Kuroko walked across the grounds of Seirin, determined to take on this new journey, determined not to run away again. His will was strong, his mind was set — he would play basketball again and bring down the Generation of Miracles to show them the meaning of defeat, and make them realize that winning wasn't exactly everything. His steps were in a regular interval, steady and sure, yet still when he raised his head towards the sky, he couldn't help but think. How strange it was without them. Exactly three years ago now, he met them. Now three years later, he was starting anew. This was his start. He wondered, where were they starting from? His blue eyes scanned the sky, searching, as if by going through every inch he could find his friends. Even if it seemed weird, they were there. They might be far apart from each another, but all of them were under the same sky. If he looked hard enough, would he be able pinpoint exactly which part of the sky they were under? Would he feel comforted and not feel alone, like he was feeling right now?
The classroom had emptied save for one person. Kise stayed in his chair long after the students had gone. It was alright. It was only the first few days of class, so he didn't have any close acquaintances yet enough to call his friend. Soon he would devote his time to basketball, more girls would flock around him the moment they found out that Kise Ryouta had joined their school and the basketball team. Soon. For now, he relished the feeling of being alone. There was a strange sensation in his chest. Not exactly unfamiliar or even strange, only the fact that it should not be there. Didn't they want this? To be as far away from each other as possible? In the last year of their middle school, the camaraderie they had towards each other seemed more and more superficial as days had passed. They had been a team once, even if it had been merely a collective noun, so they'd talked and bantered like usual, although all of them had known it wasn't the same. Nothing had been. Back then, the animosity and tension had been so strong and thick, they'd just wanted to get away from it all. It had only been a few weeks since he'd left Teiko, left the friends he once had — or rather left the people who had once been his friends — and now sitting here in Kaijou, the feeling of being alone never felt so real. They all wanted to get away from one another, but was this part of what they had all bargained for?
For Midorima, nothing had changed. He shot the ball through the hoop, and the sound of it bouncing echoed in the empty gym of Shutoku. Wiping his sweat, he got another ball from the rack and repeated the same thing he'd been doing for the past hour. It's how it had always been. Do everything he could to the best of his abilities. Nothing had changed. Nothing should. Then why, despite his stoic face and robotic shooting, was he trying to defend himself in his head? It's not like there was a need to mope. He's falling back into his usual routine of tireless training like back in Teiko because this was the way it was supposed to be. This was the path he had chosen. He didn't have an ounce of regret because this was what he'd thought to be the best path for him to take. It didn't matter that he couldn't hear silly bickering in the background. Or that there's no one to interrupt him from his training and 'force' him to get ice cream before going home. He took another ball, and faltered in his motion as he simply stared at the hoop several meters away from where he was standing. Where did he stand? The ball elevated into the air and took a high arc. For once, Midorima didn't stray his eyes away from the ball. He was a man of certainty because he never did things halfheartedly. He was always sure because he always did the best that he could. But he couldn't find his ground this time. He felt like he was floating in the air because he couldn't understand his feelings. He shouldn't care at all, but he knew deep inside — as he always had — he did anyway.
The rooftop was the perfect place to hide. No one came here, it was secluded, and moreover, he felt free. Aomine lay on the floor, eyes closed and arms folded at the back of his head. He would surely get an earful from his childhood friend again, but he could care less. He didn't want to go back down and deal with people and act as if he gave a damn about everything. Here, on the rooftop of one of the buildings of Touou, he couldn't be seen by anyone, so the world could pretend he didn't exist. He opened his eyes when he heard the sound of a bird flying overhead. In his position, he could only see the blue sky. He should feel free, but all he felt was boredom, pure utter boredom. He shut his eyes again. Of course, nothing had changed. He didn't expect otherwise anyway. What with basketball being the same. He was at the top, no one was his equal. So naturally he was alone too. It was the same as Teiko. His eyes opened again, but this time slowly. Middle school, huh... For Aomine, middle school only meant a few things. Basketball, victories, boredom, and the Generation of Miracles. He had spent three years with them, but already it felt like light years since everyone had been together with smiles on their faces. Aomine's steely eyes closed once again, and this time he was determined to sleep the afternoon away. Back in Teiko, he'd used to sleep on the rooftop as well since basketball had started making him feel lonely. Back then, he had really thought he couldn't be any lonelier. But alas, he wasn't absolute like Akashi.
Murasakibara hated noises because they were annoying. But he needed the snacks so he tried to endure anyway. He was currently in the arcade after school. There was no practice today and it was good, because he didn't feel like going. Yosen wouldn't tolerate what he had once been privileged with in Teiko, he knew that. It was annoying and troublesome, but he couldn't help it so he'd deal with it. The arcade wasn't exactly crowded, but there were still a fair number of people playing in different booths and games, a great number of them were students. Murasakibara treaded through the arcade in his usual lazy demeanor. But once in a while his lidded eyes would flit to groups of students playing a game and shouting in either delight or frustration. He found them really annoying and wanted to crush them, but still he found himself staring, watching as they smacked their friend's head, partnered to win in a computer game, and laughed together. Once he got his snacks, he stopped by one empty crane booth. He stared at the items, not exactly feeling up to game. But he didn't want to go home yet. He wasn't really good at crane games but he played anyway. He hated losing, so he at least took this a bit seriously. It might have been a few minutes, or probably just seconds when he straightened back up. In his mind, he wondered what he was doing. He actually felt silly, doing this. Once his concentration had broken, he started to realize how quiet it was. He was still in the same place, everything was the same. Except the silence in his head seemed to be much louder and deafening than the buzz of people moving all around him. That's when he looked around and outside the arcade. That's right, he was in Akita. He was the only one here. There was no way that... He took the price he got from the game — a frog plush toy — and walked out of the arcade. For some reason he couldn't stand the loud silence in his ears.
He gave orders and they listened. This had always been the way things were with Akashi. He was absolute, so it's only natural that he be made captain of the basketball team and lead others instead of following. He reveled in the idea of making people heed his commands, and furthermore, the resulting victory of his leadership. No one opposed him, and it was just right. Apart from the fact that a small part of it seemed not in place. But he merely shrugged it off and thought that it's because he's in the company of new teammates, and therefore it must be, at least to some point, strange to him to work with new people when he had played with them for three years. It wasn't anything special or ordinary. It wasn't even like him to think these things. So he went on with the day's practice. As he watched and supervised the training, his mind wandered to that time when the Generation of Miracles had practiced together, or more like, after practice when they'd been just waiting for an announcement from their coach and were goofing around like the young teenaged boys they were. To Akashi, it seemed absurd that they, the strongest team in middle school and probably in all of Japan, had acted stupidly back then. But then again, they had still been the ones who had won Teiko its countless battles. It didn't really matter to him, as the only thing that did were their wins. But he knew that sometimes it's as if a part of himself believed that it was because it's them that they won. He didn't like to believe that, because he could make this team, Rakuzan, rise above them all, even those former prodigy teammates of his. Still, he — the Akashi right then and there — wasn't all that made up himself, was he?
Sorry for the low quality of the fic, but after holding on to my KnB fanfics for five years, I'm just so burnt out from everything that I don't have the power to work on these anymore. I've decided to just hell with it and finish all my drafts and finally post them so my hard work would at least mean something to me :')