I'm gonna finish this for real. Watch me.

Thirty Eight

They were moving fast. Kotarō was pushing past their defense, passing the basketball to their new member who was ready to dump it into their opponent's hoop. But Kagami was already blocking it, jumping high – higher than he had back then.

And then he threw the ball away from their side of the court, forcing Akashi's team to retreat and defend.

How was this possible?

Akashi's left eye twitched, he was gesturing for Reo to move. In his mind's eye he was pushing his figures on the board back and forth, keeping up with the pace of Kuroko's team. Nothing was able to slip past his watchful gaze. But what had changed? How had that brute Kagami improved so much in such a short amount of time?

The time was ticking by. Akashi could hear every second move past him, like a knife every minute would cut into his flesh. It was burning. His headache worsened. His frustration rose. Why couldn't Kotarō keep up? How could they move past Eikichi's tight grip on the corner? Why was Kagami gliding over the court, trying to outrun his every step?

They were scoring, yes.

But Seirin was, too.

Akashi's ears were filled with screams. But not of anyone around him, no…it was his own voice, he believed. Shaking his head, the redhead turned to Reo.

"Move!"

He had never heard himself yelling before. Not once. Reo was startled, dashing forward to stop one of Seirin's team from forcing their way through their defense. But Kuroko was already behind them, his presence slipping past them unnoticed like always. Only Akashi had noticed him. Like he had always down so before, with scratching lungs he lunged for his former comrade. Blocking him from anyone who dared to pass the ball to him – but it was a ruse.

Akashi could feel the shadow falling over him, Kagami's figure flying past his back it seemed. The basketball was in his hand and then they scored.

Kotarō was cursing, too slow to react. He couldn't reach that high. No one could.

Seirin was keeping up with them, and nothing seemed to stop them from doing so. Akashi could only stare at the scoreboard. His eyes wide, his head pounding. The numbers were climbing. His control was slipping. The crowd around them was loud. But so were the voices in his mind, the screaming had become so deafening, he wasn't able to hear what Eikichi was shouting over the court.

Akashi's fingers twitched, he constructed his concert as best as he could.

And yet.

And still.

He was suffocating.

The crowd was exploding around them. People cheered and awed, the seats were suddenly filled to the brim with strangers. It was a moving mass of colors and noises, a blurred background in his peripheral vision. But they were distant. Far away from him it seemed.

There was silence.

Utter silence inside of his mind.

His palms were burning, his skin was rough. The pain was a reminder, a knife to his throat which made it hard to breathe.

"I do not know defeat."

No.

"Are you really…really always correct, Akashi-kun?"

It couldn't be.

"Absolutely."

His ears suddenly started ringing for a second. The game was over, the scene in front of him had been played so slowly that he could have sworn it was merely a movie. But it wasn't. Kagami crashed onto the floor, rolling a few feet in a desperate attempt to soften his fall after his impossible jump. Bodies were rushing past Akashi towards the basketball player, shouting or crying something-

But Akashi couldn't hear.

He was deaf.

He merely stared. Speechless. Something was cracking inside of him, deep, deep in his mind where he had been stashing too much over the years. It was screaming and hissing but no sound came over his lips as he stared at the very boy he had wanted to teach a lesson. He stood few feet away, surrounded by his team, laughing.

Kuroko was laughing.

Pain.

There was a sudden piercing pain in Akashi's chest, crawling its way past his lungs and throat into his head.

He was never wrong.

He was absolute.

He never lost.

Victory was obvious.

Victory was like air-

Akashi couldn't breathe.

He was suffocating.

"Mibuchi-kun!"

Kozue hurried towards the tall basketball player in the distance. Reo stood in front of the dressing room, still clad in his sweaty jersey. He hadn't changed yet either, he looked pale. There was no gentle smile greeting her, no light expression gracing his features. He looked sullen. Lost.

"Where's he?"

It was selfish of her, Kozue was aware of that. Reo didn't look any better, but she couldn't help but remember the dead stare of the red haired boy on the court. As the other team was cheering he stood still. As his own team approached him, he didn't move. He had resembled a statue, frozen in time until suddenly he had left. It had been hard to push against the crowd, but Kozue had taken all her might and forced her way through it.

"I, I don't know…" Reo's voice cracked. It was something he could hardly cover up. "…I don't, we, we lost, Kozue-chan…he…"

Ashamed Reo turned slightly away from her, hugging his sides. A weight dropped she hadn't felt before. She hadn't been that naïve, Kozue had known that something had been building behind a wall she couldn't conquer. But the heavy weight in the air was nearly too much to carry all on her own. It was impossible to imagine how the redhead's shoulders must be breaking; shattered by an unknown force he had taken upon himself.

Kozue reached for Reo's arms, squeezing him with a fierce stare.

"Breathe."

He did. Shaky and weak, but he did and finally seemed to relax to an extent.

"It's going to be all right."

Reo could nearly believe it, coming from her.

He felt numb. His fingernails were buried into his arms, but he couldn't feel it. He was taking shallow breathes, but his lungs were still empty.

He had lost.

Something twisted in Akashi's guts at that thought, making him nauseous. He couldn't remember leaving the court, he couldn't remember either how he had gotten out of the escape exit in the back. But now he sat on the cold stone steps in the back of the small basketball hall. The backyard was empty and quiet. Was it really cold? It was fall, it should be.

But he couldn't feel it. His limbs were numb.

He had truly lost.

Akashi's throat thickened. He was trying to gulp the lump down but it wouldn't go away. Maybe the lump would suffocate him for real. Take him away from his empty spot on the stone step. There was no spot for him anymore anyway. Winners wrote history. Losers vanished. Life was no different, and he, he really-

He dug his nails deeper into his arms, leaning forward to bury his head in them.

Akashi could hear something rustle, something moved beside him. A door fell shut. And that scent. That certain, certain scent. He recoiled inwardly, his numb limbs stiffening. He was afraid a touch would burn him, a single brush would tear right through his skin and expose his empty lungs and lump in his throat. He couldn't breathe, he thought once again.

But no hand reached for him, no touch burned right through his bones.

She was just there, he would be able to see her if he dared to look to his right.

But how could he? After what had happened?

Victory is all what counts, his father had always said, losers lose everything.

He would lose everything. The air, his senses, his life, her. Everything will slip through his numb fingers like sand, disappearing into a black abyss below him. All these years, all these past weeks with her – they are gone. Everything was gone. Where had it gone wrong? When had he not been able to calculate his opponent's every step?

Did it even matter anymore? Losers lose everything.

A shaky sigh escaped Akashi as he reached for his face with one hand. He covered his left eye to ease the burning he felt behind it. But nothing helped; the sensation was slowly gnawing its way through his numb body until he could feel unshed tears tickle his dry skin. He was pathetic. He was so pathetic; Akashi wondered why she would even bother coming out to find him hiding like a coward.

"Akashi-kun."

Her voice was gentle. So painfully gentle, it hurt. He couldn't answer. The lump in his throat was blocking his voice; his dry lips weren't able to form a single word. He couldn't trust his voice to begin with. He wouldn't know what to say to her.

"I'll bring you water."

She was standing up now, her warmth disappearing from his side. Where he at first had recoiled away from her, his heart suddenly panicked at the idea of her leaving. She'd be gone. She would disappear like the sand he had imagined, running through his fingers until it vanished. Forever. Akashi finally looked up, his blurry sight revealing her slender figure which was about to walk past him. He didn't want that. Akashi reached forward, burying his face into her where his nose collided with her hipbone. She couldn't disappear. He had lost. He knew he had lost, but she couldn't-

He mouthed something into her sweater, but he didn't even know what it was.

His limbs burned where he touched her, she was warm. So it was cold after all, he realized somewhere along the line. His hands were freezing, clinging to her lower back. A whisper in his head was telling him to let go, but Akashi wouldn't. He was hanging onto a life line, it hurt, but if he let go now, he would drown.

Light fingertips graced the top of his head and he flinched. She was brushing through his sweaty hair, until slowly she was pushing them back more firmly. Akashi's grip on her tightened, he pulled her closer until she was standing right between his legs. Her stroking never ceased, one hand on the back of his head, the other hand brushing through his short hair.

Winners didn't concern themselves with losers.

Losers lose everything; his father's voice chided him once again.

"I'm not going anywhere."

It was as if Kozue had heard his father's voice, too. Akashi tried to shake his head, burying his face deeper into her hip. It would be convenient to have a mask again. Like back on the festival where she had offered him a chance to hide his expression while talking about old memories. The redhead didn't even know what kind of face he wore at this moment. He couldn't feel it. But he didn't want her to see.

And he was supposed to go home after this match, too.

His nausea reached a new high. His stomach convulsed. Akashi gritted his teeth, not sure if he was actually going to puke now or if it only was his body and mind rebelling against another. Kozue's soothing caresses came to halt, too. Akashi didn't know what to do. It was a strange realization. He had never known how not to proceed before, he didn't like it.

"Akashi-kun." Kozue lifted his face gently, forcing his burning eyes to meet hers above him. "Take a deep breath."

Akashi started to shake his head, but she didn't let go of him. Her thumbs brushed his temples, her smile small. But she was still looking at him, attentive like she had always done. She didn't turn away from him. His lips parted, allowing him to take a deep shaky breath. There was air. He could feel the air filling his lungs for the first time. But the sensation burned.

He had lost.

He wanted to turn away from her, averting his gaze. She shouldn't look at him. He didn't want her to see his pathetic self. But surprisingly Kozue's hold on him was firm. She didn't allow him to turn away. Her thumbs still drew slow patterns across his temples; she was crouching down to get on his eye level. It got harder and harder to look anywhere else with her right in front of him. Her soft hands were a reminder that she was clinging onto him just like he was still onto her, his arms had merely slipped upwards.

He didn't want to let go.

"I won't let you fall." Kozue whispered suddenly, her stormy blue eyes glowing in the early night. "So hold onto me."

Stars dance upon earth. Don't worry about falling. My hand holding yours.

He remembered. Her Haiku. Her words. Her promise. Akashi remembered the night of the festival well in that very second. The heat, the crowd, the grass underneath him and the river right in front of his eyes.

Don't let me fall, Kozue-san.

He did what she requested. His fingers buried in her sweater, the act so desperate it was foreign to him. Rakuzan High had lost the Nationals. Kuroko had won in the end. And yet he was still here. Alive. He didn't know why.

"You're going to freeze to death if you stay here, Akashi-kun. Come on."

Her fingers slipped from his face, taking their warmth with her. Akashi opened his mouth, words lying upon his tongue. But he couldn't voice them. The lump was still there. She reached for his arms, slowly untangling herself from his hug. But instead of shoving him away, she pulled him towards her. Akashi came to stand on his own two feet once again, his legs were heavy and worn out.

He stared at her pale hands which held onto his. For a moment he was afraid she'd let him go, but she didn't. She didn't let him fall, just like she had said. Kozue pulled him along, away from the basketball hall and his defeat. He couldn't lift his head, couldn't see where she was taking them. Akashi only imagined the familiar high fence and path which led up to his mansion in Tokyo. The personnel of his family who'd greet him superficially, probably already knowing what had happened.

And then they'd lead him to his father's office upstairs.

But the pavement on the ground differed. The train station, the lift he was suddenly in. Where he had felt every minute cut a deep wound into his body earlier, his sense of time was gone now. A door closed shut behind him, Kozue's hand still guiding him along.

It was difficult but Akashi forced himself to lift his head. He had never seen this room before. It was simple, modern. A desk, a bed, and two shelves in the corner – it was tiny. It didn't fit to the girl in front of him. She looked foreign in this setting, she belonged to Kyoto. To the warmth of Hotaka's house, to the old fashioned living room they always sat in and ate dinner.

He hadn't noticed the very girl he had thought about leave for a second, but as he realized her absence Akashi panicked.

"You should change."

He whipped around towards his side where she was standing now, handing him a pair of jogging pants and a shirt. The red haired boy looked down at his attire. He was still wearing his basketball jersey. Prove of his defeat and shame. He wanted to get rid of it.

"…Kozue-san."

Was that his voice? He sounded like a stranger. She smiled at him, ushering him to change while she left him for a few minutes to provide privacy. He would have preferred that she stayed. Akashi still changed of course. Her father's clothes, he assumed, fitted well enough even if they were a bit long. But he shouldn't be here, a voice in his head whispered. He shouldn't be anywhere anymore. Akashi tugged at the fresh shirt he wore, still at loss. His mind had never been truly empty. He had always planned things, calculated any possible outcome. He was always prepared. He was a strategist at heart. But his plans were gone.

His sense of time was a mess. He didn't know whether or not he had been standing there alone for hours or seconds, he only noticed the grey filters lift as Kozue returned to him. She approached him confidently, yet gently. He wouldn't dare to move until she pushed him to do it.

The bed was soft beneath him, the blanket still cold. She warmed him though. Akashi's gaze was clinging to her, watching her lips mouth a few sweet nothings he couldn't really hear. But her hands were back to brushing his hair back, a sweet caress which banished the dark whispers in his ears. A soft sigh left the red haired basketball player, in between the pain, the burning, the ache in his chest there was a light bubble of bliss. Just a tiny one, for a single second – and then it was gone again.

"I lost."

He was whispering, he couldn't speak louder even if he wanted to. He had lost. Losers lose everything. Saying it himself hurt even more than just thinking it.

"It's all right to lose." Kozue murmured, her hand never once ceasing to brush his hair and scalp. "It is nothing but a stepping stone in the path of life."

"I lost." Akashi repeated more firmly, angry.

Couldn't she see? He had lost. This pain was his punishment, he was no more. Why was he even here anymore? Her soft hands slowly slipped from his hair to his face, cupping his cheeks the best she could. He didn't deserve to be here in this bed. She shouldn't be here either. His father would frown upon him, a loss should never be rewarded.

"…Seijūrō-kun…"

That was his name. That was him. Akashi paused, closing his eyes, selfishly soaking up her warmth. She was so close; he could reach out and touch her immediately. But he didn't dare. His mind was in pieces, it was hard to think too much. It was easier to repeat the broken records. The words his father had etched into his memories since forever, like a mantra.

All what was able to silence the whispers inside of his head of Kozue's gentle voice, repeating her sweet nothings as if she meant every single one of them.

It was impossible to close his eyes.

His broken mind forced him to keep them open - and sleep, was far, far away.