The updates for this story will be unspecified because my motivation resembles a roller coaster. Take that as you will.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroko No Basuke

Text within "" - Speech

Italic Text - Thoughts

Note: The names in this fanfic are structured with the given name first like in anglophone countries. This is how it was done in the wiki, so I'm doing it that way as well.

Chapter 3: To Take A Shot

"I'll see you later, ok Akira? Call me if anything happens."

"Ok, mom. Goodbye!"

Akira waved at the receding profile of his mother, waiting until she vanished from view to sigh deeply. Turning to face the entrance of the school before him, he looked at the words plastered over the gateway with trepidation.

I could hope that this is a dream, but I don't think tempting fate is a good idea for a person in my situation so...

He could only give in. Grabbing his bag, Akira shouldered it before walking into the building, blocking out the noise of the other children around him as he passed through the gateway, only pausing to take a glance at the words on the gate above him, proclaiming the school's name for all to see. His face fell into an expression of dread as he looked back towards the doors leading into the school.

Takanashi Elementary would be Akira's second home for the better part of a decade.

He just hoped it would be a better experience than he anticipated.

(~)

"This is the number 1. You use this number when you are referring to one thing. Such as one apple. Do you all understand?"

A mumble of affirmations followed the teacher's question even as Akira simply looked away from the teacher, bored already, deciding instead to study the classroom. It was quite spacious, with multiple bookshelves filled with children's books positioned against the wall opposite the entrance to the classroom. A whiteboard covered most of one of the other two walls, below which the teacher was currently teaching the other children whilst sitting on a stool. The ceiling was dotted with lights, which were currently off, as it was in the middle of the day. With the walls painted white and the hallways also looking remarkably clean, it was pretty obvious to Akira that he was attending a private school.

The uniforms the school made the students wear all but confirmed it.

"Hinode, can you tell me what the answer to this question is?"

Snapping out of his observations, Akira turned to the front, where 2 + 4 was written in black on the whiteboard. Like sharks smelling blood, the other children seemed to turn towards him at the same time, slightly disturbing him, however not affecting him nearly enough to disrupt his thought process.

"The answer is six," Akira answered the question, turning his attention back to the class. The other children did so as well, which the reborn child assumed was caused by a loss of interest due to him answering the question correctly. The teacher did seem a bit taken aback but quickly recovered, due to the question being relatively simple, even for a child.

Still, Akira's eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second in annoyance before he fell back into boredom. He didn't much like being called out for not paying attention, however, he could recall his past life with perfect clarity, even after five years in his new body and life. It wouldn't be much of a problem to get everything correct until the teachers gave up on trying to get him to pay attention.

"Now then, can anyone tell me what three plus five is?"

A flurry of hands was raised even as Akira once more began to feel his attention diverting from the teacher. Even with his mental age, he just couldn't help it. The subject that he was learning was something he already learned and therefore it was easy. He had known it would be easy. He had thought that he would breeze through his education without care. He had been wrong. So very wrong. If something was too easy, it would become boring, even if you enjoyed it. Something that he, being an athlete at heart, did not.

Akira chuckled under his breath. A certain future player could certainly attest to that thought. Then again, Daiki Aomine didn't really seem like the type to do well in academics, nor did he seem like the type to be interested in the first place. It seemed that circumstances had brought him close in attitude to the basketball junkie, and though the similarities were most likely a bad thing, he didn't much care at the moment.

After all, Akira couldn't bring himself to try when he already knew everything. The only reason he attempted to appear somewhat interested in the class was that it was only his first day. He shouldn't cause his parents trouble so early on.

Sighing under his breath, Akira fought back sleepiness as he continued his seemingly endless struggle to pay attention.

(~)

Thank goodness that class is over...

The first class of the first day of his first year was over, and by the time it was Akira already felt down in the dumps. He did not need to pay attention in class, nor did he have anything new to learn. In his perspective, going to school was a total waste of time.

Perhaps I could try to move up a few years... but that could cause problems down the line.

He wanted to play either with or against the characters that he had watched playing the game they loved. Yet he didn't know what year he was born, or if any of the canon characters had even been born yet. However, the world seemed similar to how the anime had looked, which made it likely that he was similar in age to the characters, so he didn't want to take any chances regarding moving between years.

So the only choice left was to go through school the same as everyone else, suffering all the while.

This really sucks...

Sighing, Akira followed the rest of his class as the teacher, whose name he had already forgotten, led them towards their next class. With nothing better to do, he started to observe his fellow students, finding it more interesting than staring at the walls, in most part due to the unique hair and eye colours some of his classmates possessed. It wasn't much, but around a fifth of his class of around twenty or so kids had features that set them apart from the rest, painting a bizarre picture of clashing tones.

Yet the scene could only capture his interest for so long. With his interest fading, the kindergartener felt frustration at the thought of having to go through this monotony for so long a time.

The helplessness caused by his inability to make progress towards his goal didn't help much either.

(~)

"Alright children, school is over for the day. Make sure your bags when you leave!"

Akira's eyes opened in response to the statement as he grabbed his bag and practically sprinted towards the door. No matter how boring life at his house was, he had quickly learned that it was far superior to his new life at school. At least he didn't have to pretend to learn anything, even if that left him with nothing to do.

Exiting his classroom, Akira was greeted with the sight of a few dozen students in the hallway making their way towards the exit. Pausing in his sprint, he looked at the crowded area before gathering his resolve and walking into it, immediately getting caught in the flow of the masses, which pushed him along towards the doors leading out of the school.

Being deposited in front of the doors after being stuck for a minute or so in the crowd, Akira looked around him, quickly spotting his mother standing with the other parents and made his way over to her, wanting to leave school grounds as fast as possible.

"Hey Akira, did you have fun?"

"..."

Remaining silent, Akira followed his mother to their car, thinking about what he should say. Telling the truth could cause issues, which he knew, but with his frustration not yet having dissipated, he felt the urge to express his emotions outright.

"It was ok."

It was a lie, but as he didn't have to attempt expressing joy, Akira still considered it enough of a compromise to satisfy his emotions. His mother glanced over at him with a hint of concern, which failed to fade after seeing his face.

It was only natural. After all, he probably looked apathetic at that moment, bored and tired. Akira couldn't help it. Even as his mother turned away from him, his expression fell even further. He couldn't bring himself to look at her face after that. Even as the pair got into their car, no further words were spoken as one refused to so much as make a sound while the other looked straight ahead, seemingly concentrated on driving. Seemingly being the keyword.

Akira knew that his mother was worried at his sudden change. He had been a relatively quiet baby, due to being reborn, but he had always seemed cheerful regardless. He had always been cheerful regardless. Yet as his new life progressed, it started to feel more like a curse than a gift, providing him with one simple conclusion.

He hated his life.

What a thought that was.

(~)

As the sun fell lower in the sky, Akira watched it from his window, still as he examined the giant ball of fire that existed so far from the Earth.

After a moment, he turned, blinking away the tears that had formed in his eyes caused by his observation, his attention returning to his room. His bed sat in a corner, its length beneath the window, with a few toys were neatly lined up against one of the walls, gathering dust.

Sitting on the ground, Akira let himself fall, his back thudding against the carpet, his mind devoid of thought and his face expressionless.

What should I do? What to do...

Akira sighed before hosting himself upwards and pulling himself to his feet. Then, he started to stretch, dropping into a split and touching his upper body to the ground, spreading out his arms against the floor.

The good thing about having limited choices was that it was easier to choose between them. He could exercise, however it wouldn't help develop his body much until he was older, something he had learned from his own time as an athlete. Until a person's bones were fully grown, it could cause issues if a child tried to bulk up. Even basic strength and endurance training wasn't recommended until a child reached about age seven, so it was entirely useless to Akira at the moment.

It was just another thing he couldn't do. His frustration once more mounted.

The list was long enough as it was.

The sound of a door opening shook Akira out of his thoughts as he finished his stretching, moving back into a sitting position.

"Hey Akira, want to head out to the streetball court with your papa?"

Akira blinked as his father, Daisuke Hinode, walked through the door frame, in a white suit and blazer. Then, as his father's words finally registered in his mind, he started to smile. Perhaps everything wasn't as bad as it seemed.

"Would I!"

Smiling, Akira let his father pick him up, reactionless even as Daisuke started to lift him higher. His mother smiled as she watched the scene from the kitchen as Akira's father spun around the living room, generally acting more like a kid than he had any right to.

Still, Akira tolerated and even went along with his father's behaviour due to what would come next. He would be going to the basketball court for the third time in his life. All seemed right in the world.

As the two left the apartment, the child only just caught the pained smile his mother wore as she watched them leave.

Guilt struck him like a hammer as he turned away. It was his fault that his mother wore that expression. His father wore it at times as well, although he tried to hide it from Akira.

It was Akira who his parents worried over. Yet it was not as if he could help it. He had tried, but in the end, he had failed to put up a convincing act. His parents knew there was something wrong with him.

Akira had come to terms with the fact that he was... somewhat depressed. Going to school had broken some part of him. It was ironic in a way, that going to kindergarten had laid low a high school sports champion. When people thought of reincarnation, they thought of it as a second chance, or an opportunity to achieve something with a natural advantage.

Hardly anyone thought of what it was like to live as a child with a matured mind, the negatives that would inevitably arise.

Perhaps in another world, this would be easier...

Yet aside from the unique hair and eye colours, and the abilities that could be acquired in basketball, Akira's new life was the same as his old one. There was nothing that could provide meaning to his life at his current age. The first few years of his life had been easier, as the gravity of his circumstances hadn't yet set in. Additionally, he had had his mind occupied with coming to terms with his death. Now, however, everything was clear.

His body was small and weak. His interest lied solely in sports, and as a result, his young body caused him issues. Major ones.

No one would allow a five-year-old to play in a game. It was inconceivable, even if he had been born as an orphan for a second time. If he had been an orphan, he would have been freer, yet no matter how Akira tried, he couldn't resent his parents for their care. How could he? They were good parents, he could see that. They were just trying their best. Yet that just left his anger and frustration directionless, festering and growing over time.

How much longer would it be until he could act without care and restraint? How much longer would it be until he could enjoy his life?

Akira didn't know the answer to those questions. He just hoped the time would come soon.

(~)

As the pair of father and son arrived at their destination, Akira observed one of the streetball courts, watching as a few teenagers played each other, moving back and forth across the ground as points were scored for both sides. It was fascinating to watch, and even though they were making mistakes, the players were clearly enjoying themselves. Joy was written on their faces for all to see, the very same joy that now seemed to elude him.

"Papa, I want to play."

It was a bit direct, sure, but even if Akira couldn't actually shoot much less dunk, he still wanted to be on the court, just for the sake of it.

"Alright Akira, let's head to the other one over there. We don't want to bother these fine gentlemen, now do we?"

"Yes, papa."

With that Daisuke turned, leading the way, with Akira trailing behind him, his basketball in his hands. Stepping into one of the unoccupied courts, Akira's father turned to his child, a slight smile on his face even as he observed his son.

Akira smiled back, even while acknowledging the fact that his father was most likely trying to gauge his reaction, in an attempt to get a sense of how to help his son. He didn't mind. After all, he was on the court, for the third time in his life. Here he didn't have to think about his situation and could lose himself in trying to get better at the sport he had chosen to dedicate himself to.

Walking forward, Akira took his basketball and dropped it to the ground, watching it bounce once before he started to dribble it with his right hand, simply bouncing it against the ground without moving. Slowly, he started to walk towards the net at the end of the court as his father watched from the sidelines, bringing the ball up carefully. He hadn't yet tried to pull off anything complex the past two times he had been in a court, and for good reason as well. He just didn't believe he could do it. His body was too weak and his stature too small. No amount of knowledge or experience could change that.

Stopping just at the free-throw line, Akira took a deep breath, his emotions raging in his mind. His frustration had started to become too difficult to manage. Now was the only time he could do what he wanted to do, pursue his goals with reckless abandon. He was on the court and he would be damned if he didn't make the most of it.

Drawing his hands into a regular shooting form was simple, even if it did seem a bit unnatural, most likely due to a lack of muscle memory. It didn't even faze Akira, having already felt that sensation the past two times he had been on a court but it did make him pause as he tried in vain to correct the mistakes caused by it. He hadn't had much experience in basketball in his past life, so he was forced to go off of his limited knowledge and his instincts.

Following a few seconds of silence, Akira exhaled, crouching down slightly as he prepared to take a shot.

He wanted to make it. Akira didn't know the exact reason, but he knew in his heart he wanted more than anything to see his ball going through the hoop before him. The logical part of his mind said it was impossible, told him that a child so young just couldn't make it.

Akira didn't care.

A second passed as he remained in his position, eyeing the hoop from beneath it, staring up, almost straining his neck in the process. It seemed so high. It seemed impossible. Akira was fine with that though. He was determined. Desperate as well. He needed to make it. There was no other option.

So, he jumped. Leaping upward, he watched as the hoop got closer, though not nearly as close as he wanted. It didn't matter though. Nothing did. He just had to make the shot.

He threw the ball just as he reached the apex of his jump, sending it flying through the air. Falling to the ground, Akira's eyes followed its trajectory, watching as it went up into the air, then started to fall back down.

As he once more touched the ground, Akira began to reorient himself. He had wanted the impossible. There was no way he would make it. Looking at his feet, he mentally chided himself before the ball would hit the ground.

What got into me? What was I thinking?

Akira closed his eyes. He was being stupid. Why did he think he could-

A swishing sound stopped his thoughts dead in their tracks.

...what?

Akira's eyes snapped open just as quickly as his head snapped up.

His ball fell directly below the hoop, Akira managing to just catch it brush against the bottom of the net.

Silence reigned once more. It dragged on for a moment, then a single second, then a few.

It was a voice that broke it, so sudden that Akira flinched as he heard it.

"Well, I'll be damned. Nice shot, Akira!"

The child twirled, his eyes widening as he took in his father, Daisuke, raising his hands and starting to clap.

Tears began to form as Akira stood at the free shot line before they began to run down his face. Turning to prevent his father from seeing them, he wiped his face with his sleeve, before lifting his head to look at the ball rolling on the ground.

I- I did it... I DID IT!

Author's Notes:

Still have no idea how to make chapters long.

Anyways, final exams finished a while ago and I took a two-week break before I started writing again, but I'm back now. Writer's block was really bad for a while but I think I have some motivation back.