Just gonna… *awkwardly places new chapter in your laps.*

Aomine redemption arc begins (he's hard to write here, sorry if it's odd. Dude's in a weird mental state rn in canon and it's not easy to articulate). Also sorry for popping up for the first time in forever with the shorter length/mild angst bombing/sloppy writing. Covid hasn't been kind to my mental state, but I'm sure you guys know the feeling.

Love ya'll and thanks for sticking with me.

Warnings: Cursing (one eff bomb by mr. angst himself), typical violence, bad editing

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroko no Basuke or any affiliated characters.

Communication and Tribulations

Hana woke up to a finger poking her in the nose.

"Go away," she slapped the hand out of her face. God, she was tired, "Five more minutes."

Her attempt at avoidance was unsuccessful. The finger retreated, only to be replaced by a large hand pushing at her shoulder, "Imamura, you got to wake up. We're at our stop."

But I don't wanna… Blinking crusty eyes open, Hana squinted at the blurry boy in front of her, "Carry me."

"Uh," Kiyoshi trailed off, one hand come to scrub at the back of his neck. He sent a wary look to a figure behind him, "I'm not sure about that—" her eyes fell shut again and he sighed, opening his hands wide, "Alright, alright. Stand up."

Stumbling to her toes, Hana's lips tilted into a smug smirk. Firm hands lifted her up and Hana twisted to secure herself to the boys back. Other than a mild grunt, Kiyoshi proceeded without complaint.

Ladies and gentlemen, that's how it's done.

Now securely perched atop Kiyoshi's back, Hana wriggled until she held her umbrella in one hand and phone in the other. They'd just ducked out of the train door, the rain still steadily pouring. Up ahead, the other boys were engaged in another conversation about basketball and Hana zoned out as she fiddled with her phone. Almost falling back asleep due to the lulling pace of Kiyoshi's steps, Hana squinted at her screen and pulled up the footage of the day.

Maybe rewatching Himuro's little ghosty technique would keep her focused.

Unfortunately, the footage didn't provide much other than a sense of unease. More idiots with unnatural superpowers, yay. Whatever Himuro's specialty was, he'd adapted it into his shots and the ball appeared to phase through Kagami's hand before it went into the net. Some type of spectral bullshit.

She'd have to pay more attention to that one— Himuro looked like he might turn into a problem.

"Hey, Kagami?" as they walked through Seirin's campus gate, Fukuda turned to address the lumbering male, "Did coach ever tell you why we needed to come by?"

Kagami shook his head, sending drops of rain flying, "No, I never heard back from her."

"I bet you're in trouble," Hana yawned, "Probably didn't do your laundry duties last week."

"Of course, I did— I was on laundry?"

Cutting her eyes toward his figure, Hana dropped her head against Kiyoshi's shoulder with a groan, "You're an idiot."

He offered a mumbled comeback, but it was cut short as their group finally made it to the entrance. As Furihata and the others shook out their umbrellas and wrung out their clothes, Kiyoshi patted at her foot and Hana hopped down. Gotta see if we can turn this into a regular thing. Tall people gotta contribute somehow. Stretching her arms over her head, she followed the rest of the boys into the gym.

Kuroko took the lead, holding the door open for her as she came up. There was an odd look on his face, but she didn't have much of a chance to categorize it. Instead, Hana was greeted by a screech.

"Tetsu-kun! Ima-chan!"

Next thing both teens knew, they were yanked into a triple hug.

"Momoi—" face to breast with her friend, Hana choked out a breath. It was the last thing she could offer before the group toppled over and she and Kuroko were yanked to the floor with Momoi atop them, "What are you doing here?!"

Momoi whined before nuzzling into Kuroko's side, leaving Hana to fend against the wet hair saturating her face. She smacked at a pink strand only to cough as it got caught in her mouth.

"Aomine-kun—" Momoi sobbed into Kuroko's shoulder, "He— he hates me!"

Uh, what? Hana gaped, shoving the rest of Momoi's mane out of her face, "Since when? Do I need to kill him—"

Suddenly not knowing what to do with her hands, Hana floundered as Momoi's cries pitched in intensity. Oh my god, so many tears. She was out of her realm of expertise— usually the death threats worked! Hana's only solace was that Kuroko seemed to understand how to soothe her worries.

Patting Momoi's head, Kuroko shot Hana a dry look over her shoulder, "Please don't do that, Hana."

"Got it," trying to emulate Kuroko's motions, Hana put a hand on Momoi's head and grimaced. I am a terrible human being. Momoi's cries slowly began to putter out and Hana tried to wriggle her way out of the dog pile, "I'll uh… yeah, I'll get us something to drink."

It took a moment, but thanks to Kuroko's timely intervention, Hana was able to skedaddle out of the involuntary cuddle pile. She shuddered as she darted out of the gym. If I had it my way we'd be topping this up with some alcohol.

Despite her reservations, she didn't hesitate to return to her crying friend. Two cans held firmly between her fists, Hana marched back into the room. Thankfully, the earlier hysteria had since calmed down and Momoi now sat in a foldout chair. Behind her, Kuroko rested a palm on the chair with a heavy frown.

Well, that looks promising.

When Momoi caught sight of Hana, a watery smile overtook her face. "Sorry for worrying you, Ima-chan," Momoi sniffed, a hand gently dabbing at her nose, "I guess it all just came back when I saw you guys."

Hana waved her off, "Not your fault, everyone needs a hug now and then. So, couldn't find liquor, but this is second best," tossing Momoi a can of chilled coffee, Hana plopped herself down in front of her, "Now, what the hell did Aomine do this time?"

Riko tried to interject, "Imamura-chan— have some tact."

Are we going to do this now? Gifting her coach a bland stare, Hana deadpanned, "It's time for revenge, not tact."

"We don't need revenge—"

"It's okay," Momoi waved Riko's concerns off with a wet giggle, "I'm used to Ima-chan by now."

Wow, that sounded enthusiastic. Kicking a foot out, Hana nudged Momoi in the thigh, "Jesus, let's try not to sound so beat up about it."

Momoi chuckled again, but this time the noise swiftly faded into silence. Instead, she began to roll the can of coffee between her palms as a downtrodden expression slowly overtook her face. In the meantime, the rest of the team began to file in from outdoors. All of them were soaking wet and tired from their impromptu jog.

Hana spared them a brief glance, but even the sight of Hyuuga's sopping hair barely pulled a grin out of her. A shame really because it would have been damn funny earlier today.

Sensing the change in mood, Kuroko moved to Momoi's left to repeat Hana's earlier question. He kneeled beside her, "What happened, Momoi-san?"

"I didn't know what to do," Momoi finally spoke, lowering her gaze to stare at her lap. There was a pregnant lull in the conversation as she began to explain, "Aomine-kun didn't participate in the semifinals or finals this year."

"Figures," Hana snorted, "Lazy bas— rat. I meant rat."

If I see that damn swear jar again, I'll riot.

Luckily, no one seemed to care about her indiscretion for the moment. Rubbing a towel through his wet hair, Hyuuga frowned down at Momoi, "Why didn't he participate though?"

"He injured his elbow," popping the cap on her drink, Momoi sighed, "There were other injuries, but that was the worst."

Hana couldn't remember witnessing it, but if Kise had injured his ankle during the game, there was no doubt Aomine would have. That game had been insane— Hana grimaced, thinking back to the end of the miracle showdown with something like worry. Damn boys are going to kill themselves.

"I thought something like that might have happened," Riko cut in. She prodded her lower lip with a finger, "It must have been during the Kaijo game?"

Nodding softly, Momoi agreed, "Yes, you may be a B cup, but you're right."

"What do my boobs have to do with it?!" At Riko's shout, Hana couldn't help but cup her own tiny chest in sympathy. No one appreciates the tiny titty squad.

In the midst of their coach's outburst, Momoi sipped on her drink and roved her gaze over the assembled group. Apparently, the existence of her growing audience finally caught up to her. A subtle pink hue grew on her cheeks before she spared Hana a pleading look. When no one else stood forward to diffuse the growing air of awkwardness, Hana rolled her eyes.

"Still though," ignoring Riko's lingering fury, Hana frowned in thought, "That doesn't seem like the kind of thing Aomine would care about."

Evidently, Hana hit the nail on the head. Momoi took a tiny sip of her drink before lowering her head further, "I asked the coach not to let him play. When Aomine-kun found out… he was furious. I warned him that something might happen if he played against Akashi, but he didn't want to hear it. He told me to—" Momoi hiccupped as a tiny sob escaped her throat, "Never show my ugly face around him again and I was just so upset, I came here."

"Ugly?" Despite the irritation gnawing at her chest, Hana snorted, "He's got to be reaching if he thought that was a good insult." Momoi giggled wetly as she continued, "Besides, he should be thankful he didn't throw out his arm— he'd be screwed."

A tiny part of Hana laminated the loss of Aomine's weakness, but she shoved the insidious little voice down. Don't think it, bitch. We're not going to pull a Hanamiya.

Momoi opened her mouth, but Kagami chose that moment to insert himself into the conversation. With all the tact he unfortunately lacked, Kagami frowned, "Wait a minute, don't you like Kuroko? Who cares if Aomine doesn't like you?"

"Dude—" Hana stared at him, "That's all you got from the conversation? That?"

Unfortunately, it was just enough to send Momoi into another fit. Bringing her hand up to her mouth, her eyes began to water again, "Yes, but that's not the problem. It's different from how I like Tetsu-kun, I'm worried about him and I can't just leave him alone."

Before anyone could speak, she broke out into tiny sobs. Hana's face fell as she shot Kagami a dirty look. We just got her to calm down! Cries picking up pitch, Momoi's shoulders shook and as Kuroko stepped forward to pull her into a hug, Hana kicked a leg out— successfully nailing Kagami in his already abused hamstring.

It was enough to send him to the ground with a low groan.

"…" watching on with varying levels of disinterest, the rest of the team glowered at Kagami's moaning form, "You made her cry."

Even Kuroko shot him a dry look, "You lack delicacy."

"I didn't know—" Kagami groaned, cradling his leg as he crawled into a sitting position. Irritated red eyes zeroed in on Hana's location, "Did you have to kick me?"

"Yes," she smiled with all her teeth, "And I'll do it again."

"You bit—"

"It's okay, Momoi-san," Kuroko cut off Kagami's incoming tirade with a welcomed gentleness. His pale blue eyes blinked at Kagami in subtle warning before he focused back on the crying manager, "Aomine-kun won't hate you over that. He knows you were just worried about him."

Rolling to her knees and sending Kagami one last disgusted look, Hana took that moment to interject, "Yeah, he'll be begging before you know it. He doesn't know how to exist without you. Swear he can't wipe his own—"

Kuroko's pale stare transferred to her, his eyebrows furrowed in muted reprimand, "Please don't."

Not the time for moral high ground, Tetsuya. She waved him off, "I'm only speaking facts."

"That doesn't mean it isn't rude."

Momoi blinked between them, pink eyes blurry with unshed tears. There was a brief flash of pain before a watery smile pulled at her lips, "You guys—" a sniffle escaped as she giggled, "You guys haven't changed at all."

There was something else in her statement, but Hana couldn't quite put a finger on the tone. Instead of lingering and searching for unshared answers, she shot her friend a sharp grin, "Can't get rid of my charming personality that easily. Speaking of— need me to walk you back?"

She may live in the completely opposite direction, but hey, that was the power of friendship for you.

Momoi shook her head, wet strands falling over her face, "That's okay, Ima-chan—"

"I'll walk with you," Hana blinked as Kuroko interrupted. Stepping back, he held out a hand to the sitting manager, "Let's go back together, I'm sure Aomine-kun is looking for you."

Momoi blinked up at him, a small smile tinting her cheeks, but her characteristic infatuation was nowhere to be seen. They held eye contact for a prolonged second, something heavy sitting in the air before Momoi sighed. It was a forlorn sound, but Hana didn't have time to examine it before Momoi covered it with a tired chuckle.

"Alright?" Hana trailed off, a bit bewildered at the strange atmosphere bubbling between her friends, "Sure you don't need me to come? I wouldn't mind punching Aomine today, really."

Kuroko stopped as he guided Momoi to her feet, gifting Hana an oddly gentle smile before he shook his head, "I need to speak with Momoi-san, thank you for offering though."

Okaaay. Cryptic ass. Shrugging off the weirdness, Hana waved as the duo stepped through the gym doors. Momoi sent her a wet smile over her shoulder but that was it. Eyebrows arching high, Hana pulled out her phone and sent the girl a quick text, instructing her to let her know if everything turned out okay. Swear to god I'm not built for this type of emotional turmoil.

Unfortunately, the moment of respite didn't last long.

"Well, excitement's over!" Riko propped her hand on her waist, addressing the lingering crowd with a pointed finger. There was a disturbing curl to her lips that promised pain, "If you guys are done staring, get up and help us clean!"

"Clean?" Fukuda gawked, brown eyes going wide as he motioned to himself and his fellow freshmen, "We've been playing all day!"

That was not the answer Riko wanted. A sharp gleam entered the coach's eye, "Think of this as a recovery period."

Hana raised a brow, but Riko's sadistic smile never faltered. God, she's serious. The freshmen groaned, their shoulders slumping as the strength of Riko's tone sank in. Their moping was interrupted when the door slammed shut again— a suspicious lack of Kagami confirming the identity of the escapee.

Giving the door an appraising look, Hana tried to subtly make her way toward the exit as well, but a hand latched onto her arm. Awh, hell.

Hesitantly, she trailed her gaze from the hand up to the face. Riko's hazel eyes sparked in warning under the fluorescent lights, "You too, Imamura-chan."

"I cleaned yesterday!" Hana refuted, but Riko merely yanked her toward the supply closet. She tried to drag her feet, yet it was useless in the face of Riko's craze and the wet soles of her shoes, "This is 'cause Momoi called you flat chested, isn't it?"

"I'm a B cup!" Riko snarled before Hana found herself flung into the closet. She tripped over a roll of paper towels as Riko continued, "That's not flat chested!"

She barely had a chance to balance herself before the door slammed shut behind her, enclosing Hana and the freshmen in the supply closet. Straightening her ruffled skirt, she looked between her comrades warily. The little lightbulb above them flickered in forewarning. Fukuda and Furihatalooked horrified at the violent treatment, but Hana could only sigh.

Thanks Momoi, I owe you one.

"She's totally pissed about her boobs," she wiped at a piece of invisible lint on her shoulder, "Talk about an overreaction. We're the same size. Right?"

"Uh— I— Imamura-chan— you're uhm—"

Hana peeked her head up only to deadpan at the flush budding over the freshmen's faces, "You know what, don't answer that."

"You're… very—"

"Don't."

xXxXxXx

It took over an hour to clean the gym.

Which was quite frankly, bullshit. She was so tired.

Due to the upperclassmen's little jog around the school earlier, they'd managed to track in a good bit of mud. It'd left the laminate floors in a pretty bad state and due to Riko's still festering irritation, it was up to Hana and her fellow freshmen to clean them… by hand. Hana would bet money that her knees were going to be bruised tomorrow, maybe even blistered.

"This is child labor," Hana whined as she sprawled out on her back, "I'm calling the police."

She'd give anything to sleep. Her firstborn, Kagami's heart, anything. Whatever the god of sleep needed to spare her from this hell— she'd do it.

Fukuda, who laid next to her, nodded in agreement, "I can't feel my fingers—"

There was a snort that sounded suspiciously like Hyuuga's, but Hana was more focused on watching the way their fellow freshman, Furihata, shakily climbed to his feet. His knees were shaking like one of those little blow up balloons they had at American car dealerships and his face was a worrying shade of red.

He wobbled toward the exit; a halfhearted parting thrown groggily over his shoulder before he opened the heavy metal doors. Time seemed to pause, Furihata's palm raised shakily in the air as he blinked at something in front of him.

He didn't move for a second— back going ramrod straight and a shiver slowly coasting up his spine.

Hana had just enough time to sit up before the door slammed shut and Furihata spun around. For a minute, no one moved. The lingering members of the team simply watched as Furihata raised a shaky finger and pointed to the door. His mouth opened, but nothing more than frantic breaths escaped.

Hana's brows arched high. He looks like he saw God doing the macarena.

"Furihata?" Kiyoshi took a delicate step forward like he was approaching an injured animal, "Are you okay?"

His head shook slowly, brown eyes wide as he motioned toward the door, "Miracle— miracle— there's a—"

It didn't take long for two and two to be put together.

Unfortunately, it wasn't an answer she wanted.

"Nope," Hana was crawling to her feet before she could think about it. She should have bounced when she had the chance, "Not another one. I already did this today. I'm out—"

Hyuuga made a similar noise of distaste, brows arching high over his glasses, "Which one of them would come here?"

Are you that dense? Hana managed to shoot him a bland look as she scuttled toward her wayward bag, "There's only one idiot that attached to Momoi."

She should have known, man. Fingers latching onto the worn leather of her gym bag, Hana shook her head at her naivety. Just because Aomine was a dick didn't mean he didn't care about Momoi— they were practically symbiotic in their relationship with one another. There was no way in hell he'd just let her walk around in the rain.

Still, didn't mean Hana wanted to deal with him. Momoi come get your bitch!

"You mean…" Fukuda swallowed, Adam's apple quivering as he shook, "You mean that's Aomine-san?"

"Yup," Hana clicked her tongue against her teeth, "And that means I'm out of here—"

The door fell open with a heavy smack, Furihata's squeak the only warning before wet footsteps echoed through the silent gymnasium. Great. A ball dropped in the background, but other than that, her teammates were struck dumb. Hana squeezed her eyes shut, a dejected sigh crawling out of her mouth before she chanced a peek toward the heavy aura soaking up the atmosphere.

He looked rough. Soaked from head to toe, Aomine was slumped against the doorframe, his piercing stare traveling over the gathered players before a scowl pulled at his face. His Too uniform was soaked through— suit jacket discarded and white shirt nearly transparent. His normally tame hair was slick against his forehead, droplets winding their way down his temple.

If it'd been anyone other than Aomine, Hana might have appreciated the sight.

Riko was the first to step forward, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, "Aomine-san, if you're looking for Momoi-san—"

Aomine cut her off before she could finish. His stare moved from the coach to Hana's, resting accusingly on her figure, "Was she here?"

A few of Hana's teammates bristled in the background and as she stood back up to her full height, Hana belatedly remembered this was the first time they were seeing Aomine in the flesh since their last game. Sure, they'd all watched his match with Kise— but watching and interacting with Aomine were two vastly different experiences.

"Tetsuya walked her back," Hana interjected before anyone else could. She tried to ignore the way his attention brought a shiver down her spine, "Suddenly decide to give a shit?"

Feeling a glare against the side of her head, Hana couldn't help but wince. Sorry, captain.

She needed to reel it in, but god it was hard. He'd always pushed her buttons and seeing him stand right there, after how he'd treated Momoi, it was enough to have fury coast it's way up her chest. He was just so damn selfish.

Meanwhile, Aomine continued to stare at her. It was almost as if he could pick her thoughts out of her brain. The scowl that formerly covered his face broke for the barest second, something like pain flashing through before he shook it off and replaced it with dark apathy, "Fuck off, Imamura."

Hana swallowed, struck dumb. The exclamation tasted like ash in the suddenly silent air.

It was always an odd feeling to have her own anger thrown in her face. Hana wasn't sure she'd ever get used to it, which in hindsight was a bit hypocritical of her. But man, after the shitty realization of her persistent feelings for the wayward miracles, she really didn't enjoy the cutting sensation of ire directed toward her person.

Stupid emotions and stupid feelings— I was better off not giving a shit.

Hana hadn't realized she'd visibly jolted until she caught sight of Aomine's hollow expression.

His navy stare cataloged her reaction before his face shuttered and he turned away from her. I'm sorry, what— Her eyes went wide, a broken retort dying on her lips as she gaped at his sudden retreat. Without further ado to the stunned Seirin students, Aomine turned on his heel and stalked through the doors.

The metal slammed shut behind him with a resounding click.

"Did he just—" Hana stared at the door, "Dude."

Kiyoshi stepped forward, his hand falling on her shoulder with practiced ease, "Are you okay, Imamura?"

Am I? That had been the first time Aomine'd ever spoken like that to her since Teiko. He'd been cruel during their game against Too, but it hadn't been nearly as vehement. His anger now felt almost personal.

It wasn't unexpected, she'd said worse to him more than once, but she also wasn't prepared for the growing lump of something building in her chest. She had to blink a few times to articulate her feelings on the matter, "Yeah, yeah— uh, I'm good."

She was not good— dealing with Murasakibara, Momoi, and then Aomine? There was a reason she tried to avoid such obvious trips down memory lane. They hurt like hell.

Kiyoshi squeezed her shoulder, his silent comfort laying heavy in the air, "I'm sure he didn't mean it."

The worst part was that he probably didn't. He was frustrated with Momoi, with tracking her down, and then she had to go and be a smartass— it was only expected for him to lash out at something. Hana just hadn't really prepared herself to be the target of his ire.

Don't think about it. She plastered on a grin, trying to ignore the way her heart still ached at the memories bubbling just beneath the surface. Don't you dare think about it!

She had better things to worry about, dammit.

"He ruined our floors," Hana ignored the stares of her teammates as she motioned to the new pile of mud and dirt flooding the gym entryway, "What a bitch."

She figured it had to say something about her teammates' observation skills when no one pulled out the curse jar. It was nice to know they at least understood subtlety. She could still feel a few concerned glances on her back, but Hana ignored them as she stomped toward the supply closet and retrieved the mop. Again.

There were a few wary stares, but conversation slowly turned back to normal, the team lingering in the gym as they finished the last of the cleaning. It took longer than expected, chores being forgotten in favor of banter. It was just enough to pluck Hana out of her darkening mood.

Fifteen minutes later, she rolled her shoulders back until her bones popped, "I'll see you guys tomorrow."

There was a chorus of muttered partings and a few exclamations of goodbye, Kogenai's being the loudest, and Hana managed to offer a wave over her shoulder as she exited. Thank god for the power of friendship.

Trying to silently shut the heavy metal door behind her and skipping down the front steps, Hana squinted up at the darkened skyline.

Well, walking home would be a bitch. The sun was already well below the horizon, purple storm clouds doting the western skyline and occasionally rumbling the sodden earth. Hana poked the ground with the toe of her shoe, wincing as the standing water soaked into the worn fabric. She eyed the road ahead of her. At least the streetlights were on—

"Imamura."

Hana was not proud of her reaction. Startled, she flung her leg out the side— a halfhearted attempt at a sidekick she'd seen in one of her action movies. Come on, Bruce Lee, don't fail me now. Her leg arched through the air before it connected to flesh, a surprised ofmph echoing from her target's chest.

Before she had a chance to yank her leg back, a huge palm grabbed her ankle, "You—" Hana sputtered as she got a look at the person in front of her. She could already feel her mood souring, "Why the hell are you still here?"

"Why'd you kick me?" Aomine scoffed at her question, navy eyes dark as he glared down at her, "If you can even call that a kick—"

"You scared me, dumbass!"

"It was your name—"

"From a creepy man hiding in the dark! Could be a damn pervert for all I knew!" Hana tried to yank her leg back, completely unprepared for Aomine to release his grip without fight. She stumbled, landing on her ass in the puddle she'd since managed to avoid, "You've got to be kidding me—"

Feeling the water sink its way up her clothes, Hana took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut. There was a suspicious tightness building in her throat and Hana was struck again by just how damn tired she was. And it had been going so well before I saw his stupid face again.

She absolutely refused to allow herself to break down over wet clothes. She refused.

"I can't do this today," a tired laugh crawled out of her throat, her head tilting back to stare at the cloudy sky, "I'm so tired of all of this. Of you, of Murasakibara— god dammit, man. Can't you guys just leave me alone?"

She hadn't had nearly enough sleep to deal with drama the day had offered so far. Her face hurt from forcing a smile for the past hour and there was an empty sinking feeling that had been festering in her chest since she first laid eyes on Murasakibara that afternoon. A pit lodged in her stomach as Hana finally trailed her gaze back up to Aomine.

She really was not in the mood to get cursed out again. Let him go take his anger out on a tree or something.

"Go find Momoi," she sighed at the blank look hiding his face, "I can't deal with it anymore."

Can't deal with these damn feelings anymore.

This time it was his turn to flinch. It wasn't anything more than a twitch, but Hana could pinpoint the exact moment her words caught up to him. It was as if he was having a conflict within himself— his lips pinched and eyes narrowed on her figure, lingering traces of anger bubbling at the edges of his glare before his chest fell with a heavy sigh.

It was the closest expression of remorse she'd seen on his face in a long time.

"Get up," he slapped his hand in her direction, his eyes on anything other than her.

Like hell. Hana stared at his hand mutinously. There wasn't a chance she was accepting his help, "I'll pass."

Apparently, that wasn't the answer he wanted, "Why are you always such a pain?" Stepping forward without preamble, Aomine grabbed her by the back of her shirt and yanked her up, "Stop being so damn stubborn."

"Like you're one to talk," Hana managed to growl despite the manhandling, "And—" she slapped at the hand lingering on her shirt collar, "Stop grabbing me!"

"Then listen to me—"

"No!" Hana took a brave step forward, finger plunging into the soft flesh above his sternum, "Leave me the hell alone, Aomine."

He didn't react the way she anticipated. Aomine exhaled, staring down at her with severe eyes. For a second, all was quiet. He didn't move away from her grip and Hana was left to awkwardly lower her hand, the sudden absence of strife leaving a lingering uneasiness floating between them. Well shit, what now?

Aomine's shoulders fell as he shook his head. There was a strange emotion persistent between the downturn of his brows, "Just come on, dammit."

He walked away without looking back, leaving Hana to stand uncomfortably in the middle of the sidewalk. Her skirt was soaking wet and there was an unpleasant chill working its way up her spine. She fiddled with her bag, pulling out her phone and grimacing at the time. She debated firing off a message to Momoi— asking her to reel in her guard dog, but ultimately decided against it.

How do I end up in these situations?

She glanced at Aomine's back, mildly surprised to see that he'd paused. Swallowing down the vestiges of pride, she managed to ask, "… where are we going?"

"I'm hungry," he barely glanced over his shoulder to give her an unidentifiable look, "You look like shit."

Hana scoffed defiantly under her breath. Wonder why, huh? Aomine didn't hesitate any longer than he had to. Once he caught sight of her following after him, he turned his back to her and continued to stalk down the street. His shoulders were slumped and Hana noticed he'd yet to dry off. His still dripping hair was pushed out of his face— navy strands wild from the rough treatment.

The walk passed in silence. She didn't talk to him and he sure as shit didn't talk to her. Talk about awkward encounters of the third kind. A few cars passed by on the street, their headlights illuminating Aomine's back and occasionally splashing the sidewalk with water. After one-to-many minutes of walking without response, Hana finally broke the silence.

"You know," she offered, stepping over a crack in the sidewalk, "This is a really shitty way to apologize."

Aomine didn't even turn to look at her as he answered, "I'm not apologizing."

Ugh. Hana threw her hands up in the air, making an ugly face behind his back, "How does Momoi stand you?"

Again, he didn't verbally respond, but Hana was close enough to see the way his body tensed. Looks like she hit a nerve— again. Some part of her felt bad about it, a little internal voice screeching at her to quit being a bitch, but she never really gave that part too much attention. Don't feel guilty— let him suffer.

Easier said than done.

As they continued their little jaunt through the city, they eventually made it to a small restaurant. It was family-owned, a tiny shack tucked away between two bustling corporations, but it was lit up with life. Through the slightly tinted window, Hana could glimpse several people milling at the bar and the soft tune of folk music drifted through the walls.

It wasn't a place she frequented, but Aomine seemed to know his way around well enough.

He headed in without further ado, unceremoniously letting the door smack into Hana's face. Dick. Talk about chivalry.

She scowled, rubbing the abused bridge of her nose as she watched his tall back merge through the crowd.

Eventually he situated himself at the back corner of the room, tucking his lanky body into one of the too small seats. Hana scowled as she followed his path. I'd rather die than be here right now. By the time she made it to his location, he was already flipping through the menu and had yet to so much as glance in her direction.

God, hormonal men were a pain to deal with.

She'd suffer through this dinner long enough for her clothes to dry and then she'd skedaddle right out of there. Screw Aomine and his bullshit— let him pay for her dinner tonight. It was the least she'd earned dealing with his mood swings. She could handle this. It'd be less than an hour and she could vamoose, leaving Aomine to sulk the rest of his night away.

Or that's what she thought.

The silence continued even as the waiter came and went, Aomine glaring mutinously down at the table without so much as a word in her direction. There was an angry furrow in his brow that suggested he was thinking, but of what, Hana couldn't tell you. His one brain cell is putting in the work. By the time their meals were delivered, she was tired of it.

She needed him to say something or she was going to throw this damn table.

"You're going to have to talk eventually," Hana muttered into her soup. She blew at the top, begging it to cool, "You can't sit there and mope the whole time. Shit's weird."

The glower he sent her could kill a lesser man, "I'm not moping."

A shame Hana wasn't a man. He might scare her, but there was food involved now. She wouldn't be leaving until her miso soup was safely in her stomach. Teenage hormones be damned.

"You're moping. Haven't said a word," Hana sipped at her soup, slurping to prevent it from burning her tongue. Her free hand waved in his direction accusingly, "Also you've got that look on your face— still feeling like an ass for being a dick to Momoi?"

The only reply he gifted her was a grunt before he shoved an unholy amount of food into his mouth.

"… Okay," Hana drawled, face pinching into a grimace as a bit of eel sauce got stuck to his cheek. I hope he chokes. Disgusting."Why am I here?"

Still chewing, Aomine glared at her, "You're the one that followed me."

"You invited me!" Dropping her spoon into her soup, she jabbed an accusing finger in his direction, "I wanted to go home and go to god damn bed. But nooo— had to deal with more miracle bullshit. You guys can't just chill for a freaking second, can you?"

Aomine stared at her, blue eyes narrowing for the barest hint of a second and Hana swore she was about to be cussed out again. He talks to me like that again and we're throwing hands. The seconds clicked down in an awkward silence— a battle of wills as neither teen refused to break eye contact. Eventually, Hana managed to raise a brow, bewilderment ruining her apprehension.

"… ugh," Aomine grunted into his plate, his stare falling down to focus on his half-eaten food, "Whatever."

"That's it?" Hana deadpanned, "Whatever?"

"What do you want me to say, Imamura?" He jabbed a piece of pork into his mouth, "Want me to apologize?"

Oh my god. This was worse than talking to a preteen. There was so much sass stuffed into Aomine's tone, Hana was surprised he hadn't choked on it. His entire stance was practically dripping angst and it had to be the most annoying thing Hana had the pleasure of experiencing.

Why couldn't they just be normal for god's sake?

She stared at him before rubbing a tired finger against her temples. Puberty has done nothing for these boys, they're more obtuse than they've ever been, "Jesus Christ— have you always been so bitchy? Why'd you even wait for me? Why are we here?"

She wanted to be in bed, dammit.

He chewed slowly, navy eyes focusing on the collar of her shirt. Whatever he was thinking, it appeared to physically pain him as he began to grimace. Another bout of silence descended over them before he finally ventured, "How is she?"

"Momoi?" Hana blinked, screwing her face up. Haven't we already been over this? "Well you know she wouldn't take that shit well, but Kuroko calmed her down. If I were you I'd expect to be punched pretty soon, though."

"Gah," he scoffed, chopsticks stabbing another piece of food with a tad too much vehemence, "Not like I said anything that bad."

"You yelled at her and called her ugly," Hana contradicted, sipping at her soup, "Dick move."

His next words were said so lowly, Hana almost swore she imagined them, "I didn't mean to."

"Cool story, but you did," maybe in another lifetime she'd feel pity, but Hana was tired. Tired of mixed messages and Aomine's hot-and-cold routine, "That's what you should be apologizing for. She just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Why, Hana couldn't tell you, but Momoi apparently had a heart of gold to care so much about this dick. Sure— once upon a time, Hana might have done the same, but not now. Not when Aomine's whole personality was based on his head living in his ass.

"I'm fine," Aomine spat out. Green eyes eyed the way his fists clenched warily, "I could have played—"

"And then lost," she tried to speak neutrally, but it came out more sarcastic than anything. This conversation was never-ending, "Maybe she should have let you play, learn some damn humility for once."

He glared at her, mouth tight with barely hidden ire, "I don't lose."

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Okay, god complex. Hana shrugged, ignoring the lingering animosity within his tone, "Whatever you say, man."

That was how they'd always communicated— snapping at each other's throats. Except that was before. Right now, Aomine wasn't here to talk, he was here to fight.

But there were only so many fights she could win against Aomine, and tonight wasn't going to be one of them. Hana knew that from the first step he'd taken in Seirin's gym. I'm tired of miracles. He wasn't here for her— he may have felt remorse for what he'd said to Momoi and maybe for lashing out at her in the gym, but that was it.

"… Huh," Aomine paused from inhaling his food to give her a strange look. There was a bit of life growing in his expression, contrasting against the remaining bitterness, "You gave up quick."

"Sorry, don't have the energy to fight your ego today," Hana propped her hand in her chin, pushing the remainder of her soup to the side of the table, "Between you and Murasakibara, I'm tired of men."

"Murasakibara," he scoffed, shoving the final piece of pork into his mouth, "How is that idiot?"

Childish, huge, intimidating— different. Instead of voicing her thoughts, Hana eventually offered, "Can't say he's changed much. The whole lot of you are damn sure stuck in your ways."

Why me? Hana sighed under her breath, trailing her gaze to her glass of water sitting near the edge of the table. Why did I decide to care about this group of assholes again? Maybe she could focus her emotions on the trio who'd already redeemed themselves—

Aomine snorted under his breath, "Like you're one to talk."

"Me?" Hana stared, finger twitching in the air from where she'd been reaching for her drink, "What do I have to do with this?"

He opened his mouth once before his face turned down mulishly, "It's nothing."

Yeah, right.

"Oh, don't give me that shit," Hana rolled her eyes, pulling her water close before continuing, "You're worse than Midorima. If you've got an issue with me, now's the time to spill it. Doubt we'll be around each other again."

And isn't that something? Hana didn't know how to feel about the truth behind the admission. One part of her danced in relief that she'd likely be free from Aomine's mood swings once he solved his issues with Momoi, but another quieter part of her lamented at the loss of friendship. Their conversation may be stilted, but it still felt nice to embrace the nostalgia.

She snorted under her breath, sipping at the lukewarm water. Just like old times.

Despite her reminiscing, Hana wasn't really expecting much out of her demand. He'd never been overly open with his emotions and after a year of being at each other's throats, Hana doubted he'd see the need to open up. The bridge had already been burned and all that.

Ugh, feelings. She needed to deal with those before this got any more convoluted.

"Well," Hana drawled out the word, plastering a sardonic grin on to hide her regret, "Not that this hasn't been great, but I'm out. Make sure to apologize for being an ass to Momoi."

That was civil enough, right—

"There it is," Aomine's face was hidden, shadows coating the curve of his brow and the side of his cheek. That didn't stop Hana from hearing the sneer hidden in his words, "You always give up so quickly. You never even try."

Hana's head jerked to his so fast she was sure she'd gotten whiplash. What's with these guys and always having to have the last word? He met her eye without regret—his face blank. It was an expression she remembered well, the mask he put on every time he did something cruel. Like all the empathy had slipped out of his soul, he watched her gape at him with dead blue eyes.

"Try? Try to what? Fix your issues?" Irritation coasted her shoulders as Hana offered a dry laugh, "That's not my job— why do you assholes always ask me to fix your shit?"

Maybe once upon a time she would have tried harder— maybe if he hadn't been so cruel during their last game, maybe if she hadn't completely given up on reconciling the boy she once cared about with this new version. There were a whole lot of maybes, but in the end it all boiled down to one factor.

She'd never be able to win against this new Aomine unless he let her. And that made it all the more confusing— why did he keep pushing? He'd said something similar during their game and for the life of her, Hana couldn't understand why he kept bringing it back up.

What does he want from me?

She decided to voice her thoughts, "What the hell do you want from me, Aomine? I honestly don't have a damn clue what you're trying to hint at here. What do you want?"

She honestly didn't think he was going to answer. The way his gaze held her— heavy with intent and silent judgement, Hana was sure she'd be spending the rest of her life wondering just what the hell kind of problem Aomine had with her. Taking a slow sip of her drink, she watched the way Aomine's face began to twist as he struggled through his emotions.

He clearly wanted to say something. For all she knew, it was just more accusations, but eventually his mouth turned down and a scowl built between his brows. He stared at her for a second, observing the way she moved before his face cleared, the damned blank mask of his draping itself back over his features.

"Back at Teiko," there was nothing in his expression that Hana could use to gauge his meaning, "You gave up."

What? That hadn't been anywhere close to what she'd been mouth dropped open, indignation boiling in her chest, "You're mad that I didn't stick around? You saw what Akashi did, right? You saw—"

"You were never going to stick around," he cut her off, voice dark, "I heard you and Satsuki that day. Even before that game you were planning on leaving."

Hana vaguely remembered that conversation. They'd been on the bench together, suffering through another one of the bullshit games. She could remember the fury at their actions, the hopelessness of knowing that no matter what she did, she couldn't make a difference. Hana remembered Momoi squeezing her hand, their shared disgust with the team they'd grown to care about.

What she couldn't remember was Aomine caring. From her memories, he'd been completely rooted up his own ass by that time and Hana found it insane that he even registeredher being there at all. He'd made it clear back then he'd only viewed her as an annoyance.

But to have held a grudge for years due to her off-handed comment— What did he expect me to do?

"Are you kidding me," a disbelieving laugh got caught in her throat, her tongue twisted at the absurdness of it all. All this time, he'd held that against her, "You've got to be shitting me. Of course, I was going to leave."

Something like victory crawled over his expression, but it didn't erase the dark shadows that clung to the furrow of his brow, "I knew it. You—"

"Got tired of being treated like shit. Got tired of my friends getting so wrapped in their own damn heads that they didn't even see how they were hurtingpeople," Hana leaned across the table, fury coating her tongue in venom, "I was tired of you telling me I was annoying, that I was a bitch, that I was getting in the way."

Something in his face flexed, the clench of his jaw going just a tad bit tighter, "You never said anything."

"Would have been pointless," crawling out of her chair, she stood over their table and propped her hands against the edge. Eying Aomine's blank expression Hana raised a sardonic brow, "The only one who can beat you, is you. What did you expect me to do?"

She barely caught the moment his stare went wide, the exposure of the white of his eyes making his tan appearance seem just a tad bit paler. It didn't completely erase the dead look he wore, but something she said resonated just enough to surprise him. He pressed his mouth into a tense line before turning away from her accusing glare— focus resting on the dirty windows across from them.

His shoulders stiffened and a huge palm squeezed the corner of their table, but Aomine didn't respond to her question.

Hana couldn't quite say if she was disappointed or not.

"Right, okay," Hana rolled her eyes as she stepped away. Her formerly forgotten exhaustion came rushing back in with a vengeance, "I'm tired of fighting your god complex. Try to grow a pair and apologize to Momoi, will you?"

She swung her bag over her shoulder, a heavy breath flooding out of her chest as she turned her back on Aomine. Momoi had to be a literal saint to put up with this shit. This back and forth— his refusal to explain what his goddamn problem was— his grudge against her— Hana wanted to pull her hair out. Why was he so damn difficult?

Kise and Midorima hadn't been easy to reconnect with, but they hadn't confused her nearly as badly as Aomine's fluctuating mood had. He'd been clinging to his own sense of injustice since she'd vanished from their lives back in middle school. So, the difference probably boiled down to the fact Kise and Midorima wanted to fix it. Aomine so far hadn't shown any inclination—

"Imamura."

"What?" She could feel his eyes drilling into the back of her head. Hana huffed as she turned, raising a brow at his tone, "What do you want, Aomine?"

His head was tilted, the barest hint of secrecy shining behind his dark stare. He'd narrowed his focus on her face— scanning over her features with an indescribable look before he'd pressed his lips shut. He shook his head once, shoulders slumping as he fought some internal battle Hana wasn't privy to.

"Nothing," he shook his head again, damp hair falling against his forehead as he brought his attention back to the table, "I'll talk to you later."

The parting hung in the air like a gavel. Hana barely had enough sense to snap her mouth shut, nodding an awkward goodbye as she continued toward the exit. The door slid shut behind her without so much as a sound and Hana forced herself to focus on the road ahead, her feet leading her back to her street with mechanical precision.

She'd deny it if anyone asked, but Aomine's words spun in her head the entire way home— double meanings and questions swirling in her thoughts. Ever since their friendship faltered, he'd never once hinted to communication outside of basketball. They'd apparently held enough grudges against one another that they'd both actively avoided it.

Which meant there was no chance in hell he'd actually reach out.

Right?

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Thanks for all the reviews and love.

If it weren't for ya'll I'd have given up a long time ago.