Absolutely Zero by ivybluesummers & koruha

It was a story of a thousand thoughts. Or whatever.

How is he to say that the situation was excellent in all its value? These were the thoughts of the russet-eyed. He woke up frenzied in the morning but he still executed his façade of unknowing; wondering the peace that has been hypocritical he stayed smiling at his acquaintances. There were ragged glasses at the porch of his neighbor's house – it was morning – and as he walked leaves from an old oak tree flailed but winds were bare as the sunlight threw warmth at his back.

Kiminobu have stood inside the outlined landscapes of Shohoku High as his thoughts zipped cyclical at the sovereignty of dejection meandering at his psyche. He walked a bit more to notice rough buildings and students that conversed in their typical voice and enthusiasm; a bicycle was shackled at the corner of the gymnasium and he thought it was from Kaede. Synchronizing self-possession he went inside a building. Academics were as great as it must be and after some hesitant minutes entered the gymnasium.

Those were the thoughts of the russet-eyed.

A ball swiftly dashed in the air and Hanamichi made a rebound. Kaede would not concede and blocked the red-haired but the so-called genius passed it to Ryota and a lay-up was performed. Seconds after Kiminobu faltered to look into Ayako another game started. At the tip of the noises outside with all the crackles of the high school sceneries Haruko clutched at the silence overgrowing at the gymnasium; no one was talking as if they were all disabled and only had eyes that spoke prosperous gist as their only communicative skill. A three-point shot was made and a whistle was finally heard loud enough for Takenori's sister to hear; it all seemed wistful and vague and the girl thought she was imagining things – it was only a late realization then that she has been looking intently at the red-haired, a blush at her pale cheeks showing.

"Assemble!"

At the pavements with the intervening orange sun Kiminobu offered Haruko company; their conversation was a pretense and both knew of it. It was only some minutes ago that the practice ended, Takenori out early for some reasons known only for his sister. They were walking charade and affectation but it was better than not talking at all when suddenly Kiminobu stopped at his tracks and Haruko, concerned, drew alongside.

"Anything wrong sempai?"

Kiminobu brushed his brown tresses back up in time to see the daybreak. He heaved a big sigh and smiled pompously. "I was holden caulfied, Haruko."

"Eh?"

"I was judgmental and I was prick for the whole lot of it,"

"Kogure-sempai,"

"Someone just gave me the cold shoulder."

"What do you mean, sempai?"

"Neither of us are accountable because it was only a prospect; but I'd be the happiest man because I know I took it."

"Is it--" she said, knowing all is easy.

"Yes Haruko-san."

"And I'll live my life well from now on; I better be happy and that no one knows. Except you and Takenori. You two have keen intuition."

"I'd take that as a compliment."

"Sure you do."

Haruko didn't know what to come back with. She sure was an acquaintance but that was all; and barely of a lad like the one in front of him to disclose such sad story. "Promise me, Haruko-san, never speak of it again and so shall I. I'm sorry for being like this."

"It's okay."

They walked further and eventually separated; Haruko was grateful and so was the other. As winds waved goodbye it was only a matter of inspired creativity when Haruko walked up to her room and made narrative of the absolutely zero certainty. Yes, the boy is gone home.

It was a crowd of emptiness when all that Kogure could hear were the ticks of the clock and the rustles of the wind touching foliage; he was savoring isolation from the world up above its social worth and possibilities and the chocolate-eyed was only happier to have headed home before Mitsui and Rukawa catch him. The russet-eyed was gone.

Kogure and Mitsui both loved each other but it was now nothing more than a word that fell silence at the pinnacle of what they spoke; there were no emotions now to dance up their awareness of what they are – emptiness was rather a lovelier revelry than to feel angst or despair for they take audacity and the russet-eyed does not have such. There was a stinging sentiment that loitered on Kogure days after that incident; he was growing nonchalant in pretense and miserable deep inside but he knew that the only thing that would keep them together was faith that crossed oceans of misgivings and negativity. He would no longer kiss and make allowances for it; he'd rather be a domicile freak than to purport the relationship that is tumbling by the moment. He knew that it would be futile; the boy was already gone.

And everytime he feels like solitarily unrepeated he blames Mitsui for making him beg the world some more innocence, but he had his choice and brought himself down. The world elapses like slinking winds Kogure could only muster – it cannot be changed and it can only be faced; it was getting worse day by day but the russet-eyed didn't want to let go. He was afraid of the consequences, afraid that that the world would no longer cry for the innocent.

How is he to say that the situation was excellent in all its value? This was the thought of the russet-eyed.