Chapter Warnings: Angst, Implied Child Neglect, Implied Alcoholism, Kaito being Kaito, Unreliable Narrators everywhere

Chapter 6

Ogiwara Shigehiro had always been a helper.

When he was very young, okaa-chan always called him Mama's little helper because he liked handing her things he thought she needed. Dropped pieces of laundry, dust bunnies found in hard to reach places, the mail once he was finally tall enough to reach it, the weird bottles in the fridge every night after dinner.

Anything, just so Shigehiro can live up to being okaa-chan's little helper.

(It wasn't until he was old enough to realize that those dropped pieces of laundry weren't theirs, that those dust bunnies were there because his mother rarely cleaned, that the mail were bank statements and loan applications, that those weird bottles in the fridge were consumed to drown out whatever was wrong in the world.)

When he started attending school, that was the first time he'd actually met children his age. And then suddenly there was just so much to do, so much to explore, so many games to play and so many more people he could talk to. He enjoyed everything, until he caught a stray orange ball and was asked to join the game.

Basketball.

Shigehiro bloomed.

But Shigehiro had always been a helper. And the people he was so used to helping was his mother, an adult. So he gave them things he thought they needed, like telling them how Haruka-kun and Toshi-kun hid the drawing supplies, or how Yuki-chan liked pulling her seatmate's chair right before they sat down.

It didn't take long for the whispers to start.

Oh, Ogiwara-kun? Yes, he's nice but you shouldn't get close to him.

Ogiwara? Ha! That guy would blab his mouth at any given moment. Leave him.

It wasn't like Chika-chan needed it– oh, what are you doing here? You're not gonna tell on us, are you?

I thought Shigehiro-kun was nice.

Suddenly, Shigehiro was a tattletale and his classmates made it clear that they did not like that.

They started leaving him out of plans, whispering to each other when he came near, laying the line between him and them and making sure he knew it. He hadn't realized what was happening, what had been so wrong about him until it was too late.

Until no one wanted to be called his friend.

Sometimes he wondered if it would have been better for him to keep his mouth shut. Sometimes he couldn't help but blame okaa-chan even if it was Shigehiro who clung to the idea of being her little helper.

(Maybe if he hadn't had a taste of what it felt like to belong, if his world hadn't shifted to include things such as school and friends and games, then it wouldn't have hurt so much.)

Basketball had been his only saving grace. On the court, he knew no one and no one knew him. He gets to be Ogiwara Shigehiro, the friendly boy who smiled big and bright and laughed like he had no care for the world. Not one of the people there knew him as Shigehiro the tattletale, the loner, the loudmouth.

(And it had burned, had been so confusing why two parts of his life could be so different.)

But with everything that had happened, the mistake that (he was) had happened, Shigehiro couldn't help but draw a line between being friendly with and being friends. The latter held too much meaning, held too much burden for him to just give it to someone.

Basketball was great, was what made him smile and laugh, but it could only go so far.

And then he met Kuroko Tetsuya, a boy who lived on the fringes of society itself because no one noticed him.

He can be my friend, Shigehiro had thought, we can be lonely together and then we won't have to be alone.

(Who can he tell, who will tell him, if no one can even see him?)

("My name's Ogiwara Shigehiro!" he made sure to grin, "Let's play basketball together!"

The light blue haired boy merely glanced at him before going back to his clumsy dribbling. Shigehiro waited, and waited, and waited, grin never faltering, never fading, just keep waiting Shigehiro– "Ogiwara-san has to keep a better check on his appearance. There's rice stuck on his cheek. Please leave me alone."

The rejection was– "So fast!")

So Ogiwara Shigehiro befriended Kuroko Tetsuya, unheeding of the boy's coldness and distance because Shigehiro knew a little something about being an outsider. Determination (desperation, fixation) easily won over, easily disregarded everything else except for finally having a friend who would follow him around as much as he, himself, follows.

(Tetsuya thought Shigehiro was selfless and good and the sun, but all Shigehiro was is a helper who couldn't help.)

And then they met Edogawa Conan, and it was almost like the world expanded just to accommodate for the sheer presence that little boy had.

He can be our friend, Shigehiro had thought, we can be not-lonely together and we won't have to be alone.

(We—Kuroko and Ogiwara-kun. Shige-kun and Tetsuya.)

So they befriended Edogawa Conan, met everything that came with the boy with brave faces because he saw them and helped them and taught them and made sure they were safe. His surprisingly nurturing and kind character, his calm and confidence, a weight that balanced Tetsuya's bluntness and Shigehiro's buoyancy.

But Shigehiro knew there was something that set himself apart from the other two. Or rather, there was something that set each of them apart and Shigehiro didn't know what or when it had changed for it to suddenly come to his attention.

And he feared that the news okaa-chan gave him would forever break them apart.

("I'm getting married."

"Huh?" He didn't even know she was seeing someone.

"In a few weeks," was all she said, "we'll move in with him. The school has been notified and your transfer papers have been filed."

"But–" Shigehiro sucked in a breath. "I can't just leave. I'm almost done with grade school. What about– what about my friends?"

"Friends?" She shouldn't have sounded so disbelieving, so surprised. "I…didn't realize you had friends."

Shigehiro swallowed, looked at the papers, the documents on the table. "Where?"

"Kyoto." )

(Why can't he be angry?)

Not that Shigehiro was the one to keep them together. No, that position was solely reserved to their experiences—every single death and almost-death they have encountered, every meet up they spent keeping Edogawa distracted with basketball or soccer or whatever else, every hour spent helping Tetsuya with his basketball.

If Shigehiro were to pull away, be torn away, none of it would unravel. Or, if not, he'd make it so. Because Shigehiro was a helper and a friend. The least he could do was make it easier, more so for Tetsuya who looked at him with eyes that burned, that implored so much.

(I don't think you realize how expressive your eyes are, Edogawa had once said. He was right. Tetsuya's eyes could claw through your soul if he so wished.)

So when Tetsuya brought a tag-along Edogawa sweetly (teasingly) called Kaito-no-niichan before pelting the man with a soccer ball, Shigehiro realized he was running out of time.

"Con-chan! What was that for?!"

"Sorry," said Edogawa, not sounding sorry at all, as he effortlessly caught the ball that bounced against the wall. And oh wow, apparently Edogawa still has the capacity to be even scarier because that was an extremely precise and accurate kick. "It's just when I see your face, I get this urge. Gomen ne, Kaito-no-niichan."

Oh, that sickly sweet tone always puts him on edge.

"Rude!" Kaito-san huffed, nose in the air as he glared at Edogawa. The image they made was hilarious. A grown man making a face at a boy who looked wholly unimpressed. "And after I came all the way here just to see my dearest little Con-chan! I even brought you coffee, you ungrateful brat."

And, as he did say, Kaito-san had a comically large cup of steaming coffee in hand. Shigehiro could have sworn there had been no sign of such a thing just a few seconds ago. Edogawa sniffed delicately, and though there was no change in his stance, Kaito-san took it as something because with a puff of smoke, the large cup of coffee was in Edogawa's hands.

Without missing a beat, Edogawa took a sip—

and never resurfaced.

"How?" Shigehiro muttered in horror, watching the boy chug what must have been a liter of hot coffee. "Doesn't he need to breathe?"

Beside him, Tetsuya stared at the scene. Shigehiro thought his friend was just as incredulous.

"Amazing, right?" a voice whispered to his ear. "He only does that if he's been awake for a few days straight."

Wha–

Right between him and Tetsuya was Kaito-san, face split into a mischievous grin as he bent down to match their height.

"Gah!"

Tetsuya remained silent but he looked like a spooked cat. Ah, what was it called? Yes, sweet irony. (See? Shigehiro knows some words, Tetsuya.)

Kaito-san laughed, "Oh my, did I scare you? Sorry, here." A puff of smoke and a peach-colored rose was held up towards Shigehiro. "Kuroba Kaito, magician extraordinaire."

Finally calmed, Shigehiro took the rose in amazed puzzlement. The magic was great, but what an odd gesture. Shigehiro had never had someone give him a rose, much less one in a color he hadn't seen anywhere. As far as he knew, roses were only red or sometimes pink and given as a romantic gesture.

Catching Tetsuya's gaze, the light blue haired boy tilted his head (adorably), "It means…gratitude. A gesture of appreciation."

"Oh," Shigehiro twirled the rose between his fingers. It was rather pretty, he just didn't know what to do with it or what to think about it. Still, he beamed at Kuroba Kaito-san. "Thank you! It's really pretty."

"Oh hoh! Someone who finally appreciates my hard work," Kuroba-san brightened further, if that was possible, before casting a playfully scathing(?) look towards Edogawa. "Unlike a certain someone. I grew those roses myself, you know, and what does he do? Throw them back into my face."

"Shove off BaKaito-niichan, I know you put something in that bouquet." Edogawa was finally done gulping down his coffee and yeah, he did look a lot better. Less like he'd keel over any time, and more one wrong move and I'm kicking this soccer ball to your face. He missed the time Edogawa kept up his friendly face almost all the time.

"So? What are you actually doing here?" Edogawa resumed his juggling like the utter soccer-nut that he was. "If it's about Kuroko, I already know. I've seen him practicing coin tricks and he's been trying to disappear and reappear purposefully now. He could have come to the conclusion himself—which was something I've been working on before you meddled—but misdirection is not easy to learn and pull off in just a few days. So that leaves the idea that someone taught him. You're the only one capable of doing that and has a vested interest in this, Kai-nii."

At that, Shigehiro blinked and turned to look at Tetsuya. The blue haired boy had the grace to shrug apologetically. This wasn't the first time things slipped past Shigehiro's notice, especially when he was friends with one very intelligent boy and another one who's about as expressive as a brick, but somehow he felt that this was the kind of thing he would notice.

So why hadn't he?

(Was he…that bad of a friend? That he wouldn't notice such a change?)

Preoccupied by his thoughts, Shigehiro missed the significant look exchanged between Edogawa and Kuroba. Tetsuya didn't.

"Ugh," Kuroba-san groaned, sticking his tongue out in disgust. "You detectives are no fun. But you know what?" Here, his grin is sharp and teasing. "Kuroko-kun's such a natural! Can you believe how fast he got the theory down? Just a bit more practice on the application and I can make a great little phantom out of him yet!"

A pause–

"No." Edogawa smiled, but Shigehiro distinctly felt like his life was in danger. "You will not."

Kuroba-san straight out cackled. "Ah~ Tantei-kun, you're so adorable. Don't worry, a magician chooses their own path as they develop their own tricks."

Shigehiro and Tetsuya shared a puzzled look, feeling like they were missing something.

"And I think Kuroko-kun's more concerned about basketball than pretty, shiny things." Kuroba-san absentmindedly shuffled a deck of cards that came out of nowhere. He did one ridiculous and mind boggling trick after the other. Whatever animosity Shigehiro harboured was gone in the face of the man's impressive skills. "The stage we perform on is always one of our own making. I've never seen someone use a basketball game as one before, but who knows?

"Ah-" Kuroba-san made a show of shuffling the cards, clearly looking for something. "I'm missing one." His eyes thoughtfully passed from person to person before settling on Tetsuya, a smirk tugging on his lips.

Unperturbed, Tetsuya checked his pockets and, sure enough, he pulled out a card. It was blank. Tetsuya silently handed it to Kuroba-san who flipped it around in puzzlement before grinning and handing it back with a flourish. He held it face up, the printed design stark against the white of the previously blank card.

A 7 of clubs. [1,2]

"Maybe you'll be the Phantom of the court." The grin on the magician's face was sly. "It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

Tetsuya's smile was enough to answer, and Shigehiro dared to let himself share in that excitement.

(He had to collect these moments. Tetsuya's smiles were like treasure, his laughs priceless. And Shigehiro wouldn't get to see it, wouldn't get to cause it for who knew how long.)

The rest of the afternoon was spent doing something very different from what they usually do.

Kuroba-san, apparently, was always itching to perform. Eager to wow people with his magic and theatrics, his charm and energy. They had easily agreed to relocate to the nearby playground so he'll have a bigger audience. Children and their parents or guardians, some passers-by attracted by the noise and crowd.

And what a show Kuroba-san had given.

For someone who came with no visible bags or luggage, the man pulled an astonishing amount of tricks. From card tricks to confetti-string-carrying flock of doves, from teleporting to switching Edogawa's clothes with a puff of smoke. And maybe that fact only added to it, to the image of a wandering magician.

The smiles, the laughs, the jokes and the oohh's and aahh's of the amazed audience. Kuroba-san had a playful personality that pulled people in, a childish excitement and charismatic smoothness to his movements that made you watch and listen and believe. That if there was magic in this world, it was this.

Beside him, Tetsuya was watching with wide, glittering eyes, his stoicism giving way to wonder and being swept in the energy of the crowd. He must have felt Shigehiro's gaze, because a pale hand shyly wrapped around his own wrist. The voluntary physical contact wasn't new, but realizing he only had a few weeks, a few days to have this—

Shigehiro shifted to grasp the hand in his, and grinned. Tetsuya tilted his head in question but smiled brightly in return. Warmth swelled in his chest. Contentment. Before his thoughts looped back to reality and it felt like he swallowed a rock, hard and heavy and rough.

(He would have to leave this.)

Shigehiro noticed the shift in Tetsuya's expression, so he hurriedly pulled himself together and looked away, squeezing his hand to tell the other he was okay. Fortunately, Tetsuya accepted it. For now.

They turned their attention back to the show in time to see Edogawa—playing the role of an unwilling assistant and somehow only adding hilarity to the act—get puffed into a cute sailor boy outfit.

Edogawa froze, looked down at his clothes, then at the snickering Kuroba-san who had been narrating something to the effect of a sailor boy out in the sea who took the burden of replacing the sunken lighthouse, using his voice to guide–

"BAKAITO! COME BACK HERE!"

"Not quite the guiding I was talking about, but it's a direction so we'll take it. Gomen minna-san, Con-chan still has to work on his acting, but he's doing his best."

The timing, the flush of embarrassment on usually composed Edogawa, Kuroba-san's commentary, the giggling children and building good cheer all added up together into the bright, bubbling laugh that escaped Shigehiro's lips and—to his surprise—Tetsuya's.

Shigehiro caught Tetsuya's gaze and the brightness, the happiness in them made something ache.

He's running out of time, but Shigehiro didn't have it in him to ruin this moment just yet.

"Misdirection and sleight of hand as a form of self-defense. Teaching him how to control his presence. As expected of you, Kaito."

"You flatter me," said Kaito, grinning with no sign of his earlier theatrics. "I'm sure you've come to the same conclusion. I can't just leave him like that if I can teach him a thing or two. Having such naturally low presence is… it's a burden, but it's also an advantage."

It's dangerous, was what was left unsaid. They both knew people who wouldn't hesitate abusing such an ability.

"Besides," continued Kaito, a finger tapping his lips thoughtfully. "I have a feeling he'll stick around more than you think."

Something about the way he said it, the pursed lips and slightly furrowed brows, that jumped out to Conan, but he couldn't think of anything that would have caused it. Then again, the magician did love confusing him.

"You dumbass, meddlesome thief," Conan scoffed, but bumped his shoulder against the magician's side. "Thanks."

"Us Phantoms have to stick together! We're endangered enough as it is."

"And the world's all the better for it." Conan rolled his eyes. "Maybe I should teach him how to use a basketball as a weapon since he's got great potential for arm strength. I've found it very useful against annoying, thieving magicians."

"Oi oi, two shrimps pelting deadly sports balls at unsuspecting people? Meitantei, I thought you worked on the right side of the law."

"Shut up."

"But seriously," The sudden drop of the light atmosphere didn't surprise Conan. They'd practically lived in each other's pockets for a while. "Ayumi-chan's already recovered long ago and I saw you hanging around with your ducklings along with that scary-eyed little neechan. You can't still be blaming yourself for what happened. I know you better than that, Shinichi."

"Stop calling me that," was Conan's irritated reply. A deflection, they both knew.

"Conan, Shinichi." Kaito counted off with his fingers. "Tantei-kun, Meitantei. All the same to me. Just because I helped stage the death of one doesn't mean he's still not you."

Conan remained silent, the argument something they've had so often it was more of a habit than anything else. Then he let out a breath. He was too tired to resist the silent offer of being given an ear, and Kaito would have only popped up if he thought Conan was nearing his limit.

It was just…a thing between them. And if asked, neither could tell when they started to be so sensitive to each other's moods.

Taking a moment to organize his thoughts, Conan finally said, "They think I abandoned them even if they don't realize it. They're great kids, more mature than others but…"

"But they're still kids," Kaito finished, understanding his train of thought.

"But they're still kids," Conan agreed with a sigh. "Two years of avoidance… that's a long time for children living in the moment. Eventually, whatever appeasements Haibara and Hakase gave them had lost meaning. And I think Mitsuhiko blames me. They haven't said anything to my face, but I can see my presence just hurts them."

"Even if it was for their protection, they won't ever understand why you did it, right?" It wasn't a sentence of judgment. It never was, when it came to this. "Even that karate neechan of yours."

"Like you were any better with Nakamori-chan and Hakuba."

Kaito groaned. "Please don't say that name, I still can't stand that smug-faced bastard. Can you believe it? We attend the same university! I thought he'd go back to his beloved England for higher education—"

'Oi, didn't you apply to that university a year after Hakuba started attending it?'

"—But that's beside the point."

"Maybe," Conan conceded instead, then he admitted, "I put those around me in danger. That's a fact. And you know how it happens less than usual around Kuroko and Ogiwara. But I can't help but think that the more time I spend with them, the more likely I'll put them into something that I can't help them out of."

Like Ayumi. Like the deteriorating relationship he had with the others.

"They're just nice kids who want to play a game they enjoy, and they're content to stay at the sidelines of an investigation. I don't want to drag them into my mess any more than I already have."

"Well," the magician dragged out the syllable. "They've imprinted on you already. And I, for one, think that they'd handle situations differently from that Shounen-Tanteidan of yours. The big bad organization's gone and you have all the time in the world to settle back in your new life as Edogawa Conan, incoming middle schooler. There's room there for your cute new basketball adoptees."

Conan snorted. It's been more or less a year, and it still feels like he's both running away and running after something. But Kaito was, unfortunately, right. They've agreed not to let anything more pass through their grasp, and Kuroko and Ogiwara had managed to crawl into his defenses and carve a niche for themselves.

Although, "Somehow, you make everything sound demeaning."

Kaito laughed. "It's all in your head. But can you at least consider one thing?" Mystified, Conan nodded. "Let them make their own decisions, ne, Tantei-kun?"

"Like you did when you dragged me halfway across the world to follow some leads on our problem organizations?"

"Exactly!"

Tetsuya stared.

The basketball he was gripping so hard had fallen on his feet and rolled away out of eyesight. Off to the side, Edogawa-kun had stopped juggling his own soccer ball, attention on their exchange.

"Shige-kun…" Tetsuya uttered, voice devoid of emotion even as he clenched his hands into fists because they were trembling, "is moving?"

"I–" Said boy bit his lip and hung his head. None of the usual cheer was present, none of the brightness. That, more than anything, struck him, dug through his mind and insisted this was real. "Yes. We're moving. To Kyoto."

"I see," was all Tetsuya could say. His ears were ringing, eyes blinking rapidly as he tried to make sense of what was said. "When?"

Here, Shige-kun cringed and Tetsuya knew he wouldn't like it. "The day after tomorrow."

Ah.

Tetsuya hummed, licked his lips, and went to get the ball. Edogawa-kun watched with a half-lidded gaze, arms crossed as Shige-kun fidgeted. Ball in hand, Tetsuya dribbled it slowly, movements feeling sluggish and forced. The resulting loud sounds made Shige-kun cringe further and Edogawa-kun to raise his eyebrows.

"Tetsuya?"

The light blue haired boy made his way near the hoop, strides careful and measured and precise. That was good. Control was good. Better than the way his head felt too heavy, the way he felt as if his ears would pop. As if his stomach would make its way out of his mouth.

Wait. They were waiting for his response, right?

"...okay."

"What?"

Tetsuya dribbled the ball.

"Okay."

He tried his hand at shooting, not caring of how he held the ball, not knowing how much strength he used, not being aware of anything but the sheer need to let out the tension, the strain, the pressure—

"Are you mad at me, Tetsuya?"

Thud. Thunk.

The ball bounced off the backboard and hit the rim with such force that it rattled, noisily bouncing within the hoop a couple times. But it sunk in.

Tetsuya watched it blankly. "I'm not mad."

Shige-kun stared at the crack on the wooden backboard with wide eyes. "I– I think you are mad at me."

Humming, Tetsuya tilted his head in consideration. Was he mad? He didn't think so. Anger didn't make his stomach twist in knots, or make his skin cold and clammy, or make the air he was breathing in feel like it was (he was) not enough—

"I'm not mad at you, Shige-kun," Tetsuya repeated. His tongue felt a bit too big, too sluggish, making his words slow and deliberate. "I'm…scared. Anxious. Maybe a bit upset that Shige-kun only told us now when he could have done it before." He was being uncharacteristically talkative, but Tetsuya couldn't help himself. It felt like he might throw up if he didn't speak, if he didn't make it make sense to himself.

(Why? Why would he leave? Was Tetsuya the problem? Was it his stoicism, his inexpressiveness, his invisibility? Was it because he gave too much? Or was it because he gave too little?)

Before he could continue, Tetsuya found himself on the ground, weighed down by a sobbing, bawling boy who was, ultimately, bigger and heavier than he was. Shige-kun was an ugly crier, loud and messy and so, so fitting to his personality. That discovery somehow tore through the fog that dulled Tetsuya's awareness.

He tried to make sense of what Shige-kun was saying, but it was a mess of wailed apologies and blubbering, and Tetsuya was a bit more concerned over his impeded ability to breathe because Shige-kun was hugging him so tightly and he was just too heavy–

Salvation came in the form of Edogawa-kun bodily hauling Shige-kun off, arms around the taller boy's waist and struggling.

"Oi, let him breathe you idiot!"

Shige-kun froze, took in the sight of Tetsuya gulping in some much needed air, before going back to his wails. "Waah! I'm so sorry Tetsu! It's all my fault, I should have—"

"Stop struggling, you dumbass! You'll end up hurting yourself!"

"I'm so sorry!"

It was, quite honestly, a bit pathetic.

But.

Tetsuya pulled himself up and dusted his clothes.

He was upset, yes, and sad and lost and many different things. But. This was Shige-kun. This was the boy who brushed away Tetsuya's cold rejections, who stubbornly insisted that they be friends, who did so much to help Tetsuya.

Shige-kun was his friend.

(Shige-kun was his.)

Even in the haze of too many emotions, he understood that much.

Catching Edogawa-kun's eyes, Tetsuya inclined his head, and with an acknowledging blink, the brunet let go but not without a warning, "Do not tackle him to the ground again, Ogiwara."

(Sometimes it was hard not to see Edogawa-kun as a mother hen.)

Heeding the warning, Shige-kun didn't tackle Tetsuya to the ground but he did latch on like a particularly affectionate cephalopod. Like this, upright and on stabler ground, it was easy to take note of some things he hadn't before.

Shige-kun was trembling, was cold instead of warm, was clutching tight at Tetsuya's shirt, breath labored and hitching. Right now he was silent, both were silent, words lost after it had been poured out. Tetsuya felt like the one holding him was fragile, was on the verge of breaking.

(Did Shige-kun feel like the one he was holding was just as fragile? Was just as close to pulling apart at the seams? Was that why he held on so tight because letting go would mean the broken pieces would fall down?)

It felt wrong.

So Tetsuya held him, too. Shige-kun sniffled but didn't explode into sobs like he did earlier.

"Shige-kun is my friend," whispered Tetsuya, and that claim settled some of the confusion, some of the dread. "He doesn't need to apologize for things out of his control, but I don't want him to stop being my friend just because he has to move away."

His words were carefully chosen. Moving away instead of leaving. Out of his control because Tetsuya still wasn't sure how he felt about being kept in the dark until the last minute. Then again, what would he have done with that information hanging over them for weeks?

He felt Shige-kun stiffen. Then the boy asked, "You… you mean that? We'll still be friends?"

Tetsuya nodded, the vulnerability presented heavily settling into the unpleasant turning of his stomach. "Yes, Shige-kun and I will still be friends."

Spying Edogawa-kun uncomfortably shifting about, Tetsuya sent the boy a reproachful look. He knew sentimental expression usually made the other embarrassed (the utter tsundere), but Tetsuya wasn't going to let him stay silent.

Scratching his cheek, Edogawa-kun muttered, "Yeah, and me too, I guess."

Well, that could have been said better, but it'll do.

The hold around him briefly tightened before Shige-kun pulled away, grin stretching his teary, snot-nosed, blotchy face as he regarded the two of them. "I want to stay friends with you, too!"

And that settled the remaining dread. It will be sad, and Tetsuya knew himself well enough to say that he will be lonely, that he'd have his periods of doubt, but the reassurance was enough for now.

"Kyoto, huh?" Edogawa-kun hummed, absently taking out a handkerchief to wipe Shige-kun's face. "I've been there a few times. Nice place." He eyed the two of them thoughtfully. "You can send us postcards and letters since you don't have a phone."

And just like that, he had given a solution to a problem neither two had contemplated yet.

"Yeah!" Shige-kun pulled away from Edogawa-kun's fussing and was back to his usual enthusiastic self, if a bit more subdued. Tetsuya was more relieved than he thought. "You haven't been there, right, Tetsuya? I can explore Kyoto for you! Maybe if you ever visit, I can be your tour guide."

Visiting sounded great, but Kyoto was one of the few places his parents won't ever let him go to. Not without both of them, and otou-san dislikes going to Kyoto. Shige-kun knew it because Tetsuya had once mentioned it, and he suspected Edogawa-kun might have an idea (because he'd been to Tetsuya's home and had had a look of epiphany cross his face).

So Tetsuya just nodded.

"But, hmm…" And there was that thoughtful look again. The one that spelled not-trouble. "We'll have to make a promise!"

"Huh?"

"What?"

Shige-kun grinned. "A. Promise. That we will meet again on the court and we'll play against each other and give it our all!"

That lit something in Tetsuya. A silver lining. Something to work towards in regards to seeing Shige-kun again.

(Basketball. It has to be basketball. It had always been basketball.)

Edogawa-kun squawked, "Why am I included? I'm not a basket-baka like you two!"

"Oh right," Shige-kun sounded way too amused, "You're just a soccer-nut. Can't say I didn't try." He shrugged at Tetsuya like he was in on it. "So I guess you'll just have to stick with Tetsuya and train him good."

There was significance in those words, a weight enforced by the odd look that crossed Shige-kun's face as he regarded Edogawa-kun. Uncharacteristically serious, forceful, knowing.

Edogawa-kun narrowed his eyes for a moment, gaze jumping between the two, before sighing, "Alright. It's not like I haven't considered it."

The exchange was lost on Tetsuya. He must be really out of it if Shige-kun did something he couldn't comprehend outside the boundaries of the boy's usual antics.

Suddenly, Shige-kun froze. "Wait. Oh my god, Tetsuya, you scored your first ever basket!"

And then their priorities shifted, leaving some things unsaid and unresolved and at the back of their minds.

The day Shige-kun had to leave turned out to have little fanfare.

Tetsuya had chosen to sacrifice his school attendance—if they even notice—to play one last basketball game (or rather, one last set of basketball games) with his friend. Surprisingly, Edogawa-kun made an appearance without saying anything beforehand, insisting that he'd been in the neighborhood anyway so he decided to stop by.

"Edogawa-kun attends school at Beika, which is nowhere near here. I hope you realize we know that."

"You came here just to see me off?" Shige-kun's eyes sparkled. "I'm touched, Edogawa. How early did you even have to leave just to get here on time?"

Edogawa-kun's eyebrow twitched in annoyance, but there was a hint of a blush on his face. "I don't always run into trouble."

"Uh huh," Shige-kun nodded sagely. "So what was it? A murder? A robbery? Train hijacking?"

With crossed arms, Edogawa-kun rolled his eyes. "None of the above." Seeing the looks on their faces, the boy exclaimed, "Why are you so surprised?!"

Shige-kun had to leave by noon to help his mother with some of their luggage, so their game was quick (to their standards). And as usual, even with Tetsuya and Shige-kun tag-teaming against Edogawa-kun, the game was tough and they ended up losing by a point. A result that was one of their best yet.

"So close!" Shige-kun yelled, pumped up even though he was panting and sweating profusely. "I'll get better than you, you soccer-nut, just you wait! Me and Tetsuya are gonna beat you down."

Swept up by the energy and warmed by the implication of a future playing together again, Tetsuya nodded eagerly.

"Heh," Edogawa-kun smirked, cocky and taunting. "I look forward to that, basketball idiot."

And then it was time for farewells, and Tetsuya was torn between sadness and the hope of the promises they made.

"We'll see each other again, yeah?" Shige-kun declared, eyes bright with emotions.

Tetsuya reassured, "Hai," both for himself and the other boy. "Take care, Shige-kun."

Tears had already been shed, upsets aired and apologies made. This was the time to look at each other with smiles rather than frowns. Light goodbyes that actually mean see you later and wishes of a safe journey. The I miss you will come later when the absence sinks in.

Edogawa-kun, ever the stranger to emotional exchanges, remained standing, hands in his pockets as he watched over them. "Don't forget to always keep the band with you, Ogiwara."

At that reminder, both boys' attention were drawn towards the fitness bands Edogawa-kun had given to them what felt like so long ago. It had been refined and adjusted a couple of times since, mostly for comfort, sensitivity, and personalization of data. But other than the times they had to surrender it for those adjustments, it was always worn by both boys.

To be honest, Tetsuya would have felt naked if he wasn't wearing it. It was too precious, both in practicality and sentiment.

"Of course!" Shige-kun nodded enthusiastically. "I won't ever remove it from my person!"

Edogawa-kun's simple remark of "Good," made Tetsuya pause before he filed that information away.

Eventually, Shige-kun had to leave even if he was very reluctant to do so. They exchanged one last smile, one last hug, one last reiteration of their promise. Written words wouldn't be the same as seeing his face and hearing the variations of tone in his voice.

It wouldn't be the same. A moon without a sun.

Tetsuya watched Shige-kun disappear from view, heart heavy and stomach rolling with faint nausea.

(It still felt like you let go, Shige-kun. Why would you—)

"Hey," Edogawa-kun broke through Tetsuya's spiraling thoughts. His eyes are unreadable, the glint of light on his glasses obscuring it from view. "Ogiwara said you'd see each other on court again, right? That means you'll play against each other in an official match."

Tilting his head to the side, Edogawa-kun smiled. Sad and sincere and encouraging, eyes gleaming with something. But there was intent, a resolve. And the intensity of his stare was overwhelming.

"Kyoto is in a different region, so the only way for you to meet is in the nationals," explained Edogawa-kun. "For you to reach that, you'll have to be a lot stronger."

Slowly, Tetsuya managed to collect himself, to realize, again, that he wasn't alone. That he wasn't left behind.

(That there was someone he could grasp on to, that there was still someone who stayed and he would never let—)

"We have a lot of work ahead of us, Kuroko." Edogawa-kun grinned, not unlike the ones Kuroba-san wore. "So wipe that look off of your face."

And, oh, it finally clicked.

If he and Shige-kun were the sun and the moon, Edogawa-kun was the sea. A presence so large and mesmerizing, harboring so many secrets, each discovery a revelation. Dangerous, frigid and fluid and deadly.

(And like the moon reflecting the sun's light, the sea's tides are drawn to the moon.)

Chapter End

[1,2] Clubs signify "youth," a time spent focused on education, responsibilities, recklessness, etc. It also represents the summer season. A 7 from a deck of cards stands for stress that comes with victory. The magic trick was actually a joint one, where Kuroko took a card from Kaito's deck at random.

This chapter marks the end of the Pre-Teikou Era. Next chapter's gonna be Teikou, and I'm only revealing this because it might take long for me to update. Certain national developments have had me...disturbed and I find it hard to focus on writing at the current political climate.