rather – he could never find the heart or strength to be angry at the teal-haired boy, who leveled with him with logic and reigned in his outbursts in the simplest manner.
"What do you want, Tetsu?" He asked irritably.
Said person stared back into his eyes. "Aomine-kun, you should calm down or you would fall for Tsugawa-san's ploy again. You should take one bout to calm down."
"Then who will play? You?" He accused, wanting very much to get even with his nemesis.
He knew it was a low blow that he had directly poked at the fact that Kuroko was trembling in fear of failing his first official match with the lack of filter from his brain to mouth, but he couldn't care less.
"Yes," Kuroko answered his provocation.
Murasakibara ruffled his teal hair. "Kuro-chin, you'll really do it?"
"Someone has to rinse Aomine-kun of his anger. Who else would be better suited to it than his shadow?" He asked no one in particular. "I've watched them long enough to know how Seiho will move and react. Akashi-san, you were already planning a clean sweep, weren't you?"
The redhead couldn't help the reflexive action of his lips curling into a smirk, his pupils becoming vertical slits. Although Kuroko looked lacking in most aspects compared to him, they were still two peas in a pod when it came to scheming. The seemingly innocent, most harmless-looking person in their group was dubbed a phantom – a term usually used to describe nefarious things – for the same reason.
But as soon as the smile appeared, it disappeared with a flash, as if it had never been there in the first place. "I appreciate the fighting spirit you have, but keep it hidden. As much as possible, avoid having your emotions coming to the surface. You should conscious of your lack of presence and control it - be miserly about it. Only then, your style will become a deadly weapon."
The teal-haired person hung onto every word the vice-captain of the team had said. He closed his eyes deliberately and inhaled deeply, urging his mind and heart to calm to its usual slow tempo. As if in a trance, he opened his cerulean eyes slowly, now looking utterly devoid of any emotion.
Murasakibara and Aomine, who had been straining their ears to listen in on their quiet conversation couldn't help but feel surprised. The purple-haired giant even went as far as rubbing his eyes, wondering if his vision had become demented.
Why did they feel like their phantom player could disappear the moment they took their eyes off of from him? Where did the sudden pulsating need to be forcefully aware of Kuroko come from?
Akashi, seeing that what he said had properly sunk in, smiled once more.
"I presume you know your role, Kuroko."
Cerulean blue eyes stared back at him impassively as he pulled up his hood. "It is impolite to ask questions you already know the answers to, Akashi-san."
The entire group shivered as sinister intent seemed to seep out of the duo.
'Demons,' they thought simultaneously, 'they are definitely demons'.
The devilish pair broke away from their silent conversation.
"We'll be capturing the flag with a single casualty. Haizaki, you'll be aiding Midorima in…. Disposing—" He enunciated carefully with a small cruel smile— "Tsugawa. Murasakibara, you will be on defense as per usual. Nijimura-senpai, please go after the flag. Look out for Kuroko's signals."
Just as he dished out all his orders, the horn that signaled that the third bout was about to begin sounded. The participants left their resting tents and moved towards the midpoint of the flags.
Kuroko made sure no one caught on with his appearance as he stocked his fake weapons with ink.
"Oh, Aomine isn't playing?" Tsugawa said in discontentment as he surveyed Teiko's participants. "And I had wanted to annoy him more so that he would get another foul… Guess Teiko's expectations are slipping since they sent someone so weak…."
The bald boy looked at the hooded figure pointedly in discouragement.
"I apologize for being weaker than Aomine-kun," Kuroko murmured, his voice devoid of any emotion. "But no matter what, I will help him triumph over you – by proxy."
Tsugawa grinned good-naturedly, albeit mockingly, at his determination. "Teiko is weak. And it's already our match point, what could you do about it?"
"Something rather than nothing." said Kuroko, framing his words in such a way that his disposition was like frigid ice.
Tsugawa sneered. "If you're even capable of it."
"I'll try not to disappoint then." Kuroko concluded, walking away from the person he was tempted to punch the living daylights of.
The judges signaled for the designated person to enter first. The teal-haired person easily slipped past the Seiho members and into the compound, a gleam of smugness apparent in his eyes when none of them paid attention to him in particular.
No, he would not feel offended that they did not notice him. Kuroko Tetsuya would ensure that they would pay for the consequence of misjudging the strength that Teiko possessed.
Failure was not an option. Victory was certain.
Ten minutes later, the horn sounded for five seconds.
The third bout, with Seiho at match point while Teiko was at nil – began.
Wasting no time at all, they all rushed to the places that Kuroko had marked for each them. One might wonder what markings were placed. It was a simple and yet almost insignificant thing. Latched onto some windows, colored fabrics that coordinated with their bizarre shades of hair stood out subtly against the black window sills.
Haizaki was the first to sprint off to the middle building to hide while Midorima covered half the distance across the court to gain access to the back building. Akashi followed soon after, except he took a defensive stance at the connectors between the middle and the back building. Nijimura stayed at the base with Murasakibara who had to defend, knowing that it was not time for him to move yet.
The greenhead halted in his tracks as he reached the first second level connector to grab the pigeon that was hopping around the tiled floor scavenging for food, his hands fumbling slightly as he tried to release the clasp that held the message.
RUN UP TO FOUR.
Just as he finished reading, a loud cry echoed through the hallway he was in. Crumpling the message in his taped hand, he started running again, ignoring the furious shouts behind him. It was a telltale sign that Seiho's defenses were in place and he had only one chance to set out to accomplish his task.
He let the pigeon fly out of the window with no apparent target as he climbed up the next flight of stairs, going two steps at a time. Mentally, he thanked the ingenious and devil-like Akashi Seijuuro for all the arduous training he had put him through, once he saw the expanding distance between his person and his opponents.
He slid to a halt at the fourth level while making a ninety degree counter-clockwise turn before pushing off with his right leg towards the arrow that lay on the ground. With one fell swoop, he picked it up and nocked it onto the bowstring, facing it out of the open window.
'Five seconds', his mind urged, roughly estimating from the sound of the approaching footsteps.
He quickly surveyed the area.
The mobile artillery of Seiho along with another, was behind him. Tsugawa was out in the open by the middle building. Akashi was fending two people off by himself.
A moment of indecision surfaced. What should he do? Who should he help?
'Two seconds…. "Dispose Tsugawa."' He remembered the latter order.
Midorima gritted his teeth and changed his aim. He knew it would hit its mark despite the abrupt swing; he had practiced it far too many times for it to fail.
He let the arrow loose.
He sent a fleeting glance at the arrow that cut through the still air before he focused on the enemies that descended upon him.
The sudden distraction of a dagger flying out of the classroom door right next to him with horrible accuracy bought him time to shoot two arrows at his opponents, giving him a precious second to escape. The sheer force of a close-ranged arrow made his opponents gasp as it hit them square in the gut, slowing their reactions.
There were no further instructions for the archer. He was on his own.
The first arrow wasn't supposed to miss its mark. It was supposed to be a clean hit with no mistakes. But from the frantic shouts of his teammates, Tsugawa had already seen the projectile coming.
The bald boy knocked away the arrow and split it into half with practiced ease, sneering. He raised his eyebrows in the direction where the greenhead was running, as if to question how that was supposed to accomplish anything.
However, in his moment of arrogance, Haizaki, who was lurking around at the bottom level of the middle building, was given the chance to pounce. While his skills were subpar compared to Aomine's, a distracted person could never deflect his blows. He never cared for personal vendettas unless it was his own but like the others – he hated to be called weak.
The grey-haired boy blinked into Tsugawa's vision in seconds, fuelled by utter aggravation for him. His blood sung for him to make his opponent eat the dust and he merrily complied to his own bloodlust. Cutting up Tsugawa up harshly with his fake sword across his four limbs and stomach, he smirked when he heard his opponent groan.
Before Tsugawa could let out his last yell to notify his teammate that he was dead, Haizaki had already stuffed a bunch of his hood's fabric into his mouth, gagging him.
"Shut up." He snarled, thwacking him in the side once more.
The bald boy glared at his opponent as he spat out the cloth which ruined his chance of communication. He could only sulk in defeat as he looked at the paint splashed onto his hood and clothes, cursing himself slightly for letting his guard down.
When he turned around to return to his resting tent, his eyes caught onto something.
Splattered in color of the losers for the previous bout, obsidian black words ran across a surface of a window – BY PROXY.
He clenched his fists in anger at the blatant mockery, throwing his sword on the ground and storming off the match compound. But before he could take ten steps, the victory horn for Teiko sounded. A triumphant Nijimura held the flag while Seiho's defender looked flabbergasted, unaware of when he had crept up and taken the flag since he was distracted by the short-lived fight between Tsugawa and Haizaki.
Like Tsugawa, his complacence was his own undoing.
Just as he was under the presumption that Tsugawa could handle himself and that he could aid his teammates in fighting the menace known as Akashi, who was handling two opponents with ease, he had neglected the flag.
Nijimura had crossed the distance of two courts without breaking a sweat when he had saw a thumbs up sign peeking out of one of the windows, a permission of sorts for him to spring into action. He had conquered the flag when Seiho's defender had taken only five steps away – thus achieving victory for Teiko.
Midorima, who was out of breath from sprinting for the entire duration of the bout, heaved a silent sigh of relief. He walked away looking unruffled, as if he hadn't been chased up and down the building three times. Akashi, similar in countenance, eased away from his defensive stance and sauntered off, but not without a swing of his sword that splattered some black paint onto the grey uniforms of his opponents.
Although he didn't say it, the Seiho members felt a chill go down their spines.
The silent warning rang in the air from his refined movements of the sword that could have cut them down so easily. The vice-captain of Teiko could have eliminated them if he wished but he had chosen to drag on the fight. He had chosen to let them live, to let them know that he had been merciful.
Teiko did not cheer for their first victory out of three bouts. They remained sangfroid through the transitions of resting and gathering once more for the next bout, completely unperturbed by the fact that it was still Seiho's match point.
Even the aggressive Aomine seemed eerily calm, his usually expressive navy eyes empty of his competitive spirit. From his current posture to his aura, it lacked the usual presence of an uncouth animal, making it a queer situation that Seiho could not understand.
The Captain of Seiho, Iwamura, couldn't help but feel wary of them.
And he had every right to be.
When the fourth bout began, they could not find a trace of any of the members of Teiko other than Murasakibara, who was eating a carrot near their flag. They were not fooled by his bored and distracted appearance, for it could be very well be a mask to capture or slaughter. They had decided to keep a distance until the movement of the others was confirmed because they wanted a clean victory in the bout.
For five minutes, they could not find any of them. There was neither a footstep heard nor a glimpse of their outrageous colors for hair, only the rhythmic sounds of their light, apprehensive footsteps echoing through the hallway. The pressure they felt was like a mammoth upon their chests, deriving from the fear that spurred endlessly in their minds like some kind of gear train.
It was impossible that they had disappeared into thin air. They were beings made of similar matter to them, but where could they have gone to? Where did the loud and arrogant Haizaki and Aomine go? The mobile artillery and sixth man of Seiho, Ryuhei, who was famed for his skills in making plays, was equally puzzled. How could one turn any situation around when there was none to begin with?
It boggled the minds of the Seiho players, who were left a bundle of frazzled nerves from the anticipation, nervously surveying their surroundings, waiting for the unexpected that never came.
On occasion they swore that they saw a pair of cerulean blue eyes staring at them as they roamed the halls but they wiped it off shakily when they realized that there was no one there.
And had there even been a cerulean blue-eyed opponent?
They desperately dug their memories for answers but came up with none. Their minds had cast away the person of weak presence, thinking of the hooded figure as no threat and with no active participation. They could ignore it once, perhaps even twice, but come the third time; they were already rooted with fear, their glances often fleeting, afraid to see something undesirable.
Tsugawa, who could have solved the mystery, had brushed it off, still thinking that the teal-haired person was an insignificant being that could not match up to the other players of Teiko.
They would pay with the consequences of that mistake once more.
By the time the timer had hit the six minute mark, paranoia overwhelmed them. Unable to stand the stifling tension and the unknown, the Seiho members had decided to put up a united front against the purple giant who was eating another carrot, and capture the flag.
The Seiho defender, in his restlessness, had crept closer to the middle building to witness the overhaul of points.
And like a snake slithering through fields, Teiko struck.
Unilateral victory was sounded when he had taken fifteen steps away, only to turn around in shock when three members of Teiko - Aomine, Akashi and Haizaki - touched the flag simultaneously.
Causing no casualties in the entire match – whether friend or foe – had initiated the special condition of the game. Collectively with the round point and five points tabulated into the point elimination scoring system, seven were added to the latter scoring system.
It had all been part of Akashi's plan.
It was common knowledge that Seiho was renowned for their defense and unique martial arts training that boasted expending less energy with precise twists and a formidable balance. With such distinctive traits, it was simple to make out what kind of ploy would hit them the hardest.
Hence, it had been a definitive that being able to slip past their boisterous defenses without getting caught would be a huge blow to their reputation.
It had all been a matter of coordinating the information and common patterns of their routes and moving their phantom player around correctly. They gained immediate intel through Kuroko Tetsuya and sneaked around Seiho, giving the illusion that they had disappeared.
War Games, more often than not, were like Shogi.
A detailed, psychological warfare that could work in your favor if one knew how to use their pieces to the maximum capacity. And fortunately, it was the place where the Emperor thrived.
He purposely made sure that his cerulean-blue eyed teammate was seen, no matter how short the exposure. The true depths of fear came from one's imagination – a fact that he knew very well. And from the small smile that his accomplice returned, he clearly enjoyed it as well.
With those steps taken, it had led to their easy victory in the fourth bout; bringing them to match point with Seiho.
The final bout was beginning.
With half an eye kept on Ryuhei who had entered the match grounds ten minutes before the actual bout along with him, Kuroko's mind couldn't help but recall the brief conversation that he had with Akashi.
"He reacted to my random appearances the fastest. He didn't think of me as an apparition and nearly counterattacked."
The teal-haired person frowned slightly. It was a worrisome matter for the Phantom member; the whole point of his participation was based on the fact that he wasn't noticed. If he was taken in consideration in their the schemes against Teiko, his infinite possibilities of movement would shrink immensely.
He knew that he was pushing it to think that his effectiveness would last for three bouts straight, especially when he was still inexperienced with the pressure of official matches and bound to make mistakes.
But even with the possibilities of a blunder, Kuroko Tetsuya would do it.
He would serve the defeat and the information of his enemies to his allies on the hypothetical silver platter, even if it meant that his severed limbs would be dragged along by the waiter.
He quickly reached his favored position that gave him a vantage point and cover simultaneously; the room at the end of the middle block on the third floor that was filled with musical instruments. While he had chosen it due to its coverage, it was also one of the places that Seiho was least likely to check for estranged opponents.
It lacked space for large movements - the majority of the things sprawled on the ground in disarray would cause a ruckus if they were to fall. While the disadvantages applied to him, it meant little. He evaded, not fought, and worst come to worst, he could always jump out of the window.
Kuroko held back a cough as the stale, musty air infiltrated his nose, careful to maneuver around small and big objects alike. He leaned his back against the wall, his eyes straining to see Seiho's courtyard through the gap of the two thick blinds. The concentrated light that filtered into the dark room blinded him for a few moments, causing him to blink furiously to adapt to the change of light intensity.
Mentally, he wondered where Ryuhei would position himself at. He released the small cage that was jutting at his hip, spinning it slowly to see if the bird was injured. As if to reply to his concerns, the bird chirped once, fluttering open his wings slightly in the enclosed space.
The loud horn that suddenly sounded scared both person and animal, causing Kuroko to gaze sharply through the gap once more.
He looked hurriedly at the clock when he noticed that three people were heading quickly to the middle building, his mind calculating if it would clash with their archer.
He was filled with dread when he realized that they would clash with Midorima once more, and he was in awful need of time to inform someone. Bounding across the room and out, he pulled out a red fabric from his pocket and latched it onto the window with two arrows from his quiver before pulling out a capsule of blue ink that he had swiped previously.
While he busied himself, he saw a flash of red approaching the middle building just as the greenhead's last yell rang out. His fingers fumbled from shock, nearly dropping the capsule his hand was dipped into.
Kuroko pulled the bird out of its cage and caused it to squeal due to the force he exerted, meticulously quick as he dabbed ink onto both wings. For extra precaution, he tucked a blue piece of fabric into its clasp, praying that the targeted recipient wasn't blind to the message.
He sat on the window sill and inhaled a hurried breath. Just as he had done that, he pushed his torso out, hooking his feet to ensure that he wouldn't fall.
He was sure he would never get used to the danger of falling as his stomach lurched involuntarily. He ignored the sudden fear that plagued him, pushing away the old memories of failure that had nearly been fatal and tightened his muscles that were hooking him to the window sil.
'Fly', his mind silently urged as he swung his hands to send the pigeon into the window below, heaving a sigh of relief when he heard the yelp of his opponents. He waited for a few moments, feeling a wave of vertigo from tilted vision hit him, needing to know the results to his efforts.
He internally cheered when he heard an unnatural clatter onto the ground below, signaling that someone was disarmed and defeated. He pulled himself up and ran towards the stairs in light steps, glancing down at the winding stairs to see Aomine clashing with the enemy that had retreated away from their vice-captain.
'Akashi-kun will be fine.'
Just as he walked away from the stairs, he couldn't help but comply with his screaming instincts that told him to swing his sword. Inches before the flying projectile hit his face, it was sent sailing to the wall next to him from the interfering force.
His head swung towards the direction of his assailant, his eyes narrowing on the figure of Ryuhei that was standing in the middle of the back block with his bow still poised before him. He unconsciously gripped the small bow that was strapped onto his back; a long-ranged weapon used more for guiding misinterpretation that he was a bowman than shooting.
Kuroko wasn't confident that he could shoot an arrow that could hit. The only thing that he was sure about was that Ryuhei's arrows would miss its mark from deflection because Seiho's sixth man did not possess the skill to fire precise arrows or a barrage like Midorima. After countless practices with the greenhead, he knew what true terror from a bow and arrow was. Anything less could never compare.
Then, before he could decided on his next course of action, Ryuhei did something that he had dreamt of in the worst circumstances.
He yelled out his position and announced his existence, completely shattering the illusion of a phantom present that Teiko had elaborately cast.
Kuroko muttered curses he had learnt from Aomine as he sprinted back into the stairway and up. He ducked into the nearest storeroom he saw, praying that the mobile artillery hadn't seen his movements fast enough.
He pressed his thin body against the boxes and cleaning equipment that was jammed packed into the room, trying to exert the least amount of pressure he could on the items.
'There's no way that anyone could come up.' He thought as he calmed his frantic breathing. He closed his eyes as he recalled the positions of both his allies and opponents. He had seen the captain of Seiho running towards the back building to where Ryuhei was, and two out of three who were heading towards the middle building taken out. Seiho's defender had stayed at where he was while another patrolled nearby.
Teiko meanwhile, was scattered. Haizaki was unlikely to follow commands but he would lurk near the flag. Akashi and Aomine was probably still on the second level, Midorima was already taken out of the equation, a terrible mistake that shouldn't have been made and Murasakibara could handle himself at the flag.
'Two out of three only?' He froze. He strained his memory in attempt to remember.
There were only three different sets of footsteps, so where was the fourth?
In the silence of the floor that he was on, every sound was amplified.
What would have been soundless footsteps in a crowded hallway had become deafening, which made it impossible for Kuroko's heartbeat not to spike. He could feel the looming footsteps and the rare occasions where the tip of a wooden sword would scrape lightly against the ground.
His hands moved towards the sword that was strapped at his waist and the dagger holstered at his thigh. He gripped the handle of both weapons, contemplating which one would be the best.
Would he choose the weapon he excelled at or the weapon that was most used?
He gave himself no further time to think as he heard the footsteps walk past him, pulling the unlocked door open so fast that his opponent wouldn't have time to react to the door crashing against the wall and pounced.
Like water, his right hand clamped onto his opponent's mouth and his left fluidly drew the dagger and placed it at his throat.
For a moment, he relished his opponent's fear.
It was double the ecstasy when he realized it was the same opponent that had underestimated him. The bald boy's pupils were dilated with fear as they looked at him, the proper control of his limbs leaving him as his sword clattered onto the floor. Cold sweat started form on Tsugawa's head as he tried to let out a scream that he could not, unable to retaliate from the suddenness of the situation.
"I warned you that it would be by proxy." Kuroko murmured coolly, his dagger slitting his throat and drawing a line of red paint across.
He moved away almost instantaneously once he had dealt the death blow, leaving the disconcerted Tsugawa to stagger towards to the wall for support. Sheathing his dagger back wordlessly, he backtracked to the winding stairs and descended with a relaxed pace, his blank appearance revealing nothing about the confidence that welled within.
The fifth bout would be Teiko's.
The corner of his lips couldn't help but curl up when the victory horn for his academy sounded. He pulled his hood lower to hide it although there was no one in the proximity who would catch him wearing a different expression.
Kuroko tried not to sprint towards the building in excitement but rather took a jog in order to give himself time to calm his nerves. However, the feeling of satisfaction came back at full force when he saw the triumphant looks on his teammate's face – even the Emperor Akashi Seijuuro was affected by it.
To add on to that satisfaction was the disgruntled looks on Seiho's faces. From the large red ink stain that sprayed across the hood of Seiho's captain, he was clearly done in by Murasakibara with his quick wide swings.
The main referee looked around. "Where is Teiko's sixth member of the fourth and fifth bout?"
Unable to help himself, the teal-haired practitioner only replied when he was standing next to Aomine.
"I'm here." He said softly, but loud enough for it travel to the referee and his dark-haired friend and give both of them a fright.
"Tetsu," bemoaned his partner in exasperation, "would you please stop doing that?"
Kuroko stared back with his cerulean eyes. "Aomine-kun is the one that is lacking."
The referee cleared his throat before Aomine could retort.
"Teiko Academy wins three to two bouts!"
"Thank you very much!" Both teams yelled as they bowed in the spirit of sportsmanship.
As the participants turned around to return back to their resting tents, a yell halted them in their tracks.
"The person in the hood!"
Every member of Teiko turned around to look at the bald boy quizzically. All of them were in commonplace grey hoods as official attire for the War Games. Just who exactly was he referring to?
Tsugawa slapped his forehead in frustration. "The one standing right at the end with their hood still up!"
Kuroko pointed to himself questioningly.
Agitation spiking, he jabbed a finger at the teal-haired person. "Yes you! Why!? Why do you get to win when you did nothing and just rode on their cottontails? You weren't even there last year, so why do you get to win when you've put in less effort?!"
Aomine stepped forward for his partner, peeved at his false accusation. More than anyone else on the team, he knew of the hours that Kuroko had toiled just to meet the bare minimum of the team, the things and directions he had given to lead them to the three bout victory. How could this ignorant miscreant who knew nothing and not even bothering to check if his opponent had poured in effort or not before passing his judgements idiotically say such a foolish thing?
He envisioned pummeling the bald boy into the ground until he was broken and bleeding, begging for forgiveness and apologizing for his faults.
He hated people who insulted his being, but he loathed people who insulted those close to him even more. They had no right to determine a person's capability without even taking a closer look, they had no right to say that a person was useless until they actually knew them.
A firm, cold hand gripped his wrist, wiping clean his bloodied thoughts.
Cerulean blue eyes implored for him to understand that Tsugawa wasn't worth the effort, that he wasn't the first to denounce his effort and that he certainly wouldn't be the last.
Frustration brimmed within the dark-haired boy. He shook his hand away, his fists tightly clenched. "Tch." He scoffed, his glare not faltering.
Iwamura sighed, knowing that Tsugawa had went too far. He grabbed his team member's hood and pulled him back. "Tsugawa, don't step out of the line. He may not have contributed individually but they accomplished it as a team. Just because you didn't see him in action doesn't mean he didn't do anything."
And as if his captain had hit a sore spot within him, his hand moved up to touch the bruise forming on his neck. The Teiko members who had saw the gesture glanced at Kuroko, immediately connecting the dots and yet curious as to how he had accomplished it.
The apathetic sixth man gave nothing away with his impassive expression, making them wonder even more as to what had transpired.
As much as Tsugawa wanted to slap away the hand of his captain, he held himself back, not wanting to disrespect him since he could easily overpower him.
"What's your name?" He spat venomously.
The cerulean blue-eyed practitioner looked back at him in surprise, or at least what his numb facial muscles would allow him.
"Kuroko Tetsuya."
Tsugawa clenched his fists, giving him a scalding glare. "I'll remember that."
Blinking a few times at the unexpected proclamation, Kuroko nodded before turning around once more and heading back with his friends.
The Teiko members teased Kuroko mercilessly about how he was finally getting noticed, making him admit that it was indeed the first time that someone had vowed to keep him in mind.
It made them feel bad when they remembered that he was usually just a fleeting thought, an insignificant detail to most before they had joined them.
Aomine ruffled his hair.
The match between Teiko and Seiho was just the beginning.
I am genuinely so so sorry for the late chapter . This chapter was seriously hell, for both me and my poor (or so I think) beta reader Sapphyre Lily collectively.
It's near 10k words long, something I didn't expect, so I hope it would be... a suitable repayment for my absence. I had examinations going for the past two weeks, and it has ended at long last, thank dragons for that.
Again, thank you for the favorites, follows and reviews.
Holy guacamole, you guys are crazy, ESPECIALLY the AkaKuro fan.
Again, I reiterate, that romance will not be the main part of the plot, thus, no pairing will thrive.
You will understand why that is later. I'll see y'all in the next chapter.
