Chapter 19 — Mitsuri

I lean back. "What?"

"My father wants me to quit the basketball team," Akashi repeats. There's a hollow tone to his voice. For a moment, I belief it's disbelief and shock at the statement. But then I realize . . . it's only the bitter disappointment and acceptance of his fate.

"But . . . why?"

"The only reason he allowed me to participate in the sport was a favor to my mother. She introduced me to basketball as a respite from my regular work. When she died, basketball was the only thing my father let me keep in memory of her. On one condition, though: that I succeed, as always, keeping the Akashi name whole."

"And last year . . . ," I whisper, knowing the end of the story.

He nods. "Yes. Last year, I lost. The thought of quitting basketball was unbearable to me, and I did everything I could to prevent it, but I could not win against Kuroko's might and determination." He gives a rueful, but not resentful, smile. "Though against someone like him, it might be futile to even try.

"I convinced my father to let me continue for the rest of my first year. And even into second year. But now he is rethinking his decision. He is remembering the promise he made me make when he allowed me to play in the first place. And he's not a man who takes his words lightly."

"But . . ." I swallow. "Inter-High's coming up!"

He sighs. "Exactly. My father doesn't want me to bring shame upon the family again. . . . I fear there is nothing I can do. Standing up against one's parent isn't easy. To him, this is a trivial matter."

"But if you tried explaining —"

"Even if he listened, he wouldn't understand. Such things as passion, dedication to something you love, and teamwork are beyond my father."

I don't understand. How Akashi can talk about all these things so calmly. How he can be facing me right now, his face cool and composed as usual. He believes that he knows what the outcome will be, that he won't be able to change it at all — but he has to be wrong.

Because even if he's accepted such a thing, I won't.

An Akashi who doesn't play basketball isn't an Akashi I know.

Right now, he is rejecting something within himself. The love for the sport he plays so dearly — he thinks he is aware of it, but in reality, he is pushing aside his feelings in order to appease his father. He is doing what he thinks is best, what is safest, but it's an easy path, not the right one. And it will tear him apart.

He is not thinking about the team at all. What they will do without their point guard, the one who directs them? How they will walk without their captain, the one who leads them? Where will they be without their ace, the one who guides them and pushes them forward?

But most of all, he's not even thinking about himself.

It's a trait I've seen many times. Akashi's selflessness. Sometimes, in a way, he appears very selfish indeed. Always bossing everyone around so that things appear to perfection. But actually, he's quite selfless. For his family's well-being, for his team's best interests, and even for the people he doesn't know very well. If he sees someone he thinks he can help, he will step out, and he will say something.

When I first started the debate club, I was scared by the lack of response and almost gave up . . . but it was Akashi who convinced me to continue. He saw that potential, and even though we were complete strangers, he took time out of his busy day to encourage me.

But the problem with his selflessness is that if he spends so much time worrying about affecting others, where does that leave himself? The truth is, it seems like he tries to avoid thinking about himself entirely. A vast, empty hole is created, and Akashi has no idea how to breach it.

These realizations have all come to me very slowly as I've gotten to know Akashi better. The unique and special person that he is, the person who often hides behind a curtain of perfection, but sometimes will grant you a genuine smile.

It is the reason I'm here now. Because I've seen who he really is underneath, even if only briefly. I know that that person is tender and caring, thoughtful and cautious, and just a little insecure. That person is tied so closely to that empty void; they're just teetering on the edge. If I were to take a step — and press — perhaps Akashi would be able to swim through his own darkness and be able to find the truth. But I know that if he follows his father's orders, gives up his passion . . . then he'll surely drown.

He doesn't understand it himself, but for him, basketball is his tether to the light.

But he's scared. So scared that he's not good enough for his father. That he's not good enough even for basketball, for his teammates. Maybe . . . he is scared of being abandoned. And so, before that can happen, he abandons himself first. His feelings, his passion, his friends . . .

"Akashi-kun," I say after a moment.

His eyes meet mine.

"I think you should consider . . . that following what your father says is not the right thing to do. Yes, often our parents are wise and we should heed their words. Yes, often it's good to think about the family's reputation. But just because you made a promise when you were a child and just because you lost once does not mean that you should have to quit basketball. Your father shouldn't look at what you weren't able to do, but what you have done. Because your victories far outweigh your single loss." I let out a small laugh. "I mean, the fact that you've only lost once in your entire life? That's a miracle. No wonder they call you one of the Generation of Miracles. The captain of the Generation of Miracles. Isn't that an accomplishment? Shouldn't your father be proud of you? You're president of the student body! You're top of the class, good at every other sport, can win against anyone at shōgi, and can even demolish the whole debate club with a single sentence. If that's not an achievement and success, then what is? Akashi-kun, I've told you before, and I'll tell you again, but you're the very picture of perfection. Your father should be able to see that . . . and if he can't, then he is blind, and what he tells you to do shouldn't matter. This is your life, after all. You should do what you want."

Akashi only stares at me, but I'm not finished yet.

"And I want you to know . . . I know you're not perfect. I know you're not. But I don't care, because I still can't keep my eyes off you. I can't stop thinking about you, and I can't . . ."

Last time, I had told him that there would be someone out there who would know he's not perfect, and wouldn't care. At the time, I didn't know I was speaking about myself.

I breathe in. "I know your father wants you to be successful, but I . . . I just want you to be happy."

He doesn't speak for a long time. He stares down at his hands, and I let him think in silence, even though my heart is pounding (was that a confession?).

Finally, he says, "Yes." His voice sounds strange, almost . . . choked? "Yes. Thank you . . . Kasayama-san. I will talk to him. I will tell him what you said. And I . . . I won't quit. Because I don't want to."

My lips stretch into a smile. How I longed to hear those words: a true proclamation of his desires.

"Good," I say. "I look forward to working more with you, then, Captain."

A/N: So I've probably mentioned before that Akashi is one of the hardest characters for me to write because he also tends to be one of the most complex. These views of him that I've written are my opinion/interpretation only! If you guys have any other thoughts about him or if you've think something I've written is OOC, please let me know! I'd love to talk about Akashi. :)

Until next time, and happy holidays!

~ J. Dominique