By the time you and Ryouta leave the Maji Burger, the sun is barely a red smudge behind the highrises of Tokyo.
"How did you know that you liked Momoicchi?" Ryouta asks. The light picks out the high arches of his cheekbones; the fan of his eyelashes crosses his cheeks every time he blinks.
Your fingers twitch for a camera - one you don't carry anymore. When did you stop? And why?
...You don't remember.
People brush past the two of you, and you feel small, contained, trapped in your own body—just one more human in a sea of humans; A sister, walking with her brother. For once, you're another person in the crowd.
It's not - bad.
The weather is getting colder. You breathe out, and it hangs in the air as a fine mist before dissipating.
"I dunno," You say. "Just kinda happened."
It built itself out of nothing, each brick laid down with your unthinking hand—a touch on the arm sending electricity through your body. Heat rising in your face. A smile aimed at you. This feeling, this parasite, is wine-bottle bright inside you. Like you swallowed a sky in the same rose of her hair.
"...Yeah," Ryouta says. "I get it."
Your mind drifts back to the gymnasium where you realized Ryouta was moving on without you—looking past you, at Kuroko's back. He's right here, you tell yourself. He's standing next to you. He's still your brother.
Isn't he?
Is this moment real? Is this just a dream you made up in the dark? Are you still alone? Are you trapped in your skull, dreaming of something better? Your feet on the pavement, your dark hair falling over your eyes, your heart beating, your breath hanging in the air.
Is it real?
Are you?
Ryouta thumps his shoulder against yours. "Are you ever going to confess to Momocchi?"
An inaudible laugh shakes through you, rising on a bubble of bitter mirth. "No."
The very idea.
Ryouta frowns. "Why not? I think you have a chance. Momocchi never lets me call her by name."
The sun sinks slowly down behind the high-rises and leaves you with the electric glow of streetlights instead. You look down at your shadow and think, ridiculously, that it has more substance than your physical body.
A snort escapes you. "Having to deal with me all the time? Why the hell would I do that to someone I..."
You can't even say the word out loud. Just the thought of confessing makes you sick. Even if - and that's a fucking big if - Momoi felt the same, wouldn't that be cruel? To chain her to someone like you? Why the hell would someone smart as Satsuki want you? You're violent, petty, vicious, arrogant, bitchy, lazy - every insult ever spat at you is true, and that's just what people can see on the outside.
On the inside, you're hollow.
She's your friend, and if she rejects you - that's fine. You're used to that. If she didn't, though.
If Satsuki says yes, because she pities you -
It'd be worse.
"I have, like, three friends," You say. "Can't afford to start throwing them away." It's a strain to be around you on a good day- and you get it, you do. Even youdon't particularly like you.
Ryouta frowns. "Which three?"
You glance at him. "Satsuki. Shin-chan. You. Probably Nijimura? Three and a half friends."
"Probably?"
"Depends on what I've done to piss him off, I think," You shrug. His generous paycheck is partly an apology for having to deal with you on the regular.
Ryouta gs at you. "What about Seirin? Kagamicchi seems like he likes you, at least. Even Kurokocchi has warmed up to you, though I have no idea why the two of you don't get along. You have the same sense of humor. Making me suffer. Ah, poor Kagamicchi. It must be so hard being such an easy target."
Ah.
"I don't think Kagami counts. He's not talking to me right now."
"Eh? Did you guys fight?"
You shrug, folding your arms. "I guess. I said something, and he got pissed off."
It's still strange. You told Kagami the truth, right? When he heard you planned to leave, he got angry at you. It's what you said would happen.
"Kagamicchi doesn't seem like the type to hold a grudge," Ryouta says. "What did you say to him?"
You hesitate for a moment. "Kuroko and I made a deal when he asked me to play on his team."
"Oh?"
For the first time, you found yourself laying out the full terms of the deal. You don't get into the whole - horrible crushing weight of keeping your promise and the endless, pointless play of basketball. It's just a game, so why do people treat it like it's their life? You don't understand. Ryouta wouldn't get that part - but the deal with Kuroko you can talk about.
He doesn't interrupt, which is good. You don't if you could find your words again if he stopped you. They drag themselves out of your throat with reluctance. Ryouta listens the whole time. The two of you meander through the streets of Tokyo, going nowhere fast. Minuets drift by, then half-hours, then hours. It's the longest time you've spent with him in - years since he joined Teikou.
How long do you have until even he gets tired of you?
You wish you knew. Being prepared would make it suck less.
When you're done, the sun is fully set, and Ryouta is still by your side. The stars hide behind the city's light, and Ryouta's face is contemplative; his expression is set on the cold, calculative side that he wouldn't show to his fans.
The sight of it relaxes something deep inside you. At least Ryouta still trusts you enough not to pretend.
You let him think. Your feet drag along the pavement. All those words, and you just feel exhausted.
"Hanacchi, I say this with all of my love," Ryouta says. "But you are the worst at communicating! Even Midorimacchi, that tsundere, is better at it than you are. I've met dogsbetter at it than you are."
That stings a bit. "Hey. I'm trying."
"I know. That's what makes it so sad."
You flash him an annoyed look. "If I want someone to make fun of me, I'd talk to Murasakibara."
He grins. "Okay, okay. First things first: what do you want?"
"Eh?"
"What sort of advice do you want? Do you want to ignore the problem? Do you want Kagamiichi to apologize? Do you want to go back to how you were before? Do you want to, and this is crucial, be friends with your team?"
It's like being dunked into a frozen pond, cold water closing in around your head because You - you don't know.
The idea of being friends with the Serin team is beyond comprehension, especially now. They take their cues from Kagami. This silence between you and him - it's familiar. The acrid taste of his dislike for you is typical. Just because it's now coming from Kagami doesn't make a difference.
Does it?
"I..." You trail off.
You don't know.
What you want has never mattered before.
Ryouta sighs and throws an arm around your shoulders. The warmth radiates off him and acts as a counterweight to the cold fog in your chest. He's taller, broader, more settled, and mature now.
He's outgrown you.
Maybe that's what happens. Perhaps you get left behind because you can't change. Perhaps that black pit in your chest keeps you frozen.
"I think you should apologize," He says.
You blink. "...No."
You didn't do anything wrong. You only told the truth. If you start apologizing every time you offended someone with the plain truth, you'd never stop.
Kise rolls his eyes. "Hanacchi, you're clearly in the wrong here. Kagammichi doesn't seem like a bad person. Why are you so convinced he'd just stop being friends with you after one argument? Who abandons a friendship just like that?"
You did,you don't say. You did. You love me, I knowyou love me, it's written into the bedrock of my self- and you left.
You left me behind.
This is the longest conversation we've had in a year.
It's okay because what other choice do you have? He's here now. He still cares.
For now.
(That's good enough. It hasto be good enough. What else can you do? You can't force people to love you and wouldn't if you could.
It's awful, this knife's edge you walk. How much is too much? What will you do to make people abandon you next? What trap will you set off simply by being too numb and tired to see it?
Existing is exhausting.)
("Don't disappear again," Murasakibara's voice says.
Something inside you shakes.)
"Ryouta," Your voice comes out quiet. "Do you think Taiga ismy friend? Like, for real?"
Ryouta rolls his eyes but shuffles closer, his arm still around your shoulders. "I'd say it's pretty likely, Hanacchi. Which is why you should apologize."
You look down at your hands.
"I'll think about it," you say.
:::
You do think about it. You think about it through the next week, while Taiga and Kuroko ignore your existence in school, in practice. You're see-through, like Kuroko at his worst. You don't know if this is a relief or not.
Kuroko keeps shooting you glances, opening his mouth, - saying nothing. He stays at Taiga's side as if glued there. It seeps into the practice. Taiga would never turn away a strong opponent, and you're the best Serin has, no matter how he feels about you. You play him until he's gasping on the ground, and you start to sway, black eating away at the edge of your vision.
You think about saying to him, 'I don't know why you're angry.'
Won't you tell me what I did wrong?
Are we friends still? Were we ever?
He won't even look at you.
No one talks to you at practice anymore. They follow Taiga's lead, and the upperclassmen are content to let you and Taiga work it out of your own. Sometimes you catch them watching you and Taiga play with unreadable looks on their faces. The Coach and the captain watch you most of all.
After five days of stilted practice, Taiga breaks past you for the first time.
You - stumble. Just once. It's enough for Taiga to knock the ball out of your hands and break past you, a red blur that nearly crashes into a slam dunk, his frame shaking the hoop. His face is almost comically surprised. It's his first basket against you. He's gotten so much better from the first time you played.
There's a moment of quiet that settles in the gym.
Your hands ache.
Then it breaks, the whole team dog-piling on Taiga's surprised form. They're cheering, laughing, because none of them have ever seen you fail before either. Your breathing is quick and shallow, but not because you're tired - but because you catch the look in the eyes of serin. They whoop and cheer. Celebrate your failure.
None of t reaches you. You feel like you're standing in a bubble of quiet, flexing your hands.
Empty.
"Hana," the Coach's voice breaks through the silence around you. "Come to my office. I need to talk to you."
You nod, words out of your reach.
Riko walks off, and you trail after her, leave the celebrating team behind. None of them notice your going.
Inside her office - a storage closet that Riko'd claimed for her own - Hyuugaa is waiting. You can't read the expression on his face, and you're too tired to try. Riko settles behind the desk crammed into one corner, and Hyuuga moves to stand at her side. Riko gestures at the chair by the desk.
You stay standing.
Riko and Hyuuga look at each other.
Finally, Riko sighs. "Kuroko told us why you decided to join the Seirin team."
You flinch. Whatever you thought they wanted from you, it wasn't that. Your hand finds the black sweatband around your wrist against your will. Why the hell would Kuroko feel the need to share that? Neither of you came out looking good in that particular exchange.
Why do Riko and Hyuuga look so grim?
"So it was true," Hyuuga says. "I didn't want to believe it, but… You don't even like basketball, do you?"
Your throat goes tight. Your hands slide into your pockets. It wasn't like you were trying to hide it — so why do you feel like you're standing at the edge of a cliff? You look past them and don't say anything.
Riko sighs. "Hana, please be honest with us. Do you like basketball, even a little bit?"
"...No," The word feels like it's been jerked out of you. Jagged and scraping against your throat. You hate basketball in a way you hate little else. Everything about it. The glare of the gym lights, the smell of sweat, the horrible thump of the ball against wood. It's a nauseating feeling, acrid and sour.
Every single bit of it takes you back to that gym when you looked at Ryouta and realized you were going to be left behind. The way he looked past you to Kuroko, to his team. You were loved, but for how long? No, that's not right. It's not that Ryouta stopped loving you - it's that the amount of love changed.
You can't blame Ryouta. You can't even blame Kuroko.
It's not his fault that Ryouta loves him more than you. You are not a lovable thing.
Ryouta tried.
(Confess? A thing like you, with to a girl like that? What a joke.)
"I hate it. I really hate it," You say. The most honest thing you've ever said.
Neither Riko or Hyuuga look mad. They don't look surprised either.
Why did Kuroko have to tell them about the deal? Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut? He didn't… didn't need to feel guilty, the way you saw him sometimes look when you were on the court. It was your choice.
But maybe that was what a reasonable person did - felt guilty even for people they hate.
"You don't have to play anymore," Riko says gently. "I know it's difficult for you, and no one wants to send you to the hospital again. Now that Kagami can get past you, we can strike out on our own."
It's worse than all the vile things people have said to you over the years. How do you deal with softness? With kindness?
"...I don't need to play anymore?" You ask, numb.
Was she kicking you off the team?
Hyuuga sighs. "Basketball is a team sport. Seirin needs to be able to work without you if it wants to survive in the long run. It's my fault that I let the team get used to relying on you in the first place. I'm sorry that everyone - including me - put so much pressure on you. Now that Riko and I know you don't even like playing, it's not right that we treat you like a crutch."
Riko looks at you, face serious. "It was wrong that we kept you on the team even though we knew that it was bad for you. Thank you for your help, Hana."
She stands up and bows to you, and Hyuuga follows a moment afterward. Formal. Final.
Ah.
So that's how it is.
You forgot, somehow, that you are not worth anything outside your talent, your money. With Taiga surpassing you, with Kuroko finally receiving his proper light, what use are you? Something in your chest aches like you've been punched. Your face feels cold and hard, a porcelain mask you can't move. There's a roar in your ears. It might be your heart. It might be screaming.
Riko - Coach - Aida was so kind, so soft.
It hurts. Deep, deep inside you, it hurts, the kind of hurt that numbs. You wish they were crueler about it.
The world smears around you like a blurry watercolor painting. They speak more, but you're not listening, can't listen over the ringing in your ears—no use arguing. Your actions feel robotic—a series of steps. You say something, get out of the office. Drift past your - no - the team. Not yours, anymore.
You come to yourself in the locker room, staring at your locker, eyes burning. Open it up.
Realize it's empty, except for the uniform you wore that morning.
Slowly, you close it. Then you lean your forehead against the cold metal and try to breathe around the tightness in your throat. This place was never yours.
So why do you feel like you lost something?
"Hana-san?"
Your lips curl up into a bitter little smile because, of course, it's Kuroko. It's always Kuroko at the worst moments in your life. The person who's present at all of your loss. You would hate him, but you don't have the energy. At his heart, Kuroko is kind. It's not his fault.
It's yours. You came back wrong. Came back half a person, maybe less.
Some unlovable thing.
"Hana-san, is something wrong? Should I call a teacher?" Kuroko asks. You can hear the concern in his voice.
He won't leave you alone. Too persistent. The last thing you want to deal with is a teacher or nurse, no matter how cold you feel. You push away from the locker, turn around and look at him. Whatever's on your face makes his mouth snap shut, and his eyes go wide.
Maybe you should scream at him. Maybe you should ask what you've done that he hates you so much. Maybe you should break his mouth against your fist. Maybe you should beg him to stop pretending to care.
You don't. It won't change anything. You don't have the energy.
Apologize, Ryouta said. As if there was any point.
You pull the Serin jersey off in one jerky movement, leaving you in a thin tanktop Taigai insisted you wear. You hold it out to Kuroko.
Slowly, he takes it. "Hana-san…?"
Next, you pull off the black band around your wrist. You look down at it - this shackle, this gift, this tether to the living.
He catches it, glancing between you and the sweatband.
You throw it to Kuroko, and you feel something inside you quietly snap at the look on his face.
"I don't understand," Kuroko says.
You laugh, short and mirthless. "That makes two of us."
:::
Nijimura is the one who picks you up. He seems to sense your intense disire never to speak again because he keeps to himself, doing mysterious things on his phone.
You watch him despite yourself, out of the corner of your eye.
The idea that people might want to be around you is, fundamentally, ridiculous. There was Ryouta and your parents, and no one else. Ryouta got a pass because he was - well. He's a monster of a diffrent kind—something more platable, better at hiding than you, but still like you. You knew you were softer on him than anyone else.
Your parents didn't undestand you enough to love you. They loved the idea of a perfect, genius daughter.
With a new - normal - kid on the way, who knows how long that would last.
Did Nijimura like being your friend, at least sometimes? Despite you being... yourself. Cold and cruel and arrogant. Repulsive.
Unlovable.
"Nijimura," You say.
He blinks and looks up. "What's up?"
You - hesitate. Your mouth shuts, heavy as a steel door swinging closed. What do you even ask here? Are we friends, Nijimura? What if he says yes?
What if he says no?
It'd be understandable. Despite going to school together, you're not close to Nijimura. You offered him a job, and he was desperate. A simple favor-for-favor trade. He worked for, you and you got to talk to a person you're almost certain can sometimes stand you. You try not to lean on Nijimura's patience too much; his dealing with you on rare occasions was more than you can ask for. There's no great secret meaning in him being here, acting as your personal assistant. It's his job.
But he didn't have to pick you up personally. You have people for; you''re pretty sure. He could have sent one of them.
Time slows to a crawl, and you can feel the horrible whistle of your breath, hear your blood rushing in your ears. It's too loud, too close. Your mouth feels dry. Your heart is a cold, dead thing that you hate on principle. The one good thing about your heart being too heavy and too hard was it was impossible to scratch.
What are you doing, peeling back that armor yourself?
Safer not to ask. Safer not to know, because if the answer was no -
You wish Kuroko kept his mouth shut. It would have been easier to deal with than this knife's edge of knowing that Serin only found you useful.
You shake your head. "Never mind."
He looks at you. "Are you feeling okay? You're pale."
"I'm fine."
"Hana..."
You look out the window, taking in the mass of humanity out, shutting down the conversation. In the reflection, You watch Nijimura look at you with his brows furrowed. His mouth opened, but he closed his mouth after a moment. He shook his head and looked back down at his phone.
A tension leaks out of your shoulders.
If he asked you again, you might have answered honestly.
There is, you were finding, little you hate more than being honest.
Nijimura drops you off in front of your building in silence, all the while fiddling with his phone and giving you glances you can't really understand.
You ignore all of it.
Your heart still feels like a top slowly losing speed, wobbling ever closer to the edge of some vast chasm, the cavern inside yourself.
When you arrive, you bolt out of the car. Before you can get away, Nijimura leans over to look up at you. "Hana, you know if you need anything, you can ask, right?"
You feel the cool metal of the door. "Yeah," You say. "that's your job, after all."
It comes out too tense, too bitter.
He blinks at you.
You shut the door before he can say anything. Hearing him agree with you would be -
Yeah.
Better not to know. You've had enough rejection for today.
You head up in the empty elevator. The reflection in the polished doors is sickly pale, with dark circles under her eyes. It still looks like a stranger, with her short dark hair and cold dark eyes. It can't be you. You try out a smile, and the girl in the mirror's mouth splits in an ugly little smirk, the kind that makes a person flinch away. Her eyes are still dead. The smile drops off your face. You look down at your feet instead and try not to think about anything.
It just seems safer.
When you reach your floor you duck out of the elevator without looking up. You don't want to look at that girl again. You might do something wish, distantly, that you asked Nijimura to find you a room that wasn't connected to a room with so many large, breakable windows. Maybe a little closer to the ground.
Next time.
If he was still around then.
(If you were still around -)
You pause once at the door to your suite and tilted your head, closing your eyes, listening. You don't want to stumble on Karou Katsumisumi doing whatever it is they do when you're gone.
They've been weird about each other from day one. It wasn't something you had the scope to understand until recently. The way Katsumi's eyes followed karou around the room, the way Karou smiled when Katsumi was her normal brash and bubbly self, chasing Hana around with brand new designer clothes.
It can't really be considered cheating, because you and Karou are strictly contractual. She's one of your people the way Nijimura is, and you're obligated to take care of her as much as you can. Katsumi is a good person, though.
She'll take care of Karou fine.
The kitchen is warm and clean, and Karou's hair is done up, revealing the pale nape of her neck. Nigou has set himself up on your lap. Katsumi is leaning against the counter, pretending to look through a magazine, but really watching Karou move with warm eyes.
Abruptly, you're sick of this stupid charade. Making Karou pretend to tolerate you, and making Katsumi stick around to protect karou from you.
"You're home early. How was school, Hana-chan?" Karou asks, glancing over her shoulder.
You shrug.
"Karou," You say.
"Hmm?"
"I want to break up."
Karou drops her spatula on the ground. Katuskmi jerks up from her magazine and stares at you with wide eyes and open mouth.
You meet her gaze once, then look at Kaour. It seems safer.
Karou's eyes are wide, and her skin is pale. "I - I don't understand. Hana-chan, is there something I did? Or didn't?"
"Hana-" Katsumi stops. "This might not be any of my business, but -"
"It isn't any of your business," You say, and Katsumi flinches back like you slapped her. "I thought you'd be happier. Now you can date Karou like you want to."
Katsumi goes ghost white, blood draining from her face. Her mouth opens and shuts without saying a thing. She looks down at her hands, which are in white knuckled fists. "I never - I didn't come here to steal your girlfriend, Hana. I'm not that kind of person. I can - I can leave. You don't have to kick Karou out."
What?
"What are you talking about? No one's getting kicked out," You say. "I'm the one who's leaving."
"What?" Karou asked.
Why is she surprised?
"This is your apartment anyway," you say, because it is. "Nijimura put it in your name down on the ownership of the building."
After your first trip to the hospital, you had him draw it up. If you gave up, you want Karou at least to be taken care of - a place to stay, a college fund, and an account with her name on it. She kept her part of the bargain, so you'll keep your promise to take care of her in return.
Nijimura set it up without comment. He knew better than to give you direct control of something this big. You can barely take care of yourself.
Karou stares at you. "He… he what? You what?"
Bitter anger wells up in your heart. You weren't just going to kick her to the curb because you were a fucking moron who got crushes on people who don't want or need you. She didn't have - she didn't have to look so shocked.
You're barely a person, but you try to keep your word. You know you're in the wrong. You're breaking your word - you're breaking a contract.
Kaour swallows. "Hana, I can't.. I can't -"
"I'm leaving in a few minutes," you interrupt, abruptly sure that you don't - you don't want to know. Knowing only hurts. "I just came to get…"
Get what? The clothes you never wore, the books you don't read, the money you don't carry, the schoolwork you don't do, the phone in your hand?
You look around. The apartment is utterly empty of your influence. There's nothing here that belongs to you. Even Katsumi, only here for a few weeks, has left more trace on this place than you have after nearly a year.
You might as well not even exist.
(The world wavers around you, your heart wavers inside you. Your mind feels cold and sharp, pressing against the inside of your skull.
Broken glass. Glittering shards.
If you are going to lose everything, might as well burn the bridge behind you.)
A pinprick of cold pressing against your leg brings your back down into your body, and you realize your breath is uneven. You glance down at Nigou, meet it's blue eyes. Kuroko's blue eyes.
They're almost pretty when there's no disdain or resentment in them.
"I just came back to get Nigou," You say. You pick the dog up. He feels oddly heavy for such a small thing. His heart thumps against your hands.
Karou blinks. "Hana -"
"I'm leaving," You announce, and do so before the other two have a chance to reply.
You don't want to know.
Knowing never helps.
:::
It's not until you get to the ground floor you realize that you have no idea how to take care of an animal. Any animal.
You stare down at Nigou.
He stares up, tail wagging madly.
"What the fuck am I going to do with you?" You ask. "I could give you to Kuroko…"
But you'd rather cut off your arm than speak to him right now.
Nigou barks, which is unhelpful. You hold it by the scruff of its neck and examine it from the air. The dog seems perfectly happy to be dangled in the air. It's tail is still wagging and those strange eyes are still fixed on your face.
You've never taken care of a dog before. Karou did it, and you mostly threw the dog's toys around when you were present. All of the dog's stuff was up in the penthouse still. You didn't even grab the leash.
...You aren't acting like yourself.
It's like there's a buzz under your skin; nervous energy pulsing up and down your body that warns you not to stop, not to move. Keep going.
Keep going or fall apart.
"I guess we should find someplace to sleep tonight," you tell the dog, because even thinking about that strange, awful energy threatens to bring it crashing down on your head. "I don't think you can be in the park without a leash or something. You might, like, run away and getting hit by a car."
Which would solve your dog problem, sure, but you already picked this little guy up. THat means he's your responsibility. You have to care for him until you can hire someone more capable - or turn around and go back into the apartment, give the dog back. Face up to Karou and Katsumi's questions.
You'd rather play basketball with Aomine again.
You tuck Nigou under your arm like a basketball and sigh. "Alright, finding a place to stay."
(Don't disappear, Mursakibara's voice whispers.)
...Does this count as disappearing?
Probably. You're not telling anyone where you're going after all. Mostly because you don't know where you're going. Just away.
You pull out your phone, finger hovering over the speed dial. Nijimura would want to know. It's his job to know where you are. You don't want you dad to get angry at him for not keeping track of you.
(If he even notices. New kid on the way -)
(Your breath shudders out.
Stop.)
Before you can decide, a black car rolls to a stop beside you. You blink once, slowly. Did Karou already call Nijimura?
The tinted window rolls down. You meet a pair of mismatched eyes in gold and red.
"...Akashi," you say.
He smiles, polite and empty. "Hana. Please, get in. We have much to discuss before the game."