0.5 : TIP OFF : 解散する

It was basically back to square one, starting all over— and if I didn't have the life I had in America, that would've been really nice.

On top of that, I knew no one at this "Teikou Junior High," which claimed to be oh-so-fancy, with their chalkboards that make me asthmatically hack at dust. My hair was falling out. I felt like my white hair actually meant I was rapidly ageing.

If I had not known Taiga or Tatsuya, or Alex, or basketball, I liked to think I would've been dandy. I would've been excited to freely speak my mother tongue, dress up in a uniform without fussing over what to wear to school every day, and feel like English wasn't crawling on my skin. I wouldn't be sobbing to my mother at how Taiga wouldn't accept my calls or reply to my emails. I wouldn't be anxiously in bed with eyes wide awake wondering if Tatsuya would finally message me and say something besides, "I'm busy. I'm so sorry, Mitsu."

What friends? I didn't have friends.

I had a loser I had to live with.

Shirayuki Mitsu, Taiga was right.

Somehow, Teikou junior high students performed a feat: they were worse than American kids. At least American kids had crappy jokes. Teikou students were treating me like a freak of nature.

I had to remind myself that this was middle school now, and junior-high-aged kids tend to get pretty mean. We got new environments, identity issues, and puberty. Hormones were uncontrollable, so actions and words sometimes just slipped in a brutally honest fashion.

First day of school, everyone thought I was so cool— I could speak English, I studied in the U.S. for three years, and I could be spotted in any crowd. But then they started to realize that I was very shy, and in fact, I wasn't very friendly. I didn't (and simply wasn't willing to) get into what was popular then, so I didn't recognize any trends, didn't go to places with anyone after school, and preferred to go straight home and play video games with my mom. I became more and more unapproachable, and within a month, voila— I was an infamous loner.

Most of them pretty much avoided me at my school. Any and every small conversation I'd get pretty much revolved around either English homework, my hair, or what I did in America— which in retrospect, I realize I was very rude and standoffish towards that subject. Touchy times.

And yes, I acknowledge much of that was my fault.

You're probably thinking, why didn't I seize the opportunity to get popular? Well, imagine you had two best friends for a few years, and it felt like you were living the time of your life and you guys were just inseparable. They were there for you during a time when you needed people to get you out of your shell, feel free to explore and be yourself, things like that. The best things. Then all of a sudden, you got whisked away to the other side of the earth, plunged into an environment you thought you'd never get back in, feeling like you were forced to cut them off, and you said the crappiest goodbye to them.

And then you found yourself in a new school, with everyone ogling you, and that's when you suddenly realized you basically had to start this painful process of finding yourself and finding your people all over again, but with middle schoolers.

One day, a girl decided that I was worth the conversation, and roped me with three other girls talking about— what do you know?— basketball. It was interesting enough to stay for a minute and maybe humour myself. Possibly make friends. (Mom was on my case at that point and threatened to switch schools on me, which to me sounded like hell. So I listened.)

Girl 1 said something like, "Our basketball club is the number one! And the boys there are smoking hot too."

Girl 2 said, "Aren't they though? And their names fit like crazy!"

I said, "What?"

Girl 3 rolled her eyes at me as if I should've known what they were talking about and said, "Akashi Seijurou, Midorima Shinatou, Aomine Daiki, Murasakibara Atsushi, and— you know."

She nudged her friends, who all looked like they were having seizures. I wasn't sure if I could handle any more of it. But then I thought, Wait... are their names colours? Like... mine? I glanced down at my hair, long and snow-white, like my name. I wonder if their hair—

"You know who we're talking about, right Shirayuki-san?" one of the girls asked me. I blinked.

"Um—"

"Wait, you don't?" Girl 1 asked. I blinked again.

"I-I didn't even—"

All three of those girls gasped loudly, attracting attention. Great! This was definitely a girl test I failed!

They backed away from me like I was disgusting to be seen with in public. I started having an external freakfest at the shameless stares. Maybe I should've just lied to them to appease them, but maybe this was a good thing. I could leave sooner rather than pretend to be into things I had no idea about.

Except they along with practically everyone in that room just had to make sure that I would never, ever forget about Kise Ryouta.

Later that day, I did a little research on Teikou in the computer room. Yep. I didn't care one bit about my school until this point.

And I broke all thanks to my classmates who could tell me Kise Ryouta's birthday and blood type.

"Kise this, Kise that... well Kise can kise my— oh," I choked, finding the basketball page on the school website and clicking through recent articles.

Words like "unbeatable," "miracle," and all sorts of competitions came up, and how they won every single game this past year. "They're that good?" I wondered out loud, my brow twitching. I only heard about the basketball team here and there, and that it was famous in all of Japan and even internationally, and yet I managed to avoid them for a solid month. But as much as it petrified me for a moment, it made me wonder.

I had to see them.

Not because they're so-called "hot." No, no, no. No.

Because... well because... well, to be honest, I can't remember specifically why. I do remember this gravitational tug at my heart, this inexplicable yearning for the Teikou gym.

I just couldn't escape that. Basketball. I think I've stopped wondering why now.

I found myself walking down the halls with no confident sense of direction. I came from the library and bounded towards areas I wasn't used to. I felt like I wanted to see them, I wanted to find out about them, I— I wanted to know if they really were as good as people said they were, and— bump.

And that was when my life pretty much ended.

"Oh, I'm so sorry ma'am, I didn't see—" this boy started to apologize, grabbing the sides of my arms, but then he blinked at my face. I blinked back up at his. Both of our eyes trailed to each other's hair, sharing a moment of silence.

Golden hair, I thought. I craned my neck up. Tall. I zoned out and went back to his eyes. Cat-yellow eyes. Then his face. Which I just saw many of them on the girls' phone wallpapers, pinned on school bulletin boards and posters in the hallways, plastered on the Teikou basketball page on their website.

Then my own face started heating up on its own.

"Wait! You're so young," Kise gasped, blinking profusely. He bent down to my level, and I took one giant step back. He smiled nervously. "You're a student, aren't you? I'm sorry, I just saw your hair and thought... yeah, I don't know, my bad."

"I-I-It's okay," I stammered, wishing the earth would swallow me whole. I couldn't look him in the face— basically, the girls I made shameless fun of in my brain had eyes. This had to be Kise Ryouta. His hair shined silk gold under any light with every micro-movement, his height was a bit ridiculous for a junior high student, I could tell he had the build, and there was this air about him that told me yes, Mitsu, there is no way you're wrong, there are plenty of pictures of him on the Teikou basketball articles and even some of him modelling for them—

"Well, I got to run. I'm running a lil' late for basketball practice," Kise said, chuckling a bit. It seemed like he was embarrassed for mistaking me for an old lady and wanted to smooth it over. I was this close to sighing, but my body never matched my brain at all, and I was shivering like a puppy in the rain.

I tried to swallow it all down, every little nerve, and said, "I-I'm heading to the gym too, actually."

Kise paused, squinting his eyes at me. "Well, you're going the opposite way then," he said, voice singsongy. He was so suspicious of me.

I had this urge to smack my head. He sounded as if I fell in love with him at first sight and decided to follow him to the ends of the earth. "W-Wait, I—" God, I hate my urge to stutter— "I'm new. I t-transferred last month, and I only heard about the basketball team here, so— I-I mean— in America, I was really into basketball, so—"

"Did you just say you're from America?"

Eyes wide, I glanced up at him. His catlike eyes were glittering with barely-contained enthusiasm. "Y-Yeah," I said.

Kise seemed to mull over this, tapping his chin and glancing up at the ceiling. He seemed so theatrical I was wondering why the act. Then he clapped my shoulders out of nowhere, effectively scaring the living daylights out of me and said in straight English, "Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

"What?" The English flew out of me. "B-Because... of Edgar Allan Poe?"

He grinned so widely I was blinded by his teeth. "Come with me!"

"W-W-W-Why—"

"Come on!" He turned around and motioned for me to follow him. After being frozen in place for a few seconds, I felt his long fingers wrap around my wrist gently but firmly, and he leaned towards my ear to say, "You can be my excuse for running late."

His breath—

I shivered violently and at that point didn't want to move. But I mentally convinced myself that if I didn't move, Kise was going to drag me and my shoes would make the noisiest squeaking in the halls, practically vying for everyone's attention and making me more infamous than I already was (I could just imagine my name on several hundred girls' hit lists), so I released a breath I didn't realize I was holding and started walking with him. Wondering if he'd slow down a bit because his strides were twice the pace of mine. Wondering when he'd let go of my wrist.

Or if he'd slip his palm down to my hand and hold it.

Omg. Thirteen-year-old Mitsu, stop.

"I'm Kise Ryouta, by the way. But you can call me Ryouta."

"Um, hi, Kise-san—"

"Ryouta!"

"R-Right. But I— I cannot."

Kise let out an amused laugh. I'm pretty sure my face burned some type of uncute crimson. "I'm teasing. I know we only just met."

"Y-Yeah... awesome."

"You seriously don't know me?" he asked curiously. "Don't think I'm full of myself or anything, but there hasn't been anyone I've met here that doesn't know me. Well, then again, I guess that makes sense since you're new and you transferred from America, right?"

I nodded, swallowing a dry throat. I didn't really know what to say to that, considering I did know about him before meeting him. I just didn't gawk or squeal or even approach him intentionally. Which he was probably used to.

"What's your name, white-haired young lady?"

"Um, Shirayuki Mitsu."

"Wow, really?" Kise stretched his hand out and pinched a lock of my hair, lifting it up to his eye level as he walked. I instinctively pulled away, startling him. "Oh, sorry. I'm just surprised. Your name suits you pretty well."

"Y-You too. Sorry I pulled away, I was just—"

"What are you sorry for?" he laughed. "You did something you should've. If I were some creepy guy, you better run. Maybe even slap me next time."

"I don't— I can't slap you—"

"Hehe. Really?"

I was starting to think he was taking the long way to the gym.

He started to make small talk with me, such as who I reminded him of. It was this underrated player in his team who was short (though I thought he was probably at least six inches taller than me), but was a great asset to the team. I tried to picture him, but I only imagined a black blob dubbed "Kurokocchi." It made me wonder if his hair was black, but that'd be just like most other people.

"What about you, Shirayuki-chan?"

"M-Me?"

"Tell me about yourself."

I decided to give in a little, telling him that I liked basketball in the past, back when I lived in America. He was amazed that I was an exchange student, and asked me a bit about my experiences. I told him that it was difficult, but not impossible to learn the language and fit in, and I met some Japanese friends there anyway. I also let him know that we were trained by a retired WNBA player. Kise's eyes sparkled in astonishment.

I never knew that someone could be so interested in what I had to say, since I was friends with Kagami and Himuro. It made my stomach twist. Maybe in a good way.

Just when I thought he purposely made us go in circles around the school, Kise declared, "We are at our destination!"

I braced myself. Maybe I was super obviously nervous because the hand I gradually forgot was holding my wrist gave me a reassuring squeeze before letting go and pulling the door handle open.

"After you," Kise said with a beaming smile and a little princely bow.

I had to mentally count my steps going inside. One. Two. Three. Four. Oh god I'm doing this. Five. Six— maybe I should go— no. You made it this far. Just— seven. Eight—

Then I looked up.

Inside the gym, I heard the familiar sounds that I was not ready to take in. The basketball shorts and tees, the pungent smell of sweat and pubescent boys, and the balls dribbling, passing, and smacking against hoop backboards and basket rims around. Sneakers squeaked against the hard floors all around. My heart was pounding. It was mesmerizing and petrifying at the same time.

"Gosh— um," I stammered, "maybe, just maybe... I should not have come—"

"Nonsense!" Kise dramatically gasped, model hands on his model hips. It was getting increasingly difficult not to acknowledge his Greek god-like appearance. He looked sculpted. All the more reason to stay frozen.

Then, the room abruptly went silent. Perhaps it was the first time a girl like me came into the room during practice, or perhaps I wasn't allowed to visit during practice. I had the instinctual urge to hide behind the closest thing around me, which happened to be Kise.

"Come on," he nudged, wearing an easygoing smile on his face. I was not encouraged enough. "I didn't bring you all the way here to be like that! Come watch us and tell me what you think!"

"Huh?" I squeaked, face blank, as I was dragged further inside by Mr. Pretty Boy. My heart was tangled with my lungs, my ears throbbing. I felt like a hot mess. The silent players reluctantly resumed, though it was clear that they had questions regarding my presence.

Oh gosh. I hoped they didn't think I was Kise's grandma or something.

I looked around, and the first person who caught my eye was #4.

Aka, I thought, my eyes pinned to his red hair. Akashi Seijuurou? The captain?

The captain had distinct blood-red hair with long bangs that draped his forehead barely slicked with sweat, and piercingly attentive, blood-red eyes that could practically see through my soul. His eyes caught mine, giving me a sharp, unreadable glance. I was in such a frozen state, like a deer in headlights.

Kise shook my arm, alerting me back to my senses, and gently set me down on a bench where regulars would sit. "You can watch really closely here," he told me with a wink. Then, he jogged to his captain, while I inwardly winced. He felt like my makeshift security blanket, and he just up and left. Not that I should've regarded him that highly that quickly.

But during my time in Teikou, he was the first person I could say gave me the time of day with a genuine smile. Like he wanted to get to know me. Like he wanted to be friends with me. But it should've honestly been too soon to tell. Maybe I was really that lonely and in need of sweet attention and kindness.

I glanced around, looking for any other mops of hair with unusual colours for funsies. I noticed neat green hair and square-framed glasses on a particular boy. He was wearing an armband, telling one of his teammates with very passionate fervour that it was his "lucky item" of the day. Interesting, I thought, highly in denial that I was actually seeing these people right before my eyes and using that sight as an excuse that I wasn't really here. None of it was real. Couldn't be. It felt like I just found out about these "celebrities," and now I'm suddenly meeting them all on the same day? Impossible.

It wasn't long before I caught sight of this really, really tall purple-haired boy who looked like the lazy type. Bless his height. But I had other questions in mind, like, couldn't he even bother to cut his hair, since that's rather bothersome in the court? Wasn't hair that long against the school dress code anyway? Or maybe he didn't care about his looks at all? He looked like the type that would—

As fate would have it, he took a break from playing at that moment and sat on the benchers where I was. Right beside me. Not even noticing my existence in the slightest.

He reeked of sweat, but it didn't disgust me entirely. I grew up around this smell. Though, it kind of smelled worse than usual— I wasn't used to being in gymnasiums full of sweaty guys.

After a minute of very awkward silence, his lazy eyes looked down at me right as I looked up. I instantly noticed our massive height difference, and it was like he was twice the size of me. He probably was. But that wasn't why I twitched as if someone pulled my tail.

"You're tiny."

It took so much out of me to smile. I was busy trying to ignore some stares. People were looking. People were murmuring to each other. Probably about us. On the bench. Sitting next to each other. And about Kise bringing me in. Who could this mystery girl be? I'd wonder myself, like, what the heck was I doing there?

"Y-You're huge," I said, looking straight in front of me. I was shivering again.

I heard this sound come out of him, and I was very afraid to look at his expression because I wasn't sure if it was a laugh or a scoff. I was tempted to just flee the scene before my heart spontaneously combusted when he drawled out, "What's your name?"

I looked down, noticing my fingers were wringing together in a nervous dance. "Shirayuki. Mitsu."

"Shirayuki... Shi. Ra. Yu. Ki." He kept testing my name on his tongue. Then he paused for an uncomfortable while.

I was suddenly conscious of the sweat behind my neck and in my armpits. I tugged at the edge of my skirt. It felt so hot.

"Can I just call you Shira? You've got too many syllables."

"I-I mean... I guess."

"Okay," he said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his humongous thighs. "I'm Murasakibara."

"Now that's too long."

Murasakibara turned his head and stared at me for what felt like ages. I had the audacity to stare back with wide eyes. Then he turned back to stare forward and shrugged. "I never realized."

I couldn't control the noise that came out of me. He never realized? I wasn't sure if I was laughing or scoffing. "Nice to meet you, Mura— Murasaki— eh?"

"Is it that hard to say?" he asked, though he didn't seem that interested if I answered. "I don't really care what you call me."

"How about Murasaki-kun?" I laughed a little at this. "Ah, that sounds silly, doesn't it?"

"I call you Shira. Same thing."

Little did I know, those nicknames would stick.

"Your hair is weird," he said, glancing over. I followed his gaze and found a pack of water bottles beside me, and the first thing I did from there was hand him one. He chugged it in a few gulps.

That wasn't the first time I had comments about my hair. Despite that, I self-consciously raked a pale hand through my white bangs. "Your hair is... also w-weird," I found myself saying.

"But yours is pretty like vanilla ice cream." He mumbled something to himself, something like, "I want to eat it," but my mind was already preoccupied with spiralling.

For some reason, that made me feel fuzzy inside. Like I won something. Did I just make a friend? Was Kise my friend too, then? Was it this easy? I blinked profusely. Wait, was it really THIS easy?

"Thank you." I was genuinely grateful. "T-Though purple is a pretty colour too. Like grape soda."

Maybe I was imagining it, but I thought I saw the corner of his lips twitch up at this. I believe this moment, this natural conversation, was the most comforting thing about my day.

Murasakibara was called back onto the court, and I was left alone on the bench again. I continued to look around. There was a boy with navy blue hair who looked like he was pummeling his opponents, and the sight made me laugh in disbelief. It was funny how I didn't notice him at first. With his aggressiveness, his significantly tanner skin than his peers, and his clear enthusiasm, you'd think he'd be the main attraction.

Then our eyes met. He shot me a casual grin, and resumed playing. I stopped smiling.

My eyes darted back to Midorima, who just shot from the other side of the court. My jaw dropped, my eyes wide in bewilderment. It was as if my eyes were both blessed and cursed to witness that moment. "What just— what?" I squeaked.

"Why, this is my team. We are pretty good, aren't we?"

I whipped to the voice's source, and all of a sudden, the basketball club's coach, assistant coach, and captain of the team were standing beside me. The voice came from Shirogane Kouzou, the main coach— he seemed like the friendliest face out of the three, and he let out a warm chuckle at my petrified face. My voice came out like a broken record, "I-I-I-I—"

"Don't be nervous, young lady. We're not here to tell you to leave or anything. In fact, it's an honour to meet you, Shirayuki Mitsu."

From the looks of the other two people's faces, they couldn't care less if I stayed or left (though I could interpret the assistant coach's face as passive-aggressive), but Shirogane seemed like the sweetest old man I've ever met right away. I tried to loosen my shoulders, but they remained stubbornly stiff. "Y-You're the coach?" I asked, cringing at my voice, which didn't change its squeakiness.

"Indeed. My name is Coach Shirogane."

"Nice to m-meet you too, Shirogane-sensei."

His smile never left his face. "I was told by Kise-kun that you've gained basketball experience in the United States."

"Y-Yes."

"I'm interested in your thoughts about our team. I assume you're not familiar with the Kiseki no Sedai from your reaction?"

Generation of Miracles? I pondered on that title for a moment. I did spend a good chunk of time that day researching all about the Generation of Miracles, which sounded like a ridiculous title at first, but I couldn't deny all of their accomplishments all over the Internet. I especially couldn't deny what I was seeing with my own eyes: Kise, who just perfectly copied the blue-haired guy's street-style trick move, and the blue-haired guy fumingly determined to play impossibly harder than before— it felt a little like Kobe and MJ. Then the green-haired guy scored again from half-court— reminded me of Bird. Because it was practice, Shirogane called out, "Rebound!", and Murasakibara singlehandedly blocked like, four players on the green-haired guy's team with his massive body— he was a powerful center, definitely reminded me of Shaq.

They were monsters. All four of them.

Then there's Akashi Seijuurou, who stepped forward with crossed arms and said without looking at me, "We are a proud team. Trained to perfection."

"Perfection?" I parroted. I made a face.

"You don't believe me?" Akashi twitched an eyebrow. Both of Shirogane's eyebrows rose in amusement, head inclined to me.

"I mean, you— didn't you say perfection? Y-You can't be perfect."

"You are seeing wonders and impossibilities before your eyes, and yet you don't accept to admit their impeccability?" Akashi asked me. Was he really puzzled by my response? I wondered if he never heard anything like it before.

"Well... I think there's no such thing as perfection in people," I tried to reason, careful not to stutter. (Even though my tongue wanted to more than anything.) "You still get weak sometimes. That's what I believe. There's always room for improvement."

"Is that what you truly believe?" Shirogane hummed. For some reason, which I could only think it was women's intuition, I shivered. There was something in the tone of his voice that sounded a little off. Even the assistant coach was looking at me. I involuntarily clamped my mouth shut.

"We have never been beaten, Shirayuki Mitsu," Akashi said. I nodded, acknowledging his point, but then I shook my head.

"I— I still don't think your team is perfect. I get it's a team effort overall, but maybe your stamina isn't as good, because I bet your abilities use up a lot of energy. This can be used to another team's advantage in endurance and get you to overexert yourselves. We're still really young, after all, I-I think." I paused to think harder. "Maybe your secrets to your trump cards can be figured out by other opponents through careful observation of previous matches. There's a lot of motivation in revenge, as you m-might be aware. Or maybe your team can be beaten psychologically, or by a team no one has seen and therefore you can't predict. Maybe if... if you went against national players right now... you'd be very humbled."

Shirogane snorted. "I'm honoured you'd even consider our junior high team against NBA players."

I tilted my head at the blue-haired guy as I thought about it. His style reminded me so much of Taiga, which was painful to think about, but there's something about him that was very aggressive. He dribbled with so much confidence and managed a formless shot right in front of me. To this, my leg shook up and down a little where I sat and I said, "Watching this reminds me a little bit of the NBA. I've watched so many, a-and they are legendary, so even comparing this to them just feels like... I-I don't know."

At this, Akashi finally looked at me. I had this strange urge to cry, feeling trapped under his gaze. I wished to never look at him directly ever again. "Do you know who I am?"

"You're the captain. R-Right?"

He averted his eyes, but I caught an unbelievable glimpse of amusement in them. Which looked scary within blood-red eyes. "Your perspective is insightful."

Shirogane let out another chuckle. "You are quite a bright young lady, aren't you? Sanada, what do you think?"

Sanada, the assistant captain, squinted at me as if trying to read me. He scrunched his face up, which I didn't know how to interpret— was it disdain? Confusion? Deep analysis?— and said, "Shirayuki, is it?"

"Y-Yes?" I responded, straightening my back. All three of them looked like powerful men when they looked at me at the same time, all at once.

"Are you—"

"Shirayuki-chan! What'd you think of our practice?"

I choked on my own breath. "K-Kise?" I coughed out, standing up and pretending for a moment that I wasn't just cornered by the famous Teikou basketball club's coach, assistant coach, and captain. Which didn't sound real to me at all. I assured him, "It was incredible."

"We are pretty cool," Kise laughed, running a hand through his sweaty hair. "Do you want to play? Our practice is over now."

I think I stopped breathing.

"Shouldn't you be asking us for permission?" Sanada asked acutely. Kise bowed in apology, bouncing right back up with a sheepish smile.

"Whoops! Well? Is it alright?"

"In the first place, you should've asked us if she could come before letting her in unannounced," Sanada pointed out. Akashi started walking away. Shirogane hummed ominously again. My eyes were clouding over.

"I think that's a great idea. I would like to see you play— if you don't mind, Miss Shirayuki," Shirogane said. My mouth opened up, preparing an automated response.

"Ummmmmmmmmm—"

"Don't feel obligated," he assured, which wasn't very assuring, because everyone within earshot all turned their attention towards us. This in turn caused the entire room to look. At least, that's how it felt. It didn't look like anyone was going into the locker rooms to get freshened up and leave. I felt a heart attack coming. Shirayuki, dying by asphyxiation, I thought, forgetting how to breathe because the idea of playing again was just unthinkable, really.

Shirogane and Kise seemed to notice my state, as Shirogane asked everyone but the Generation of Miracles to leave, which was probably the worst move he could've made because I was losing my mind.

"You don't have to, Shirayuki-chan!" Kise exclaimed, grabbing my shoulders. This knocked the breath out of me, and because I'm not drowning or anything, my body inhaled a deep breath. My eyes still couldn't focus. "Are you okay? I didn't mean for you to—"

My head whipped up. I tried to gain control of myself. "No, no! I-I'm fine! It's okay, it's just— I don't think I can—"

Something suddenly came flying towards us at a rate that made my arm hairs rise.

Out of pure instinct, I pushed Kise away and stopped the ball with my hands, holding it for a moment. Realizing what it was, I gasped and dropped the ball, making a resounding bounce, then two, three— then I hated the deafening sound, so I grabbed the ball again.

The feeling of the grooves, the little bumps, everything, made my goosebumps twice as intense. I dared to look up, up at Kise's stunned expression, then beyond him. There, I saw who was responsible.

Akashi Seijuurou, whose eyes I swore to never look at again.

I wish I can tell you that I squared up to him, slapped his stupid face, showed him what I got, and stomped away like a boss woman. But I was thirteen years old with anxiety I didn't know how to live with.

Instead, I had a panic attack. Shallow breaths and sweaty body and falling to my knees and everything. Kise scooped me up by the neck and behind the knees while Sanada instructed him to take me to the infirmary. I was on the verge of passing out.

My eyes caught sight of a student, one with his uniform on (I guess I didn't notice one student who got changed and was all ready to leave), who picked up my bag and was asked to follow Kise. I wanted to vomit, actually vomit, in Kise's arms. I was mortified by what was happening, and I had no control over anything.

So I started to cry, which I wished didn't alarm Kise the way it did. He pulled me closer, and I had no more sight of anything but his neck. It was sweaty but smelled amazing and if I wasn't losing it back then, I was definitely done for now.

"Kise—"

"It's okay, I'm sorry," Kise repeated over and over, speaking into my hair.

What happened after is something I don't even want to mention. But basically, when you're a popular hot guy running all over the school with a girl in your arms, and nobody likes that girl, many people are going to talk. Especially his fans.

I was lying in the infirmary bed, barely hearing Kise talk to "Kurokocchi" and sweating all over the pillow and sheets, as the school nurse called my mom. Kise had to leave, but Kurokocchi stayed to watch me. I didn't think he was going to, but Kise insisted, or he wouldn't have peace of mind.

Honestly, there's nothing interesting I can say about my first encounter with Kuroko Tetsuya. He was quiet; I was quiet. At some point, I forgot he was even there.

We both exchanged zero words for a long time until my mom came rushing in, cradling my face and thanking Kuroko for watching me. She offered to drive him home, which Kuroko politely declined, and that was pretty much that.

Showing up the next day was gutsy of me.

Funny how it's not the first instinct for junior-high students to be worried that I was unwell, passing out in someone's frantic arms. I even found out that Kise had a girlfriend, and she was not happy with me.

It all became so bad that after a week of enduring it, having to hide my wet shoes and bruises from my parents, I finally stopped avoiding the basketball club. Well, it was more like I accidentally ran into Kise, who I immediately turned and fled from.

I had this plan to avoid Kise Ryouta for the rest of my life. People were calling me the worst names because of him, and Kise was unharmed and unaware of it all— at least, that's what I thought.

"Shirayuki-chan!" Kise called out, and I couldn't bear to look behind me if he was chasing after me.

I'll just move schools.

No, you can't move schools! That is so inconsiderate! Your parents would go through such a hassle for you.

But I can't take it anymore. One more day of b*tches slapping me and forcing me to eat in the bathroom in the most secluded part of the school and I'll—

Stop being dramatic, Mitsu! Just tell your parents! You're their child!

No, you CAN'T tell them. Are you insane?

If you can't do that, you can't do anything. All you're good at is running away!

Yeah, you only know how to run away.

Classic Mitsu.

Just like in America when you couldn't even say goodbye to—

Then I faceplanted into a chest. Actually, it wasn't quite his chest.

"Shira?"

It was Murasakibara's stomach. His lower stomach.

I frantically took five steps back and tried to run around him, but he made the tiniest effort ever to grab my sleeve. Which apparently was enough to stop me. "Wait," he said in his drawled-out voice.

Behind me, I could hear steps fast approaching with Kise-sounding pants. I just about twisted to hide behind Murasakibara and cover my face with my hands. "Murasaki-something-kun," I whispered, "hide me please."

"Huh?"

"Hide. Me. Please."

"Shirayuki-chan," Kise said, walking around the giant and standing in front of me, breaking zero sweat, "why are you running?"

I turned around and hid my face in Murasakibara's back. I wanted nothing but to teleport to my house and play video games with my mom.

"Are you... avoiding me?"

Why is your voice cracking like that? I wondered, biting my inner cheek hard. Are you trying to make me feel guilty? We're not even friends like that!

"Shira," Murasaki said, and I could feel his voice vibrating down his back onto my face, "You're tickling me."

I dramatically wondered the cliché, Why me?, as I turned around and didn't look up. My shoes were the most interesting thing in the world. "I— Kise-kun, I don't know how to face you. T-To be honest," I said in the tiniest voice, which was all I could really offer.

Kise bent down a bit to look into my eyes, which were hidden in my bangs. I turned away, refusing to even let my peripheral vision see a glimpse of his golden hair. "Hey," he said. "If you're avoiding me because of last week—"

"Don't say it!" I couldn't stop myself from shrieking, ready to make another run for it, but Murasakibara turned around and placed his ginormous hands on my shoulders, promptly rendering me immobile. Great.

"I'm sorry! L-Let's talk about this somewhere else then, yeah?" Kise offered.

"How about no?"

"Well, we really should talk about it."

"Kise, I-I really don't want to talk about it—"

"Shira," Murasakibara interrupted. Busy with my feelings, I looked to my left and saw a window. A frail, tiny girl trapped between two tall boys was the sight that met me. Past our reflection, I saw students walking about. If they paid one glance up at this sight, I didn't know what I'd do.

I didn't even know what Murasakibara said. But suddenly I felt defeated, and confessed, "I want to leave this school. I'm being made fun of, a-and pushed around... and my shoes are wet again right now. And it's all because everyone saw you carrying me around the school like a prince, Kise-kun, a-a-and... and everyone already didn't like me before. So now they can't stand me." I started to cry at this point, and it caused my voice to waver. "I really didn't want you to know, b-because I didn't w-want you to feel bad, so I'm so, so sorry for telling you this— I still d-don't want you to feel bad. I'm so sorry. Ugh, I wish we never m—"

"Shirayuki."

I shivered. I never imagined Kise's voice could sound like that.

"Shirayuki, I hope you didn't mean that," he said, grabbing my wrist. Gently, yet firmly. Just like the first time we met. "You know you don't deserve anything you're going through, right? That is not okay. Dammit, I wish I'd known sooner."

"Why would they even do that?" Murasakibara asked. I turned around, vision blurry, and saw his expression so listless and so done with the world. He reached into his bag and pulled out two snack bars. By the time I realized he was holding one out for me, Kise started tugging me towards the gym.

This started a new era in my Teikou junior high days in which I would spend my afternoons in the gym and become the Teikou basketball club's unofficial co-manager. I was suddenly under this girl named Momoi Satsuki's wing, who took one look at me and loved me to the very ends of the earth. At first, I had no idea why someone would do that to someone they just met, but after weeks of quietly finding some twisted sense of solace at the place I got a panic attack from, I came to a realization that Momoi was just like me.

After practice on a Friday, Momoi offered to buy me ice cream at the convenience store— and that was when I made my first girl friend. That evening, we talked and talked and, at some point, started laughing-crying together.

I don't know how this ended up happening, but my mom picked us both up and Momoi ended up sleeping over at my house. There, we spent almost the entire night talking about everything about our lives. I learned from our midnight snacks that she didn't like spicy food and that she loved cherries. She even showed me her secret talent of tying cherry stalks into knots with her tongue. I showed her how to split open an apple into halves with my bare hands.

Momoi showed me her own wet shoes and bruises at three a.m. that night. "It's not easy being Teikou's basketball co-manager, huh, Mitty?"

It took a month, which equated to twenty-ish basketball club practices, before I found myself with a ball in my hands, feeling strangely electrified from merely standing on the two-point line of the court.

I habitually twisted my right ankle and threw with my left hand backing up the ball for some power. It went in the hoop. My stomach flipped. "Momo-san, did you see tha—"

"Whoa, Shirayuki-chan!" Kise exclaimed. "You're finally playing? Did you guys see that too?"

I whirled around, and my face flushed pink faster than I could think. Before me stood the Generation of Miracles, every single one of them, with Kuroko just walking out of the shower room. I turned to Momoi and whined, "I-I thought everyone left!"

"Oops," she shrugged, tongue out. I knew I shouldn't have trusted her.

"Are you left-handed, Shirayuki-chan?" Kise asked, practically leaping towards me. I had nowhere to hide, so I just looked down at my very interesting shoes. "Midorimacchi, aren't you left-handed?"

"I appreciate your acknowledgement," Midorima Shintarou said sarcastically, bandaging his left hand as he spoke. He proceeded to file his nails, and I watched him through my bangs, biting back a laugh. I noticed he was obsessed with his hands. All the time.

"Hey! Yuki-blah, was it?" That voice belonged to the ace. Aomine Daiki. "Can you shoot a three-pointer?"

Maybe I was actually excited or something. Maybe I was high on attention. Maybe I was spurred on by the agitation over Yuki-blah, because Aomine wasn't even close. (Thankfully Momoi walked over just to smack him in the arm and bristle, "It's Shirayuki, idiot Dai-chan!") But I decided to take slow steps back until I crossed the three-point line. Kise grinned like nobody's business as I positioned myself... and threw the ball.

It danced around the ring and fell right through the net, to my utter surprise, as— well, it actually went in.

"That was a fluke," I said quickly, spinning around to meet face-to-chest with Midorima Shintarou.

"Shoot from midcourt," he ordered. I flinched, meeting his eyes and zoning in on his long lower lashes in disbelief.

"D-Did I hear that right?" I stammered. Midorima had no intention of repeating himself.

"What the hell, Midorimacchi!" Kise was quick to be the unprompted Prince Charming to my Damsel in Distress as always. "Why'd you ask her to do something as ridiculous as that?"

"I just want to know how far her capabilities take her," he said matter-of-factly, crossing his arms. "If she can do that, then we've had a female basketball prodigy under our noses this entire time."

I shook my head rapidly. "No, no, no, I'm not— I'm no prodigy," I blurted out. Hearing my voice come out louder than expected, I covered my whole burning face with both hands. Peeking through the cracks, I saw Midorima's unimpressed expression.

"Let's not push her into things like that," Kise dismissed with a laugh, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Also, apologize to Shirayukicchi!"

I widened my eyes at the nickname (did I deserve that?), my hands leaving my face, "Kise-san, I'm fine, really—"

"Apologize to her, Midorimacchi."

"What harm have I caused her?" Midorima scoffed, pushing up his glasses in distaste.

"Stop being stubborn!"

"Stop being protective."

"Enough, you two." Akashi's voice sliced through the air, and the two fell into a glaring contest. Akashi then faced me from ten feet away. "Shirayuki, if I may call you Mitsu, since it has been a month since we've met and it's clear we will see each other often this year—"

"Wait, what—"

"— I'd like to finally see you play in a game. With Ryouta, Daiki and Tetsuya. Let's see a two-on-two."

"Huh? Y-You're joking, right?"

"Do you think I'm the type of guy that jokes, Mitsu?"

"N-No, but... you can't be expecting me to—"

"Why, Akashi?" Aomine asked. "We're already all changed and ready to go home. Do you expect us to go back into our gym clothes and—"

"Just put on your shoes. Look at Mitsu. She's wearing her uniform as well," Akashi so smartly pointed out. "We'll play a ten-minute game."

Even Kise couldn't defend me against Akashi Seijuurou, that scary little— ugh, what did I just get into?

As I stopped to take a deep breath and not panic again, I felt a ghostly presence brush past me. I heard Kise say, "Well, okay. Kurokocchi! You down to be my partner?"

"I didn't agree to this, A-Akashi! Momo-san!" I turned to Momoi with pleading eyes. But she just stood there and bit her lip.

"Well, Mitty," Momoi confessed, "I've never seen you play... and I really want to."

"Do I have to stay here?" Murasakibara asked.

"I must ask this as well," Midorima said coldly, zipping his bag. "I have a test to study for."

"You two will serve as witnesses," Akashi simply responded, his eyes burning. I shuddered at this.

"Hello," said someone, his hand out in front of me. I looked up, my eyes adjusting rapidly to notice more and more features of Kuroko Tetsuya. His light blue hair, his wide, gentle eyes... he looked at me with such a lack of expression that I was a bit unnerved.

My head really wasn't into the idea of a game at all, but my body refused to shake off the adrenaline. Deep down, my heart really did want this. It yearned for this. I knew I not only wanted to play basketball again, but I wanted to play with people I could call my friends.

I wanted and needed a place to belong in Teikou, or else I'd spend my junior high days in misery.

But I had to stop and ask myself, Is this okay? Weren't we just gonna go our separate ways in high school?

"Hey, Mitsushi," Aomine called, waving his tan hand over my vision. I guess I was just going to ignore all of the weird nicknames I was getting. "You ready to play against the Phantom Sixth Man?"

I blinked. "The Phantom what?"

"You'll see when you play." Aomine smirked. "Maybe." He took my arm with a roughness he didn't seem aware of, but I was once used to being dragged around by Kagami. In fact, in some ways, Aomine reminded me of him. Which I wasn't ready to deal with, but I couldn't help it, since I was paired with him out of my will.

"Shintarou," Akashi said, "keep score."

Midorima huffed in response, and sat on the bench, pulling out his homework. "Make Momoi do it."

"I'll do it!" Momoi agreed enthusiastically, sitting beside Midorima and dancing in her seat. "I'm so excited to see Mitty play!"

Aomine's passes were fast and clear, packed with power that my wrists could barely handle. I could tell that he was going easier on me, but he still played so rough, it annoyed me to no end because 1) I was still a girl who didn't really play basketball that seriously (it wasn't like it was my passion or lifelong dream to me, I just liked it because my friends did), and 2) it reminded me too much of Taiga.

My fingers were red from receiving his passes, but it wasn't like I often got them. I was out of shape. That, and Aomine was so undeniably convinced that he could beat this whole game without me.

The pattern he played in was entirely street, and I was woefully familiar with it. I was pretty shocked at his skill, though. His level was completely out there. He had his own unreadable rhythm I couldn't keep up with at all. (I'm ashamed to tell you how many airballs I made out of nervousness.) That's what I got for playing with a freaking prodigy.

Later on, I noticed something off. His passes were somehow redirected as if the air bent to pass the ball to Kise. My eyes dilated, attempting to fathom what was happening. Every time it happened, I knew it had to be Kuroko, because who else could it be? Kise and Aomine were far too flashy in style, and Aomine literally called Kuroko the "Phantom Sixth Man" before we started, so at that point, I could figure that much out. But I just didn't know how he did it.

Is he taking advantage of his lack of presence? How do I predict his moves? How can I at least SEE the moment it happens?

"Mitsushi!" Aomine roared at me, causing me to freeze my body and brain. He made a move to pass the ball to me, but then— right then— I saw it.

It looked like a blue beam of light.

See, later on— I mean much later, like, years later— it hit me like a ton of bricks that I could slow down moments with my mind. I guess coping with sudden changes in my life caused me to develop this ability. Take that time when Akashi passed a ball to me without any warning: I pushed Kise aside and grabbed the ball. I didn't even think. So that's what happened: I stopped thinking for a moment.

"Aha!" I exclaimed, laughing as Kise scored two points with a dunk.

"Are you crazy?" Aomine said, walking towards me to flick my nose. I jumped back, startled, but the satisfaction of seeing Kuroko's passes didn't leave my brain.

"Aomine-kun," I panted, feeling my muscles getting sore and biting back a smile, "we have three... three minutes left."

I glanced over at Akashi, who I felt was staring at me for a minute. I pulled down my hairband to retie my hair into a slicker ponytail.

It was difficult to defend initially— and I don't mean blocking, because obviously, my body couldn't block anything against anyone. But against Kuroko's passes, I was still too slow to time my movements. When the ball reached me, and I was ready to dribble it over to where I wanted to be, it was slapped out of my hands.

After two minutes of this, I got so frustrated, the sounds started to muffle in my ears. Time slowed again. Perhaps I looked completely stupid standing there, or I was really taking the world in with insane concentration. But I noticed Kuroko, noticed the ball, and did what I did best— I made a run for it.

My breath was short, and my heart went haywire in my poor body, but I had enough determination for this one thing.

Seeing Kuroko's pass, I ran and slapped the ball to the ground before it could reach Kise for another point. It stung my hand immediately, bouncing straight up and down, and I nearly lost my footing at the impact. Panting, I heard Akashi's alarm, followed by his voice, "Time."

"Wait," I breathed, slowly standing up straight. "Kuroko-kun..."

I could feel him in front of me, handing out a water bottle. I looked up, acknowledging him straight in the eyes. I could've sworn he looked slightly surprised, which I guessed was surprising in itself. I never saw Kuroko make any emotional expression before.

"You've played for barely a quarter and you're already wiped out," Aomine remarked, brushing a hand over my bangs and wiping it on his shirt. Glancing up, he was grinning widely. My heartbeat resounded in my ears.

"Gross! Look at how much you're sweating!" Kagami laughed, smacking my forehead and wiping it on his shirt.

"Shirayukicchi," Kise said, "that was... how did you see Kurokocchi? And so fast?"

"Seven minutes."

We all looked at Midorima. "Shirayuki," he said, turning me into stone, "the average time a person notices Tetsuya's play is forty-five minutes. You noticed him in seven."

Kise's eyes bulged out. "Say what? Then that means... Shirayukicchi," he turned to me, shell-shocked, "you saw him like, halfway into a quarter in your first game with him? You can't be serious. Midorimacchi, you must've seen it wrong."

"It's true," Momoi spoke up. "When Mitty froze completely the first time, then had her 'crazy' moment, Midorin speculated to me that she noticed him. Her play after that was very obvious she was eyeing Tetsu-kun's movements."

Midorima shut his notebook with an aggravated sigh. "I couldn't even concentrate," he grated, pushing up his glasses. "You are all at fault if I do not get full marks on my exam tomorrow."

Kise rolled his eyes. Aomine regarded me up and down. "You didn't make a single shot with me," he realized out loud. I slowly turned to him.

"I don't see how I could've even attempted that against Kise-kun, Aomine-k—"

"Three minutes," Akashi said, and the room just went silent at that.

Surprisingly, Murasakibara was the first to speak. "That's a new record, right?"

"There's no way," Midorima retorted. "She's never played against him before."

"But she has been watching Tetsuya for a month, hasn't she?" Akashi countered. "Mitsu, you're a formidable analyst. I think this has finally proven to me that you are worthy of my respect."

"Worthy of— huh?" I had no words. The captain of the Generation of Miracles, that guy, just said that I was worthy of his respect?

This quickly changed the mood of the entire room. It wasn't like a king was bowing down to me, but that's the best way I could explain the feeling.

I wasn't sure how this moment transitioned into getting ice cream at the convenience store afterwards, but that happened too— and the best way I can explain that feeling is how I felt when Tatsuya, Taiga and I would go out for ice cream after streetball.

That day held some of the most beautiful memories I had at Teikou. It was definitely a turning point to better days.

Kuroko never once interrupted me, ever. He would often wait until I ran out of things to say. This led me to so many times in my life when I spilt things on him I didn't intend to, but Kuroko would always listen.

His pause wasn't as long as usual. He turned to me, gently touched my shaking hand, and paused one more time, before holding it in both of his. He never touched me before, so it startled me that he decided to then, but his palms were so warm in my shaky ones that I leaned forward and relented. I was too tired for tears, but I knew Kuroko knew— at that moment, I was sadder than I had ever been.

He let go of my hand and pulled me back, just to fix the graduation corsage on my chest. "Shirayuki-san," he muttered.

Our eyes met. I had never seen his eyes burn so brightly.

"Don't difficult situations light a fire in you?"

Vers. October 15, 2022