*jazz hands* update time, baby. Also someone remind future me that intersecting plot points is a pain in the butt. 10/10 do not recommend.

Warnings: Bad language, references to violence, references to stalking


Spooky Scary Skeletons

September came and went with little fanfare.

Between studying for midterms, practice, and keeping in touch with all her many companions, Hana last track of the days fairly easily. Mondays blended into Thursdays and weekends flew by faster than she could comprehend. But when October did finally grace her calendar, it can with an unwelcome realization.

She may have girl bossed a bit too close to the sun.

When she'd promised to train Kagami, she'd been full of this pesky thing called hope. The first few impromptu practices they'd done had only bolstered that feeling, but reality was slowly beginning to sink in. Pocketing her phone, Hana sighed.

Kagami, despite Hana's opinion, had a lot of talent. A lot of talent that Hana quite frankly wasn't sure how to utilize.

Theoretically, she knew how to mold him into the ultimate miracle killing machine. It was the physical application that had her stumbling. Dude can jump like a gazelle— how the absolute hell do I work with that? Her current plan was one-dimensional, a scapegoat that countered the most obvious strengths of his future opponents but didn't consider their variables. It basically boiled down to jump high and leap over the miracle's puny forms.

Which wasn't translating well in practical theory.

Stationed out on the free point line, Kagami dribbled the worn orange ball in what looked like thought, "I'm supposed to dunk from here?"

"Theoretically," Hana corrected, "You'll need to work up to it. Start about two feet forward, no—" she barked at him when he tried to run into the dunk, "Start from a standing position."

The sound of dribbling stopped. Shooting her an incredulous look over his shoulder, Kagami gawked, "How the hell am I supposed to get my arm over there?"

"You're not going to get it first try, dumb ass," Hana crawled to her feet, tucking her clipboard under her arm. When she reached Kagami's side, she motioned toward the goal, "I'm not asking you to expand your whole damn arm, just don't run into it. Build the momentum in your calves," she gave one of the said appendages a hearty nudge with her foot, "Let it push you forward instead of relying on your speed."

"That's stupid," He deadpanned, looking down on her with a sharp glower, "That's how I jump higher—"

"And now you're going to use it to jump farther," Hana interrupted, giving his back a satisfying slap and promptly dancing out of murdering range, "Riko's been working you up to it, you just haven't tried it yet." She flicked her fingers forward in a get to it motion, "Stop your bitching and start practicing."

It was a good thing she moved. Before she could blink, Kagami was barreling through the air in the space she'd once dared to stand. Screw you too, dickhead. He didn't make it to the goal, but the ball still managed to skitter into the net. Landing with a thump on the floor, his worn tennis shoes smacked into the fabricated wood with a heavy whack.

"I give it a six out of ten," she praised, clapping halfheartedly, "Solid execution though."

Kagami sneered as he stomped toward the net, "Shut up. You said I wouldn't get it the first time!"

"Just a bit of friendly encouragement—"the sight of the rude hand gesture he threw her way made her scoff, "Fine, fine, fine. My mouth is shut."

While Kagami went to retrieve the ball, Hana snuck a watchful look toward the gym's doors. If he didn't learn how to quiet the hell down, this training was going to be over before they even really started. It wasn't like they were breaking any rules by being here this early, but Hana knew damn well Hyuuga would have a fit if he caught them hanging in the gym before their morning practice started.

One would think he'd appreciate our dedication, but noooo.

While she'd ruminated in her thoughts, Kagami returned to his previous position. He went through the motions a few more times, each falling just a fingertip short of an actual dunk, but at least his distance was improving. If only his attitude would follow the pattern. Thumbing the sharp edge of her clipboard, Hana rolled her eyes as Kagami stalked back into position.

"Chill out—" her voice cut off as he fisted the bottom of his tank top and ripped it off his head, "Jesus Christ. Put your shirt back on!"

There was so much flesh— so much sweat. He practically glowed under the dim fluorescent lights, his tan skin sparkling like Edward Cullin's bastard baby. Kagami lifted his arms over his head to stretch and Hana had to twist, hiding her gag before the poor boy could see it. Who knew he was such a closet perv? What is this, a striptease?

Before her poor eyeballs could be further burned by the clammy skin in front of her, she plopped her binder over her face hard enough to bruise. God, that thing packed a punch. She could hear the telltale whoosh of her notes falling to the ground, probably landing straight in the various dirt spread over the indoor court. Hana groaned, "Okay— this is not going to fly."

"Deal with it," she peeked over the edge of the board just in time to see Kagami wipe his brow, "It's hot as hell in here. When do they turn the AC on?"

"You're dead if anyone walks in here," Hana managed to snarl, though the impact was severely lessened by the clipboard blocking her face, "Seriously. Shirt. Now."

Kagami didn't even look at her, "Shut up. It's fine."

"I will when you put a damn shirt back on—" She gaped as the fabric flew toward the bleachers, "Don't throw it! Are you an idiot? Put it back on! You're like what— fifteen? A child!"

"Are you serious?" He deadpanned, dribbling the ball once before transitioning to his right hand, "We're the same age, idiot."

She brought the binder down enough to glare over the court, "Okay, not true. Mentally, I outclass you by like five years—"

"Don't start this," Kagami threw his free hand toward her and barked. The muscles above his abdomen twitched unattractively, "This was your idea!"

The binder dropped completely as she stared at him. This little perv. How dare he stand there in all his nudist glory and accuse her of starting this, "My idea didn't involve nudity!"

"I'm not—" his dribbling stuttered, "I'm not naked!"

"I see boob, Taiga! That means naked!"

"I do not—" losing control over the ball, Kagami's hand palmed his damp chest, "I do not have boobs!"

Hana waved a hand toward his gleaming pectoral muscles, a grimace building between her cheeks as she snapped, "Well, I can clearly tell you've got more than me. Look at that girth—"

"Do not— do not call it that."

"Then put on a shirt," she nearly shuddered as she twisted her attention to the goal. That was too much flesh to see in one day. God, he was so sweaty, "I feel like they're staring at me."

"You're impossible," despite the gruff undertone, Hana could see the beginnings of a blush work its way down Kagami's neck. He stomped toward his duffle bag, cursing all the while, "You've seen me like this before, damn it."

"In an open space, surrounded by people," Hana deadpanned, "Now I feel like I'm being seduced."

Despite her disgust at the turn of events, Hana couldn't help but watch the way his muscles constricted in his back as he bent over his bag. Without his face tainting the view, it's almost tolerable. Her lip curled in mild consideration. She could get a bag—

Kagami stumbled, his feet catching on each other as he gawked back at her, "I'm— I'm not trying to seduce you!"

"Really?" She motioned sardonically toward his pectoral muscles, "Look at yourself. You're practically lubricated."

"That's—" Kagami choked, his face turning an alarming shade of blue, "You're disgusting."

She didn't get a chance to reply when her phone rang. The little song rang over the empty court, the cheery tune awkwardly flooding the air between the two teenagers. Hana paused, her rant dying in her throat as the jingle continued. Well, that was some oddly convenient timing. The sound crawled to a stop as she turned to stare at her bag, Kagami parroting her movements with hesitation.

When the tune started to ring again, she hedged, "Uh, can you check that? If it's Riko we're both dead."

That was a bit of an understatement. If it was coach, they'd be more than dead. Burned alive, mutilated, left on a stake for the pigeons to feast on our brains. On the plus side, she knew it couldn't be Aomine. There was no way he'd call twice in a row— his one butt dial last week already pushing their interaction quota far enough.

The look Kagami gifted her could only be described as exhausted. It was as if she'd finally surpassed the threshold of annoying and found herself proudly labeled with the title of pest. It was a bit of a high-handed judgment for someone half-naked to take, but Hana figured Kagami's ego could use the extra attention.

The phone's jingle hit a crescendo and Kagami finally sighed, his red eyes rolling into his head as he snatched her bag off the floor. "Answer your own damn phone," despite his snapping, he reached into the blue bag. Fisting out the metal phone, his eyes narrowed on the phone in something like distrust, "It's an unknown number."

Hana was not proud to admit the flush of panic that flooded her system at the news. Her mouth plopped shut with a little click, "Shit."

It'd been a little over a month since her last meeting with Murasakibara and that was more than enough time for the friendly giant to spread the news to the almighty had to wonder just how much information he'd passed on. Maybe he hadn't— oh god. Hana felt the blood drain out of her face. I told Akashi to go suck a dick.

Time to plan her escape to America, "Just let it go to voice mail—"

"Hello?" Kagami had the phone against his ear before she could blink, "Who the hell is this?"

Please tell me he did not just say that. She balked, "You idiot! He's going to kill you! He's going to kill me"

The big oaf didn't seem to care. Kagami frowned, pulling the phone away to stare into the glowing screen, "They hung up, didn't say anything."

Some of her panic died down, confusion replacing dread. He just hung up? That sure didn't fit Akashi's nindo. He may be a lot of things these days, but a prank caller— yeah, right. He'd have to have a sense of humor to even attempt it. Unless he was planning to throw me off guard—

Suspicious, Hana prodded, "Not even a hello?"

There was no way. If there was one thing Akashi loved more than terrorizing the masses, it was the sound of his own voice.

"Nah," Kagami was in the process of shaking his head when the phone pinged again. She didn't have a chance to question him about it before his finger was clicking the notification button. Whatever she expected, it wasn't the slow twist of fury that built over his brow, "What is this?"

"Well, I don't know," she snapped, uncertainty and panic making her irate, "Since I can't see anything—"

"It's that same number, I think," Kagami trailed off as he read the message out loud, "Remember your place. Don't go to the preliminaries.' Who's texting you that kind of shit?"

Huh, talk about the unexpected.

The message sounded almost threatening. Okay, scratch that. It was definitely supposed to be a threat. Kind of a crappy one though, "I— I don't know? I don't think I've pissed anyone off lately," she stared at her phone, thoughts ringing through her head, "What's the number again?"

"090-1436-2874," he pressed at the keyboard, bringing the phone back up to his ear before grimacing, "It's a fake number, one of those apps."

"Never heard of it—" she took a step forward, intent on inspecting herself. Is this my enemies to lovers arc?

Fate had other plans. Across the gym, the door handle rattled twice. Kagami and Hana both froze, heads flipping toward the entryway in an impressive show of synchronization. Fresh sunlight skittered across the court as the door skimmed open. Before she could think about her actions, Hana was sprinting across the gym, feet sliding across the still waxy floor.

"Shirt! Taiga!" She managed to yelp as her hands connected to the door. Someone squeaked on the other side, "Get a shirt!"

"Damn it—" Kagami dove for the first thing he could reach, which unfortunately ended up being Hana's gym bag. Her phone and several pens fell to the floor with a clatter. Yanking the top piece of clothing out, he shoved it over his head with a muffled curse, "Distract them!"

What do you think I'm doing?! Hands flat on the door, Hana pushed against the wooden surface as it was deliberately pushed forward. It stopped short at her pressure, a confused noise rumbling from the other side, "Just a minute!"

"Imamura-chan?" Riko's voice echoed through the gap, "What are you doing?"

"Uhm— nothing much," the door pressed open more and Hana's grip faltered. Instead of trying to postpone the inevitable, she leapt into the space between the door and its frame, "Just doing some early morning cleaning."

Well, they were most definitely screwed. Where Hana had been expecting at most Riko and Hyuuga, at least four additional faces were staring back at her. Kiyoshi smiled broadly, tucked into the middle of the group of upperclassmen, his arm jostling Izuki and Hyuuga. Neither boy seemed impressed by her appearance.

Unlike her more studious seniors, Koganei waved, "Good morning, Imamura-chan!"

"Good morning. Now, if you'll excuse me—" Hana's grin grew tight, her foot's block on the door slipping off with her coach's continued pressure, "I'm just going to go finish—"

"Cleaning?" Riko blinked before standing on her tiptoes, trying to peer over Hana's shoulder. Her tiny hands pushed harder against the laminated doorframe, "Who's with you?"

"Oh, that's no one—" Hyuuga stepped around Riko's shoulder and Hana's spine straightened incrementally. Welp, we're screwed. "Just Taiga, helping me clean, you know. The usual."

"It's just you and Kagami-kun?" Riko's grip on the door grew tighter as Hana's smile faltered, her fist clenching on the metal handle as a dark aura rankled between them, "Open the door."

Hana laughed, fear making her voice pitch high, "We really shouldn't—"

It was the wrong thing to say.

The door flew open, knocking Hana back a couple steps as Hyuuga marched into the gym. Muscles tight under a dark tee-shirt, the captain glowered down at her before looking for her comrade. His fists perched on his hips, something dangerous flashing over the sheen of his glasses as he scowled over the mostly empty gym, "What were you doing in here? I swear if you two were—"

His rant festered out as he caught sight of the other occupant of the room. Arms tucked behind his back, Kagami stood like an awkward sentry in the far corner of the gym. His posture was stiff— too stiff to be natural. He tried to appear nonchalant, but there was an awkward grimace tilting his cheeks that ruined the ruse. As all eyes fell on him, he swallowed hard.

"What—" Izuki trailed off, laughter making his throat constrict. His hand came up to clasp over his mouth as he finally sputtered out, "What are you wearing, Kagami?"

It was a good question. If possible, Kagami's posture went even stiffer. Dressed in his usual pair of black gym shorts and shoes, Hana's neon pink tank top stretched disturbingly across his massive chest. He peered down at himself once before swallowing again, the wet noise echoing loudly in the still room.

"Yo," Kagami eventually waved, his other arm coming to rest awkwardly over his scantily clad chest. He ignored the question as if it'd never been spoken, "Good to see you guys."

There was a heavy moment of silence between the upperclassmen. Riko tucked her head into her hands, prompting Kiyoshi to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. There was a muffled whimper as the coach's voice warbled in muted lamentation. Koganei had since plunked one of his hands over his eyes while the other stretched up to block Mitobe's stare. Unlike his teammates, Izuki had to step out— the sound of his laughter echoing through the door crack.

"This is not—" Hana stuttered out, eyeing Hyuuga's back carefully, "It's not what it looks like."

Hyuuga didn't speak for several seconds. His beady stare stayed locked on Kagami until his shoulders ultimately slumped. Pinching the bridge of his nose hard enough to turn the skin red, he sighed, "I'm not going to ask. Just—" he stabbed a finger toward the locker rooms, "Just get dressed."

As Kagami nearly sank into the floor, Hana tried again, "Captain—"

"No," he raised a desperate hand, "I don't want to know."

"We weren't—" she wasn't dropping it that easily. Her hands flopped around awkwardly as she motioned toward Kagami's subtle retreat, "Doing it."

No one spoke, leaving Hana to stand inelegantly between the upperclassmen. In the background, Kiyoshi coughed. It sounded suspiciously high-pitched, almost as if he was attempting to hide his chuckle. Hana couldn't tell for certain because Riko's pained whines were taking over the airspace. The coach's shoulders were shaking with what could either be laughter or tears.

Oh, no. We are not leaving it like this. She'd rather be crucified for training without permission than let this misconception fester any longer. "We were training!" Hana spoke to the room at large, "I wouldn't— It's Taiga!"

The declaration made Kiyoshi giggle, but it did have the added benefit of halting Kagami in his steps, "Oi! What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what that means! If you weren't such a damn nudist—"

"It was your idea!"

"You're the one that got naked!"

As their bickering devolved into full-out squabbling, Hyuuga sighed and tilted his head to the ceiling, "I hate both of you."

xXx

Despite the morning's miscommunication, the rest of the day panned out well enough.

Tucked against the school's entryway staircase, Hana watched her fellow students flood out the door in pairs of two and three. The dismissal bell rang about five minutes ago and the two people she expected to see were nowhere to be found. Fiddling with her phone in her hand, she glanced impatiently at the time.

Since Kagami and Kuroko shared the same class, they spent most of the day together. She was the odd one out of the duo, stuck in the smaller group. This meant Hana got to spend a good seventy-five percent of her day without them. Which is how she ended up here— waiting for the two slowest boys in existence to get outside.

Wasn't really her favorite afterschool tradition, but when most of your friends are men, she'd learned you can't really be choosey about how they show their affection. Something about dicks and emotional stability just doesn't mesh.

"You'd think they'd be in more of a hurry," peering down at her watch, she sucked her lip in with a tsk, "Gonna miss the bus."

She'd give them five more minutes before she bailed. Propping her elbows against the metal railing behind her, Hana let her eyes scan idly over the crowd. It never ceased to amaze her just how many people went to this damn school. High school was something else. Watching various students chitter and laugh with each other, Hana whistled under her breath.

Sure, Teiko had been huge, but it'd never had this varied of a student body. Between the smokers and the delinquents, the student council, and the sports clubs, Seirin proudly displayed all the wonderful facets of teenage youth. Like a modern-day breakfast club. Green eyes trailed over a nearby group smoking on the lower steps. A few of them looked vaguely familiar, but it was the flash of red fabric that caught her eye.

She startled, leaning forward to get a closer look. Is that?

"Hana! Over here!" Kagami's voice broke her out of focus. He was just now making his way through the door, a haggard-looking Kuroko tucked under his arm, "Hurry up!"

The fingers on her left hand tightened incrementally on the railing. Blinking away the sun's glare, she dragged her other palm over her face. When she attempted to peek back at the group, her mouth twisted into a heavy scowl. That trace of red she'd been eyeing had vanished as if it never existed. No damn way.

"Hana?" Kuroko's voice shouldn't have spooked her the way it did. She nearly flung herself off the steps, only Kuroko's hand latching onto her elbow keeping her upright, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah—" his grip loosened marginally, and she shook off her trance with a half-hearted snort, "You scared me, you little shit."

She wondered when he'd learned how to call her bluff so well. It was a bit annoying really. He frowned down at her, "Are you sure? You looked distracted."

"Thought I saw coach," she stepped out of his hold with a smirk, "I was getting ready to run."

It didn't take long to realize she'd blown it. It wasn't a good enough lie to work for the masses, which meant it definitely fell short of Kuroko's standards. Braving a chance look up at his face, her throat went dry. There was a concerned flair to the tilt of his brow and those damning blue eyes of his were feasting on her face like it offered the answer to all life's aches.

Yup, that was too much attention for her little heart to handle. Like the coward she was, Hana snapped her attention to Kagami's approach.

He needed to hurry his lumbering ass up. Ever since Momoi's secondhand admission, daily life with Kuroko had become stilted. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He hadn't done anything out of the ordinary and if Momoi hadn't told her, Hana would have never guessed anything was amiss. It was just the acknowledgment of his attraction that made her uneasy.

It was like she was constantly aware of him. All the damn time.

It wasn't an issue she didn't already have experience with, but unlike Kise and company, Kuroko was always there. And to make matters worse, it seemed he didn't have an issue with making that fact known. Practice? Tetsuya. Lunch? Tetsuya. Study period? Tetsuya.

It was becoming a problem. She didn't want to acknowledge that pesky nagging of attraction she'd tried to fight off, but by god, Kuroko was not letting her forget it. With his soft smiles, his stupid cute little face, his shit-stirring mischief— oh no. Hana's mouth went tight, horror crawling up her spine.

Goddammit. What had she done?

She never should have admitted her attraction to Momoi. It gave the disease something to cling to. Was she going to have to deal with these new intense feelings for the rest of them too? She couldn't handle it. What if they find out? The blood in her face drained out to a sickly pale. They'd eat me alive.

"Hana," speak of the devil, "I think you should see a nurse."

She shook her head, focusing back into reality enough to notice the strange looks both boys were now giving her. Her brow twitched, "I'm fine."

Mostly fine. Okay, she was getting there. She'd be fine by tomorrow, maybe Wednesday—

"I'm not sure," before she could blink, Kuroko's hand was on her forehead. His mouth pinched tight as he noticed her clammy skin, "You look pale. Do you feel okay?"

She looked up at his palm, nearly going crossed-eyed to check if he was really doing what it felt like he was doing. In all her time of knowing him, Kuroko usually allowed her to initiate skin contact. She wasn't sure what to make of his sudden forwardness, "You're touching my head," Hana said instead, "Why are you touching my head?"

Exchanging a brief look with Kagami, he frowned, "I'm checking to make sure you don't have a fever."

Alright, that was kind of cute. Hana didn't think it was quite cute enough for her stomach to flutter the way it was, but she'd cut herself some slack. Affection calls for desperate measures or something like that. Still— better not to wallow in it. Grabbing Kuroko's hand, she gently pried it off her forehead.

She definitely did not swoon when he intertwined his fingers with her own instead of letting go.

"He's right. You look like shit," Kagami frowned down at her, something like worry drawing his brows tight, "What happened?"

Wow. She must look really bad for even Kagami to care. Her brows arched high, "Okay, calm down sparky. Seriously, nothing's wrong."

Because he seemed to have the innate ability to make every situation worse, Kagami prodded, "You find out who was threatening you?"

Really. Hana stared at him, face flat. What a drama queen. She'd forgotten about this morning's little side quest once she'd ruled out Akashi and frankly, she'd rather it remained forgotten. Who needed an enemies to lovers arc? Not her, that's for sure.

"Threatened?" Kagami's wording choice didn't evade their fellow companion. Stepping closer to her side, Kuroko's frown appeared to carve itself permanently into his face, "Someone was threatening you?"

Before she could answer that question herself, Kagami cut in, "Yeah, she got some weird message this morning," he twisted his attention to her like she was the problem, "Whoever they are, they don't want you in the Winter Cup."

"It's not that deep—" she tried to settle their growing tempers, but it was too late.

"Have you told Riko-san?" It was almost cute the way Kuroko's mouth tilted down in displeasure. Almost cute, "You shouldn't let them harass you, Hana."

"No— Jesus Christ. Keep all that angst in your pants," she waved them both off, "It wasn't a threat! Look, it was just a prank or something. I'm not the most liked manager, remember? Someone from one of the other teams probably got my number, it's no big deal."

"Are you sure?" Kuroko's fingers tightened around her own. She glanced down at the gesture in mild bafflement. Since when did Tetsuya get protective? "I can help."

Hana rolled her eyes, only to pause when she caught sight of the honest expression lining his face. Well, hell. He really meant it. It really shouldn't have warmed her the way it did, but Hana was always a sucker for affection. And this is why I'm screwed. Giving Kuroko's chest a firm pat, she skipped out of their group and down the front stairs.

"Help with what? Blocking their number?" Hana laughed, shooting both boys an encouraging grin, "Already done. Stop stressing, I've got it handled."

xXxXxXx

She did not have it handled.

Pausing from her perusal of the grocery store's finest apple juice, Hana gawked down at the tiny phone screen clenched between her fingers. The juice in her other hand suddenly grew too heavy and Hana had to prop it against the shelf next to the rice. Her phone chimed again, her fingers fluttering over the keyboard just in time to open another picture of her.

"Well," she blinked, "Shit."

Okay, so she may have underestimated the prank caller situation a little bit. To be fair, she honestly thought she had it handled. After Monday's call and creepy little text message, she'd gone the rest of with week without any indication that this kid was anything more than a brief nuisance.

Until now that is.

"Nope, not doing this," Hana braced her shopping cart against her hip to pull the phone closer to her face, "Nope, nope, nope."

Her mouth dropped open as she fully registered the implications of the photos sent to her. The first one had been deceptively mild, just a photo of Seirin's entryway, but it was the second one that had her blood-curling. Focusing on the stairwell, the grainy little photo displayed her and Kuroko from Monday afternoon, Kuroko's hand propped against her forehead with Kagami tucked away at their side.

Alright. Well, this wasn't good.

A shiver racked its way up her spine and before she could catch herself, she scanned the grocery aisle. No one was there but that didn't stop the feeling of eyes creeping over her flesh. Were they here— watching her? Her eyes flicked toward the back of the store. There was only an old man sweeping up a spill, but Hana couldn't help but feel guarded.

Time to go. Not gonna sit here and die like a damn side character.

"I did not sign up for the basketball mafia," leaving the apple juice where it was, Hana rolled her cart back to the front of the store, "What kind of shit is this?"

It didn't take long for her to get out of the store, the automated doors crawling open as she stomped toward the sidewalk. Her fingers clenched on the phone, a scowl building over her lips as she peered down at it. That creepy little picture still took up most of the screen, the timestamp mocking her as she scrolled to the top of the screen and blocked the number.

She dared them to try and send another message. She dared them.

Intent on walking home, as she passed more and more people, Hana found herself coming to a stop. She ignored the way she was bumped and bustled by the crowd as thoughts crawled to the surface. There was no way she could go home. If this really was a stalker, then surely, they knew where she lived. At least that's what those murder documentaries say.

Like hell was Hana going to allow herself to die at fifteen.

Time for Plan B. Pulling up her phone and swiping out of her messages, Hana brought up her contacts. Come on, come on. She waited impatiently for the dial tone to end, tapping her foot against the dirty sidewalk and glaring at every man that even looked at her. She didn't know what it was, but something about sending unsolicited photos just screamed toxic masculinity.

"Ima-chan?" Momoi finally answered, the sound of Mario Kart echoing in the background, "What's—"

"Are you home?" Someone looked at her a bit too long and Hana sneered at them, "I think I've got a stalker."

"—what?!"

She probably could have explained that better.

Ignoring Momoi's squeak, Hana twisted on her heel and began walking the way she came, "I completely understand if you'd rather I led the stalker away from you, so I'm open to suggestion—"

"Slow down! Ima-chan," Momoi began again, this time without the noisy background static, "What do you mean a stalker?"

Okay, right. Start from the beginning. Hana took a deep breath, dodging around a group of chatting old women, "Okay, I got this weird message on Monday, and I totally ignored it because you know, coincidence," Hana ducked around a pole, "Anyway, they just sent me some photos— like creepy photos of me, like the kind Aomine keeps in his porn— and I'll be honest, not really knowing what to do here."

It felt good to get that off her chest. Something about sharing the trauma added to the experience made it a bit more tolerable. Still traumatic, but now it was more of a spicy traumatic. The type of trauma she could tell her children about during Christmas—

"Elaborate on creepy," Momoi's command yanked Hana out of her musings, "and on the text messages."

"So, the text message was pretty lame. Just some generic "Stay in your place. Don't go to the Winter Cup" kind of stuff—"

"What?!" Hana pulled the phone away from her ear and grimaced, "Ima-chan—"

"Anyway!" She interrupted Momoi's shriek to continue, "They sent a couple photos of me standing outside of school— which is so damn weird, man. Who does that?"

There was a shuffling noise on the other side of the line. As Hana twisted and merged through the crowd on her trek to the bus station, she brought the phone back to her ear and tucked it against her shoulder. There was a thump and then silence like something had fallen in Momoi's room. She didn't have more than a moment to consider what the noise was before her friend was back.

"Come over and bring your phone," Momoi ordered into the line, "You didn't delete the messages, did you?"

"Uh," she had to think, just to make sure, "No, but I blocked the numbers they texted me from—"

"They have multiple numbers?"

"Only like two. That I know of," Hana amended before jogging across the next crosswalk, "I thought it was a prank! Well," she elaborated after a moment's pause, "I thought it was Akashi for a hot minute there, but I don't think he'd be this weird. Tell me I'm right, Momoi."

There was a decidedly masculine snort and then a slapping sound before Momoi said, "I don't think Akashi-kun would do that, Ima-chan."

"Your hesitation begs to differ," Hana combatted, mingling into the crowd headed for the bus stop. She glanced at the bus's destination before speaking, "I'm about to hop on the bus. You sure it's okay if I come over?"

"Ima-chan," Momoi began pleasantly, but it quickly morphed into a threat. Hana didn't have to imagine the eerily nice smile her friend no doubt wore, "If you don't get on the next bus in ten minutes, I'm going to drag you here and I won't be nice about it."

There goes that pesky warm feeling again. It should not feel that good to be cared about. Was she emotionally starved? That was the last thing she needed. Ugh. Hana really needed to do something about that, maybe have more hugs with Nudoru or something.

"Geeze," she hissed under her breath, ducking through the bus doors and pulling a ticket from the machine, "Maybe I shouldn't—"

"Ima-chan."

"Kidding, kidding."

X

You know, every day it felt more and more like Hana's life was just a big cosmic joke.

Standing at the front of Momoi's apartment, she glared up at the giant in front of her. Tan arms blocked the entrance, the width of Aomine's body serving more as a demand to get out of the house as opposed to a welcoming. A weight settled on her shoulders and despite the odd looks she was sure to receive, Hana tilted her head back to the ceiling and groaned.

"Momoi," she warned the silent air, "I'm leaving."

Screw stalker-san. She'd rather deal with his peeping tom bullshit than listen to another rant courtesy of Aomine's angst and unresolved personal issues. Aomine didn't need to come anywhere near the equation until she was well and truly caught up on all the drama life had gifted her. Their last little outing had left her tired for days and Hana did not need to add lack of sleep to her already skyrocketing list of personal problems.

Momoi either didn't hear her or chose to ignore her threat. With a putout sigh, she twisted her attention to the scowling boy in front of her, "Hello, Aomine," she turned on her heel, "Goodbye, Aomine."

Hana could handle this herself. Worse comes to worst, she had a knife. That'd work, right? A stab stab there and a slash slash here and they'd be gone by tomorrow morning. You know, she'd always wanted a final girl moment—

"Jesus, woman," Aomine's massive palm landed on her arm and before she could escape, he dragged her through the door, "Just get in here and quit bitching."

Hana stared down at his hand in annoyance, "Oh, so we're manhandling now. That's nice—"

Just what she needed. More of Aomine extorting his ego on everyone in the room.

"You sure do get mouthy when you're stressed out," Aomine ignored her resulting swat, tugging her through the rest of Momoi's apartment and into the living room. Pausing by the couch, he gave a light shove to her shoulder before yelling, "Oi! Satsuki, she's here!"

She fell into the sofa with a plop. There was a quick call of affirmation from a nearby hallway and before Hana could even blink, Aomine stalked out of the room. Uh, what. Left alone in the large living room, Hana gawked after his back. That ended up being surprisingly anticlimactic— which shouldn't disappoint her, dammit.

"Ima-chan!" Before Hana had time to catalog the feelings riffling through her, Momoi popped her head in the room, "Are you okay? No more creepy messages?"

Hana almost did a double-take. Momoi wore the fluffiest pink robe Hana had ever seen and had a heavy layer of green gunk covered her from forehead to chin. There was also a suspicious hint of jasmine filling the airspace. Hana trailed her stare down the rest of her body, eyes falling on the stuffed narwhal slippers that cover her feet and staying there.

"No," Hana managed to answer, shaking herself out of her focus with a hard jilt of the head. She offered up what she hoped looked like a self-sufficient smirk, "Guess they're a bit of a one-trick pony, huh?"

Momoi tsked, "Don't joke about this stuff," she stomped into the living room, narwhal slippers squeaking with each step. Before Hana had time to understand what was happening, she had a blanket draped over her shoulders, "Guys like that are serious. Trust me."

She was getting the suspicion she was being mothered. Watching Momoi as she sat in the nearest chair, Hana picked up the edge of the blanket and thumbed it between her fingers. Eyeing the fuzzy blanket in apprehension, Hana probed, "You got experience with stalkers, Momoi?"

Momoi rolled her eyes. It looked odd against the green face mask dotting her cheeks, "You could say that."

"She's got too much experience," Aomine chimed in with a drawl, his arm bracing him against the doorframe. He had an apple in one hand and tossed it up experimentally, "Those idiots are a damn pain."

He looked a little too comfortable standing there. Unlike Hana, who immediately turned on the defensive at his sudden appearance, Aomine appeared as calm as could be. He glanced over the two girls with apathy, only a smidge of interest shown in the frown tinting the curve of his lips. When he caught Hana's eye, he blinked idly, flipping the apple up into the air again.

Well, someone sure perfected the bad boy look. Wonder how long he practiced that in the mirror.

"I've had a few close encounters, but Dai-chan takes care of most of them— don't bruise that apple!" Momoi chided, making Aomine sigh. He bit into the fruit roughly as Momoi explained, "No one's ever threatened me about basketball though, so that's a first."

Yay. Hana slumped into her chair, pulling the blanket tight around her shoulders, "Speaking of that— we're sure it's not Akashi? I mean, I'd like to think he isn't that crazy."

The sound of Aomine's chewing filled the air before he deadpanned, "It's not Akashi. If he wanted to talk to you, he'd do it in person."

She stared at him, "You know," making sure the rest of her sentence was dripped in enough sarcasm to kill, Hana finished, "That doesn't make me feel better."

Aomine merely shrugged, biting into his apple without another word. When Hana didn't automatically break eye contact, he raised a silent brow in challenge. She wasn't sure what he was trying to get across, but he didn't have the right to make this so dang awkward. Tucking the blanket under her chin, Hana curled into the tightest ball she could manage and glowered.

I will fight you. Her eyes narrowed as he snorted. I am full of fear and rage and I will rip those ugly little eyeballs out of your face—

"It's just weird it's the Winter Cup preliminaries they're threatening you about," Momoi chimed in, oblivious to their silent battle of wills. She tapped against her lip in thought, "It has to be someone in the lineup."

"Huh," Hana broke eye contact to frown, trying to pull up names and associate them with faces, "Think it's Midorima?"

More likely it would be Takao playing a prank on Midorima and her simultaneously. Except— that would be a lot of effort and he didn't strike Hana as the effort type. Maybe for a good giggle, but this was a long-haul type of plan. Whoever had been bothering her had sat on those pictures for at least a week.

"Don't be stupid," Aomine cut in. This time, there was definitely a scowl on his face, "None of us would do that type of shit."

I mean… Hana shrugged, the blanket bunching up over her shoulders, "I'm just hypothesizing. I don't really have enemies except for you guys."

"We're not—" Aomine nearly spat at her before Momoi shot him a dark look. His shoulders drew tight, a strangled breath whooshing through his lungs as he finished, "Stop trying to make us the villain, Imamura."

"If the shoe fits," she snapped back before amending, "Look, I don't honestly think you guys did it. Akashi? Maybe. You?" She snorted, "You'd actually have to care enough to want to get a reaction."

Was it cruel of her to take her fear and frustration out on Aomine? Yes. Did she care? No, not really. It was always good for his ego to get taken down a peg or two every once in a while. Kept his heart healthy.

Squeezing the apple tight, Aomine shot her a heavy look, "You're a damn idiot."

"Funny for you to say—"

"Both of you! Hush!" Momoi barked. She leaned over the coffee table where Hana had rested her phone, "You've got another message."

Hana's mouth shut tight as Momoi plucked the phone off the table and swiped it open. There was a brief pause and she squinted down at the screen; pink eyebrows furrowed in thought. Her index finger tapped on the side of the metal forebodingly, her frown turned into a full-out scowl as she said, "Were you at the Family Mart off Shibuya?"

She didn't have to answer because the phone screen Momoi lifted did that for her. She'd even enlarged the photo for everyone to see. There she was, clear as day, pacing outside of the grocery store. The photo even managed to get Hana's frown in the frame as she spoke into the phone. That meant they had been close— she sucked in a dry breath.

Things suddenly became a lot more real.

"I knew I was being watched!" Heart falling into her stomach, Hana spat, "What a little shit!"

"Where is that?" Aomine was suddenly leaning over the couch, glowering down at the phone screen, "Before you got on the bus?"

"Yeah," she threw her head back against the couch, exhaustion taking over, "He must have been watching me in the store—"

Oh, god. I'm gonna hurl. Hana pulled the blanket over her head with a whine, her body suddenly too heavy to keep up. She curled over with a heavy huff. This whole thing was just so— wrong.

Dark navy eyes peered down at her, something like concerned anger wrinkling Aomine's brow, "That's fucked up."

"I know," Hana moaned into her knees, "That's it. I quit. I'm done."

"Hold on, let me get my laptop," Momoi practically threw herself out of the chair. Propping her hands on her hip, she said, "We can look up who's competing in the preliminaries and narrow it down from there. You are not giving up this easily, Ima-chan!"

Peeking her head out of the blanket, Hana gave Momoi what she hoped translated into a joke, "I'll try, but dealing with the basketball mafia is out of my comfort zone."

It didn't get the reception she was hoping for.

Left alone to her woes, Hana forced herself to sit back up. Put your big girl panties on. She adjusted her back with a determined flair. Don't give this bitch what he wants. Scooting forward as best she could with the blanket wrapped around her like a sarcophagus, Hana grabbed her phone off the table to inspect the picture again.

She tapped the phone screen back on and focused on the image.

It was a full-on portrait. That meant they'd been about parallel to her, maybe a bit to her right if the angle had anything to say. Judging from the distance, they were also at least fully across the street. Her brow furrowed sharply as she tried to remember the scenery. It'd been crowded, but not that crowded. Wait

"Oi, Imamura," Aomine broke her out of her thoughts. He'd yet to move from hovering over the couch, his hands clenching and unclenching on the fabric almost uncertainly, "You okay?"

"Just dandy," she held a hand up to hush him when he tried to combat her, "Hold on, I'm thinking."

Sucking a dry lip in between her teeth, Hana glared down at her phone. If she could just get the right angle. Come on, technology, don't fail me now. Going to her photo's settings, she played around with the brightness and sharpness, her lungs constricting as a clue suddenly came into view.

Pinching the screen of the phone, she zoomed in on the windows behind her figure, "Come here—" ignoring his curse, Hana yanked Aomine down by the edge of his sleeve, "Can you see that?"

"Chill out," he grunted as he eased out of her hold, squinting into the screen, "I don't see shit—"

"Behind me, by the advertisement poster," she explained, heart ricocheting as she slowly began to put the pieces together, "There's a reflection. There's a lot of people, but they're all facing ahead, but look—" she tapped a dull fingernail against the screen, "Not this one. He's facing me."

"I see it," Aomine echoed, snatching the phone out of her hand despite her curse, "Who the hell is that?"

"I can't tell—" she threw her hands up, simultaneously elated with her discovery yet frustrated by her lack of answers, "It's too blurry—"

In the long run, her discovery didn't matter at all.

Her phone abruptly started to ring, the cheerful jingle contrasting terribly with the pit of fear that lodged itself in Hana's stomach. She looked up to Aomine, watching the way his face pinched before going suspiciously dark, his eyes trained on the little screen he still held in his hands. He pushed himself off the couch, ignoring Hana's yell, "Momoi! They're calling!"

"Coming! Don't answer it—" the ring tone cut out just as Momoi popped her head into the room, "Dai-chan, no! You're going to encourage them!"

Hana turned, dread glazing over her veins when she spotted Aomine's actions, "Dude, don't—"

Again, her order was left ignored. She should have known better by now. Aomine's finger flicked the phone open, his thumb pounding down on the speaker button, "Whoever you are, cut your shit out."

Her heart skipped a beat at the pure wrath in Aomine's voice. She gaped up at him, the call nearly forgotten at the sheer anger he displayed. His tan fingers were curled tight around the phone, knuckles white with strain, and the muscles leading up his neck were stiff, his adam's apple twitching as he ground his jaw.

That focus lasted up until someone responded.

The static on the other side of the phone fluctuated before a tinny chuckle echoed through the receiver. It wasn't a kind sound, drenched with the dragging of a bad connection and what sounded like disappointment. The laughter went on for another few seconds before it suddenly cut out, the complete one-eighty in emotion sending her pulse reeling.

"Hi, flower," a thin sigh accompanied the greeting, "I think I'll find you later. I hope you'll be in better company."

The call clicked off without further warning.

Assaulted with sudden silence, Hana could only hear the pounding of her blood reverberating in her ears. It was him. Her friends were talking in the background, voices pitched in various levels of question and concern, but all she could focus on was the phone in Aomine's hand. All this time, he'd been watching her, stalking her.

Her mind unwillingly went back to that flash of red fabric she spotted outside. There was no telling what he saw.

"Well, shit," Hana whispered so quietly it felt like a prayer, "I almost wish it was Akashi."

Her admission made her friends pause. Momoi stopped berating Aomine long enough to turn a troubled eye her way, "Ima-chan, are you— are you okay? You look like you saw a ghost."

Aomine took a much less delicate approach, "Who the hell was that?"

Sitting on Momoi's couch and eyeing the dead television in front of her, Hana came to a decision.

"My old captain being a creep," her tongue was too dry to swallow, but she managed to plaster on a brittle grin, "Guess I wasn't too far off the mark after all."

She didn't want to explain further. Didn't want to worry Momoi about everything that went down after their fallout— didn't need her to know about the skeletons she'd kept hidden in her closet, hoping to never resurface. Thinking about how her hand had whacked into Torio's face, her chest suddenly felt too heavy.

Damn it. Hana needed to plan.

"Crap, it's already eight?" She glanced tactlessly at the clock hanging off Momoi's wall, "I gotta get home—"

Momoi frowned, scooting forward in her chair, "Are you sure you're okay? Maybe you should just stay the night, Ima-chan."

"No, no," she didn't realize she was frantically packing her things away until the motions caught up to her. Standing uncomfortably in the middle of the room, Hana willed herself to smile, "Honestly, I feel better knowing who it is. Thought it might have been an old dude from the train or something."

"Ima-chan," Momoi tried again, "I think—"

"I really owe you one, Momoi," Hana was already babbling, eyeing the door as discreetly as she could. She suddenly had too much to do, "I'll take you out for dinner, my treat. If it had been a real stalker, man I would have been screwed, right? Super stoked it's not," her grin grew stiff, "Get to live another day and all that."

"Hana—"

"Satsuki," Hana copied her term of address, pausing from her frantic thoughts long enough to give Momoi a sincere look. Her hasty escape wasn't her friend's fault, "I promise, I'm okay. I've got it handled."

Her throat twisted into a knot, premonition crawling up her skin. Famous last words.

"If you're sure," Momoi trailed off. Sometime during her absence, she'd washed the green face mask off and now, Hana could see her worry plain as day, "Call me when you're home?"

Planning on giving her a hug, Hana stepped around the coffee table, "I will, promise. Cross my heart and hope to die—"

"Don't worry about that," Aomine stretched to his full height, tossing Hana her phone, "I'll walk her home."

Hana's feet screeched to a halt, arms hanging limply in the air as she shot Aomine a panicked glance. Of all the times in the world to gain a conscience, he chooses now? Catching the look he was giving her, her heart began to pound in a muted warning. He looked determined. An expression that promised terrible, terrible things.

"Really?" Momoi smiled despite Hana's rapidly plummeting mood, "Thanks, Dai-chan."

"That's okay—" Hana stalled. She really would rather deal with this alone.

"Shut up, Imamura," Aomine motioned toward the door, his eyes glued to her face, "Let's go."

He didn't wait for her to follow him. Like the last time they were in each other's company, he stalked out the door without so much as a goodbye. Hearing the plywood smack shut, Hana closed her eyes and exhaled long and hard. Of all the people in the world, did it have to be Aomine?

This was not going to go well.

"Bye, Ima-chan!" Momoi waved, pulling her laptop into her lap with a soft smile, "Be safe!"

With Aomine leading the way out of the apartment, Momoi's goodbye sounded more like a warning.

X

If there was an adjective stronger than awkward to use for this situation, Hana would gladly smack it all over Aomine's forehead.

They hadn't talked most of their trip. Aomine would glance back every few minutes to make sure she was following him, but other than that he spent the travel time with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Hana might have dared to bridge the uncomfortable silence gnawing between them, but the scowl that dotted Aomine's brow kept her tongue.

It was dark by the time they got to her neighborhood.

They'd gotten off the bus about ten minutes ago, spending the rest of the walk dodging through the merchant districts and small family homes. Most of the streetlights were on, but they were muted with age, giving the streets an odd orange tone. A few cats slunk around a nearby community garden, their beady nocturnal eyes almost sinister as they watched them pass.

"Well," she finally ventured once they made it to her street, "Thanks."

He didn't say anything for a second, leaving Hana the chance to observe his back. With his hands stuffed in his pockets, his shoulders looked thicker, and the bulk highlighted the slim dip of his waist. Not fair for men to be so aesthetically blessed. With a nearly silent sigh, Aomine tilted his head up to look at the dark sky.

"Who was that?" Aomine spoke without turning, "And don't bullshit me like you did Satsuki."

Not going to lie, it kind of stung to be called out like that. She'd done her best to be as truthful as possible, but there were just some things she needed to keep close to her chest. Torio was a menace and Hana needed Momoi to stay as far away from him and his schemes as she could. Aomine could handle himself, but it was still a dangerous thread to walk on.

"I didn't lie," Hana unconsciously twisted her body away from him, "It seriously was my old captain from Teiko."

"I don't remember him talking to you like that," Aomine cut her a look, something indescribable crawling over his features. He didn't have to elaborate for Hana to understand.

Unfortunately, she was all too familiar with Torio speaking to her that way. Like he managed her instead of the other way around— which for a while then he did. Her steps slowed as she reminisced on her old Teiko mentor. There were times when she swore she'd never believe him again. Time after time when his carefully crafted manipulations would catch up on her and she'd realize she'd found herself an unwilling victim yet again.

He'd never hurt her, but they'd always danced a fine line in their relationship.

"It wasn't Futabatei, it was the one before him," Hana eventually answered, leaning against the fence separating her house from their neighbors, "You would have been a first-year."

A bird fluttered out of a nearby tree, its white wings contrasting starkly against the blue sky above. As they had gotten closer to Hana's house, the surrounding buildings grew smaller and more compact. Clothes were strung out of windows to dry and there was a faint echo of music from one of her neighbors. If they'd been discussing anything other than this, Hana would almost call it charming.

"The one you brought to our game," Aomine watched her, his eyes reflecting the streetlights in an almost feline manner, "Torio, right?"

It was the most complacent tone he'd taken with her in a long time. There was nothing noxious hidden under the surface, no violent barb ready to jam into her skin. He didn't look curious per se but interested. There was an odd furrow to his brow, one of contemplation, and Hana had the briefest sense that he was stringing things together in that dense head of his.

Taken aback, Hana blinked up at him, "You remember that?"

"Wasn't that long ago," Aomine eventually muttered, turning to look down the street, "Why'd he—"

His sentence fell flat, but Hana didn't have to think too hard about what he was trying to say. She just didn't know the correct answer. Maybe she'd have understood once upon a time, but this was more than Torio's normal manipulation. It'd always boiled down to a test in one way or another. She didn't know what he'd been testing for today, but it was clear she'd failed.

Torio had never actively scared her; never like he'd done today.

Except, that was back when he saw her as an ally, "We had a falling out. Guess he's still bitter," Hana admitted. The words were slow to fall off her tongue, "Things were said, people were punched. It wasn't pretty."

Aomine's jaw went tight, "He hit you?"

"Nah, nothing like that," she thought back to their confrontation, a reluctant eye roll accompanying her admission, "At least nothing I didn't do first."

"— You hit him?"

"Yeah, and I'm not going to apologize for it," Aomine was looking at her like he'd never seen her before, and it prompted Hana to amend, "Not sure if you were there for it, but he was on the team that ruined Kiyoshi Teppei's knee," the barest hint of a grimace pulled his cheeks tight and Hana scoffed, "I had the same reaction."

Aomine's disgust only grew, "How'd you even get involved with a guy like that?"

"Harsh, man," despite her laugh, Hana's throat went tight, "He was there, I guess. Saw potential in me and helped me—" she waved a hand around in faux emphasis, "Develop my talents."

That was the spark notes version.

The more detailed version would be to complain about how she was a new student in a huge school, finally separated from peers who used to tease her about her dad's one-night stand turned daughter. How he'd bumped into her at the dean's office and initially shrugged her off, only to see her lie her way through the admissions process. How he'd thrown a jovial arm over her shoulder that afternoon and asked if she'd liked basketball.

She didn't elaborate on how he'd also molded her into becoming everything he'd needed.

"That doesn't explain why he's bothering you," Aomine was still pushing, which was odd of him, "You're not saying everything."

"No and I don't think I'm going to," Hana tilted her head to the cloudless sky with a hefty sigh, "My relationship with Torio was messy. You know," she cut Aomine a considering look, "I can't lie to him either."

His mouth pursed. Despite his question, she could tell he understood the jab she tried to imply, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't know, just thought it was ironic," her lips tipped into the beginnings of a sardonic grin, "He hates you guys. More than I ever did. I think that's why he was screwing with me so hard because he caught me with Tetsuya."

And wasn't that was going to be trouble. Catching her with Kuroko and Aomine? If Torio had meant to play this whole thing off like a twisted game of cat and mouse, that was gone now. Judging from his tone on the phone, he was quite disappointed with her continued association with the Generation of Miracles. Whatever leniency he'd intended to spare would likely be forgotten.

Which was kind of hypocritical of him, considering his current company.

"Man, I didn't think he'd be such a damn creep about it," Hana huffed, shoving her hands through her hair with a muffled curse, "Doubt this will be the last I hear from him either."

Aomine paused in his perusal of the street to watch her rant. Those intense dark eyes of his were trained on her face, whatever introspection he'd been partaking in earlier now solved. Hana wasn't quite sure she appreciated the focus, but whatever floated his boat. If he needed to hyper analyze her for some sort of hidden half-truth, well, more power to him.

"He didn't want you attending, huh?" He finally asked, but it didn't sound like he'd intended to. His hands were still shoved deep in his pockets, protruding from his sweatpants awkwardly.

"Guess not," she didn't have the mental capabilities to examine why that might be. She'd just have to roll with the punches later, "Kind of stupid though. What was I supposed to do, ditch the team and let him slaughter them?"

Yeah, right. Let him and his little murder squad try. Torio may have thought he was doing something by messing with her, but if anything, he'd only brought more ammunition into play. He scared her, but he'd also revealed a fatal weakness. She'd just have to find out the best way to exploit it.

Aomine watched her, oddly intent, "You think they'll do something."

"I know it. Just got to get ahead of them first," Hana tipped her chin toward Aomine in consideration, "Wish me luck, yeah?"

She didn't expect him to reply and that worked just fine for her. Assuming their conversation to be over, she gave Aomine one last parting wave and turned on her heel. God, talk about tired. The day had given her more information than she knew what to do with, but if she was going to be any help at all, she'd need to start now—

"Oi, Imamura," Aomine called out just as her fingertips landed on the front door, "Get Tetsu to walk you home tomorrow."

She paused, gifting him a skeptical look over her shoulder, "I don't think that's necessary—"

"Text someone if you're going out," he cut her off without hesitation. His bulky arms were crossed over his chest, and she could see the barest glow of a phone screen tucked away in his elbow, "Even that bastard Kagami if you have to."

She stared at him, waiting for the punchline. When it never came, she groaned out loud, ignoring the odd look Aomine spared her. You know that warm feeling she'd been complaining about lately? Yeah, well it just needed to go screw itself. This was not the time for her emotions to decide they needed something to cling to.

"Okay well, not going to do that, but thanks," Hana eventually managed to drawl, leaning against the door frame. One brow hiked high, "I didn't think you had it in you to care, Aomine."

There you go. Murder all hints of affection with sarcasm.

He scoffed, but there was the barest hint of a smirk tucked into the curve of his cheek. She nearly missed it as he turned to go, "Don't get used to it."

She didn't say anything back to him. Instead, she watched as his back grew smaller against the sidewalk. The phone he'd been holding was now pressed against his face, his other arm back resting in his pocket. As he sauntered past the last turn of the street, Hana took a deep breath and tried to erase the sudden tightness building in her chest.

"Damn it," her shoulders slumped, "Not this again."

As if things weren't messy enough.


Thank you guys for all the reviews! I swear I read them before bed every night. I'm also so stoked you all liked last chapter so much, but also equally terrified because I'm worried I'll fall short of your expectations lol

Keeping hanging in there with me you guys, we'll get this story done together xox

An answer to a question a lot of people have been asking- Yes, this is one of those "end up with everyone" harems. Since I know it's not everyone's favorite, I'm going to be styling the pre-ending in a "choose your own" style thing and then wrap things up in the true ending during the Last Game sections.

So if that's more your jam, you won't have to choose!