It is halfway through my fourth shift at Uoshin Nogizaka, as I'm pouring Sanji his third Sake of the evening, that Kuroko walks into the bar. I don't notice him at first – at this point, all I am aware of is two men walking through the front door and making their way to one of the tables in the corner. It's only once Sanji has thanked me, in what I am discovering is his usual longwinded way, that I notice that one of the men to enter was the Phantom Sixth Man. He is sat with a handsome older gentleman who is familiar enough to me that I am sure that I know him, but not familiar enough that I can think of his name. I am unsure if Kuroko has noticed me on the bar, but he quickly meets my eyes and smiles. Even across a bar, Kuroko's talent for observation clearly hasn't gone anywhere. I raise my hand in greeting, and we leave it there for now. Benjiro notices me waving and looks over towards the table with a smile.

"Ah, he's back again. Do you know him?"

"I used to. He was be a teammate at Teiko, and then a rival of sorts during high-school."

Benjiro nods his understanding.

"I see. Well, he's been in here a few times in the last month or so, always with some basketball coach. I think he's recruiting."

What on earth could Kuroko possibly be recruiting for?

"Recruiting?"

Benjiro nods, seemingly thrilled to know something that I do not.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure he's a teacher at some middle school, and every time I've seen him, he's been buying drinks for somebody involved in coaching. Look..."

He gestures to the table.

"That's Katsunori Harasawa, the former Touou coach. He just retired last year after coaching the Hiroshima Dragonflies for five seasons."

I recognise him now, although his hair is a lot shorter and greyer than what I remember.

"I've seen that guy at the courts a couple of times, always playing with students, so my thinking is he's probably involved in student basketball."

That makes an awful lot of sense and goes some way to explaining why he had been playing basketball with a group of junior-high kids.

"What does he drink?" I ask Benjiro, and he laughs.

"Draught beer if it's a Friday evening, but every other time he asks for a vanilla milkshake with a shot of Baileys in it."

Of course Kuroko would be the one to order a milkshake in an Izakaya. He may have that ridiculous moustache now, but clearly some things never change.

"Do we even sell milkshakes?"

"No, but we've got milk and a blender, and the first time he asked I went out and bought a tub of vanilla ice cream."

"Is it normal to let customers make up their own drinks?"

Benjiro chuckles, looking at me with a confusing smile.

"Where do you think all our cocktails come from? If we've got the ingredients, we just make the drink and charge them what we like – in this case, six-hundred Yen. I'll get you to handle that table if you like?"

I very deliberately shrug, feigning indifference.

"I do not particularly care either way, but I am happy to do it."

If I am honest with myself, I have thought about Kuroko a lot since I saw him playing basketball that day. Nothing specific, as such, but in quiet moments, memories of playing basketball with him at Teiko, and of playing against him and Kagami, will come to the surface, and once the strangeness of the memories wore off, I have become content to let myself remember. I never particularly got on with him, which was neither of our faults – blood-type incompatibility is common, and if fate has decided we weren't to be friends, then who am I to argue. With that said... we were close. Never friendly, but close. I like to think that we respected each other a great deal. We found ourselves on a team of prodigies, and continued to work hard every single day that we played with them, long after the others abandoned the discipline of practice. Words were few and far between, but I remember a couple of conversations in which, were our blood-types compatible, I could imagine us being friends.

As I said, we were never friends. But we shared a couple of secrets in quiet voices when it was just the two of us in practice (Akashi was always there, but rarely involved – at this point, he had become more of a manager and captain than a player). And, despite our differences, his basketball was truly beautiful. As incompatible as we were, Kuroko taught me, and indeed each of us on that team, how to trust in another player. We competed all the time, and played entirely for our own strength, and yet I knew that if Kuroko was on the court, all I had to worry about was finding whichever spot I felt comfortable shooting from, and the ball would come. Akashi's passes were perfect for a point-guard, absolutely, but Kuroko... Kuroko did not even need to see you to know where you were, and exactly what position you wanted the ball to line up against your palm. If you didn't know him, he would have made it look so natural. But every single day I saw how hard he worked to hone his skills. The way he would stare whenever he could, drinking in and memorising our everyday movements, observing our rhythm, even outside of practice. I had always found the staring unnerving, but after long enough, it just became a part of who he was. He knew the role that Akashi had for him in the team, and he knew that if he wanted to continue playing with the first string, he had to perform every part of his role perfectly. It was life or death for him. The basketball Kuroko played required him to be perfectly in tune with every one of us, and despite our difference, I have always respected his dedication to ensuring that he could continue to serve and support his team.

I wonder how much he has changed.

"Midorima-kun... It's good to see you."

For God's sake, I turn away from the bar for one second to put some glasses away and suddenly he's there, making me jump, just like when we were kids. I manage to not cry out in surprise, and turn around to see Kuroko standing on the other side of the bar, wallet in hand.

"Kuroko."

Seeing him standing so close to me, after so many years, I am unsure what to say. What do you say to an old teammate whose texts I successfully ignored throughout the entirety of my marriage? In the end, I decide, Kuroko is a customer.

I bow my head slightly.

"Welcome to Uoshin Nogizaka, what can I do for you?"

He smiles, ever so slightly, and immediately the first thing I can think of his how young he looks, even after all this time. He has the glasses, hair and moustache of a man ten years older, and a few faint lines around the corners of his eyes and mouth, but his skin is still pale and youthful, and his smile is exactly the same as I remember.

"Ah, yes, I was buying drinks. Please could I have a pint of Asahi Super Dry, and a vanilla shake with a shot of Baileys for myself."

"Of course."

I ring him up on the till, and he pays cash. Once I am successfully occupied with making the drinks, he speaks.

"You were the last person I expected to see, Midorima-kun. How long have you been working here?"

Small talk. I guess it's better than an awkward silence, at any rate.

"This is my fourth shift. I also did not expect to see you here... do you come often?"

Kuroko chuckles, looking down at the bar with a grin.

"Really? Do you come here often? Your pickup lines need some work, Midorima-kun."

I glare at him, and then smile as I realise that the ice is broken.

"For goodness sake... It is a perfectly reasonable question considering I do, in fact, work here."

He nods and leans gently against the bar with one arm.

"It's quieter here than the other local, and I prefer to be able to hear when I am in company. I only usually come on the odd occasion, but I've had a lot of informal meetings recently. This place is pretty good for that."

I nod my understanding as I pour milk into our blender jug, bending down to open the mini-freezer.

"What kind of meetings? Anything interesting?"

Kuroko shrugs.

"Believe it or not, I'm the Deputy Headmaster at Teiko, and the basketball team has been without an official coach for the last year. I've been filling in, but it's time the kids had a proper, dedicated coach. Sadly, I'm not having much success."

I make a vague affirmative sound as I begin to scoop what I imagine is a decent amount of vanilla ice cream into the blender.

"That is surprising. Teiko is a prestigious coaching position, I would have thought interest would be high."

Kuroko shakes his head sadly.

"You would think so... The truth is, Teiko hasn't been considered a strong basketball school for almost a decade, and we have struggled to keep coaches even when we do hire them. The players don't know how to win games, and struggle to find the drive to improve when we continually fail to qualify for even regional tournaments."

I snap the lid onto the blender.

"I see. The shadow of a hundred victories can be a heavy burden when you yourself have not experienced them."

Kuroko sighs heavily, and I can see that he's been working hard to try and rectify this.

"That's exactly the problem, Midorima-kun. It's not that we have bad players, it is simply a total lack of a winning attitude. We have become comfortable with mediocrity, and try as I might, I haven't been able to change that. Victory at all costs isn't exactly a philosophy that I find easy to set an example for, especially when we never see victory."

"I wish you the best of luck, Kuroko."

I start the blender, and the conversation is put on hold by the loud whir of machinery. As the milkshake shakes, I grab a branded glass and, with the efficiency of muscle memory that I have already expertly formed, I pour yet another perfect pint. As the beer pours, I am aware of Kuroko staring intently at me, his eyes moving very little behind those bizarre wire-rimmed glasses. It's unnerving, him being so close after all this time. Watching my every movement down to the breath coming in and out of my lungs. Like he's getting to know me all over again.

It is as I bring the beer to its perfectly foamy head that I realise how much I have missed him. But of course, I could never tell him that.

Instead, I gently put the pint down on the bar and shut off the blender.

"You pour an excellent pint, Midorima-kun."

Before I can apply any sort of filter to my thoughts, uncharacteristically jovial sarcasm forces its way out of my mouth.

"Well, I do everything I possibly can, and I always carry my lucky item. That is why my pints are always perfect."

He laughs, his entire face lighting up at the joke, and I find a smile crawling unbidden across my face – it's infectious.

"I've missed you, Midorima-kun."

And suddenly the atmosphere is sober and melancholy. I really have no idea what to say to that.

When he speaks again, his voice is low and quiet, and he waits until I have turned away to pour his milkshake.

"Midorima-kun... what happened to you?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"I... I'm not sure what I mean. Maybe the drink will help, but... It was hard, waking up one day and not being your friend anymore. And I worried about you, when you stopped replying to my texts. I assumed you were just busy being a newlywed, but then before I knew it, years had gone by."

I stir his milkshake, and turn around a little quicker than I intended, placing it in front of him.

"I was not aware that we were friends. Enjoy your drinks, Kuroko."

He looks down at the bar again, and doesn't take them. My words came out harsher than intended, but I mean them. Our blood types were never compatible enough for us to be considered friends.

"If you're not okay... you can call me. I wouldn't mind that."

The bittersweet awkward turn that the conversation has taken is thankfully saved by the arrival of another customer, and Kuroko smiles his thanks at me before making his way back to his table. For the briefest of moments, I watch him leave.

I find myself looking over to Kuroko's table more than I should as the shift goes on. He talks animatedly to Coach Harasawa, with none of the awkwardness that I became familiar with back at Teiko, but in less than an hour, the Coach has made his excuses and left. Clearly, another failure in his many attempts to find our old middle-school team a basketball coach. And to my surprise, he remains at the table, just sitting and staring into his glass. I wonder for the briefest of seconds if I have hurt his feelings. Not that I care – he should have known better than to throw such depressing questions my way when we've only just met after all these years. He caught me off guard, that's what it is. And besides, we were not friends, that is just a fact. I guess I never stopped to consider whether or not he thought of me as such, but really, I shouldn't need to. Right now, he certainly looks down, but it is most likely linked to his job, and his meeting – not my admittedly rather cold reaction to what, in hindsight, was just a genuinely concerned question.

Damn it all, I just know that I am going to end up apologising to him, which is very out of character for me, but...

Teiko Middle School Practice Gym

"Tetsu-kun!"

This is not the first time that Momoi has invaded our after-hours practice to throw herself at Kuroko, and I am certain that it will not be the last. Usually, Kuroko is able to see her coming, but we're in the middle of a complex pass-and-shoot drill that Coach Sanada drew up for us earlier today, and he doesn't notice until she's crashed into him, almost knocking him backwards. With a scowl, I catch his frankly terrible pass (not that I can blame him) and drain the three-pointer.

"Must you do this every time?" I ask, to nobody in particular, but as usual, Momoi's attention is focussed purely on Kuroko.

I never expect her to be in her uniform when she intrudes on these practice sessions, but it is certainly telling that her after-school attire manages to be even more revealing than her usual skirt (on the subject of which, it is positively criminal that school-uniform companies can get away with selling skirts that are little more than plaid belts to girls under the age of sixteen). She's wearing shorts that look like they could be painted on, and a strappy vest top that is clearly losing an ongoing battle with her chest. I have never been attracted to Momoi, but even I find myself watching the rise and fall of her chest with more interest than I should.

Sue me.

I may pride myself on my calculated and logical personality, but I have a pulse in my balls the same as the next man.

Kuroko, on the other hand, has never seemed to particularly notice. Now that I think about it, that is probably one of the reasons why her wardrobe is the way that it is. He's always such a gentleman to her, but for somebody so obsessed with observing everybody around him, surely,he must realise that Momoi is absolutely smitten with him. We may not understand why, but it obvious to anybody with eyes that Teiko's manager has a great many romantic plans for the Phantom Sixth Man. Not that seems to have any feelings about this one way or the other.

"Tetsu-kun, I really need your help!"

Kuroko manages to extricate himself from her arms, not even sparing a glance for her attire.

"What's wrong, Momoi-san?"

"I need to finish my scouting reports for Akashi-kun before tomorrow and Tetsu-kunis really good at observation!"

"Sorry Momoi-san, I am busy tonight. Midorima-kun and I are practising."

Momoi, as expected, doesn't take this particularly well, and launches a more concerted offensive.

"But Tetsu-kun, you're always practicing, and I really need help. And besides, my parents are away, and I'd be so grateful!"

And there it is. Even Kuroko must be able to see through Momoi's transparent attempts, but, as usual, he seems entirely nonplussed.

"If you need help, why don't you ask Kise-kun? He's very good at observing people, and he told me that he isn't busy tonight."

"But I want you, Tetsu-kun!"

Kuroko smiles apologetically at her, and bends down to pick up a basketball.

"I'm sorry, Momoi-san, but I am busy tonight. I hope you manage to get your work done."

And just like that, it's over. Kuroko passes me the ball, and after shaking my head in disbelief at the Phantom Sixth Man's total obliviousness to Momoi's barely concealed request for a make-out session, I dribble the ball to my starting position.

"Go!" Kuroko shouts, and begins to run to the cone we set out. I pass out to him, and sprint around the outside of the three-point area, really pushing myself to travel as fast as I can, imagining that my mark is following me closely. The ball meets Kuroko's hand as he reaches the elbow, and immediately he swings his arm around and redirects it towards the corner. I reach the corner just in time for the ball to slap perfectly into my hand, and, obviously, my shot is true. This is not so much a shooting drill as a passing drill – Coach Sanada knows by now that threes, particular the shorter-distance corner threes, are easier than layups to me. What I am working on is speed and fluidity. Akashi and Coach are planning to utilise Murasakibara's command of the inside on offense for the next few games, and both Kise and I have been instructed to become comfortable with perimeter sprints, in order to collapse defences and run them into screens (not that Aomine is at all happy about setting screens). With Teiko's level of talent, this kind of tactic is likely unnecessary, but it gives us something to work towards, and some vague illusion of progression and challenge.

Momoi watches us for a minute or two, and then resigns herself to a lonely night. Kuroko is so focussed on our drill that he doesn't seem to notice her leave. We practice like this for a few minutes, and then I catch one of his passes and do not shoot.

"Kuroko, I must say: that was one of the most pathetic things I have ever seen."

He looks confused and a little hurt.

"Was the pass bad? It felt like normal."

"Not the pass, fool; your passes are perfect. I am talking about your conversation with Momoi. I hope you realise that I could not care less if you left practice to make out with her."

Now he really looks confused, but this time, it looks deliberate.

"Why would I make out with her? She wanted help with scouting our next opponent."

I roll my eyes, exasperated with his seemingly purposeful obtuseness.

"If Momoi genuinely needed help with assembling scouting reports, she would have asked Kise or myself, and she would have done so while wearing appropriate clothing. Furthermore, she very deliberately told you that her parents were not home, and that she would be grateful. The only way she could have been any clearer is if she had tied a sign around her neck that read 'DTF'. I refuse to believe that you haven't noticed this."

Kuroko looks down at the ground with a resigned smile on his face.

"So... you noticed it too?"

"Of course I did, fool."

He doesn't respond. Instead, he picks up a basketball and begins tossing it from one hand to the other. I give a resigned shrug and hold my hands up to receive the ball. Before I know it, it's in my hand, and I make the shot without even thinking. Kuroko rebounds it, and then it's back in my hand. There's no complex, goal-focussed drills here – this is little more than fidgeting while we work out what to say. The basketball equivalent of twiddling our thumbs.

I do not know how much time passes before I decide to speak.

"Why do you not respond to Momoi's advances, Kuroko?"

I make a shot, and he rebounds it, seemingly glad of the distraction.

"I am not sure how to, Midorima-kun."

He makes another perfect, almost unconscious pass to me, and I sink it without a second thought.

"Momoi-san is one of my best friends, and I like her very much. But... she makes me uncomfortable when she acts like this. I... I just don't think I see her that way."

We are not looking at each other, absorbed in basketball, and I think to myself that this is probably the reason why we are able to have this conversation. We are not friends, but we will always be teammates. That is enough.

"Do you not find her attractive?"

He doesn't respond immediately, appearing to put genuine consideration into his response.

"I know that she is... but I guess I don't really feel it. I enjoy talking to her, and when we hang out outside of school it's fun, but I don't feel anything when I imagine kissing her. It's... uncomfortable is the only word I can think of,Midorima-kun."

"Do you think that this is because Momoi is not your type?"

"I don't understand... my type?"

For such an observant person, Kuroko really does present as totally oblivious sometimes.

I receive another pass from him, and this time I dribble to the other side of the three-point area before pulling up off the dribble and shooting. The shot is true, but it clips the rim on the way in. Perhaps my pull-up jumper could use some more practice – I shall have to speak with Akashi.

"How do I explain this?"

Kuroko rebounds, and passes. I shoot again. The routine is really rather comforting.

"Aomine is very vocal about his preference for girls with large breasts. Murasakibara likes girls who are tall, but not taller than him. I am primarily attracted to intelligence. And Kise once told me that his type of girl is one who will not 'tie him down', whatever that means."

Kuroko nods his understanding, letting the rebound bounce of its own accord into his hand.

"And that is a type?"

"As I understand it, yes. What type of girl do you like, Kuroko?"

I then realise that this sounds too much like genuine interest for my taste.

"Not that I care, obviously. But perhaps understanding what type of girl you like will help you better understand how to handle Momoi's advances."

Kuroko shakily dribbles the ball as his thinks, and once again I am amazed by the fact that such an incredible playmaker can be so incompetent when it comes to fundamentals like dribbling and shooting.

"I know this isn't helpful, but I really don't think I have a 'type of girl' that I like..."

I truly believe that there is no problem in the world that cannot be solved by the application of logic. It is time to test this belief.

"Would you like to find out?"

"Benjiro-san?"

He looks over at me from his perch on the end of the bar, grinning when he realises that I've caught him staring at the TV in the corner.

"What's up, Midorima-san?"

"Would it be alright if I took a break?"

He laughs at the request.

"You never need to ask to go for a cigarette, go right ahead."

I shake my head.

"I was planning on talking to Kuroko. I... I have not seen him in many years."

Benjiro nods his understanding and casts an eye around the sparsely populated bar.

"Tell you what, Midorima-san, take the rest of the evening off."

That was unexpected, and not at all what I was hoping for.

"That won't be necessary, Benjiro-san; we are still open. And besides, I could do with the hours."

He shrugs, apparently undeterred.

"I'll clock you out at the end of my shift, then. But look around – it's a Thursday night, there's nobody here, and we've still got Mako working tables. You've worked incredibly hard this week, and you've come in early twice. Get yourself a drink, so at least there's some money going through the till, and go catch up with your friend."

I can't work out what to say to this, and he grins amicably.

"That's an order from your supervisor, Midorima-san. And if you feel like clearing your own table so that you're technically still on the clock, go right ahead."

Benjiro truly is a strange young man, but he treats me with incredible kindness.

"Thank you, Benjiro-san."

"Think nothing of it..."

He pauses thoughtfully for a moment.

"Midorima-san... It isn't my place to pry, and I would never wish to intrude on your personal life. But I get the feeling that you're going through a bit of a hard time at the moment. I really hope that working here helps, but I think that talking to an old friend is always a good idea."

For such a happy-go-lucky, enthusiastic person, he can be incredibly astute. In this way, he reminds me ever-so-slightly of Takao.

"I appreciate that, Benjiro-san. Truly."

"Good."

He seems incredibly pleased with himself, and I can't help but smile.

"Now, what're you drinking?"

"Are there any idols or models that you like?"

"No."

"Any actresses?"

"None that I can think of."

"You must have had crushes before. What did your last crush look like?"

"Hmm... They were taller than me. Really outgoing and passionate, funny and friendly, and a bit of an idiot. Dark hair... dark skin, too – darker than usual, anyway?"

"Dark as in 'black', or dark as in 'Aomine'?"

"Dark as in Aomine. I don't think I know any black people, do you?"

"I can't say I do... Japan is not exactly huge on multiculturalism. Okay, so do you like any other girls with those characteristics?"

"I don't know any girls with those characteristics."

"I suppose your crush is rather unique, then. What is her name? Does she go to this school?"

"Yes."

"Okay, why don't you ask her out?"

"It's a little more complicated than that."

"What is so complicated about it? Does she already have a boyfriend?"

"No..."

"Is she older?"

"Only a little older than me."

"So,what is the problem, Kuroko?"

"Aren't we trying to discover what type of girl I like?"

"Of course, but all that becomes irrelevant if there's somebody specific that you already like!"

"I don't think this is working, Midorima-kun."

"Only because you are being deliberately vague with your answers!"

"I haven't been vague."

"Yes, you have! I have asked you a comprehensive series of questions designed to accurately determine a general type of woman that you like, and all you've done is say no, and at one point basically described Aomine! I don't see how... Oh."

"..."

"You..."

"..."

"Once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however imp..."

"Shut up, Midorima-kun, and please don't needlessly quote Conan Doyle at me."

"Okay... So... you like Aomine?"

"I... Yes. Please don't tell anyone."

With a small glass of Whiskey (Irish, always) in my hand, I make my way over to Kuroko's table. He looks up from his milkshake as I sit down opposite, and smiles, although it doesn't reach his eyes.

"Midorima-kun."

Once again, I have no idea what to say. It seems pathetic to apologise for hurting his feelings, and asking about his meeting seems pointless when I can see the results in his unusually downcast face. In the absence of words, I opt for a sip of Whiskey, and hold it on my tongue for a long time as I think. And then, with the comforting warmth of holy water spreading through my chest, I decide to opt for honesty.

"You asked me what happened."

Kuroko nods, not meeting my eyes.

"Yes."

I take another drink, mirroring his nod absent-mindedly.

"I am not fond of talking about myself like that..."

"I know, I shouldn't have asked, I just..."

I hold up my hand to stop him, and take a deep breath.

"I... I'm not okay, Kuroko."

He smiles sadly, slurping some of his milkshake through a straw.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

Whiskey and company make for good bedfellows, and serve to make the thought of honesty easier to bear. With this in mind...

"As you know, I attended the University of Tokyo to study law. Takao... Takao came with me. I still don't know if this was coincidence, but I suspect my attendance factored into his decision. We joined the basketball team, obviously. And..."

I take another sip of my drink.

"The easiest way to say this is that I hit a wall. I have never struggled with my studies, but for some reason, I found it increasingly difficult to complete assignments to my usual standards. My mind... My memory began to become unreliable, and I would experience mental blocks with alarming frequency. And the basketball... I found that I couldn't keep up. Between studying and the intense practices, I began to fail tests, and I began to miss shots. It became too much, but the thought of changing my plans or routine never crossed my mind. Why would it? I was so unaccustomed to failure that adjusting what I was doing was never an option, but... We started to lose games, and I started to become unhappy."

Kuroko is an exceptional listener. His eyes never leave my face, except when he drinks his milkshake, and he doesn't speak or ask questions. After so many years of observing me, he knows that for me to talk so openly is unheard of, and he seems content to simply let me get whatever it is on my chest, off.

"It... I lived like this for almost a year, and then a friend of my father's, the owner of the law firm, got in touch, and gave me a conditional offer of a high-paying graduate position in the firm, provided I achieved a certain level of excellence in my studies. I started to think, very seriously, about quitting basketball, but obviously Takao encouraged me to keep at it, even offering to help me study after practice. I thought... I thought that I could make it work."

Kuroko nods, eyes fixed on mine, urging me to keep going, and I find myself having to swallow an unexpected lump in my throat.

"What happened?" he asks, and I find the lump in my throat gets in the way of my words.

"I... You know what happened, Kuroko. You... you called me afterwards, and you said..."

He shakes his head.

"This isn't about what I said, Midorima-kun. What happened?"

I blink slowly. I take a drink of my Whiskey. And then, in a choked, low voice that is barely a whisper:

"Takao died..."