Moros 11

He drew in a ragged breath, his lungs straining painfully with the effort. His vision blurred as tears flowed freely down his cheeks, sliding down his sharp jaw. Dripping from the edge of his chin, they fell to the tiled floor where a small puddle had gradually cultivated from the tears and sweat. His slanted eyes fixed onto the puddle, watching as it rippled and swirled. His steady gaze had never wavered, even when his teammates left without a word.

The mood was solemn, as opposed to the chatter that floated from outside the door. Alone in the darkness, his clutch on his abdomen was relentless as his face twisted with agony. His legs began to shake uncontrollably. Willing it to stop, a large hand clamped down onto his right knee. His head was bowed as he bit his lip to stop the quivering. The constant stinging that coursed through his calves was almost unbearable.

They had lost. Yosen had lost to Touou. Bringing the side of his fist down, he punched his left thigh. The pain ceased momentarily before it slammed him back with full force. Clenching down his teeth, he gripped the bench. His knuckles went ghostly white as he struggled not to cry out. He had done everything he could … so why? The look in Aomine's eyes, almost vile and cruel flashed across his mind. His breaths became unsteady as his heart pounded wildly against his heaving chest. His vision swarmed once more as unconsciousness threatened to take over.

Shaking his head from side to side, he shivered in the cold. Glancing at the jacket sitting on the bench next to him, he stubbornly refused to put it on. Knowing full well that he would catch a cold, Murasakibara steeled his resolve. In the end, he had failed everyone. Akashi, Momoi, his coach and his team. His team … He had failed Himuro. Squeezing his eyes shut, his chest constricted tightly. He had failed Himuro. He remembered the first time he met the dark haired teen. It was an inevitable encounter, he concluded. It was fate. Two completely different individuals had met at the most unpredictable circumstances and became companions, became friends. And yet, he failed him.

"I going to quit basketball …" He mumbled the decisive statement to himself. It was the only solution … the only way out. He had not expected company so when a towel was draped over his head, Murasakibara stiffened.

"Why Murasakibara-kun?"

When the soft voice reached his ear, he lifted his head up and saw a mop of blue. He blinked, astounded. "Kuro-chin …?"

The other did not reply, opting to dry his hair in slow and soothing motions.

"I hate it." His breathing was laboured as he tried to shut out the pain. Even he could hear how weak his protest sounded. It was pathetic.

Kuroko was silent as he gathered his thoughts. His fingers rubbed his scalp tentatively and massaged his temples. It was when his hands halted their movements that he finally responded.

"That's not what it looks like," the teal-haired teen smiled softly. "If you hate basketball, why would you be here crying by yourself? And if you really hated it, why did you give it your all against Touou? Why would you even play basketball?

It is because you love basketball from the bottom of your heart. Please, Murasakibara-kun … please don't deny it. Don't deny your passion. It's okay to love basketball, it's okay to tell others what you're thinking." Near the end, it turned into a desperate plea though his tone remained the same. Almost like a confession, he pleaded for the giant to reconsider his decision … to drag himself back from the wrong path … from the depths of melancholy.

Murasakibara wanted to lash out when the bluenette denied his hatred for the sport. He had always hated basketball. It had been embedded in him since middle school. So why? Why was he crying? It was nothing, he reassured himself. 'It was nothing,' but when he unwillingly let out a sniffle, a door cracked open and everything was let loose.

Clutching onto the tiny hand with his head against Kuroko's shoulder, he cried. He let out all his anger and frustrations. Why? He hated basketball, didn't he? So why did his chest ache, as if he was being pushed off a cliff and hurled into the unknown? Why was he so weak?

Red.

That was all he saw when he felt it. The sensation was far from pleasant. It pulled at him, tugging him towards the darkness and he let it. He didn't fight it. For those ten seconds, he forgot about the things that didn't matter. For those ten seconds, he let his instincts take over. A burst of energy shot through his body and his fingers were lit with blue. He had to win. He had to win.

All the while a voice urged him to crush them. He sprung into action and flew. Weaving through the players, he paid no attention to the shock etched onto their faces. All his mind was focused on was the blue blur. No, it was a blue blur … but now he could see it so clearly. He raced with him, their bodies a flurry of movements as they fought for the ball … fought for victory. He was alert, aware of everything around him. Every inhale of air, every twitch of a finger, every strand of hair didn't escape his eyes.

"So this was the power of the Zone."

He had entered the Zone in the last ten seconds of the game … but it was already too late. They were too far behind. A palm rested between his shoulder blades, the warmth an escape from the torment. Ironically, despite his usual presence being lacking, this time Kuroko's presence was a strong and comforting consolation for the purple-haired giant.

And so the shadow became the light.


It was drizzling when Momoi stormed out the house.

"Aomine-kun no baka!"

Crossing her arms over her chest, her eyes stung as unshed tears threatened to spill from her downcast eyes. Here she was, soaked just for being a caring childhood friend. She had awoken at the crack of dawn, rushing here to wake the lazy bum up. But being the ungrateful idiot he had always been, Aomine had thrown a pillow at her and called her annoying!

Checking her watch, she gasped. It was already noon! Her coral-coloured eyes grew, "I'M LATE!"

Stuffing her arms into the sleeves of her light blue sweater, Momoi quickly grabbed an umbrella and dashed to the station.

-x-

"You have been playing basketball haven't you?" Dr Matsuri chided him not unkindly as they sat in her office.

Kiyoshi smiled sheepishly and scratched his cheek, "hehe … I made a promise to my team."

"And you think this … promise is more important than your knee?

Kiyoshi-san, do you understand that if you do not rest and let your knee heal there's a 70% possibility that you will never be able to play again?"

"This figure is too high to risk it." Grabbing his file, she continued, "patellar tendonitis is a serious injury. Your patellar tendon which is crucial in straightening the knee is damaged severely. You have been going to therapy but it's not enough now, and you know that. I've been telling you that you need surgery, followed by a rehabilitation program for at least six months. During this time, basketball is off-limits."

By the time she was finished, she had been leaning over her desk and panting heavily. Wrapping his large hand around her finger calmly, Kiyoshi smiled. "I know, Dr Matsuri. I will have surgery … just not now. I have a promise to keep so please … give me another two months."


Kuroko checked the time. Where are you, Momoi-san? The match had started more than half an hour ago. His forehead creased with concern. Even though she had sent him a text saying that she would be late, he was still worried. Waiting at the back of the stadium, Seirin had found him clutching the rail anxiously. Kagami had reassured him that she was just late but it did nothing to ease the apprehension. Debating whether to go out and find her, Kuroko sighed with relief when the double doors opened to reveal a fleck of pink.

"Momoi-san." Almost immediately, her distressed face broke into a small smile. Heedless of her dishevelled appearance, Momoi launched at the bluenette. The pair remained oblivious to the envy looks Seirin directed towards them.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Tetsu-kun!" She chirped cheerfully after smiling apologetically, "Icouldn'twakeAomine-kunintime. Actuallyhe'sstillnotawakeandhecalledmeannoyin–"

"Momoi-san, please breathe."

Her mouth snapped shut and her cheeks flushed when she realised she was rambling incoherently in front of her crush. How embarrassing!

-x-

"Ki-chan … is losing?" Standing at the back, Seirin, Kuroko and Momoi observed the match with various speculations. Having arrived late, Momoi was shocked to see that Kaijo was losing by more than ten points.

"To drive Kaijo into a corner, is Haizaki that strong?" Hyuuga asked as he watched Haizaki's second consecutive dunk.

His tone was neutral when Kuroko replied, "he was a starter before Kise-kun joined. He is strong but his style … I don't like it."

The Kaijo players panted heavily when the blonde lost his balance and fell before Haizaki.

"Is that all ya got, Ryouta?"

He was scraping the bottom of the barrel. Kise gritted his teeth in chagrin. He had made a reckless and desperate move. Dammit! He swore mentally. I'm not ready yet …

'Hey Kise! Don't lose before we meet again!'

Remembering what he had promised the redhead, Kise heaved himself off the ground. Looking up towards the stands, he spotted specks of teal and blue. 'But I guess I have to make do,' he thought as he caught the pass from Moriyama. Breathing in and out, he straightened his back. Bending his knees, he brought the ball up over his head and released it into the air.

"Wait a sec, isn't that Midorima's …?" Kagami stuttered, pointing a finger at the spinning ball. When the ball fell into the hoop without a hitch, the crowd exploded into ovation. They chattered amongst themselves, some amazed by Kise's perfect copy, others delighted to see a turnover. Nevertheless, it did not change the fact that it was time for Kaijo's comeback.

-x-

Kise scored one last basket before the sound of a whistle filled the spacious auditorium. As his teammates patted him on the head and congratulated him on his play, Kise looked up to the far corner. Smiling tiredly, he lifted his fist to the figure hidden in the shadows.

Aomine grinned when Kise faced him and raised his fist. Lifting himself from the wall he was leaning on, he craned his neck to the left until he heard a crack. Before heading for the change rooms, he turned to the mop of teal in the distance.

"Let's do this, Tetsu."

-x-

"Oh, isn't it almost time for the next match?" It was when the Kaijo game was wrapping up that Koganei perked up at the prospect of watching another match.

"Hm? Ah isn't it Rakuzan and Touou?"

"Oi Kuroko, shouldn't you be getting ready?"

"Aa …" He deadpanned, "I almost forgot."

There was silence before a distinctive exclamation from a certain hot headed basketball junkie resounded uproariously.

"HAAA?! YOU FORGOT?"

-x-

Mibuchi has always been a detailed person. Priding himself in the area of proficiency, his room was the perfect example of immaculacy - pristine white walls complementing his soft blue bed sheets. It made things easier, especially during disastrous and unorderly situations. This was precisely the reason why he tried drilling it into his teammates, but to no avail. His eyes slid right, to where the energetic blonde was in disarray. Unfolded clothes were flowing from the opening of his bag … some had even fallen onto the floor. Imagining the preposterous number of bacteria that was currently crawling all over the shirt, Mibuchi schooled his features into indifference with difficulty. Sighing deeply, he plucked the shirt with two fingers and held it as far as possible before adding it to the pile of clothes.

As the players bustled around the change rooms, Mibuchi looked up at the clock. Their captain would be here soon. Fixing his gaze on the empty spot beside him, he frowned. Their manager was awfully late. He wouldn't have enough time to change. The door clicked open to reveal the missing pair. The room immediately quieted down considerably. The corners of his lips tugging up, Mibuchi smirked. This was one of the reasons why he approved the way in which Akashi managed the team. Their captain was the exact predicament of unquestionable order and authority.

"Tetsuya, as punishment for not updating me on your location every two hours ..." There was an eerie silence as they all waited for their captain to snap. After all no one, no one, dared to defy Akashi Seijuro.

Akashi smirked triumphantly, "no vanilla milkshakes for one month."

The phantom player pouted before heading off to Mibuchi soundlessly. "I'm sorry I'm late, Mibuchi-kun," hints of irritation evident in his normally undecipherable voice.

Holding back a chuckle at the other's obvious displeasure, he nodded understandingly and smoothed the non-existent wrinkles on his jersey. Patting it down once more for good measure, Mibuchi listened as Kotaro and Nebuya bickered again (for once not about the better cultural delicacy) and Yamamoto attempting to pacify the situation.

"Mibuchi-kun … what are the chances of us winning?"

Turning to the teal haired teen, Mibuchi pondered on the question. Normally, he would dismiss it immediately if it were anyone else, except Kuroko never raised unnecessary inquiries. What are the chances of us winning … as a team? He could almost hear the unspoken words, urging for his honest opinion. He recalled the one practice session when the petite manager had strolled up to them with his head tilted up stubbornly, telling them to work as a team. The fierce determination that shone in his eyes was almost tangible. It was so genuine that if he reached out, he might feel it tickling his fingertips.

Rakuzan has always been a team comprising of skilled individuals, quite similar to the philosophy of Touou Academy. If you were strong, you were valued. It was as simple as that. Teamwork was unnecessary, just a pretty word disguising the truth underneath. At first, they had made attempts to bond with one another but over time, it became insignificant. Everything was about talent, how much potential you had. Gradually, they gave up. However, this year things started to change albeit a little.

With the arrival of two Generation of Miracles, the dynamics among the Rakuzan players altered for the better. After Akashi took on jersey number four, he had been quick to instil discipline into the team. Their interactions increased as they ran laps together and played practice games as a team. Whether it was intentional or not, Mibuchi was grateful. With this development, he had grown more patient, Kotaro's jest became more genuine and Nebuya less gluttonous and imposing. As the glue that joined the trio, Kuroko had offered them the thing they feared to have. He had offered them friendship.

This companionship was strained at first with the three Crownless Generals in disharmony with one another. They still were, but at a much tolerable level. Slowly but surely, teamwork became a prominent part of their play.

"I have faith in our abilities," he answered after much thought. "We have trained together nearly every afternoon after class and our teamwork has improved."

And it was true. Every afternoon, after much complaint and several death threats from their red haired captain, all members of the club had stayed back to practice. Collapsing onto the lush green grass, they had all gasped for oxygen. Every time, Kuroko had never failed to show up and hand them drinks. It was during these extra training sessions when Mibuchi saw the rare concern reflecting in his blank cerulean eyes.

Mibuchi glanced around the room. They have indeed come a long way.


He leaned his head back against the wall, letting the splatters of rain soak his body. His appointment with Dr Matsuri had ended an hour ago but her words have yet to sink in.

She crossed her arms and paced the room, her white coat fluttering. After a minute, she stopped next to Kiyoshi and slammed her hand down the desk. Ignoring the clatter, she warned him. "Fine. But only two months, no more. If you don't turn up by then, I'll hunt you down and when you have your surgery, I won't give you any anaesthetic for the pain."

Kiyoshi smiled, shivering in the rain.

"Keep in mind that the longer you delay it, the higher the chance you will never be able to play or even walk …"

Kiyoshi let out a small smile.

Thank you.

"Kiyoshi Teppei …?" The voice tore him out of his reverie.

-x-

Leaning on the wall with his arms lightly crossed, Imayoshi had his trademark grin in place as he surveyed his team. Wakamatsu was being very vocal about winning this match, Sakurai was apologising for nothing, Momoi was informing the rest of the players who were listening attentively of their strategy … and Aomine was, as usual not here.

Pursing his lips, he observed their posture. They were too tense and rigid. Were they nervous? Yes, of course. The opponent was Rakuzan, the oldest King after all. However, they weren't just nervous, they were in pain. It had only been a day since they played Yosen. Their bodies were not rested properly. Imayoshi frowned. This was bad … they were up against the best and they were far from being ready. Plus their ace was probably not in the best condition to play. Aomine had entered the Zone which no doubt had put strain on the teen's body.

Standing straight, he hid a grimace at the burning throb in his legs. Well, no use in moping. We just have to deal with it.

-x-

The bell chimed. As one, Rakuzan rose and trailed out of the locker room. Others watched, entranced as they headed for the courts, their jackets rustling faintly behind them. Waiting patiently, Akashi remained behind. Curious blue pupils darted to his heterochromatic ones.

"Are you ready, Tetsuya?"

Don't hold back.

"Hai, Akashi-kun."

He smiled ominously. Good.

-x-

Aomine lagged behind as Touou made their way through a darkened tunnel. They heard the distant sounds of cheering. Aomine grunted, 'tch. They just want a good show.' Emerging from the shadows, Aomine squinted as a flare of intense light illuminated the stadium. It was always during this particular moment that he hated being in the spotlight.

Occupying half the bench, Aomine ignored the sounds of protest and slouched gracelessly. Staring straight ahead, he watched as Rakuzan filed in in an orderly manner. Exasperated at sight, he shook his head. Must be Akashi's doing.

At last when he noticed the only two with red and blue hair, Aomine grinned. Finally. He couldn't wait for the game to start. He was all fired up, ready to play despite the consistent ache in his thighs. He wanted to play against all his Teiko teammates: Kise, Midorima, Murasakibara … but Akashi and Kuroko together? He had absolutely no complaints about that. As individuals, they were strong despite their stature. Together, they were a killer combo.

To be honest, Aomine doubted he would win. No, he was certain he wouldn't win. In fact like what a certain idiot redhead said, it was better he didn't win. His abilities were no mystery to the pair and if the phantom player was the shadow to any of the three Crownless Generals , he would be in trouble. That, paired with Akashi's accurate prediction of basically everything would put Touou into a disadvantageous position. It would be the ultimate challenge for any basketball team. Just thinking of how much they would push him made his fingers twitch with excitement.

Indeed, life was meaningless without someone strong to play against.


Akashi sat on the bench, his fingers intertwined with his elbows resting comfortably on his legs. His eyes were intent as Akashi considered his options. It was important for the outcome of this match to be desirable. Touou was runner up in the Interhigh and having just defeated Yosen, Touou had garnered even more publicity.

Right now, the issue was not on whether Rakuzan would win. It was how they would win. Victory was already preordained. The question laid now on how wide the gap between the scores should be. If Rakuzan was to reaffirm its title, they must make an impact great enough to leave a mark in the sporting world.

He shifted so the teal haired player was within sight. What should he do? Should he hit them with full force from the start or should he lay low until the opportune moment? How would Touou respond? When will Aomine get serious?

He sighed. There were too many possibilities.

"What are you going to do, Akashi?"

His eyes flickered up briefly to the coach standing near him before they landed on Kuroko. Hm, what should I do?

Touou would expect Kuroko to play from the start but this way, Rakuzan could effectively intimidate them. However, this would risk Touou finding a counter before the match ended. On the other hand, if he sent Kuroko in later, they won't be playing at full power. Touou could easily score points as their strengths and limits were thoroughly researched by the opposition. His eyes flickered to the pink haired manager prepping her team over on the other side of the court. The implication of making the incorrect decision would be hazardous.

Akashi closed his eyes.

… But it didn't matter either way, victory was already with them.


A/N Ok, so I lied. Technically there wasn't any Rakuzan vs Touou but this, hands down, has to be one of my best chapters! I feel like my writing has improved, I'm starting to delve deeper into the inner thoughts and emotions which is really good to know. Also, I would like to take this opportunity to thank all my loyal readers out there! I am eternally grateful for the support you have all given me as well as tolerating my late updates!

As always, thanks for reading! Please review? :)