acrid: unpleasantly bitter or sharp in taste or odour; caustic.
August had arrived and the Nationals were approaching quickly. The cool autumn weather had already set in, pushing aside the blistering hot sun in favour of gentle breezes. Eru supposed her favourite part of fall was when the leaves started to change their colour, when the uniform green slowly transitioned into magnificent shades of yellow, orange, red and brown. It reminded her of how transient life was, and how important it was to appreciate the little moments of joy she experienced.
She thought that Teiko, too, looked best in the fall. The tall trees that lined the walls and dotted the courtyard seemed more alive with their vibrant hues, than they ever did in the springtime. On peaceful days such as this, she preferred to spend her lunch break in the open air, away from the disorienting noise of the cafeteria. In the still autumn air, amidst the low humming of birds in the distance and gentle rustling of leaves, Eru closed her eyes and allowed a wave of contentment to wash over her.
A soft crunch by her side alerted her to the fact that someone had joined her. Then, his familiar voice broke the silence, "I thought you'd be here."
She tilted her head towards his and a smile blossomed on her face. "I guess you know me too well, Seijuro."
They lapsed into a comfortable silence – the kind where there was no expectations of anyone to force a conversation, the kind that made her truly appreciate his presence and companionship. He alone had an uncanny way of being able to relate to her.
With the Nationals drawing closer, training was taking place with even more gruelling intensity. Kuroko had long since become an integral part of the first string, whose core players were gradually being acknowledged as the Generation of Miracles – an overtly fancy and intimidating name for a group of such harmless, fun-loving boys. Nearly two years of close observation alongside the sharp, knowledgeable Momoi meant that she was able to see the stark difference in their abilities, especially when compared to the other members of the basketball team.
"They're strong," commented Momoi once, "Perhaps too strong for their own good." And they certainly were, surpassing themselves each day, constantly developing new abilities and techniques that no ordinary player could rival. Eru could not help but feel proud of their progress.
Like most other days, the indoor basketball court was filled with the sound of shoes squeaking against the polished floor, and balls drumming against the ground. It was a constant for her; much like how she was certain that the sun would always rise from the east, she associated basketball with a certain soothing calm that would continue to reassure her, even when everything else was awry. Seijuro's voice rang clear throughout the court, and it crossed her mind that basketball practice was one of the rare moments that she could see him enjoy himself thoroughly. Pressure was put on him to excel in every area of his life, but the one thing that Seijuro genuinely wanted to give his all to was basketball.
Nijimura was seated next to her on the bench, scrutinising the ongoing friendly match amongst the first string members. His normally placid expression looked unusually troubled, and Eru wondered briefly if he was afraid of how quickly the Generation of Miracles were advancing. Perhaps he feared that they would surpass him, and he would lose their respect. She wasn't inclined to believe so: Nijimura Shuzo had a way of making even Haizaki listen to him. She tried to ignore the nagging doubts that had crept forward from the back of her mind and focussed instead on the clipboard in front of her.
As the manager she had to pay close attention to their game-play, as well as coordinate practice matches with other schools. Momoi was far better at analysing the players individually and assessing their abilities – profiling them, or so she said – while she preferred to understand inter-player dynamics to determine their strengths and limitations. It seemed that Kuroko's arrival had singlehandedly improved the element of teamwork, shifting the team in the direction of encouraging bold passes and greater trust in one another. From Kise's indignant cries, to Midorima's derisive grunts, to Murasakibara's complaints of hunger, and of course, Aomine's crass, but genuine happiness, it was clear that Kuroko shone like a brilliant light on the team, rather than the shadow he insisted that he was. With less than a month to the Nationals, Eru thought the team had never been more complete.
It was nearing seven o'clock when the coach called everyone to gather for an important announcement. Brushing the droplets of sweat off his face, Seijuro made his way towards her. The bottle of water she offered him was received with gratitude, and they both waited patiently for the coach to speak.
"Listen up, everyone! There will be a few changes to the team before we enter the Nationals. As you all should know by now, Kuroko has been made a starting member. More importantly, Nijimura will be stepping down from his position as captain." There was a brief moment of stunned silence before the first string erupted in a chorus of confused chatter.
"Shouldn't he stay till the end of the season?"
"Let him stay!"
"The decision was made by me," interjected Nijimura, "Akashi-kun will being taking over me."
The first, most noticeable change was the announcement of Haizaki Shogo's decision to quit the team. This was met with a variation of indifference and even some semblance of relief. Eru guessed Seijuro had a part to play in that, judging from his less than positive impression of Haizaki's antics. The intensity of training increased too, and she could distinctly recall Aomine's impressive array of cuss words when Seijuro presented the training schedule in lieu of the Nationals. He genuinely believed in the importance of diligence and hard work, and she hoped that they would be rewarded for their efforts.
Seated on the broad wooden bench in the indoor court, Eru leaned back against the wall and observed the boys' workout routine; her mathematics homework lay untouched on her lap. It was one of those inexplicable moments when she felt overwhelmed by exhaustion, and the consequences of her sleepless nights weighed down on her. While she desperately wanted to be actively involved in the practices, she knew that she had to spend this time catching up on her work, so that she wouldn't have to worry about it when she reached home – not that it really was a home at all. The ambient noise was becoming distracting, and she pushed aside her initial intention to complete the practice test; it was unlikely that she would be able to complete it at any rate.
Eru inadvertently thought back to Momoi's offhand comment about the boys' unprecedented talent just a few weeks ago; she could only hope that it wouldn't severely affect their team's dynamics. Seijuros' calm voice pierced through her thoughts. It dominated the court, and the other members listened to his words with rapt attention. It never ceased to amaze her – the extent of the respect that he commanded from them, even with such minimal effort. The first string inherently trusted his advice and his orders, enough so that they would put aside their pride long enough to obey their captain. She supposed it was best not to dwell on such negative thoughts. After all, if the radiant smiles on their faces were any indication at all, this team would go far.
The day of the National play-offs dawned, with arguably the best autumn weather thus far. The sky was clear for the first time in weeks; the clouds had parted to reveal the brilliant blue skies that it usually concealed, and a gentle breeze interrupted the otherwise still air. They had already made it through the district preliminaries, easily claiming one of two spots that would advance to the playoffs.
The team arrived at the steps of tournament stadium feeling prepared. Momoi had already briefed them on the bus ride to the stadium. Even as they entered the court to face their very first opponents, there was an air of confidence about them, a combination of their relentless efforts and unrivalled ability. Midorima clutched a small terrarium in his hands – the lucky item for cancers that day, according to Oha-Asa – his face a mask of grim determination. Other than that, there was a strange but serene calm that descended over the Generation of Miracles. Aomine remained as laid-back as always, any doubt towards the outcome of the match instantly overcome but his excitement to play his favourite sport.
"We have worked hard to reach where we are now; may our efforts continue to reward us in the matches ahead."
"Yes, Akashi-kun. Let's do our best."
"Relax Tetsu," drawled Aomine, "Light and shadow, remember?"
How peculiar that such a familiar exchange could bring a smile to her lips so quickly. Perhaps it was from the sheer simplicity of the conversation, or the strong evidence of camaraderie between them all, but she took joy in those things regardless.
From the perspective of the enemy team, at least, the situation was appearing more and more bleak. While other teams struggled to assert any form of dominance over the enemy team, the Generation of Miracles swept victory after victory, easily securing at least forty points more than their opponents by the time the final whistle was blown. Momoi was overjoyed at the victories and was openly eager to witness Teiko emerging the victors of the Nationals for the second consecutive year.
To Eru, the playoffs had gone wrong in the worst possible way. Between Momoi and herself, she had always been the one more aware of the team's dynamics, and she could sense something shifting in the duration of the Nationals. Much like how the month of September had arrived with cloudy skies and chilly winds, the team appeared to grow more distant; reliance on Kuroko's superb passing skills had somehow transformed into a matter of personal pride – an unspoken battle of who could score the most number of points. With every passing match, Eru could sense Aomine's growing disillusionment towards the sport – that much at least was practically written across his face.
Still, she held on to hope, believing staunchly that the situation would eventually rectify itself. That was until she witnessed the cruel way that Aomine rejected Kuroko's fist bump. In a strange way, that singular event permanently altered the course of the team for better or for worse.
The day after Teiko had won the Nationals, Seijuro found himself in the clubroom before practice, uncertain as to how he ought to move his team forward. As much as he hated to admit it, Nijimura would definitely know what to do in his position – at least, more than he did at that point. Autumn had never seemed more acrid to Seijuro, as if there was something foul and bitter-tasting lingering on the tip of his tongue whenever he breathed. He cared deeply for his teammates, and he too could sense that something significant had gone wrong, enough to evoke this level of doubt in him. Unwittingly, Seijuro let a bitter laugh escape his lips.
"Seijuro," a soft voice called him from his musings. Even as she stood at the doorway, he could distinctly see his exact fears reflected on her face. Inclining her head towards him slightly, her eyes expressed the unasked question hanging tensely between them. What happens now?
"I suppose we will simply have to wait and see."
He found himself afraid of answering her directly; what if he was wrong? He couldn't afford to make the wrong decision, he couldn't afford to bring his team down, and he definitely couldn't afford to disappoint his father. The gentle hand that found its way to his shoulder felt far too forgiving, almost as if she was subtly reassuring him; he didn't deserve that, not if his team was in shambles with him as the captain. Still, he didn't move away, secretly finding solace in her touch, afraid that he would eventually drive this relationship to ruins as well.
When she entered the basketball court just as practice began, Eru could immediately sense an almost-tangible tension that layered the atmosphere; it was something simmering just beneath the surface, as if everyone had something they desperately needed to say, but couldn't yet. While Midorima, Kuroko and Kise practised as they normally did, the attitudes of Murasakibara and Aomine seemed to have undergone a drastic change for worse in just a couple of days after the Nationals. The latter spun a basketball listlessly around his finger – a picture of utter disinterest and discontentment; Eru didn't think she had ever seen him respond with anything other than genuine elation towards basketball. After half an hour, he exited the gym on the pretext of going to the washroom. He never returned.
"Where did Aomine go?" Her eyes softened at the stress layering Seijuro's frustrated words. "He should be coming to practice."
"There's no point in any of us coming anyway, Aka-chin," Murasakibara replied unexpectedly, "We're good enough already." At that, Eru was suddenly aware of Seijuro's immense effort to bite back his instinctive rebuttal; his sharp eyes narrowed marginally and she momentarily saw a menacing look cross his expression. Then it was gone, and she found herself questioning if it really happened at all.
"We have to train as a team regardless, Murasakibara. Whatever the case may be, basketball is meant to be played as a coherent whole."
"We don't need to work together if we win anyway," Murasakibara insisted sulkily, "I don't wanna practise either."
"Don't be ridiculous, I can't possibly allow that."
"I don't feel like I'm gonna lose," he said, "I only listened to you because I thought you were better. I don't think that's the case now." Seijuro tensed as Murasakibara continued, "I won't listen to someone weaker than me."
Momoi's loud gasp was quickly dismissed, as Seijuro declared a one-on-one against Murasakibara. The latter readily accepted his challenge, confident in his superior abilities. When Seijuro was only one point away from a dismal defeat, the voice at the back of her mind called her to intervene, but she felt something holding her back.
By the time Seijuro emerged victorious over Murasakibara, it was already too late.
A/N: sorry, the first month of school has been rather busy as of late; hope to find more time during the weekend to write though! I kind of glossed over the one-on-one because I didn't really think that the details were necessary. personally, I find the depiction of akashi before and after a lot more important, so I focussed on the before here and the after will be done subsequently:"))
