September, 2004

Sakusa, wearing a pair of disposable gloves, peeled an apple in silence. Next to him, Tomoka hummed a jolly tune under her breath, smiling as she rolled out some puff pastry. Occasionally, Komori would peer over Sakusa's arm to check on his progress, pouting when Sakusa's apple turned out to be smoother than his.

"I don't know how you do it," Komori mumbled, examining his own apple, which looked like a digital image that had been rendered by a middle-schooler in their first computing class.

"It's easy," Sakusa told him, holding up the apple.

"No fair!"

"It's pretty fair to me."

"Boys," Tomoka rebuked gently. "Thank you for helping me out, but why don't you go outside? I'll finish up, and lunch will be ready by twelve."

"We can go pay our respects for Tora!" suggested Komori, recalling the bird with the bum wing that he and Sakusa had looked after together a few weeks ago. Unfortunately, it had died within a week, and Komori had cried for days. Sakusa still remembered dabbing his cousin's runny nose with disgusted fondness.

Shyly, Sakusa peered up at Tomoka. "Are you sure?"

Tomoka beamed at him. "Of course! Go have fun. You're still kids, after all."

So Sakusa peeled his gloves off, dumping them in the trashcan and washing his hands thoroughly with soap before slipping his shoes on and heading out the door with Komori. They raced through the streets, taking the shortest route to where they had buried Tora. The little bird's grave was nearby the local park, a place where the neighborhood kids typically hung out.

When they finally arrived at the wooden grave marker, Komori was already starting to tear up. Sakusa crouched in front of it, putting his hands together in a prayer. I hope you're doing well in your next life, Tora-tan. Eat lots of worms and lay lots of eggs... He paused. Was Tora male or female? Sakusa looked to Komori for help, but the latter was already full-on crying.

"He lived a great life!" sobbed Komori, tilting his chin up so snot wouldn't run down nose in the way he knew Sakusa despised.

"Why are you crying again?" Sakusa sighed, standing up and putting his hands on his hips. His sweater crinkled with the motion.

Tears stained Komori's cheeks and the collar of his striped shirt. "Because I'm sad!"

"It's been almost a month already."

"So? It still hurts." Whimpering, Komori rubbed at his eyes and patting his chest. "Right here."

"Um..." Sakusa didn't really get it, but he touched Komori's shoulder in a kind display of solidarity anyway. "There there."

"I thought he'd be with us for longer."

"Everything dies eventually, Komori."

Komori nodded. "I know. But I just wanted more time with him."

Sakusa thought it was silly for Komori to be crying over a bird of all things. Sure, Tora had been cute, but they had only looked after it for five days. Leave it up to Komori to form a weird attachment with the animal. "You gotta move on."

"I know..."

Komori was such a little crybaby. But they were still cousins, so Sakusa took him by the hand and led him back to his house. "Come on. Let's go do a puzzle or something. Your mom said she bought some new ones for us."

A sniffle. "Okay."

They spent the rest of the afternoon doing puzzles and eating apple pie.


June 2nd, 2011

As Sakusa adjusted his bow-tie in the bathroom mirror, he took a good, long look at himself. Almost all of the baby fat on his cheeks had melted away by now. He was all angles and hard lines, jaw defined and cheekbones slim and aristocratic. Only a first year in high school, but he was looking more and more like his father with each passing day, losing all of his mother's softness.

He slicked back his hair with gel, grimacing at the gooey sensation on his hand.

There was a knock on the door, and his mother's voice sounded from the other side. "Kiyoomi, are you ready?"

"Almost," Sakusa called back, trying to get a single lock of hair that kept sticking up to stay down. Goddammit! Just stay flat! He glanced down at his wrist, checking the time. We're going to be late if I don't leave now. Deciding to just leave it, he washed his hands of the gel and exited.

His mother was seated with her back straight on one of the hotel beds, digging through her purse to make sure she had everything. Her gaze flicked up when she heard the door creak. "Oh. Kiyoomi, you're ready. Your father's gone ahead with the others."

The others being Daizen and Mahiro, most likely.

"I see," Sakusa intoned.

It was a grim day for a wedding. Or maybe it was just him. Because the sun was shining warm and bright outside and the skies were clear. A pit that had formed in his stomach the moment he woke up this morning widened, making him feel queasy.

"Are you alright?" Shiko inquired, reaching up to palm his face. Her face was unmoved, but her eyes were concerned. Sakusa relaxed into her touch.

"I'm fine, mom," Sakusa dismissed her worries, "Just a little overwhelmed by the fact that Shintaro of all people is getting married." And to her. God, Midorima was marrying Noriko. He should've seen this coming. He really should've. Well, I did, but I didn't want to dwell on it. And, really, why would he?

He had not spoken properly to Midorima ever since he had blown up at him (in front of Noriko, no less) when the news had initially broken.

"What do you mean you're getting married?!"

"It's exactly what I said. Noriko and I... We're betrothed."

"This isn't the fucking stone age. Shintaro, what the hell?!"

"I supposed it was too much to ask for your blessing."

"She is not the person you think she is, nor the person you want her to be. You two don't suit each other at all! You think she loves you? Think again—I don't know what the hell she wants from you, but it's not love. It never has been, and you're a lovesick fool for not realizing what that bitch has been doing to you."

He had not seen Midorima ever so angry, not even when Jabberwock had run their mouths all those years ago.

Shiko seemed to accept this. "I understand. He was your childhood friend, and now he's an adult and moving into the next stage of his life... It must be jarring for you."

"I'll have to get used to it, then." Sakusa released a deep breath, linking arms with his mother. He towered more than a head over her now. "Let's go."

It was an outside wedding. A hired car drove Shiko and Sakusa through Roppongi Hills and to their location. As far as Sakusa knew, Daizen had rented an entire park for his daughter's wedding. Not the kind of gesture he had expected from the HNN head, but he supposed it fitted well enough.

Just thinking about the wedding sapped him of his energy. There was no point wondering what kind of people would be there. Luke Swan, probably, if he hadn't overdosed by now. Luke Swan and all the dirty, corrupt people that orbited the Hirakawa conglomerate family. He intended on sitting in the corner and sipping on fruit punch for the whole duration of the event. Perhaps he would humor his mother with a dance.

Forty minutes later, they'd arrived, and the driver helped Shiko collect the wedding presents she had bought for the bride and groom from the boot. His mother held Noriko's present, while Sakusa carried Midorima's one. He had no idea what they were. Hadn't bothered to involve himself in the shopping.

Hmm... I wonder if he's still mad at me. Probably. I did say some pretty unforgivable things about her. It made him cringe just thinking about it, but he could not say he entirely regretted saying those things. He would take back the name-calling, certainly. But the rest? No. They could stay hanging in the air between them.

The reception hall was filled with people indulging in snacks and gossip. Everyone was dolled up and pretty, and Sakusa was sure he saw some nosy reporter be evicted by a security guard. Along with Shiko, he put the gifts onto the present table with everyone else's. In the corner of his eye, he spotted green hair. Green, red, blue, purple, pink...

Sakusa turned. He had seen them before, a few times, but had never formally met any of them.

"I'm going to go find your father," Shiko stated before leaving, disappearing into the crowd.

"Hm? Oh, yes."

The Generation of Miracles.

No, he would not say hello. Not when he and Midorima were still on bad terms. The only reason he was here was because Mahiro and Junji were close, and he and his mother had been invited out of courtesy.

They were certainly rowdy, though.

"Dai-chan, put that down, it's the middle of the day!"

"Fuck off, Satsuki, it's five in the morning in Sweden or something!"

Sakusa pointedly turned away from them, adjusting the position of his present. There was no one he could talk to here, but that was fine. He would help himself to the chocolate fondue fountain, maybe. The strawberries in the adjacent looked especially ripe and juicy—

"Excuse me."

He almost jumped out of his skin, noticing for the first time a man with sky-blue hair blinking owlishly at him. "Wha—When did you get here...?!" Is he some sort of ninja?

"Ah... I was here the whole time... Sorry, I just need to put my present down."

"Oh, yes, of course." Sakusa smoothed down lapels, stepping to the side.

"Thanks."

That little interaction had, unfortunately, garnered attention from some of the Miracles. He knew their names, even if they didn't know his.

"Oh? Look's like Tetsu's at it again." Aomine Daiki.

"Don't be mean, Dai-chan, it's not like he can help it." Momoi Satsuki.

"Did you see how high Kurokocchi made that guy jump?" Kise Ryouta.

"It's a talent of Kuro-chin~" Murasakibara Atsushi. God, that one was a mouthful. Sakusa hoped he would never have to speak to him.

And this guy... Sakusa studied the man who had startled him so. "Kuroko Tetsuya... right?" The phantom sixth man of Seirin or whatever he was called back in high school. Basketball sure churned out a lot of cheesy nicknames. He was pretty sure Akashi was called The Emperor or something along those lines.

"Yes. And you're Midorima-kun's childhood friend."

The entire Miracles group were shuffling toward them now, and Sakusa was wishing to be anywhere but here. But there was no avoiding it, and he sighed and straightened up.

"Hello," he said, bowing. "I'm Sakusa Kiyoomi."


"You may now kiss the bride!"

Midorima dipped her low, and Noriko had the smallest smile on her lips as they kissed. Their eyes closed as they both melted into the moment, but Sakusa's never did. His applause was stilted, and it was a struggle not to stand up and kick his chair away.

The curtain was closing for him. The show was over. He wasn't a little kid anymore, he was on his way to becoming an adult.

Aomine stood up and whistled with his fingers, gaining some raucous laughs and low chuckles from all around.

"They're so happy," murmured Shiko.

Sakusa's throat bobbed. "Yeah. They are."


After the ceremony, everybody let loose. Or as loose as the plutocrats would allow themselves to be at any rate. Sakusa was quite sure Luke Swan had smuggled some of his drugs into the party, because some of these people looked less than sober and chugging alcohol at any time would have been too conspicuous.

Sakusa watched Aomine Daiki hit on a raven-haired girl—Noriko's sister?—for approximately two minutes before deciding to do something else. It would have been more amusing if she were rejecting his advances.

Instead, he stood, stolid, by the refreshment's table. Nearby, Kagami Taiga was twisting a leg off from a whole chicken, Kuroko standing behind him. The both of them talked mundanely.

Even through he had introduced himself to the Miracles, he certainly was not their friend. The last thing Sakusa wanted to do was intrude on anyone's good time, and he wasn't particularly a people person anyway. So he sipped his virgin champagne, which was just fizzy grape juice in a fancy flute if he were being honest.

"Kiyoomi."

Sakusa stiffened, not turning around. "Shintaro."

Midorima circled around him and appeared in his line of vision, glasses set firm and steady on the bridge of his nose. Suddenly, Sakusa felt self-conscious, and he lifted a hand to try and flatten that stubborn curl of hair. Warily, he told him, "Congratulations."

"Thank you. And thank you for coming despite everything."

Sakusa swirled his juice. "I didn't think you'd want me here, to be honest."

Midorima didn't deny that, and he wasn't sure or not if that hurt. "Your family is close to mine. It's only natural that we'd want everyone close here." His voice sounded distant. Faraway. Just like they were from each other. "So... You met my teammates."

"They're a lively bunch," Sakusa said, noncommittal. "I can see why you're so taken with them."

"Hmph. 'Taken' is a bit of a strong word." In spite of his denial, though, Midorima was starting to smile. Over his shoulder, Sakusa could see Akashi twirl Momoi around as they danced together. "But we've been together for so long, I can hardly imagine my life without them. You may even say that they are my anchor to reality, if that makes any sense to you."

"It makes perfect sense. After all, they are to you as you were to me."

Midorima seemed taken aback at the confession. "Oh. Well, I suppose it's only natural... You were a child when we first met, and we saw each other a lot."

You were my hero, Sakusa wanted to say, but the words got caught in his throat. "Yes, um, well... Don't think anything of it now. We're grown-up now, and our lives have changed." So has our friendship. But I don't miss it. Do I? No. I don't. "Can't say I can anticipate what life has in store for us next, though."

"True. The only certainty in life is death, and that's a bit too morbid for discussion today."

"For any day."

"We'll be dealing with a lot of it," Midorima pointed out. "That is, if you still intend on pursuing a career in law enforcement."

"Of course I am." It was impossible for him not to follow in his father's footsteps. He had big shoes to fill, but he was sure he could do it. "And I'm guessing you are, too."

"There is one fundamental difference between our pursuits, however."

Sakusa's brow lowered. "And what's that?"

"I'm planning on becoming a prosecutor. If we ever meet in court, it will be as opponents, not colleagues."

Maybe this drink really did have alcohol in it, because something was stopping the right words from escaping his mouth. Noticing his surprise, Midorima went on, "Don't be alarmed. It's probably a difference in our personalities and signs. Lawyers prefer to plead for mercy, while prosecutors are out to punish. We are two ends of the same spectrum of humanity and morality."

"I... I see." Yes, they were, weren't they? "Good luck, then... Shintaro." Hesitantly, he held up his champagne flute. "A toast?"

Midorima grabbed a full glass of actual champagne off the table and clinked it against Sakusa's. "To justice."

"To justice," Sakusa echoed.


November 22nd, 2011

Sakusa watched from his bedroom window as the movers hauled the last box into the back of the truck. Marumi and Mahiro stood in the lawn of their property, saying their last goodbyes to their house. His parents were down there, too, to farewell the Midorima family from the neighborhood.

He hugged his knees, sullen.

If he hadn't been feeling it before, he was definitely feeling it now. The impending sensation of everything I know now is over for good. And he thought, thought things like Wasn't around this time of year that we first met Noriko? Time flies.

Time was a rocket, and Sakusa was hanging on for his dear life.

Don't go, he yearned to say, but why would he? There was no reason that existed beside his own selfishness and insecurity.

Sakusa knew why they were moving. Had been there for the conversation.

"Now that our Shintaro has flown the coop," Marumi had sighed dramatically. "This house is far too big for just Mahiro and I. We've found somewhere smaller but equally as luxurious."

"That's wonderful," Shiko had said, warmly. "I'm happy for you, Marumi-san."

Sixteen years old. Sakusa Kiyoomi was now sixteen years old. The same age Midorima had been when he first moved here. Well, almost. Midorima's birthday was in July, and he had technically been fifteen when his family moved in, but semantics.

He flopped in his bed, grabbing his phone from the nightstand and opening his messages. Several from Komori and his Itachiyama teammates. None from Midorima. He opened their private chat, anyway.

The last time they had texted was... five-hundred and seventy days ago.

He turned his phone off and closed his eyes.

They were all grown up now.

It was time to let go.

But how can I?


January, 2001

When he was five years old, there came a thud in his father's study room, and his mother locked him inside his bedroom. Sakusa cried and screamed and pounded on the door, afraid of the dark and the monster under the bed. Too short to reach the light switch and too afraid to go back to bed. He needed the hallway light on.

Why? he asked, his cheeks stained with tears. Why did you lock me in here, mama?

Half an hour later, the door creaked open and Shiko swept him up in her arms, whispering broken apologies. He couldn't see her face in the dark, but he could feel the wetness on her cheeks and the disarray her hair was in.

"Shh, shh, shh," she hushed, quivering. "Mama's here now, Kiyoomi, mama's here."

"Why did you leave me, mama?"

"I'm sorry, Kiyoomi, I'm sorry. Please forgive me, please."

Sakusa didn't understand. Shiko had thrown him in his room and locked the door and had forgotten to turn on the light for him. His face grew red, and then he began to cry—hard. "I hate you, mama! Hate you, hate you, hate you!"

"I know, darling, I know. I know you hate me. Mama hates herself, too."

"I hate you, mama!"

Eventually, he cried himself into exhaustion. Shiko cleaned him up and tucked him into bed. Before he fell asleep, he felt a teardrop land on his nose.

I made mama cry.

He hardened his heart.

But she deserves it.


November 16th, 2012

"We're live here in Sendai, Miyagi, to witness a heartbreaking and touching silent vigil at Aobajosai High. In spite of the cold, hundreds of students sit in front of the school tonight to commemorate the memory of Oikawa Tooru."

In his cozy house in Tokyo, Sakusa gulped down his miso soup, eyes glued on the evening news broadcast on television. The last two days had been a whirlwind in the high school volleyball circuit. Beyond that, even. He knew some of the players in the university league as well as the v-league had also expressed their sorrow for a life and a talent lost too soon to the cruelty of the world.

The camera zoomed in on the students. Most of them were female students, though there were plenty of male students, too. Eyes swollen, upper lips rubbed raw. Some were holding up candles, while others were holding up signs.

JUSTICE FOR OIKAWA TOORU, read one of the signs, written in solid strokes of pink marker.

Either the footage was muted or it was a silent vigil.

Sakusa swore he spotted a teacher or two present there. Even parents. There were many parents, actually, who had accompanied their kids to join their mourning and their quiet demand for justice.

Oikawa Tooru had been loved, hadn't he? He had really, really been loved. Sakusa was almost jealous. Almost. Oikawa Tooru was also dead, and this was a tragedy of epic proportions no matter how anyone looked at it.

The media said that Iwaizumi Hajime did it.

Sakusa did not believe that for a second. Especially not when his father had said the same thing over dinner last night.

His parents had both gone out for supper tonight. Sakusa had refused to go along, and now he sat alone at the dinner table with food he had prepared for himself. He was a half-decent chef as far as teenage boys went, though his culinary feats consisted mostly of basic stir-fry.

Several other news channels were at the same scene, Sakusa found out with a few clicks of the remote control. They all stayed a respective distance from the mourners until the latter began to disperse. It was getting late.

A representative of Sakura TV, a station known for their audacious story-hunting, stepped forward, jabbing his microphone at a blond girl with puffy eyes. "You're a student at this school, correct?"

The poor girl practically wilted. "Y-yes..."

"What's your name?"

"Iwasaki Sayori..."

"Tell me, Iwasaki-san, how are you feeling?"

Is this what reporting is these days? Sakusa thought, irked at the meddlesome reporter's inane questioning. Of course she feels like shit. Why wouldn't she? They're probably all traumatized one way or another.

"God, I... I don't even know..." Sayori hiccuped. "Sorry. Sorry."

"Let's skip to this question, then: If you could say anything to Iwaizumi Hajime, what would you say to him?"

Sakusa tensed.

For a moment, Sayori managed to get a hold of herself, her features hardening. Her face was still a mess of tears and snot, and her voice shook as she replied, "I'd tell him and his family to rot in hell."

He turned off the TV. He didn't want to hear anymore of this. It unsettled him, how quickly the media had manipulated the public into becoming the judge, jury, and executioner. Already, they were convinced of his guilt, and the investigation was still ongoing. There isn't even a fixed trial date yet.

A dark reminder of why Sakusa was going to become a lawyer. Iwaizumi Hajime was just the kind of person he wanted to save from the masses and the system.

The front door opened when Sakusa was washing the dishes. "Welcome home," he called as he used the finger of his pink rubber gloves to scrub a particularly stubborn stain off bottom of his plate.

Nobody answered back, but he heard his father stomping down the hall to where his study room was. He was putting the dishes on the drying rack and peeling his gloves off when Shiko entered the kitchen, clutching her shawl around her shoulders.

"Kiyoomi," she breathed, eyes wide. "Forgive your father's rudeness. He..."

"What is it?"

"He's going to Sendai tomorrow. He's going to defend Iwaizumi in court."

Sakusa almost dropped the plate.


November 25th, 2012

Sakusa did not like funerals. They were joyless, stringent events and the amount of tears that were usually shed over a corpse disquieted him. The strife that loss put people through was something he could not fully understand, having never experienced it himself. So when his father brought him along to Sendai one day to observe Oikawa's funeral, he opted to stay in the car.

"Are you sure?" Junji asked as he parked the car, glancing at Sakusa, who was sitting in the passenger seat.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure." Sakusa let out an exasperated huff. "This really isn't my sort of scene, dad. You know, most parents would not take their children to funerals if they could."

"But it's important," pointed out Junji. "For children to understand death and loss. Two things that go hand-in-hand with peace and justice."

"I don't want to be there."

"Alright, then. I'll be back soon." Junji turned the keys and the car stopped humming. It was nearing the beginning of winter, and Sakusa had brought along a hot water bottle to hug as he waited. Pale sunlight painted the interior of the car grey, and Junji stepped out into an even more monochrome world.

He unlocked his phone, texting back his mother and chiming in on the team group chat. Itachiyama's captain, Iizuna Tsukasa, responded eagerly.

[Iizuna]: Wow! I rarely ever see Sakusa online hahahaha

[Sakusa]: There's usually nothing to talk about.

[Komori]: Where are u? u said u were going to Sendai with ur dad today right?

[Sakusa]: Yeah.

[Sakusa]: Dad is dropping by Oikawa's funeral.

[Sakusa]: I don't know why... Something about understanding death and loss.

[Sakusa]: I think he wanted to teach me a lesson, but I already know what those things are.

[Iizuna]: Again, wow. That was the most I've ever heard or seen you say at once.

[Sakusa]: Funerals annoy me.

[Iizuna]: Yikes

[Iizuna]: Clearly

[Asagami]: Oh fuck

[Asagami]: i remember that guy yeah

[Asagami]: Oikawa Tooru

[Asagami]: I heard he was super good

[Asagami]: i can't believe his best friend fucking killed him fuck that guy i hope he burns

Sakusa had known his teammates long enough to hear their voices in his head as he read their messages. Iizuna's was typically calm and steady (minus his occasional outbursts) while the vice-captain, Asagami—he had a side-swept fringe and a smug grin—had a gruffer intonation when he spoke.

He could have typed back: Iwaizumi didn't do it. But he just left it, letting his phone go dark as he took off his seat-belt and opened the car door. Shutting it behind him, he closed his eyes and shivered from the sudden chill that hit him. He didn't really know why he had come out of the car, especially when he had insisted on keeping warm inside.

From a distance, Sakusa watched the funeral-goers leave the grounds in groups, huddled in his purple jacket.

Three siblings passed him.

The youngest one was sobbing quietly, rubbing one eye with her hand. "Tooru-nii..."

The oldest said nothing.

The middle one met Sakusa's gaze for a brief second before nodding and looking away.

By the time he glanced in the direction they'd been heading again, they had disappeared. Just another three souls devastated by tragedy—three names he would probably never learn.

A bell rang out, clinging and clanging through the wintry air. The sound was sharp and biting—like frost, like the scream of a harbinger, like the hand of the reaper.

Sakusa breathed out, a white cloud forming from his lips.

In his jacket pocket, his phone vibrated. Sakusa checked the caller ID, unmoved by the Komori Motoya on the screen. He picked up and put Komori on speaker, uttering, "Hello?"

"Ah, good, you answered." Komori sighed in relief. "How are you holding up?"

"Dad let me stay in the car," Sakusa told him, even though he was currently withstanding the freezing weather. "It feels like death, though."

"What? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just..." He paused, mulling over his words. "I dunno what to tell you. The whole world feels like it's frozen over in the wake of Oikawa Tooru's passing. That's as good as I can put it."

He couldn't see Komori, but he could hear the slightest tremble in his cousin's voice as he said, "When you get back, come over. My mom bought apples this morning. We'll make apple pie, just like we used to. Oh, and dad bought me a drone for Christmas, too, so we can fly it in the backyard." Komori always did have a habit of opening his presents early despite his parent's wishes. He could picture Tateo's fond exasperation as he watched his son rip open the carefully wrapped present.

"Sure," Sakusa couldn't fight a smile, "I'd like that." A warm, delicious apple pie was just what the doctor ordered. "We'll be back in maybe three hours, if the traffic is good. It could be longer, if dad decides to see the Iwaizumi family again, but I think he's as sick of this place as I am."

"I'm not surprised," murmured Komori. "Funerals suck all the life out of you. I get what you mean. 'It feels like death'. I get it." Someone shouted in the backdrop, making the line crackle momentarily. "Oh, shoot, mom's calling me! I think I forgot to take out the trash last night. Shit. Anyway, I'll talk to you later!"

"Yeah, later."

Komori hung up, and Sakusa was putting his phone back in his pocket when Junji appeared, brushing his winter coat off. He blinked, surprised to see Sakusa outside, but didn't ask any questions except: "You ready to go?"

Sakusa nodded. "Yep."

Later in the day, he ate apple pie and laughed when Komori flew his drone into a tree.


November 29th, 2012

The first day of Iwaizumi's trial was today. But it was also a Thursday, and a school day, and Sakusa did not have the opportunity to follow it during class. Instead, he was busy following his math teacher's step-by-step instructions on how to do a complex trigonometry problem they'd all had difficulty handling in the last exam.

Sakusa looked out the window, distracting by rain pelting against the windowpane. It was as grey outside as it had been the day he went to Oikawa's funeral. This winter was shaping up to be a gloomy one.

During lunch, he stayed in his classroom, Komori coming over from his own classroom to join him.

"Whatcha looking at?" Komori asked as he pulled a chair up to Sakusa's desk and sat.

"Hm?" Sakusa glanced at him. "Oh, nothing. It's just fucking miserable outside."

"The forecast for the rest of next week is all rain, too," Komori said, opening up his lunchbox. Sakusa did the same, and they began to eat. Komori made conversation, which Sakusa responded to occasionally with grunts.

Inevitably, the topic moved to today's trial.

"How do you think it'll go?" Komori wondered through a mouthful of rice and seaweed.

Sakusa nibbled on a pickled plum. "It's only the first day, so it's highly unlikely to conclude. But I have faith in my father—he'll probably have swayed the jury by now in Iwaizumi's favor."

He did not know much about the case. Though he often did take a peek at his father's cases, it was always after they had concluded. Junji wouldn't let him anywhere near his current cases and clients.

He's the best lawyer in Japan. I'm sure he won't lose. He never loses.

"I do know this, though," Sakusa said, and Komori perked up with interest. "My dad's aiming for a not-guilty verdict. Not a reduced sentence. Not even a community sanction. He wants Iwaizumi completely off the hook."

Komori's eyes went round. "He's that convinced of his innocence?"

"It's a gut instinct." Being a lawyer was founded on logic, but also on intuition. "And my dad... is never wrong about these kinds of things."

"Well, I hope he wins, then."

"Mm. Me too."


December 2nd, 2012

Oh, how quick they'd been, to stab him in the back with their ridged knives.

The trial lasted for three days, finishing on the first day of the final month.

And Junji—

Sakusa expelled a shuddering breath as he stared at the newspaper on display at the comic book shop, detailing the defeat of Japan's greatest lawyer. And not only that.

Cocaine on the tabletops.

Him and Tessa Kim in front of a love hotel.

Popping pills in the Mikura Oriental.

All printed in black and white for the world to see.

But while the rest of the world continued to bustle and whisper and avert their eyes, Sakusa stuttered to a halt.

Dad... lost?


A/N: I know I said it would be 3 chapters, but we are definitely going into 4 and very possibly 5. If anyone wanted Sakusa to talk to the Miracles, sorry. This is ultimately about him, the Miracles aren't too involved with his life (apart from Midorima).

It's all downhill from here.