The school day passed relatively smoothly for Kuroko, as far as Kagami could tell. Kuroko dozed through most of their classes, which was as it should be. The guy obviously needed to sleep for about a week. If he insisted on coming to school anyway, he should at least get some shuteye at his desk. The teachers never noticed, naturally.

Kagami had packed bentos for both of them rather than relying on the bread counter for lunch. When Kagami placed the bento in front of him, Kuroko blinked at it dazedly for a few seconds, then raised his head to look at Kagami, who was twisted almost backward in his desk chair to face him. "What is this?"

"Your lunch," Kagami said patiently.

Kuroko stared at it without comprehension. "But I didn't bring one."

"I brought it for you, dummy. Eat up."

"I'm not hungry, though. I wasn't planning to eat lunch today."

"Try." Tired of sitting twisted up in his chair, Kagami stood and slung his leg over to sit on it backward. He reached out and pulled on the knot of the bento's wrapping, which made it fall open. "You should eat. And how often do you skip lunch, anyway?"

Kuroko shrugged. He eyed the bento with something like distrust. "When I don't feel like eating, I don't eat."

"It's a miracle you made it this long," Kagami said. He poked the box with one finger, scooting it closer to his friend. "How do you expect to get stronger if you don't eat? You need to get back what you lost. Come on. Eat."

Kuroko slumped. "Kagami-kun is pushy," he muttered.

Kagami tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. If Kuroko wasn't going to take care of himself, Kagami was going to damn well do it for him. That was all there was to it. "C'mon. You'll need the energy for basketball practice."

That was the magic word. Kuroko sat up straighter and opened the bento. He stared down at the food for a moment, as if gathering himself, then picked up the chopsticks and began. Once he started, he kept going.

Kagami watched him for a little while, unable to resist the small, satisfied smile that crept across his face. It was strangely gratifying to watch someone eat food that he had made. And for all his protests, Kuroko did seem to be enjoying it.

Kagami sat forward to eat his own lunch. The day was going well. Maybe Himuro was wrong. Maybe Kuroko wasn't going to have a whole swarm of problems Kagami didn't even understand. Maybe he would just heal, and get stronger, and be Kagami's roommate from now on. Kagami could hope, anyway.

But basketball practice was a disaster.

Kuroko was off his game. Not only could he not make a single shot at the basket, but his passes kept missing, too. No one knew how to deal with it. Kuroko was always so reliable that having him suddenly making mistakes threw the entire team into disarray.

"Get it together, Kuroko!" Hyuuga yelled after the sixth pass to him bounced off his fingers at a bad angle. He cursed and shook out his hand, face turning red. Kagami didn't really blame him. Hyuuga's fingers must be throbbing. Kagami could handle Kuroko's small errors, but his palms were stinging from the force of the passes, and the rest of the team wasn't as used to it as he was.

Kagami also knew that this wasn't a good time to be yelling at Kuroko. But he could hardly say that aloud—it would only embarrass him. Kagami could only watch with an unhappy lack of surprise as Kuroko's passes got even worse, even more off balance. On an ordinary day Kuroko would take any admonishment as a challenge and work hard to meet it. Today was not an ordinary day.

Kuroko's expression remained flat and serene. He was far too good at shutting down his visible emotions. But that didn't mean he didn't feel them.

Finally, mercifully, Coach Riko blew her whistle. "Enough!" she yelled. "Five minute break!"

The players immediately scattered off the court, grateful for the reprieve. Kuroko moved over to the wall and sat down, staring at the floor in silence. Kagami accepted a towel from Furihata and stood on the sidelines to mop his face. He wasn't surprised when Riko approached him.

"Kagami." She kept her voice low, but her eyes were worried. "What's wrong with Kuroko? He's incredibly tense. He didn't relax at all when he got here today. What's changed?"

A few weeks ago Kagami would have blustered at her, asking where she got off thinking he would know something like that, that he wasn't Kuroko's keeper and he couldn't read the weirdo's blank expression any better than anyone else could. Both he and Riko knew that wasn't true, though. Not anymore. If it ever had been.

"I think I know," Kagami said grimly. "I think it's my fault."

Riko raised her eyebrows.

Kagami closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Then he opened his eyes and looked at her again. "Before today, basketball practice was his haven, a place where he could forget everything and just enjoy his passion." He was pretty sure that this was also why Kuroko had been following Kagami home from school every day for as long as he dared. Kagami—blind, foolish Kagami—had been ignorant of the suffering Kuroko was enduring at home, and so his presence had become a place where Kuroko could forget. At least for a while.

"But now that's tainted," Kagami said so softly that even he could barely hear himself. "I know Kuroko's secret. My presence is a reminder. He can't...he can't forget, not even for an hour."

Riko's eyes widened in dismay. "You know..."

Kagami nodded miserably. "I know."

She didn't ask him to tell her what it was. She probably knew that he couldn't. "Then it's...not fixed...?"

Kagami pressed a hand to his chest. He ached. If only it had been a bully. If only it had been some jerk at school. If only it had been something small and petty and easy to deal with.

If only Himuro had been wrong.

Kagami shook his head. "No. It's not."

Riko groaned softly and looked across the court to where Kuroko sat. He was hunched forward, folded into himself. Kiyoshi Teppei had plopped down beside him and was talking to him gently. Kuroko nodded his head at random intervals, but Kagami didn't think he was truly listening at all.

"What should we do?" Riko asked. It sounded like she was talking to herself, her voice sad and quiet, but Kagami answered anyway.

"I was gonna ask you that."

Riko stood very still, staring over the empty court. Kagami fidgeted. He eyed her out of the corner of his eye. Was he supposed to do something about this? Or should he leave her alone? Was she thinking hard, or had she blown a circuit?

After a minute or so, Riko blinked and looked at Kagami again. "Well, nothing will change if we just keep going on as we have been. We'll have to try something else. I don't know if it will work, though."

Kagami nodded. He was grateful for any chance of something to help, whether it was guaranteed or not.

When the five minutes were up, Riko blew her whistle again. "All right! We're changing gears! It's time for passing drills. First one: wall pass!"

Kagami got it. It was back to basics. A return to the fundamentals of Kuroko's specialty. The kind of thing Kuroko could do in his sleep on an ordinary day.

Perhaps the focus on simplicity would break Kuroko out of his funk. Doing it with everyone else might remind him that he wasn't alone, that he didn't have to confront his problems on only his own strength. And maybe, just maybe, he would find it soothing.

A lot of "maybes" and "mights" in that plan. But Kagami thought that it had a good chance. "Thanks, Coach," he said quietly, before he moved with the rest of the players to line up facing the wall of the gym, each of them holding a ball.

Kagami took care to choose a spot some distance removed from Kuroko, just in case his presence would be a problem. They started the drill at two paces from the wall. Coach blew her whistle, and everyone threw their ball at the wall, making it bounce back forcefully. After catching it, they backed up two paces and did it again, then again, until the fifth pass, and then they started moving back toward the wall two paces at a time.

It was a rapid-fire drill. The sounds of basketballs hitting the wall and rebounding echoed through the gym, along with the squeaking of gym shoes and the shouts of the players as they got into the drill. Coach Riko yelled out now and then when she spotted someone using shoddy technique, forcing them to redo that step until they got it right. They all started out together, but as the drill continued, the players spread out more and more as they worked at their own pace and their own strength.

Kagami concentrated on his work, though he desperately wanted to look over and see how Kuroko was doing. The ball felt satisfying, slamming into his hands time after time. Coach didn't yell at him once. Kagami wasn't a passing genius like Kuroko, but he was no slouch. Couldn't be, if he wanted to be able to work with Kuroko. He finished his drill, twenty passes in total, in record time.

When he was done, Kagami stepped back and kept an eye on the others while they finished up. Everyone looked pretty good, even the other first-years who could be called the weakest of Seirin. They were all throwing the ball with determination and catching it with proper technique, stepping to meet it with both hands...

Kagami blinked. Everyone was doing well...except Kuroko. He was faltering with every throw and almost fumbling every catch. He...he was shaking. Uncontrollably. It was painful to watch. Kagami grit his teeth and tried to look away, but he couldn't. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his fingernails digging into his sweaty palms.

Kuroko was falling apart before his eyes, and he couldn't look away.

Many of the others had already finished the drill. Kiyoshi stood near Kagami, trying to encourage him. "You can do it, Kuroko. Just take a breath, relax. You know this. It's natural for you. You can do it." His voice was calm and gentle, and he meant it kindly. But Kuroko only got more tense with every well-meant word.

Riko had stopped blowing her whistle and yelling instructions. The last player but Kuroko finished his drill, then stood staring in astonishment at Kuroko. Everyone was staring now, everyone was watching him shake and fumble and struggle. Kuroko was wheezing for breath, every pant sounding more frantic than the last, and his eyes were wide and wild. Sweat poured down his face.

Kagami wanted to yell at everyone to stop looking. To get out, leave the gym, let Kuroko alone. The many eyes on him, shocked and staring and dismayed, could only be making this worse for Kuroko. But they all stood there, watching, frozen. Including Kagami.

And Kuroko just kept falling apart. Kagami could almost see the pieces breaking off, dropping to the floor. He couldn't pass. He couldn't handle the basketball. It was disturbing to watch.

"Kuroko." Riko's voice was quiet. She moved through the group and stood in front of him, placing her hands over his on the basketball as he lifted it for another throw. Kuroko halted, staring at her, heaving for breath. "Kuroko. Do you need to take a break for a little while?"

"No." It was a faint whisper, desperate, pleading. "I can play."

Riko tugged gently on the ball, pulling it out of his grip. Kuroko's fingers curled together in the absence of anything to hold on to. "I think you need to sit out for a while, Kuroko. Just until you get your bearings, all right? You look like you're going to be sick. Just take a break until you feel better."

Coach's voice was sad. Kagami knew that it was because her plan had backfired, but it must have sounded different to Kuroko. Devastation swept over his face, overwhelming his usual calm. "I...okay..." he choked out, barely audible. "I'll sit out..."

He turned away and began moving silently, shakily toward the wall. Most of the others averted their eyes at last, aware that this was something private and they shouldn't watch. Kagami started to follow him, hoping he'd be able to talk to him, maybe try to mitigate the damage.

Then Kiyoshi moved up alongside Kuroko, saying words meant to comfort and encourage. He reached out one big, strong hand. Kagami saw what was coming and choked on a warning. No...don't!

It was too late. Kiyoshi patted Kuroko's back. It was a hearty gesture, and he meant well, of course he did, Kiyoshi always meant well. But Kagami flashed to the image of Kuroko's bared back, burned into his mind from just this morning. Covered with welts, just...layered with them. New ones and old ones, some of them looking like they'd been inflicted just the other day. Kuroko's back was raw. And Kiyoshi struck it hard enough to make Kuroko stumble forward a step.

Kuroko flinched. A tiny, cut-off cry burst from his lips, and he fell forward on one knee, catching himself with his hands on the floor to keep from falling the rest of the way. Kiyoshi went utterly, utterly still, his hands still outstretched, his eyes widening in horror as he looked down at his small teammate. "...Kuroko?"

"Back off!" Kagami barked. Of course he was ignoring his own instruction, rushing over to kneel at Kuroko's side. "...Please," he added belatedly, remembering that he was talking to a senpai.

Kiyoshi didn't look offended. He looked terrified and worried, but not offended. Kagami only spared him a glance before he focused on Kuroko, though.

Kuroko's head was down, his sweaty hair hanging around his face in messy strings. His back formed a tight bow of distress. His face screwed up in an ugly grimace of grief and pain, his eyes squeezed shut. Tears and sweat dripped to the floor and wet the backs of his hands, curled into fists against the planking.

"Kuroko..." Kagami put an arm around him, carefully, carefully. Kuroko flinched again at the contact, then relaxed, just a little. At least he had the wherewithal to recognize Kagami and accept his touch.

"Kagami-kun..." The name was choked and breathy, barely above a whisper. The tears fell faster. "Kagami-kun... He took it away..."

Kagami didn't need to ask who "he" was. He was pretty sure he knew what "it" was, too. "Can you stand?"

Kuroko nodded. It was shaky, but it seemed genuine. Kagami pulled Kuroko's arm around his neck, firmed his grip, and got them both to their feet. Standing, Kuroko slumped into Kagami's side, his head still down as he tried to hide his tears, his weakness, his loss of control. Kagami clenched his jaw and held him up.

Everyone was staring at them. Kuroko ignored their worried eyes, their distressed expressions. It wasn't their business, not until Kuroko allowed it to be. He held Kuroko to his side and started walking. Their teammates parted to let them through.

Outside the gym door, in the empty school hallway that was never used this time of day, Kagami slid down against the wall, Kuroko with him. Then he wrapped him in his arms and let him cry. Kuroko curled up into Kagami's chest and just sort of let go.

At first it was silent, those strange, still tears of last night that had so disconcerted Kagami. He'd never seen anyone cry like that before, and it had disturbed him down to his bones. The expression on Kuroko's face had made it seem like he should have been bawling full-out, loud and messy and distraught, and yet he'd kept almost everything inside.

This time, though, it didn't last. Kuroko held out for a while, just leaking tears in a slow, steady stream. He let Kagami hold him, even curled his hand in the front of Kagami's shirt, but didn't otherwise respond.

After a minute or two, a small sob escaped Kuroko's lips. He curled up tighter and pushed his face into Kagami's chest, his body trembling with the effort to keep it all inside like he had before. But then another sob escaped, and another, and another.

"Kuroko," Kagami murmured, his throat tight with pain. "It's okay. I don't mind."

The tension released from Kuroko's body in a rush. He relaxed into Kagami's hold, going boneless against him. And he cried and cried and cried.

"He took it away," he told Kagami between loud, wet, messy sobs. "It was the one thing I told him he couldn't have from me, and he still took it. He took my basketball."

All Kagami could do was hold him tighter. "We'll get it back," he said when he thought Kuroko could hear him. "We'll get it back, we'll get it back for you."

Kuroko just shook his head and cried.