A/N: To avoid confusion and possibly mass hysteria (ㅋㅋㅋ), everything in this chapter happens in the past, when they were 17-18ish.
Scathing Prelude (Third)
/Begin
"Yo, Tetsu. What's that on your arm?"
Kuroko froze, his heart halting its functions for what seemed an eternity. His eyes were transfixed on the bit of skin showing on his wrists—the bruises that had still yet to fade.
Don't look at them, please.
Feeling dirty, too dirty, he lowered his arms quickly, shaking his sleeves over the ugly marks.
"Tetsu?"
He had to fight hard not to flinch.
Don't ask me, please.
"I… fell down the stairs."
The worst possible scenario ever. He hadn't wanted anyone to find out, ever. The looks on their faces he didn't want to imagine; and over everything else, he was scared to find out how they would treat him. Like something dirty? Scathingly? Or would they try to act overly sweet, like a peach rotten to the core?
"You… just… if you have any problems when you go home, just call me and I'll hijack a car or something to take you away, alright?"
"I'm counting on you, then."
"Yeah."
"See you, Aomine-kun."
It was worse the second time.
After seeing Ichiru, Kuroko remembered that his math teacher had said he would be visiting that night. Feeling obligated to at least show his face, he turned Aomine down though his heart screamed at him to leave leave leave and walked with heavy steps to his home. He was lost in his thoughts and was rudely jostled back to reality when someone bumped into him. He looked up, felt his heart go cold.
"Oh, hey, Kuroko. Didn't expect to see you here."
No. No, not here. Not now.
"Mind helping me carry this to my apartment? I just bought it and was about to call some friends up to help me haul it, but since you're already here, why not help?"
Kuroko's feet scraped the pavement, almost turning him around to run back to Aomine, back to Ichiru, back to safety.
Almost.
He couldn't run. He was trapped under that hungry gaze, the leering, jeering, scathing gaze.
And it was worse the second time.
He remembered stumbling home, but remembered nothing else. When he woke, he wasn't in his room, but in a stranger's. He began to shake.
"Kuroko?"
Ichiru?
"Kuroko… it's your teacher, Ichiru. I, uh… well, I guess you'll want to know where you are. You're at my place… I brought you here about an hour ago after I, um… found you. Um… so… yeah."
Kuroko said nothing.
"I'll… leave you alone for now, okay? Unless you want me to stay, in which case I'd be more than willing, but…"
"Where's my father?"
"What?"
"My father. I know I went home, or at least I think I did."
"L-Like I said, I found you…"
"Was he there?"
"I—"
"Please don't lie."
"Kuroko, I'm so sorry…"
"I understand. Thank you, Ichiru-sensei. I… just want to be alone right now."
"Okay," Ichiru said softly. "I'll be right outside if you need anything. Don't hesitate to ask."
He remembered Kise telling him about a forum he often visited. Before he knew it, he had pulled out his phone and was on that site. If he posted his story, what would people say? Would, by some chance, Kise see it? Would he say something to Kuroko? Would he tell him it was okay, it was going to be okay, he would be okay, it would be alright despite the fact that he had been twice sullied, despite the fact that his father had abandoned him, despite the fact that Kuroko's life was spiraling out of control—
He could barely type; his tears were falling so fast and thick.
[Phantom11 January 24, 1:59
I was sexually assaulted twice. I won't go into details. I don't want to relive it.
He let me go. The first time, he said he would hurt one of my friends if I ever reported him. I started avoiding my friend after that, not wanting to get him into trouble.
The second time was today, just a few hours ago after I met a friend. I went… home afterwards, I think. I'm not really sure.
I feel dirty. Disgusting. I want to cleanse myself, but I can't. I can't stand this feeling; I can't look at myself in the mirror without seeing what was done to me. When I think about what happened, an inexplicable panic takes over me, and I almost hyperventilate, then I almost stop breathing. I tense up, and can't do anything for several moments until I finally regain control over myself. I feel so dirty. I want to escape. It's like I've been plunged into a place without light or even darkness—a place so empty that I want to escape no matter what it takes.
Can someone help me?]
Minutes later, something happened that was like a miracle—a response from Kise himself. Kuroko could feel his heart soar; he knew he could depend on Kise, Kise was there for him, it was going to be alright—
[Taseri Kiyou: What the heck? Youre disgusting. Why didnt you fight back? Why did you let him do that to you? I bet you provoked him! People like you who push the blame on the other guy are the worst. You should just disappear!]
Those scathing words scratched Kuroko's throat raw, scraped his eyes dry. Every ache in his body seemed to melt away, overwhelmed by the buzzing in his ears.
He shook his head. This wasn't Kise. It couldn't be Kise. Kise didn't type like that, not even when he was in a hurry. Kise would never say something so brutal, so callous.
But what if…
Kuroko curled over, fighting back the bile.
All of a sudden, the world seemed too big.
Scathing Prelude
/End
Kise's sobs were horrible to listen to.
He was clasping Kuroko's hand and trying his very best not to let a sound escape his lips, but it was an impossible feat. Every few seconds, something shook his entire body, letting loose a gut-wrenching noise. Aomine stood next to where Kise kneeled, staring with an unfocused gaze at the motionless, silent figure in the bed.
Momoi was curled up in a chair, her face buried into her knees around which her arms were wrapped in a death-like hold. Murasakibara sat against the wall, holding nothing in his hands, his long, purple hair wisping around his face like a wreath of abysmal strings that hid his face.
It had been a day of such clear blue skies, just like Kuroko's hair and eyes, and yet this had to happen…
Death hung like a wraith of shadows, hiding in the corners, whispering outside the door. They could hear it scratching. Midorima kept a foot jammed against the door with his arms folded, as if that would do something to shield Kuroko from an intangible force. As if it wasn't too late.
"Why…"
It wasn't a question; it was begging.
Akashi closed his eyes, painfully aware of the way his chest rose and fell. He could feel the air rushing in, rushing out, rushing in, rushing out, could feel his heart thudding away busily. Thump, thump, thump. In, out. Tick tock.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
"Yes, father," Akashi said, bowing his head. "I understand."
"Good, then," the older Akashi said. "Let's not have this conversation again, understood, Seijuuro?"
"Yes, father."
"You may leave."
"Yes, father."
The repetition nearly killed him. Akashi silently stepped out of his father's office (opulent, severe, unforgiving) and into the elevator outside. He waved away the chauffeur that ran forward as soon as he reached the landing, opting instead for the bus running to the nearby park in Tokyo.
Silently so that nobody noticed, he leaned back into one of the wooden benches strewn messily throughout the park. Some boys and girls were throwing a ball around to his right; to his left, an empty swing set swayed forlornly in the wind. Back and forth, back and forth, never deviating from its destined path.
Something hit his feet. He looked down and saw the yellow ball with purple stars the children had been throwing around. He picked it up, beckoned a cautious child forward with a smile.
"Thank you!" the kid said. She was missing several baby teeth. "Ojii-san."
Akashi twitched, but tried to smile kindly—a kind smile, what was a kind smile?—at the child. The girl gave him a shy giggle before running off, her skirt flapping freely in the wind, giving Akashi an unbidden view of white panties.
He sat there, watching the children with the swing set swaying behind him, elbows resting on his knees with his hands folded together. Something hungry rumbled in his chest.
"Akashi-kun?"
He turned.
"Tetsuya? It's a surprise to see you here."
"I should be the one saying that," Kuroko said, slipping onto the bench beside Akashi. "You should be in Kyoto after all."
"I… had some business with my father," Akashi said. "Did you just leave school?"
"Yes," Kuroko said. "Basketball practice ended earlier than usual since Coach's father managed to set the house on fire somehow. I decided to take the long way home."
Akashi nodded. His mismatched eyes strayed over to the children playing a free-for-all with the ball. He could feel Kuroko's gaze on him.
"I don't know whether to thank you or to curse you, Tetsuya," Akashi said.
"I'm sorry?"
"For making me lose. For rendering me no longer absolute."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, I no longer have the right to say that I always win. That I am always right. I didn't realize it until now, but I have been leaning heavily on that principle of mine, all these years, ever since my father first told me that I would be inheriting his company."
The children were laughing. The swing set creaked. Kuroko was silent.
"I relied on those words to reassure myself that I was on the right path. It became my duty to always be correct, to never be wrong. At first, I feared error; then it became something laughable as I grew older and more experienced. I scorned it because my fate was to win. I could never lose. And because I could never lose, I was never wrong. And because I was never wrong, I was right to follow my father's footsteps without question.
"But, you broke that, Tetsuya. You shattered my role in life as the absolute emperor." Akashi held his hand up to the sun, grabbing its light. "Who knew that something so simple as losing could turn me on my head, make me lose sight of my duty. I was always right, Tetsuya, until you showed me wrong."
Kuroko was looking at him oddly. Then, to Akashi's surprise, Kuroko smiled.
"So Akashi-kun can also be stupid sometimes."
"Excuse me?"
Still with that barely perceptible curve on his lips, Kuroko said, "You… maybe it's time you free yourself from that cage you built around yourself, Akashi-kun."
Akashi's eyes narrowed.
"That principle of yours to be always right, it's like chains," Kuroko said. "You allow yourself only one path to walk on, and when you stray off of it, you're completely lost. You don't know what to do with yourself, just like now. Isn't that an awful way to live, Akashi-kun?"
Akashi had no answer.
"I should go now," Kuroko said, getting up. "It was good to see you."
"Wait, Tetsuya!"
Kuroko stopped, the thinnest thread of surprise lacing his stoic face.
With the swings tumbling behind him, Akashi asked, "Then, what should I do?"
Vulnerability.
"Tell me what I should do."
Weakness.
The children rolling in the dirt, the swing set groaning; the girl in the yellow dress laughing as she stained it green with the grass blades; the metal chains growing rusty from the rain; the boy in the cap throwing the ball up in the air, high, high, high, giving it a life of its own before it plummeted back to the ground, the swing seats floating feet off the ground, chained to the rods of the set; the children running free, the swings rocking back and forth for eternity.
"Just do what you want to do," Kuroko said as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "That's what's most important."
Akashi was alone now, left to listen to the regularity of the clicks from the watch he'd been given for his seventeenth birthday.
Tick
Tock
Tick
Tock.
Tick.
Akashi walked to the other side of the bed. Kise was still crying, silently now, his head buried in the blankets, hand still clasped around Kuroko's. With his mismatched eyes, Akashi looked down upon Kuroko, stone-faced. His hand crept up and rested on Kuroko's cold forehead.
"I still don't know what I should do," he said in a voice so soft no one else could hear it. "Won't you wake up and tell me?"
"Tell you? Was that a real question, Seijuuro?"
"Yes, father."
"You have never once in your seventeen years asked me such an outrageous question, Seijuuro. Why now of all times?"
"I've been thinking."
"Clearly, you have not been thinking as a member of the Akashi household should."
"Why must I?" Akashi said coldly. "Why must I be forced to live as an 'Akashi should' my entire life?"
"This is not how I've raised you to be, Seijuuro."
"You shouldn't have tried to raise me to be anything, father," Akashi said.
"What?"
"Why can't I choose the way I live?"
"Not that question again."
"Tell me."
"I said not that question again!"
Something snapped; his father had broken off the edge of his mahogany desk. It clattered to the ground. Breathing heavily, his father shook his head.
"I apologize, Seijuuro, for letting my temper get out of hand. I should have seen from the start—it was your friends who caused you to doubt yourself, was it not?"
Akashi's eyes narrowed.
"In that case… I think it's about time you started to go to school abroad. I'll send you to China next month—in May, as soon as I've found a suitable school."
"Father—"
The old man locked eyes with his son. "You need to be disciplined, Seijuuro. There will be no other options for you. Listen to me now, Seijuuro, and you will lead a comfortable life. It may seem unfair now, but in a few years, you will understand that I am only giving you the best of the best. So, listen to me."
Akashi listened to the silence. Kise had finally fallen asleep from exhaustion. Aomine heaved him up and put him into a chair, covering him with a blanket he found in the room's only closet. Midorima was nodding off at his position in front of the door. The cold gleam from Murasakibara's violet eyes clashed with Akashi's before hiding away behind heavy eyelids.
Akashi closed his eyes, letting his head fall back. He felt his hair pull away from his skin, waving gently in the wind. He was there again, in the park, but this time, he was alone.
"Akashi-kun!"
He turned and saw Tetsuya.
"Akashi-kun, your text—it's not true, is it?"
Akashi turned a lazy eye to the phone Kuroko was holding in front of his face.
[My father is sending me to China] it read, [due to disobedience on my part. I wish to meet with you all one last time before I leave. How does May 19 sound? I hope to see you then.]
"It's true," Akashi said curtly. He closed his eyes again.
It was irrational, but he hated Kuroko Tetsuya at that moment. That single statement just do what you want to do—Kuroko didn't understand how much that statement itched at Akashi. It scratched at him until he was rubbed raw, all because the truth was—
When it came down to it, he didn't really know what he wanted to do.
He was supposed to be right. He was supposed to win. He was supposed to live a life worthy of an Akashi. He was supposed to inherit his father's company.
But did he want to do those things?
He didn't know.
Half of him wanted to; the other half didn't.
He despised the conflict within himself, who had always been certain.
"This is all my fault," Kuroko said. Akashi snapped open his eyes, not liking the tone in Kuroko's voice—panic, self-blame. "This is my fault. Akashi-kun, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."
"Tetsuya," Akashi said sharply. "What's wrong with you?"
Kuroko bit his next words, retreating. "I'm sorry. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have to be going through these things."
Before Akashi could say another word, Kuroko seemingly vanished. Akashi was left alone to listen to the May wind whistling through the trees.
The May wind whistled through his hair as he stepped outside. He shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against a pillar supporting the building—like how Kuroko had supported them—staring up at the bright blue sky. If he could take that sky and the sun, bundle up that life, and put it into Kuroko's eyes, he would—but he couldn't; he was only human. He was only human, despite the fact that he was an Akashi, a person who should be able to do anything without question, without fail.
He shook his head.
Who knew that a single loss could throw such imbalance into his life?
"Who knew Akashicchi just wanted to take us out for lunch?" Kise sang with a hand over his stomach.
"It's good to do these things once in a while," Akashi said. "To build and keep connections."
"Ah, when you say it that way, it seems so calculating," Kise pouted.
Akashi let a smile lift his lips. "Well…" he hesitated for a split second, lifting his eyes to the sky. "It was something I wanted to do, so I did it."
Kise, not understanding the meaning behind Akashi's words, grinned. "It was good to see you one last time. I can't believe your father… And just after the start of third year, too."
The bus rumbled to a stop and dispensed its passengers. The six of them began walking along the side of the street, loosely coagulated into one moving mass.
"My father has always been strict and has always acted in the way he sees most beneficial towards my existence," Akashi said calmly. "I will make the most I can out of this trip to China."
"If you say so…" Kise said, unconvinced. "Ah, but too bad Kurokocchi couldn't come. I wonder what came up?"
"It would have been nice to see him," Momoi said. "I haven't met up with him since his mother's funeral."
"Tetsu's life has been really shitty these days, hasn't it," Aomine grumbled.
"Hey…" Kise said, shading his eyes. He pointed excitedly up at a lone figure at the top of the hill they were about to walk up. "Isn't that Kurokocchi up there?"
Roaring Prelude (Penultimate)
/Begin
"…and I bring the money home, and you can't even do this much? I loved you because I thought you were capable, but now I'm not so sure."
"I said I was sorry!"
"Sorry doesn't cut it. You and that worthless son of yours—I wish I'd never met you. Life would have been so much better with Kyoko—you and your family tricked me into marrying you. The worst decision of my life."
"I-I'm sorry…"
"What did I say? Sorry doesn't cut it. If you're sorry, then leave. It'll be one less mouth to feed in this shitty household. What? Worried about what other people will think of you if you leave? I didn't know you could care. Don't worry; I'm sure they all whisper about you behind your back already—about how we're dirt poor, how you wear the same clothes all the time, how you can't get the money to take your son out for his birthday.
"And how you can't even raise your son properly! I kept working for you two because I thought that maybe Tetsuya would get a scholarship for basketball and be able to go to college without paying for tuition—but then he went and got his wrist broken, so there goes that hope out the window. Because of him and because of you, I've been leading this shitty life… how does that feel? Knowing you've ruined another person's future?"
"Honey…"
"Don't call me that. You don't have the right."
Kuroko slipped out of the house, unnoticed, into the dusty blue sky. He came back the next day after spending that night at Ichiru's house, sharing a quiet dinner with him.
The house was eerily quiet. The boards creaked under his weight, and there was a stiffness in the air he was unfamiliar with. A faint stench of liquor stung his nose. Feeling uneasy, he followed the scent upstairs, then finally to the attic. The smell was unbearable. He flicked on the lights.
He would have screamed had he not been so choked up with fright to the point of being paralyzed. He didn't want to believe what he was seeing, yet he could not tear his eyes away.
His mother's toes swung two feet off the ground and the rope above her swayed gently in a rocking lullaby that harmonized with the groans of the roof.
The funeral was quick but not quiet. It was a neighborhood scandal everybody liked to talk about. His father wept (fake tears); Kuroko was too stunned to cry (what an ungrateful son). He could only watch with hot, dry eyes they carried his mother away and cremated her, sending back her ashes in an urn that was mailed away to her family. After that, his father said only one sentence to him; then he never spoke to his son again.
"This is your fault, you know."
Kuroko skipped school for a week. When he returned, it was a change so subtle, and he blended in with the scenery so well that hardly anyone noticed his return. But then again, hardly anyone noticed his absence in the first place. Ichiru called him a couple of times, but he never answered; he stayed out after school until late at night when he knew his father was sleeping. He returned to the house only to have a little dinner, drink some water, sleep a few hours. The rest of the time, he went without food, without comfort.
He was doing alright, Kuroko reassured himself. Things would get better.
The school year ended in early April. Kiyoshi, Hyuuga, and the rest graduated with worried faces. Kuroko could still see them keeping an eye out for him, but he clung to the shadows. He wanted to say goodbye, thank you for everything, but didn't want to face them. Didn't want to have to lie to answer their questions. Didn't want to risk something bad happening to them. And besides, what could they do if he'd told them? He'd tried telling Ichiru, but the man came to him during school one day, looking somber and morose, and told Kuroko that Otori had threatened to end his adoptive father's life. Ichiru couldn't do anything except worry for Kuroko now. What could anyone else do? So, he turned his face away, pulled out a book, and looked at the words. The book was upside-down.
Once, he'd dared to let his feet lead him to the gymnasium, where he knew the third-years (Kagami, Furihata) would be practicing along with the underclassmen. It was empty; it seemed as if no one had arrived yet. The basketball cart was tucked away with the orange balls threatening to roll over the top and bounce on the floor. The hoops were stationed in the same places as they had always been. The floor gleamed with the same shine. Kuroko put a hand against the door frame, looking into a world he'd abandoned with an ache in his chest.
"Kuroko?"
He froze and spun around. Kagami was standing at the end of the hallway, and because he was standing with his back to the light, his face was indiscernible, a dark shadow cutting into the white light.
"Kuroko, is that you?"
Kagami stepped forward in disbelief. Kuroko took a step back.
"Wait! Damn it!"
He turned around and swiftly melted away.
It'll be okay.
Then, Akashi sent out that text to the entire Generation of Miracles, saying that his father would be shipping him away to China for a year due to disobedience. For some reason, the text on that cell phone screen kept blurring up; tears kept leaking from Kuroko's eyes. This was his fault. It was his fault that Akashi had to leave. His fault.
Shh, he tried to tell himself. It's not your fault. Don't think like this. Things will get better.
Then, that teacher had Kuroko bring him to his shabby house, and finally, Kuroko's last place was shattered.
His bed was defiled. He could no longer call that place a home. His last place where he'd grown up with his mother and father was dirty. Soiled. Like him. He no longer felt safe in this bed. He didn't feel safe anywhere. He looked at the dirty sheets blankly, without seeing, before folding them up mechanically and throwing them into the trash. But that was a waste of money, so he pulled them back out again and washed them by hand. Washed them again. Washed them until his hands were bleeding. Still, he stared blankly. Unbidden tears pooled in his eyes as he felt those hands. Those lips. Heard that voice. Relived everything. His stomach twisted. Again and again. Like how he was washing those sheets again and again. They wouldn't be clean, though. They wouldn't ever be clean again. Now they were staining pink. He was only soiling them further. A waste. What a waste. He was a waste. He pulled his hands from the water and looked down, watching the blood collect and mix with the water. He drained the bathtub in which he'd washed the sheets, pulled them out, hung them to dry.
For some reason, the teacher followed him home again the next day. Sticky, hot, filthy. Until Kuroko no longer cared anymore. No longer cared about the pain. No longer cared. When the teacher left, he gathered the sheets up again and washed them a final time. He waited for them to dry, then made his bed. He stopped in the middle of his room and stared blankly. There was an odd roaring in his ears that wouldn't stop.
He smiled.
It was alright. He was alright.
It was going to be alright.
His smile blistered.
He waited for the day to come. May 19, the day when everyone else would be meeting on the other side of Tokyo. There would be slim to no chance of running into them if things went right. On any other day, he could run into Kise, Aomine, or Midorima, so yes, he decided, May 19 was the best day to do it.
The sun crawled up the sky, dragging itself out of the horizon like a great beast rising from the sea. Kuroko hadn't slept. Didn't want to sleep. He'd lain there on the floor next to his perfectly made bed, staring into darkness, feeling oddly calm. Memories flashed through his mind of everything that had happened in the past year, but oddly, he didn't mind. Not anymore.
With shaking hands, he wrote a small note (Thank you. Goodbye.) in case anyone bothered to search his room. He cried again, suddenly afraid, suddenly sorry for all that he had done, was doing, was about to do. Did he really want to cause trouble for everyone? Was there really nothing worth living for?
But, it was for the best. He didn't want to feel so unbearably disgusting anymore. He didn't want to bother his father anymore. He didn't want to run the risk of failing his friends again.
They'd all be better without him.
Midorima's words rang in his head. Selfish.
I'm sorry for being selfish.
He was taking his bike up the hill with slow steps, staring blankly.
I'm sorry for being so weak.
He lifted his eyes.
I'm sorry for causing you all so much trouble.
It was a day of such clear blue skies that it was hard to believe that he was about to soil it.
I'm sorry for being so filthy.
He mounted his bike. It was such an ordinary day. The blood rushing in his head drowned out all other sounds, but he knew that people were living their lives as usual. And they would continue living their lives as usual. One Kuroko Tetsuya missing from the world would not tip its balance. One drop of rain caught from the skies would not cause the roaring river to go dry.
I'm sorry.
But, it's okay, now.
In a few moments, his pain would be gone. In a few moments, he would never be able to be a bother to anyone ever again.
It would be an accident. No one would be blamed. It might be a bit of work for people to clean up (I'm sorry), but after that he would never cause trouble for anyone.
He felt everything in a strange haze. These were his final moments. Someone was cutting his or her lawn nearby; he could smell the scent of freshly mown grass. Hear the birds in the air, the voices of the people, the engines of the cars. Feel the brakes of his bicycle creak, the wind in his hair. Taste blood in his mouth. See the skies so clear and blue.
He dove.
He heard the wind roaring in his ears. Felt it resisting his body. Trying to hold him back. But he was already diving towards the intersection at breakneck speed. There was no time to think.
Now, there was only sound.
Now, there was only pain.
Now, there was only darkness.
Now
There
Was
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Nothing
Roaring Prelude
/end
The end!
…
Just kidding.
That was the last of the preludes. All the preludes were written weeks ago in case I needed something to post during a long hiatus in updates. Luckily, that didn't need to happen!
And in case you missed it at the top of the page, everything in this chapter is set in the past.
Sorry for not clearing up on Kuroko this chapter... next chapter, though, next chapter. Sorry if Akashi's bit also was a little dull; I figured he needed to have his say sooner or later.
If you have any questions/anything you'd like to see, now is the time to ask. I'll be trying to clear everything up and tying loose ends together in the next chapter since, well—it's most likely going to be the last (unless you guys have a lot of questions or something).
BY THE WAY. THE NEW CHAPTER OF KNB. CAN I JUST SAY THAT WAS ALMOST TOO MANY FEELS?
Thanks for your support as always! Have a nice day :)
Review Replies (because I am shamefully horrible at keeping up with replies. These are shorter than they would be if they were actual messages, mainly because I don't want to take up too much space. I won't do this again!)
XxBlacktears27xX: No, thank you! Keep strong :)
GunGun: *author-san pumps fist in air for making so many people cry* Thanks for the review!
kurie-tibiti: Thank you (not sure if it's a compliment, but I'll take it as such)! I'm glad that my writing style is memorable :)
TomAndJerry: hahaha, you'll see what happens to Kuroko next chapter :)
.Pearl: :x
Kurosaki Yukia: Hope this was a fast enough update :) Thanks, as always!
racerabbit: haha, I know, but the prelude had to come ;n; Momoi is amazing; it's the least I could do for her to portray her as STRONG. Glad you saw the AoMo moment; however, that's probably as romantic as the story will ever get XD And, hehe, nice observational skills... ;) Thanks, as always :)
CrimsonQueen24: Thanks for letting me know! It's really a relief to know people thought Momoi came out fine :) I know, I am actually horrible ._. And this chapter was probably no help, either XD
Guest: LOL I'm sorry! But if I'm terrible, what about Fujimaki? He leaves us on cliffhangers and sobbing every week... And, thanks :)
thecoldforest: It's not the end! Don't give up hope even if it may or may not be crushed (hehe). Thanks, as always :)
Sora Matasuki and LitaRicaChan: (since you both essentially said the same thing) This chapter probably was no help, sorry! Next chapter will definitely say what happened to Kuroko, though.
Rabunyan: Thanks and sorry for making you cry _
Guester: Glad to hear you say that :) Otori really should die in a fire... hm... Haha, thanks as always! :)