The sky above is as clear as I've seen it in Tokyo, and I can hear birdsong. Other sounds make up the rich tapestry of the morning – cars on the road, the bounce of the basketball, the sound of two kids playing a one-on-one the other side of the court. Kuroko and I have been playing basketball together for almost three hours now. I have taken exactly nine-hundred-and-seventy three-point shots. I have made exactly eighty-one of them. It is all I can do to not throw the ball as hard as I can at Kuroko in my frustration, but my desire to at least make one-hundred shots is stronger than my desire to never touch a basketball again. We spend most of the time playing half-court one-on-one, which, humiliatingly, Kuroko utterly dominates. Yes, perhaps if I lowered myself to scoring inside the arc, things may be different, but the fact remains that at this present moment in time, the basketball feels more natural in my right hand than my left, and Kuroko has been playing consistently for the entire time I have known him. I can see the hard work he has consistently put in to improve his fundamentals, and while I am undoubtedly faster than him in general (I have, after all, regularly attended a gym in the absence of regular basketball practice), his speed with the ball in his hands puts me to shame. When I attempt to create any kind of space from his defence by dribbling, my left hand invariably fumbles the ball any time I attempt any kind of crossover, and as Kuroko continues to beat me, I become painfully aware of just how much I lost in the accident. Yes, given enough time, I could probably play again. The issue is, it would likely be a matter of months at least before I can even perform basic ball-handling drills confidently. I would almost be better off learning to lead with my right hand.

Whenever we need a respite from the one-on-one games, Kuroko switches to rebounding my shots, grinning and encouraging me on the rare occasion that one of my shots falls through the basket. It occurs to me that he is, perhaps, a little more emotional – or, at least, emotionally free – than he was when he was younger. He smiles wider and more easily, laughs louder... and, of course, there was that stunt this morning. It's clear in his play too. This Kuroko Tetsuya is no longer a shadow. He has no light to hide behind, no Captain to obey, no team to support – this Kuroko is more confident, sure of himself, and somehow even more driven as a result. His play is average, but full of freedom and joy, and for a moment, I am reminded of Aomine's grinning face as he flashed by defenders, back when we played together. Kuroko is no light., that much is certain. But he is free.

I wonder what it would take for me to become free.

It takes me just over one-thousand shots, but I finally reach one-hundred made three-pointers and earn myself a cigarette break. Kuroko hands me a fresh bottle of Gatorade from his bag, and for a moment we sit in silence, as I fill my lungs with smoke. Even though I am not moving around nearly as much as Kuroko, the energy I am exerting on the defensive end has taken an awful lot out of me, and my breathing is far heavier than I would like it to be. Serves me right for smoking all these years. I have tried to circumvent the cardiovascular effect of cigarette smoke with my regular gym workouts, but these are evidently no substitute to regular basketball.

Kuroko seems to be feeling the effects of demolishing me, at the very least; his hair has completely fallen out of his combover, and due to being so much shorter than it used to be, is sweat-spiked in every conceivable direction. He isn't breathing as heavily as I am, though, even though he was moving around an awful lot more. The man has clearly kept himself in shape. It's strange, but I find myself almost regretting not being there to see him change and grow. We were never friends, that much is certain. But Kuroko was an often unnoticeable yet always integral part of the furniture of my formative years, and the disconnect between the Kuroko I knew, and the Kuroko who woke me up this morning, is one that my insufferably logical brain is having a little trouble reconciling.

I would have liked to have seen it.

"Midorima-kun?"

Kuroko's voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

"Kuroko?"

He gestures towards the packet of cigarettes next to me on the bench.

"Can I have one?"

Beyond thinking that I have never heard a more awkward way of asking for a fag, I don't have much of a reaction. I just nod and pass him my lighter. It's only as I watch him light up, that the surprise hits me.

"I didn't know you smoked, Kuroko."

He stands up, exhaling a long cloud of smoke, and begins to absentmindedly wander around in front of the bench.

"I don't."

He smiles, and I find myself unconsciously smiling back. The adrenaline, most likely. Then reason sets in again.

"So, is this your first one?"

"My first what?"

"Your first cigarette, fool."

"What cigarette?"

Is he for real? No, he can't be. But this doesn't seem like a very Kuroko-esque joke.

"The one in your hand."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"The cigarette in your hand. The one you just cadged from me."

He shrugs, as if he genuinely has no idea what I'm talking about."

"Are you quite alright, Midorima-kun?"

"The... The cigarette that you are literally smoking in front of me, right now!"

He lifts it to his eyes, examining it with what looks like feigned curiosity, and then laughs.

"That doesn't sound like me, Midorima-kun. I don't smoke."

"But you are!"

"I must respectfully disagree."

"You... Christ, forget it!"

It's the tiny little smug smile on his face that does it, and I roll my eyes in exasperation before turning my attention back to my own cigarette.

Silence reigns for a moment.

"Midorima-kun... do you own a suit?"

Did he somehow take a blow to the head while I wasn't looking?

"I... Yes, of course I own a suit, I'm a lawyer. Was a lawyer. What kind of a question is that?"

He smiles and takes another drag on his very fucking real cigarette.

"I wanted to ask you something. If I'm entirely honest, it's part of the reason I asked you to come and meet me this morning."

I find myself becoming more and more confused by Kuroko Tetsuya with every second that passes.

"Why do you want to know if I have a suit?"

Kuroko follows the cloud of smoke from his lips with his eyes, watching its gradual ascent before it merges with the sky.

"Do you want to watch the game with me tonight?"

I swear, everything this man says is a total curveball today.

"What game?"

"The Tokyo-Mikawa game."

I sigh, closing my eyes and pushing my glasses a little further up my nose.

"I don't follow basketball, Kuroko. Why would I want to watch a game with you?"

He chuckles slightly, looking down at the ground, as I continue.

"Kagami-kun and Aomine-kun are playing. It might be last time they play against each other before the finals, and even then, they might not both make it."

If he thinks mentioning Aomine is going to make me any more likely to sit through two-and-a-half hours of televised sports, then he is sorely mistaken.

"No thank you. I have no interest in being bored in front of a TV for that long. And besides, what the fuck does this have to do with my owning a suit?"

Kuroko looks up at me with a downright mischievous grin.

"You swear a lot more than you used to."

"Only because you are more annoying than you used to be."

"Fair comment."

He takes another long drag on the cigarette (that is still in his hand, and that he is still very definitely smoking), and smiles.

"Midorima-kun, did you know that Alvark Tokyo came under new ownership last year?"

"As I am sure you are aware, I neither knew that, nor cared. Is there a point to these ridiculous questions?"

I don't know if it's the moustache, the glasses, or some unholy combination of the two, but Kuroko looks an awful lot smugger than I remember him looking in the past.

"There's always a point, Midorima-kun. The previous owner got into some trouble after two very incriminating tape leaks. One was a recording of a phone conversation where he made some racist remarks about Magic Johnson, and the other was CCTV footage of him sexually assaulting a female referee in an elevator. As you can imagine, this wasn't great for his business, and the basketball team was bought up by another company..."

"Kuroko, for the last time, I have no interest in the..."

"Akashi's company", he interrupts with a grin, and as much as I hate it, he's got my attention.

Knowing full well that he's successfully baited me, he continues.

"Akashi-kun has a private box at the stadium, and he has specifically invited us as his guests."

I am so focussed on wrapping my head around the fact that Akashi is rich enough to buy one of the biggest basketball teams in Japan outright, that the real surprise doesn't hit me until a few moments later.

"Wait... Us?"

"Yes. One of his drivers delivered the tickets to me this morning."

"One of his... This morning? Kuroko, we only just met again last night!"

"I know."

He's had more warning than I have, but it's still baffling how calm Kuroko is at this utterly ridiculous turn of events.

"How on earth could he possibly know that we were free? That we'd even seen each other?"

He grins.

"So, you are free, then?"

"Shut up. I am fully aware that Akashi is a freak of nature, but I struggle to believe that he knew we'd met up last night... unless you told him."

Kuroko shakes his head.

"We talk, sometimes, and I've watched games with him before, but I haven't spoken to him since last week."

"So how on earth could he..."

"He's absolute", Kuroko interrupts, and there is no trace of humour or sarcasm in his voice.

The words hit me like a gut-punch. It has been so many years since I have seen Akashi, heard his voice, and yet I still feel the overwhelming weight of memory crash down upon me.

Takao Kazunari is the greatest friend I have ever known. Aomine Daiki, the greatest basketball player. Kagami Taiga, as much as I hate to admit it, is the greatest rival.

But no man has ever commanded my total and utter respect like Akashi Seijuro. Yes, I perhaps knew him better than most, and saw more of his flaws and failings than the others. But even now, even from Kuroko's mouth, his words cut me to the core. Even when I had finally defeated him on the court, I felt like I had suffered a loss. That there was still one more move left in the game, even if the scoreboard said otherwise.

And in this moment - despite my natural apathy, my hatred for being out of control, and my indomitable pride - I know that in the end, I have no choice in the matter.

With my resignation and surrender clear in the timbre of my voice, I ask,

"Why the suit, Kuroko?"

He gives me a look that seems to imply that the answer is obvious.

"Akashi-kun is a successful and influential man. The last time I watched a game from his box, I was introduced to two oil-moguls, two supermodels, five actors, Dirk Nowitzki, and the Prime Minister of Japan."

He notes the shock in my eyes with a self-satisfied smile.

"Akashi-kun is going to have a driver pick us up from my place at five o'clock. Wear the suit."

"Akashi... Thanks for meeting me."

The man who was my Captain gives me an empty smile, and takes a sip of his sake. I have never been to this bar before – it is famously impossible to get a reservation here – but Akashi evidently has his ways.

"My pleasure, Shintaro. It has been far too long since I have heard from you. What can I do for you?"

All of a sudden, the nerves hit me. I don't know why I become anxious around Akashi, especially since I have known him for so long, but even now there is some small part of me that becomes embarrassed in his presence. Some deep-seated feeling of inadequacy that desires above all else to be well thought-of and validated by this man who I have always had the utmost respect for. Still, I asked him here for a reason, and the last thing Akashi needs is for me to waste his time.

"Akashi, are you aware that I am getting married?"

He nods, swilling the sake in his glass around in gentle circles. His face is inscrutable, and I have no idea how he feels about this significant event in my life.

"I had heard. Sugimoto Fujiko, if I am not mistaken?"

I'm not surprised that he knows.

"Yes."

He smiles without teeth and casts a lazy eye around the bar.

"Then I must offer you my congratulations. If you require wedding insurance, please do not hesitate to give my name to the Insurance department of the Akashi Cooperation. You will be guaranteed a favourable rate."

"Thank you, Akashi. The wedding will be a small affair, close friends only... But I did have a more personal request of you, if I may."

He ever-so-slightly raises one eyebrow.

"Ask."

I take a sip of my drink, and clear my throat, pushing the nerves down to the very pit of my stomach.

"I... This is hard for me, Akashi, but... Obviously, I am unable to ask Takao to be my best man."

"That would certainly be difficult, yes. You have my sympathies."

"Thank you, but I do not require sympathy. I would like to respectfully ask you if you would consider being my best man."

Akashi's face betrays no emotion save for deep thought, and for a moment, he does not speak.

"I see. Why ask me for this?"

Why, indeed? I have not spoken regularly to Akashi since the last Inter-High tournament, and while I certainly spent the most time with him out of all my Teiko teammates, I never considered what we had to be a friendship. But... I suppose, if I am to get married, of all the men in my life, I desire his blessing and support the most.

"I respect you, Akashi. I always have. I can think of nobody else that I would want to support me on such an important day. Please, consider it."

"I understand... Nonetheless, Shintaro, I must respectfully decline."

My face falls. I can't help it. I knew that there was a chance that he would say no, but I hadn't thought about what that would feel like. As it turns out, it feels like being crushed.

"I... I see. Can I ask why?"

Akashi takes another sip of sake and looks up at the ceiling for a moment.

"It may be difficult to understand. Simply put, Shintaro, it is because I believe you are making a mistake."

What. The fuck. Entirely out of the blue, his candour knocks me for six. And what makes him think he has the right to even say that?

"What's that supposed to mean, Akashi?"

"It means what it means. This is a big decision for you, one that I know that you do not take lightly. I respect that. However, the fact remains that I do not see this as working out favourably for you. I do not believe that you have made the right decision. I do not believe that Fujiko is the right person, and I do not believe that you are getting married for the right reasons."

He must be able to see the hurt in my face, because he reaches across the table and puts his hand on top of mine. The contact is jarring, but I know better than to push him away.

"Shintaro, only you control how your life will turn out. And I hope you know that whatever you decide, and whatever you turn your hand to, you need only ask for my support and I will provide it whatever way I can. But I also hope you understand that to stand next to you as your best man, at a wedding which I believe will harm you in the long run, would be dishonest of me, and I could never forgive myself for that. I... I am truly sorry for the hurt that I can see I am causing you, and I would not ever presume to ask for forgiveness. I will attend your wedding, if you will still have me, and you will be supported however you need... but not this. I would not lie to you, Shintaro. I know that one day, you will understand."

(Author's Note: A short one, I know, but this was the most fitting cut-off point for the chapter that I could find, and I did so want to get a chapter up on Christmas, as I am aware that I've taken my sweet time with writing, rewriting, and constantly second guessing this next chapter. If anybody has any explanation as to why writing becomes so much harder when you reach the plot that you actually really want to write, I'd love to hear it.

Massive thank you to Arise and Awaken for your encouraging and thoughtful reviews – you're a star, and continuously make my day.

I would like to take this opportunity to make known my desire for a beta. Stories turn out so much better when you have somebody to bounce ideas off of, and as this story begins to reach a point where it actually has a plot, I'd love somebody to read stuff through and let me know where I could do better.

I am so, so excited for this story (it's pretty-much consumed my life now), and I do hope that you enjoy it.

Lastly, a very Merry Christmas to all of you. Be blessed, be well, and celebrate much.

keep living

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