The hardest part about writing in this fandom is all the dang characters. There's so, so, so many.

Anyway *ahem* here's a chapter. It does come with a cliffhanger (I know, I'm sorry) but I'm trying to keep chapters under 15,000 words for the sake of my eyeballs and yours. (Fun fact, originally chapters 44, 45, and 46 were all one chapter but that was intense.)

Also another fun fact, I re-plotted this bad boy out and counted all the chapters left. We're looking at ending around chapter seventy, but I may stretch it out to eighty/eighty-five. Just a little heads up.

Warnings: cursing, violence, stalker behavior, cliffhanger ending

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroko no Basuke.


Good Call

With the way everyone was still staring at her, you'd think she'd killed someone.

Alas, no such luck.

"Oh," Momoi gasped. Pink eyes ping-ponged between the two of them, "Are you and Kagami-kun—"

Yup. She'd rather be strung up in the Kirisaki Daiichi locker room as a literal sacrifice than deal with this shit. Momoi hadn't dropped her arms from the hug, but her shoulders were slowly going lax in what Hana might call shock. She couldn't help but sigh. How is this my life?

One second, she was being threatened to an inch of her life and the next, she found herself dropped into a sappy telenovela.

"Ima-chan," Momoi tried to whisper, but it didn't work quite as intended, "What about Ki-kun and Mido-chan—"

"Oi! No, no! We're not—" Before Hana could think of the consequences, she had two palms pressed firmly over Momoi's mouth, "None of us are— Jesus, Momoi!"

God, talk about a shit show. Hana could feel a blush creeping up her chest, eating away at the exposed flesh without mercy. Her teammates were still hovering behind her, muted whispers creeping over the expanse of the dark hallway. She spared a brief glance behind her, nearly whining at the sight of pink cheeks and wide eyes. Kill me now.

Great, just great. This was looking more and more suspicious.

"If you're not," Riko swallowed, pausing before she said, "Doing what it looks like you're doing… what are you doing back here, Imamura-chan?"

She wished she had an answer to that, but she was coming up with a blank. Shooting a desperate look back at Momoi, Hana tried to explain, "Well—" her heart kicked into high gear, "There was a—"

A crazy stalking ex-captain of mine who needed to threaten me in one last attempt to assert dominance while he hung out with his delinquent boyband of murderous youths? Nope, that didn't work. She'd need something better. Preferably something that didn't scream having a make-out session with their rival school in the stadium's hallway. Come on, come on. Think!

"It was Satsuki's fault," Aomine cut in. He didn't even blink when Hana threw her head in his direction, his languid stare trailing over Kagami's sneer in apathy, "She fell on the steps."

Momoi made an offended noise under her hands, but Hana latched onto the excuse, "Yup! It looked like she hit her head and I couldn't see her moving and I'm sorry, but I just had to check. You know, I needed to be sure she was okay, but I knew we were going to win, so no harm, no foul—"

Hana snapped her mouth shut; teeth clicked against each other. Come on, idiot. You're better than this! She really needed to stop talking when she was nervous.

"Breathe, Imamura-chan," Riko was palming her forehead, a worrying little vein appearing in the left corner, "I— okay. We'll go with that excuse," her coach sighed long and hard before pegging Hana with a look that could kill, "But you and I are having a serious conversation about game etiquette! We could have gotten in trouble again!"

"Understood," Hana nodded hard, pigtails swinging, "I'll be good the rest of the season."

The lie slid out easy enough, but Hana didn't regret it this time. Sure, Torio called her a liar, but this was for the benefit of everyone involved. Besides, there's no set definition of the moral quality of goodness. Technically, as long as no one dies—

Tucked behind Riko, Hyuuga snorted, "Somehow I doubt that."

"I promise," letting go of Momoi's mouth to make the cross sign over her chest, Hana beamed as the pledge slipped like silk through her teeth, "I'll do everything I can to make sure the team stays out of trouble. Cross my heart and hope to die."

See, look! That wasn't a lie. The statement drew a couple of skeptical looks, but Hana had no intention of straying from it. If everything went well and Hanamiya didn't sneak out from under her bed to slit her throat, she'd make sure the team stayed safe. Along with Midorima and Shutoku, Uoya and Kitano, Momoi—

"I'm holding you to that, Imamura-chan," Riko gave her an exasperated look, but ended the conversation at the demand, "I guess—" hazel eyes skittered over to Aomine's hulking shadow before she winced, "We'll give you a minute. You can meet us at the entrance."

Apparently, Kagami didn't approve of the leniency, "We can't leave her with them! That bastard—"

Kiyoshi didn't give him a chance to finish. With a smile and a firm smack over the head, the senior center grabbed Kagami by the back of the jersey and beamed, "We'll see you soon, Imamura," shooting a friendly smile toward Momoi, he waved his free hand as he began to tug Kagami's spasming body down the hall, "It was good to see you, Momoi-san. I hope your head is alright."

With an exchange of a few wary looks, the majority of the team followed behind him. Hyuuga lurked near the end, his dark stare flicking toward Aomine in warning before he shook his head in muted disappointment. Hana couldn't hear what he muttered under his breath, but it was definitely something defamatory.

Kuroko was the last standing, his blue stare locked on Aomine with amusement, "Aomine-kun."

"Tetsu," Aomine eventually acknowledged, narrowing his eyes on the smaller boy, "You—"

He didn't finish his sentence, letting whatever he was going to say hang open in the empty air. Hana flicked her gaze between the two. There was a tension hovering around them, but it wasn't sharp like it once was. Neither boy was smiling, but fists weren't being thrown nor immortal rivalry being declared. Hana took it as a win.

"Thank you for taking care of Hana," Kuroko was the first to break the silence and speak, tipping his head down in a soft bow, "I know we aren't friends like we once were—"

"Bah." Aomine scoffed, flapping a hand through the air like he was trying to wipe away the sympathy, "Whatever. Don't thank me for stupid shit like that," blue eyes cut toward Hana, making her spine straighten, "I didn't do anything."

Hana didn't want to look too deep into it, but she was pretty sure there was a yet hidden in his sentence. She swallowed the feeling that brought on and pasted a haughty smirk on her face, "See, I had it covered," she cut Kuroko a look, "Wait— how did you know what happened?"

"I didn't," Kuroko blinked at her. It was amazing the way he shoved so much emotion and exasperation into the simple action, "But I do now. Was it Torio-san again?"

Before Hana could answer, Momoi launched into a full-throttle explanation, complete with hand gestures. Okay, I think we can tone it down a bit, Stephan King. The way she talked about Torio was one step away from a cold case documentary. It really wasn't that bad. Sure, there was some stalking, a little bit of harassment, and the game at Teiko last week, but—

"The what?" Momoi gawked down at Hana, mouth opened in a little gasp, "Ima-chan! What game are you talking about?"

Betrayed by her own rambling mouth. Hana winced, "Ah, yeah. That."

"Hana," Kuroko was the one to look at her now, and like always, his pretty blue eyes flayed her soul open.

Talk about a critical hit. He didn't even have to say anything more for her to cave, a gesture Aomine couldn't help himself from scoffing at.

"It's nothing," she tilted her head away and stared resolutely at the ceiling, "It wasn't that bad. He found me at Uoya's game. Said some shit, I said some shit back, and then I kicked him in the shin. Ta-da."

No one commented on her summarization. Momoi was the only one to make noise, gasping at Hana's violent end to the explanation. Kuroko stayed unexpectedly stone-faced, an interesting little furrow building on his brow as he stared at her. Hana almost classified it as concern, but there was a smidgen of exasperation hidden in his bland stare that contradicted the simple label.

Surprisingly, Aomine was the first to speak. Hovering in the shadows, Hana barely caught the way his head shook as he said, "You haven't told anyone yet?"

"I told him!" She refuted, throwing a scowl in his direction as she jutted a finger toward Kuroko, "I just haven't told the team. Look, it's fine! We scared him away, I'll deal with Shutoku tomorrow, then the problem's solved!"

Look how easy that was. One, two, three! She'd have this worked out in no time. Just gotta cut down on my sleep schedule a bit and find some time to sneak into Teiko, but that's fine. It's all fine.

"I don't think so, Ima-chan," Momoi chastised. She finally let go of the death hug she'd had Hana wrapped in and took a soft step back. Pale fingers twisted together in worry, "That was scary. You'll look out for her? Right, Tetsu-kun?"

Not this again. She'd just gotten rid of the babysitting brigade! Hana's eye twitched, "That's really not necessary—"

"Shut up already, woman," Aomine cut her off. He was leaning against the cement wall, his arms crossed over his chest and a dry look on his face, "Accept some help and move on with it."

"I did! I said you could help, didn't I?" Her eye twitched again, smile going stiff when he scoffed, "But we don't have to drag everyone into this, you know? I think this little—" she motioned between the lot of them, "Foursome has it covered."

"I will, Momoi-san," Kuroko interrupted. He was already nodding without acknowledging Hana's logical reasoning, "I spoke to Kise-kun earlier."

No. Bad, Tetsuya. Hana scowled, "That's not—"

"Don't worry about him," Aomine grunted, tilting his head to the ceiling with a snort, "Idiot will start crying and won't know when to shut up. Talk to Midorima."

"Or we could just talk to me—"

Kuroko agreed like Hana hadn't said anything at all, "I'll do that this evening. Will you be at the game tomorrow?"

Apparently, the new theme of the day was ignoring her. How nice.

Aomine waved the question away, "No. I don't care about the preliminaries, everyone knows how it will end," he cut Kuroko a strong look, his jaw clenching, "You and Midorima can take care of it."

"Or we can let me take care of it, like I was doing—"

Jesus Christ. Momoi's palm latched over her mouth, pink hair falling over Hana's chest as the rival manager whispered into her ear, "Shhhh, Ima-chan. They're bonding."

Involuntary muted, Hana scowled at the boys in front of her. Okay, fine, they're bonding. Maybe later Hana would remark on how nice that was but now wasn't the time. Right now, Hana would rather have both boys trying to kill each other with various basketball moves and the girth of their egos. Go back to being enemies and keep me out of your hero complexes.

"Isn't this nice?" Momoi smiled, a little squeal echoing from her throat as they talked, "Dai-chan and Tetsu-kun are having an actual conversation. I—" the other manager sniffled, "I missed this, Ima-chan."

Hana scoffed behind Momoi's palm. I did not.

Okay, maybe she did. Watching the two boys talk, Hana momentarily retracted her statement. Just a little bit. It got tiring seeing them hate each other and bang their chests. But dammit, couldn't they have found common ground that wasn't her?

Apparently not.

With a final nod to each other, the boys were stepping back from their little bonding session. Kuroko had a satisfied tilt to his head, his probing stare locked onto Aomine's face with what Hana might dare classify as pride. He reminded her of a proud father whose kid finally learned to ride a bike— disturbing mental imagery in this situation but accurate, nonetheless.

Aomine firmly cemented the analogy when he tilted his head away with a strained grimace. He wasn't meeting Kuroko's eye, instead focusing on the stairwell behind him. His shoulders were tight and tense, but it didn't show when he spoke, "Come on, Satsuki. We're done here."

He didn't wait for her response, turning on his heel and taking his sweet time lumbering up the stairs. Momoi made an offended noise behind Hana, but she didn't have time to focus on it before she was dragged into a strong but brief hug.

"Bye, Ima-chan! Be safe," Smushed into Momoi's chest, Hana coughed as unexpectedly powerful arms wrapped around her diaphragm and squeezed. Seconds later, Kuroko was subjected to the same fate, "See you soon, Tetsu-kun!"

Bouncing up the stairs two at a time, Momoi plopped her hands on her hips as she waited for Aomine to make it to the top. She was muttering something under her breath, but Hana couldn't hear it. Instead, she focused on the way Aomine's steps slowly crept to a halt, his hand bracing against the stair railing as he deliberately twisted his head over his shoulder.

"Oi—" Aomine cut her a strange look. It was sharp and penetrating, almost predatory in the way it deliberately crawled over her face. The expression made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and a languid smirk cut through his cheeks when he caught her blanch, "Try not to be an idiot for once, Hana."

It took a second for the address to sink in, but when it did, Aomine was long gone. Hana stood stock still, blinking at the shadows the duo disappeared through. She counted back through the conversation to make sure she didn't hear what she'd thought she heard.

She did.

Who did he think he was? She was going to do more than kill him. Hana was going to shove the dirtiest tennis shoe she could find down his throat, tie his hands behind his back and watch him choke on the rubber sole. Maybe she'd even get Kagami involved. They could watch together and eat some popcorn. That'll show them bonding!

"You little— Aomine!" Hana puffed her chest out, taking a brave step forward, "Come back here you motherfu—"

Another hand clamped over her mouth. What is it with people and mouths today?!

"Please don't taunt Aomine-kun, Hana," Kuroko reprimanded. He notably did not remove his hand, "We should hurry. Riko-san is probably waiting on us."

Before she could wrestle out of his hold, he began to walk. Mouth curled into a snarl behind his palm, Hana debated the merits of biting his hand. It'd be a good lesson for the little shit. Her teeth were just about to dig into the flesh when Kuroko cut her off, blue eyes peering back in muted amusement as they made it to the corner of the hall.

"My apologies," Kuroko smiled as he removed his hand. One of those soft, gentle little expressions he very rarely gifted anyone besides Nigou, "I should know better, shouldn't I?"

Hana rubbed her jaw, cutting him a dark look. Instead of flinching, he continued to stare at her and before she could look away, reluctant affection was rolling through her chest. Awh, shit. Here we go again. It was almost grotesque the way her insides promptly puddled into goo. So gross and warm. You know this is the stuff they don't teach you about during puberty.

Nobody warns you about pretty boys with soft hair and sweet smiles.

"Damn right you should," going back to the tried-and-true method of running away from your problems, Hana hip bumped him as she prowled down the hall, "You're such a shit, Tetsuya."

Kuroko made an amused noise and the emotions overtaking her poor heart shot into her throat. Nope, no thank you! Taking that little ball of sticky hot fluff growing in her chest, Hana metaphorically wrung it out and shoved it into a dark crevice. Not the time, hormones. Not the time.

Focus on pretty basketball boys later.

Preferably sometime when they aren't trying to kill you.

xXxXx

"Two arms and two legs," Hana hummed under her breath, sketching out the base form of a small stick figure, "And an arrow through the head makes me happy, happy, happy—"

Nudoru snored in time with the bass melody of her song, his long legs spread across the bottom of her bed. Finishing the final touch of her stick figure assortment, Hana paused long enough to glance up at the clock on her nightstand. Two fifty-three. Her nose scrunched as she dropped her pen atop her binder.

It was later than she anticipated.

She'd planned on going to bed around midnight, but obviously, that was shot. Instead, she'd gotten wrapped up in plotting out the different offensive tactics Kirisaki Daiichi had been caught using through the season. It wasn't enough to benefit her team, but it was a starting point for Shutoku. She'd just need to get a bit more information about Seto's and Furuhashi's playing styles and then she could call it a night.

Labeling the most recent offensive pattern she'd sketched out, Hana tucked it into her notebook. It would have been helpful to have more information about their defensive skills, but that information was few and far between. Unfortunately, all her contacts had similar experiences in that regard. Every player she'd managed to talk with throughout the night repeated the same warning.

When Kirisaki Daiichi didn't have the ball, someone was getting hurt.

"Takao should be able to handle himself with his hawk eye," Hana muttered under her breath as she pulled out a new sheet of paper, "Midorima will need to be careful though. He's a sitting duck when he's shooting—"

Her musings were broken as the bed began to vibrate.

She paused, cutting her eyes to her cellphone. Despite knowing it wasn't Torio, having successfully blocked him and all associated numbers, Hana was still hesitant to pick the damn thing up. She scoffed at the glowing screen. What a fun new trauma to have. Scared of my own cellphone. The screen went dark after a few seconds and she sighed in relief until the sound began anew.

"Damn it," Hana crawled forward and over her pillows to peer down at the screen. It was an unfamiliar number, "I swear to god—" before she could talk herself out of it, she flicked the phone on and put it to her ear, "Hello?"

"Imamura-chan," a familiar voice echoed through the receiver, "Is it a bad time?"

That was unexpected. For a second, her tongue was tied, "It's three in the morning."

"Is it?" Even though she couldn't see him, she could hear the smile in Imayoshi's voice, "My apologies. I can call back at another time."

"No— I don't-" Hana cradled her head, propping her phone against her shoulder as her eyes shut wearily, "How did you get my number? I was planning on calling you."

You know, in a controlled environment where she was in charge of the conversation. Not at three in the god-forsaken morning. Hana let her eyes drift open and crawl toward the ceiling in exasperation. Figures all of Too had the same modus operandi of being pains in the asses.

"Momoi-san offered it after your game," his tone slipped into something silken, and she tried to ignore the alarms suddenly blazing in her head, "I'm assuming you wanted my help."

"I wouldn't say help," Pulling the phone from her ear, Hana gave the device a dark look. He didn't have to say it like that. Her lip curled as she considered the best explanation, "Just wanted to see if you had any tips for dealing with Hanamiya."

There we go. That was vague enough to cover all bases.

Of course, Imayoshi just had to throw all her carefully plotted cover stories to the wind, "Are you only worried about Hanamiya? Is it not your old captain you're concerned about?"

"I don't give a shit about him," Hana snapped back. Her finger hovered over the button to end the call when Imayoshi merely laughed, "Look, if you're going to be a dick, this conversation is over."

She had enough of those in her life and the select few she had the patience to deal with had the benefit of being visually attractive. Imayoshi didn't have that hormone-addled advantage and with his stellar personality, he didn't have many other things going in his favor beyond his tentative insight into Kirisaki Daiichi's number one asshole. He was one step away from blowing it all.

He chuckled again, "I'm only trying to help, Imamura-chan, no need to get defensive."

Throwing herself back into her bed, Hana plopped an arm over her face and groaned. Did she really need his help? Tossing her attention back to her pile of notes, her mouth pinched in distaste. She did, dammit. With both Seirin's and Shutoku's skills lying in the offensive realm, she'd need more information about Kirisaki Daiichi's defensive stance— something she still didn't possess.

"Fine. Whatever. I'll take whatever information you're willing to give me," Hana paused, the sound of Imayoshi's soft breathing the only indicator he was still on the line. When the silence stretched too thin, she rolled her eyes as the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place, "You want something in return, don't you?"

Of course, he did. Ugh. Why couldn't basketball players just do things out of the goodness of their hearts?

"Aomine-kun did say you were clever," Imayoshi teased. It was a grim, humored sound, "All I ask in return is a favor. Would that suffice?"

Nope, nope. That would not suffice. She might not have offered much in the way of mothering, but her mom taught her better than that. No open-ended clauses in contracts, Hana.

"I'm not accepting that unless you clarify what the favor is," Hana scowled, squinting at the ceiling as she thought through the scenarios, "I won't do anything to benefit Too's basketball team. I'm not screwing over Seirin and Aomine's enough of a powerhouse you don't need any help with other teams."

She couldn't see him, but his smooth smile transferred well enough through the line, "No, no. Nothing like that. It's only something I'd like to keep in my back pocket in case of an emergency. Like I said before, you never know when an ally might come in handy."

A hot puff of air escaped her chest. This was reminding her a little bit too much of her old dealings with Akashi. Except where Akashi resembled the devil in all its infinite forms, Imayoshi was more of a trickster god. Not sure that's much of an improvement, but whatever.

"Jesus Christ, fine. I owe you a favor," Hana finally spit out. Her hand pinched the thin skin at the bridge of her nose, "Now, what can you tell me about Hanamiya's team?"

Her pride did not like this. Not one itty bitty bit.

"Thank you, Imamura-chan, I appreciate your cooperation," Imayoshi simpered down the line, his voice dripping in patient amusement as he began to speak, "Try to pay attention. You'll need it, I'm afraid."

God, Midorima was going to owe her so much coffee once this was done.

X

Preliminaries - Day Two

Seirin versus Senshinkan

She'd done it.

It took her well into the next afternoon, but she was finally finished.

Tucked into the corner of the dressing room, Hana's head nodded along to music in her ears as the song crawled to a stop. The lyrics were indiscernible from the screaming of the vocalist, but it did its purpose of tuning out Kagami's insistent pre-game monologuing. Shooting a brief glance up from her notes, she watched as Riko sketched out their initial starting path on the provided whiteboard.

With a nod of satisfaction, Hana took an earphone out of her ear and raised a hand, "Hey, Riko?"

The rest of her team was being kept busy by covering the strategy for the upcoming game against Senshinkan. Thank god for small mercies. The other school's defense wasn't nearly well-rounded enough to handle Kagami's offensive brutality. He'd punch through their defensive layer without strain and judging from the plotted draft on the whiteboard, Riko certainly planned to capitalize on that weakness.

"Huh?" Riko paused in her scribbling, the dry erase marker squeaking to a stop, "What is it, Imamura-chan?"

The direct address brought about unnecessary curiosity from her idling teammates. Kuroko twisted his focus to her and away from the wall he'd been staring a hole into. Behind him, Hyuuga paused from pulling his shoes on, eyeing her over the thin rim of his glasses. Even Kiyoshi and Izuki turned to her, curious at the interruption of their planning.

"Ethically," her voice trailed off as Hana preemptively winced, "We're allowed to share information with other teams, right?"

She sure damn hoped so, considering she'd been doing it for most of the year.

"Well—" Riko paused, hand dropping from the board as she thought through the implications of Hana's question, "Yes. Sometimes videos and information will get passed around. It's pretty similar to what you do, Imamura-chan," hazel eyes narrowed, "Why are you asking?"

With step one complete and her notes ready to be shared, Hana licked her lips. Here's where it got dicey. She'd need to skirt the line between sharing too much with her team and not sharing enough. At some point, she knew she'd need to sit down and lay it all out on the table, but that wasn't the plan for today.

Swallowing, she hedged, "So then, if I was back in time for the game, it wouldn't be against the rules for me to give Shutoku notes before their game today. Hypothetically. Right?"

And let the fireworks begin. Kagami lurched to his feet, "Why would you—"

Before he could launch into his verbal attack, Riko threw a hand up. The coach took a moment to stare down at Hana's seated form in speculation. Subjected to her complete attention, Hana didn't miss when understanding crept into Riko's face. From her peripheral, she also caught the way Hyuuga straightened his spine, dark eyes narrowing on her face.

Good, they'd kept track of the tournament roster. They knew who Shutoku played today.

Riko's mouth pursed as she answered, "Hypothetically, no. But Imamura-chan, they might not want your help."

"I know," the admission tasted sour on her tongue, but Hana didn't linger on that possibility, "But—"

She didn't know how to finish the sentence. Sure, Midorima might turn his nose up at her olive branch, but it really wasn't up to him. The rest of his team had to read through the information too and have enough of a neutral stance to utilize it. Hana wouldn't blame them for being skeptical.

Unfortunately, this was out of their control.

"But I'm not giving them that option," Hana crawled to her feet. Her hands fell akimbo against her hips, a huff pulling itself out of her throat as she finished, "I've got information on Kirisaki Daiichi, and they need it," she took a steadying breath before admitting the crux of the issue, "I talked to their manager yesterday. I know what they're going to do."

That finally got Kiyoshi's attention. The big friendly giant gawked at her, muted horror taking over the expanse of his face as he got clued into the subtle meaning of the conversation, "Imamura. You can't do that. Hanamiya will—"

"Kiss my pretty ass," Hana deadpanned. She twisted her attention to Kiyoshi and threw an arm out, "You'd do the same thing if you could, and I know it. Let me handle this and you can handle the rest of it on the court later."

She took a satisfied breath, pleased with the resolution in her tone. Main character moment, go!

"You can't get involved," The noble spiel Kiyoshi was about to embark on was halted by Hana's head shaking. He tried anyway, "Hanamiya isn't your problem."

"I'm not getting involved because of Hanamiya. He's one dude— I'm going after them all," hands firmly on her hips, she stared Kiyoshi down, "Man, if this is bugging you, you're really going to be pissed when our game against them rolls around."

She called it. Kiyoshi's eyes flew wide, "No, Imamura—"

"It's already started, no going back now," despite the statement, an uncomfortable smile pulled at her face. He really had the kicked puppy look down. "I know what I'm doing, Kiyoshi."

Kiyoshi made a strained face, but it paled compared to the rest of her team's expressions. The upperclassmen all wore looks of weary acceptance, their focus mainly on Kiyoshi, but the younger crowd only wore confusion. The freshmen trio were the most baffled, their big eyes ping-ponging between the debating duo. Kagami was right behind them, a tick growing in his jaw as he tried to work out what they were arguing about.

Kuroko was the only one with a slight semblance of a clue. A frown pulled his face tight, "Hana?"

Ah, damn. That's right. The freshmen were still missing several vital parts of the equation. Where Kuroko was the only one to know about Torio's recent involvement in her life, he was blissfully unaware of the history between Seirin and Kirisaki Daiichi. He vaguely understood the threat to Midorima's safety, but he didn't grasp the full extent of it.

Kuroko didn't know about Hanamiya.

Crap. Crap. Crap. She threw him a pacifying look, "I'll fill you in later."

"What?" Kagami's mouth finally shut. Confused red eyes flicked from Hana's face to Riko's before coming back to the manager's, "What the hell are you all talking about?"

The coach's hands twisted in front of her chest as she ignored Kagami's question. She was worried. Riko's lips pursed, thoughts crawling through her head before a troubled sheen entered her eyes, "Imamura-chan, are you sure you want to do this?"

"Hell yes," jutting a finger to the wall in exaggeration, Hana elaborated, "I like Shutoku. Sure, Midorima can be an ass, but—"

I care about him.

Hana hid an involuntary shiver at the mental admission. Gross. Feelings.

"You freshmen," Hyuuga sighed when Hana couldn't finish her statement. He too ignored Kagami's question with practiced finality, "Always trying to play the hero. How are you still functioning?"

Good question, captain.

"Sheer willpower," Hana answered, crawling to her feet and lifting her arms over her head in a stretch, "And coffee. Speaking of which, I have earned multiple cups and I expect them to be gifted to me when this is all over."

She began to pick up her notes with the final warning, stuffing them together in a mediocre attempt to organize them. There was another contradicting noise of rushed movement and before Hana could move, Kiyoshi was standing in front of her. His huge palms were crossed over his chest and the beginnings of a concerned frown had his forehead wrinkled.

"Imamura," She blinked up at the address, meeting his stare head-on. He hadn't put his shirt on yet and Hana was greeted by a wall of smooth flesh and a sixpack. Huh, would you like at that. No wonder Riko caved to his advances.

Her mouth quirked as she trailed her stare up his chest and to his sullen face. Daddy Kiyoshi has entered the chat.

"Kiyoshi," Hana repeated the greeting, ducking past his blockade with a firm pat against his bare chest. "Don't stress. This is nothing," she cut him a smile when she made it to the door, "Trust me. Right now, I'm just a blip on Hanamiya's radar."

Torio on the other hand. He might cause some problems. Hana wisely kept her mouth shut.

"I'm going with you," Kiyoshi ignored her reasoning, striding toward his bag to yank his uniform over his head, "You shouldn't walk over there alone."

"You can't—" Hana waved him off, Riko's drawn-out schedule on the whiteboard matching her explanation, "The games are staggered. We face Senshinkan in five minutes, but Shutoku's got fifteen before they're on. You have to get out to the court."

Daddy Kiyoshi didn't like that. As Hana's hand latched onto the doorknob, he tried again, "If he sees you helping Shutoku—"

"Then he sees me," Hana shrugged as she opened the door, propping the metal open with her hip, "I'm going to piss him off sooner than later, might as well get it out of his system early."

He didn't get a chance to say anything else as Hana slipped through the door and into the hallway. The metal smacked shut behind her with a click, but it didn't completely mute the sound on the other side of the door. Kagami was the noisiest offender, shouting something about what the hell was happening. It was only just louder than the rest of their questions.

There was a brief uptick of noise from her team before Riko blew her whistle, "Pay attention, you guys! We've got a game to win!"

That's right.

It was time to play.

X

Shutoku versus Kirisaki Daiichi

Closing his eyes, Midorima took a measured sip of water.

His team bustled around him in the dressing room, changing into their away uniforms as they prepared themselves for the second game of the tournament. Midorima was the only one who'd arrived prepared. Even his fingers were pre-wrapped, the white tape soaking up the condensation from the chilled water bottle his manager had provided.

"Where's the lucky item, Shin-chan?" Takao teased from ahead of him. He pulled his shirt off with one hand, a jovial grin directing Midorima's way when he caught his eye, "Don't tell me you forgot."

"Of course not," Midorima retorted. Placing the water atop the bench he sat on, Midorima pulled the item in question out of his shorts pocket. The bracelet glistened in the air, its sparkly plastic finish reflecting the overhead lights. "I would never dismiss Oha-Asa's predictions."

For a Saturday, today's forecast was particularly foreboding. Eyeing his jovial teammate from behind the sheen of his glasses, Midorima's mouth pressed into a thin line. Scorpios were rated at the bottom in terms of fortune today. Oha-Asa promised a day of conflict and to be wary of physical violence. It was not a promising outlook.

His fingers flexed around the bracelet, thoughts unwilling straying to another Scorpio. Imamura.

The call he'd had with Akashi had been enlightening. Midorima wasn't aware of just how informed their former captain was of the manager's decisions. It was illuminating, to say the least. He'd always assumed Akashi kept tabs on her, but he hadn't foreseen the outcome Murasakibara's introduction brought.

For Akashi to desire to see the manager in person, something in the dynamic must have shifted.

The sound of his coach's voice brought Midorima out of his musing, "No, I can't let you in—"

"Please," a familiar feminine voice retorted, "I'll be fast!"

"You can't do that—"

"Look, I just want to wish my boyfriend good luck. Come on, you can let me do that, can't you?"

The conversation had everyone in the dressing room stalling. The coach's voice stuttered before he barked back a negative and told the stranger on the other side of the door to leave. Kimura blinked at the door, bafflement growing over his tan face as the argument continued to spiral. Head half in his shirt, Takao gaped, "Is that Imamura-chan?"

Midorima's spine straightened, green eyes flickering to the door, "It is."

"What?" Mouth opening, Takao twisted his head toward Midorima like he had all the answers, "Why is she here?"

"I'm not sure," Midorima answered as he straightened to his feet. His knees ached at the stretch, having sat still for too long, "But I intend to find out."

He couldn't fathom what she was thinking. Of all her ridiculous schemes, this topped the chart. He could understand the underhanded tactics she'd employed to garner her information, but to be so blatant? To have the gall to show up in his team's dressing room? Surely, the manager couldn't be that desperate.

The answer to his questions would have to wait. Dressing room door smacking open, Coach Nakatani's wrinkled face stared blandly into the room. His ironed shirt was vaguely ruffled and there was an angry furrow growing in the corner of his brow. At his side, Hana peeked into the room, impatient eyes scanning over the assembled boys before narrowing on Midorima.

Their coach sighed, opening the door further for Hana to step inside, "Which one of you is dating Seirin's manager?"

"Dating?" Takao echoed, wide grey eyes flicking from Hana to Midorima in fast succession, "Shin-chan, you're dating Imamura-chan now?"

A flush shot up Midorima's neck as his mouth twisted into a scowl, "Of course, not. Don't be a fool, Takao."

At the same time, Hana chirped from behind Coach Nakatani's back, "Yup! Since training camp—"

There was a beat of silence where it appeared no one heard her. Even Midorima paused, his steps coming to an erstwhile halt as green eyes flew wide. The blush that he'd previously been able to subdue blossomed into full color, shooting up his cheeks and onto his ears as he stared at the troublesome girl camped in the doorway.

All at once, the locker room exploded, "What?!"

"Yeah! Can't believe he didn't tell you. Making it kind of awkward, babe," she plowed through her sentence with an awkward scratch at her neck, ignoring the way Midorima choked on his tongue.

"She called Midorima…" Miyaji trailed off. If his eyes grew any larger, they'd pop out of his skull, "Babe?"

Coach Nakatani blinked, transferring his stare to Midorima and raising a brow, "Really now?"

"You— we are not—" Midorima finally managed to spit out. His lips nearly stuck to his teeth as he fumbled through his sentence, "That isn't—"

His sentence broke off as he registered her expression. For the first time since she'd blown into their dressing room, Midorima caught the first signs of her unease. It hid in the stiff corners of her grin— an expression he hadn't seen since the last few months of their acquaintanceship at Teiko. His eyes narrowed on her face, catching the way she swallowed in apprehension.

"Sorry to barge in," she twisted on her feet and Midorima's attention snapped to her hands. They were twitching the way they always did when she prepared to lie to him. "Just came to wish you luck. Uhm, anyway—" she took a step back, arms going behind her back as her face contorted into a strained smile, "Bye! Love you!"

Her parting was barely given a second to escape her mouth before she was turning tail and disappearing into the hall. Body stock still, Midorima could do nothing but stare at her retreating back. Her farewell repeated in his head on a loop as he ignored the probing stares his teammates directed his way.

"Seirin's manager," Coach Nakatani shook his head. One of his hands pulled at the collar of his shirt as he sighed, "Guess it could be worse. Just don't let it affect your games, Midorima."

Without waiting for a confirmation, their coach brought his phone to his ear and stepped back out of the door. It took less than a second for the room to erupt into noise. Before Midorima has time to blink, Takao was encroaching into his personal space, nearly dancing on his toes in smug excitement.

"No way," Takao cowed. A grew started to bloom between his cheeks, eyes crinkling in mirth, "Shin-chan, you never told me that you guys were dating!"

Midorima didn't respond. His ears felt too hot, and a suspicious sweat had started to build on his spine. What on earth was that foolish woman doing? While he didn't understand her intentions, Midorima knew one thing for certain. Akashi was going to kill him.

"Midorima," Otsubo called out to him. His captain was giving him a strange look like he couldn't put two and two together, "When did this happen?"

He finally got his mouth to move, "We are not—"

"Hey, your girlfriend left something behind," Kimura pointed out from his position closest to the door. His finger jerked in the direction of a wad of papers trapped under the metal doorframe.

"I bet it's a love note!" Takao jeered, nearly tripping over his feet as he stumbled to pick it up, "Shin-chan, that's adorable~"

Eye twitching behind his glasses, Midorima took a step forward, "Shut up, you idiot!"

Miyaji beat him to the punch. Snapping the papers out of Takao's reach, he tried to smooth out the wrinkles between his palms, "Don't be a brat, Takao. It's none of your business," the reprimand didn't stop him from glancing down at the paper anyway, "See? It's not a—"

"Well?" Takao skittered up to the small forward's side, "What is it then?"

"It's notes," Miyaji muttered, flipping through the pages and squinting, "On Kirisaki Daiichi. Midorima," his senior looked up at him, brows arched high on his forehead, "What's this about?"

"I don't know," he snapped back in response. Moving through his silent teammates, Midorima took the proffered notes and scanned through them. As words merged into sentences, his face grew grim behind his glasses, "It's a large amount of information."

He flipped through the pages, stare narrowing as he digested the data. It wasn't typical game intelligence. There were very few mappings of their playing style. Instead, Imamura had sketched out character profiles for each member of Kirisaki Daiichi's first-string team and the second. She'd gone into a detailed technical review of their skillsets and mentality, taking particular interest in their manager's intelligence profile and a rough sketch of a spiderweb formation.

Something odd settled in his stomach. Imamura didn't share her information anymore. Not since—

"Geeze," Takao whispered, breaking him out of his ruminations of the past. Midorima hadn't noticed that the point guard had moved back into his space, "That's impressive. Woah, woah, go back a page, Shin-chan. Look, there. She's got specific notes for each of us."

Midorima flipped the papers back, pausing at the sight of his name on the top of the page. Takao was correct. For each of their first-string players, she'd taken the time to detail a list of probable weak spots and ways to mitigate the risks. Unlike typical strategic notes, these were concentrated on defensive coverage.

Takao's was focused on his opened back passing formation, recommending that someone cover his rear during offensive maneuvers. On the other hand, Midorima's was focused on the open area of his abdomen when he shot. Sketched out to the side in rough stick person form, she drew an ideal formation of Otsubo and Kimura protecting him from the defensive reach.

Flipping to the last page, Midorima's chest grew tight. Drawn out hastily, Imamura's familiar chicken scratch left a final caution. She'd even gone as far as to underline it twice.

Be careful.

"I don't understand," he muttered. His fingers clenched on the papers, knuckles turning white as he stared at the words, "Why would she—"

"It's a warning," his captain offered, breaking Midorima out of his examination. There was a pensive curl to Otsubo's lip as he looked at the crumpled papers, "Kirisaki Daiichi has a reputation for playing rough. Remember the last time we played? Imamura-san must have heard about it and wanted to warn you."

That much was obvious. It still didn't answer his underlying question. There was nothing for Imamura to gain by doing this and after reviewing the entirety of the notes, he knew it wasn't something she'd thrown together last minute. She'd spent time and energy on giving his team an advantage in a game they were fated to win anyway.

A hearty slap on his shoulder jerked him out of his ruminations. Miyaji snatched the papers out of his hand before he could register the movement, "Don't keep it to yourself, Midorima. You aren't the only one who can benefit from some extra information."

"No, he's not. From the games they've played up until now, it's obvious they don't have a set mark on the team," Otsubo agreed, nodding at Midorima in acknowledgment, "You'll have to thank her for us."

"Maybe we should all date a manager if it gets us information like this," Takao hummed as he plopped back down on the bench. He cradled his chin in his hand as he smiled teasingly up at Midorima, "I volunteer as tribute— ow! Come on, Miyaji! It was a joke!"

Turning away from the attack on his point guard, Midorima scowled at the blank walls of the dressing room. His taped fingers crawled into the pocket of his shorts and toyed with the plastic beads of his lucky item. Imamura's voice rang through his head like the singing drums of war. Love you! Bye!

He would examine the emotions tied to that statement later.

X

If this didn't work, she was throwing herself off a cliff.

As she walked through the halls back to the stadium, Hana scrubbed ruthlessly at her too red cheeks. The fake boyfriend ruse had been a logical first choice, but it still made her feel weird inside. Not necessarily queasy, but close— like she'd drank too much water and still wanted more. An odd mixture of relief mixed with unease.

"Love you," Hana mocked under her breath, a heavy whoosh of hot air leaving her lungs and making her feel almost empty. She propped her head against the cool metal door of the stadium, "What the hell was I thinking?"

She wasn't, that's for sure. That part of the ruse had slipped out. She'd planned on pulling the caring girlfriend route and utilizing Midorima's bashful nature against him to slip in and out without complaint. It also lent credibility to her notes— but god. Did she really have to dig herself such a deep hole?

She didn't have time to think about it. The sound of the referee's whistle dragged her out of her thoughts and with a final steadying breath, Hana shoved the door open and slipped inside.

It was almost too easy to sneak into the gym unnoticed. She collapsed on the bench next to Kawahara, grown-out bangs stuck to the sweaty skin of her forehead. The rickety metal thing jolted as she peered over at the boy beside her, "How are we doing?"

"Great!" Kawahara turned toward her, the beaming smile on his face puttering out when he caught sight of her flush, "Uhm. Are you okay, Imamura-chan?"

She gave him a dry look in return. No, she wasn't, but did he have to say it like that?

"Dandy," Hana snapped as she wrangled the long hair hanging down her back into a rough imitation of a bun. Gotta look presentable for an encounter with your mortal enemy. Her focus trailed out to the court, sighing when Kagami dunked over one of Senshinkan's players, "Has he been like this all game?"

"Yeah," Furihata answered from Kawahara's other side. The thin freshman winced when Kagami grinned, all bright teeth and feral eyes, "He's really pumped up."

Hana's eye twitched. Well, at least it gave her something else to think about. Who had time to worry about dramatic love confessions when you had to deal with wrangling testosterone-filled teenagers instead? She watched the game with half an eye, keeping tabs on the other side of the court. Neither Shutoku nor Kirisaki Daiichi had made it to the sidelines, but she knew the time was coming.

Speak of the devil.

The far-right door opened, and a mob of orange stepped onto the court. Biting her lip between her teeth, Hana scanned over the Shutoku players. They were ribbing at each other, Miyaji scowling down at a mirthful Takao. Not once did they look toward her side of the court and Hana almost relaxed. That was until she caught sight of the back of the group, catching Midorima's stare.

Damn. She froze like a startled deer. He's pissed.

His stare narrowed on her and the beating of her heart slowly tempered. Or maybe not. She couldn't tell what he was thinking. Whatever expression he wore was intense. He'd stopped near the door and those striking eyes of his were locked onto her behind his glasses. It wasn't exactly an unfriendly expression, but it was powerful— like whatever he was thinking altered some foundational agreement she wasn't aware of.

She didn't have time to dig into it before the other door opened.

A small group of dark green jerseys filled the left entrance, and she swung her gaze over the familiar faces. It wasn't as many as she was expecting, most of the first-string players notably absent. The only two she was intimately familiar with belonged to Torio and Hara Kazuya. The rest of the group was made up of second-stringers, not nearly as violent as the first string but notably rough in comparison to other national teams.

Awkward tension with Midorima forgotten, Hana sucked her lips under her teeth. Where the hell is Hanamiya?

A chuckle broke her out of her focus, her attention drifting back to the other side of the court just in time to see Torio laugh. A smirk built on his lips as he trailed his attention over the bench and rested his gaze on her face. With a subtle jab to Hara's side, he tilted his head in her direction before bending over to whisper something in the other player's ear. Whatever he said had a chuckle echoing over the court, drawing the rest of her team's attention to the start of the other game.

Her lip curled, "That bitch."

"Imamura-chan? Do you know them?" Kawahara whispered to her left, peering past her shoulder to observe the opposite team get into starting position, "They're staring at you."

"Yeah," the admission crawled out of her mouth like it burned, Torio's smirk twisting into a grin as he watched her face darken, "I know."

Having heard the meat of the conversation, Riko twisted her attention away from the court to glance at the other game. Her hazel brows furrowed as Shutoku's referee whistled, "Were you able to give them your notes?"

Midorima cut a look toward her as he settled into his starting position, Takao following his gaze and whispering something to him as he passed. Hana didn't look into it. Her focus rested on Torio's back as he sauntered toward the bleacher. He stopped to say something to the referee before nodding, strolling toward Kirisaki Daiichi's side of the court with jaunty steps.

"I dropped them off," Hana explained. Her hands fisted in the soft hem of her skirt as she watched the game begin, "Can't tell you if they'll actually use the damn things, but I tried. I'll know if it helps once the game gets rolling."

The game jolted into action as the whistle blew. While there may only be one high-risk threat on the court, Kirisaki Daiichi had more than enough coverage to allow Hara to do some damage. Watch Midorima's sides, cover Takao's back, look out for Otsubo's ankle

"Understood. You know, I never did ask," Riko turned to look at her, her gaze inquisitive, "How'd you get all this information? I know you didn't go over to their school— you didn't, right?"

Signing a death warrant like that? No thanks. Hana snorted, sparing a glance at her own team's game, "Nah. Got some help from Imayoshi."

And what a shit show that was.

"Imayoshi," Riko repeated. For good measure, she said his name again, "Imayoshi Shoichi? From Too? Their captain?"

"Yeah, him. Don't recommend it," she watched Kuroko pass to Hyuuga before rolling her eyes and looking back up to Shutoku's game, "He's a dick. I've honestly never met anyone I've wanted to castrate more than Hanamiya and their manager, but he's a close third."

Her coach could only gawk, "How did you—"

A whistle from the other side of the court cut their conversation short.

It happened right under her nose. They're too damn fast. Near the opposite hoop, Takao was bent over. His arms were encased around his abdomen and black hair hung over his forehead as he grimaced. Midorima stood at his side— back ramrod straight as he watched Miyaji stomp toward Hara, an accusing finger jabbing toward his chest.

"My bad," Hara took a step back, blowing a large bubble with the gum he kept between his teeth. He looked at Torio who never once stopped watching the referee. Hara smiled, "I didn't realize he was so close."

She waited, but a foul was never called. There was a brief bought of uproar from Shutoku's side of the court, but she didn't analyze it. Instead, Hana watched Kirisaki Daiichi's bench. She barely caught Torio's satisfied nod before he settled back into the bleacher. It clicked instantly.

It's him! Before Hana could catch herself, she was standing, "That piece of shit!"

"No, Imamura-chan," Riko's hand snatched her wrist before she could take a step further, "You can't. I know it's terrible, but we can't go to their side of the court during the match."

Their commotion was enough to draw the attention of their own teammates. Kagami slowed down from his jog to spare a glance over at the other side of the court, Kuroko following his attention with a sharp frown. Huddled by the goal, Kiyoshi and Izuki exchanged looks while Hyuuga fumed. Even Senshinkan's players were momentarily distracted.

"I know. That's not it—" Hana spat, but her venom wasn't directed at the coach. Instead, her steely glare locked onto Torio's smug smile, "I know how they're getting away with it. That son of a bitch—"

She should have known. There was no plausible way for Kirisaki Daiichi to continually avoid fouls. With tournaments requiring at least two usually three referees on the court, it was statistically improbable for Hara to get away with such overt physical play. Unless they had someone on their team who knew how to force people to look the other way.

"It's their manager. I saw him talking to the referee during tip-off," she muttered, watching Torio from under heavy lashes, "His specialty is manipulation. He plays these mind games—" Hana swallowed, watching as Shutoku called a timeout, "He can get you to believe shit that isn't even true."

A true gas-lighting king. Torio had honed her ability to lie, but he'd never been able to teach her how to twist people's thoughts the way he could so effortlessly. Even the teachers at Teiko hadn't been spared from his special brand of influence. It'd been one of the reasons he was such an intense captain.

It was hard to convince yourself he was wrong when he always knew just the right things to say.

Following her stare, Riko scowled, "Now we know. Try not to worry, Imamura-chan. Shutoku can handle this."

God, I hope so. Trailing her stare over Shutoku's players, Hana was buoyed to see the new determination building between them. While Otsubo checked on Takao, Midorima gazed across the court to catch her stare. The expression that greeted her sent chills rolling down her spine— sharp eyes and a clenched jaw, Midorima was the picture of barely constrained rage. He held himself like a viper preparing to strike.

"Ouch. Man, that was rough," Takao's husky chuckle rolled across the court. A velvety smile crawled over his face while he shot Midorima an imitation of a surprised look, "Guess Imamura-chan was right. These guys really are clumsy."

Despite the pounding of her heart, Hana's lip twitched. Talk about subtle.

Maybe one day she'd actually grow to like Takao. Once he quit being a shit, that is.

The direct address made Torio's attention jerk back to the game, his head shooting up like a meerkat. The sedated smile he'd been wearing vanished, replaced by a slow-growing sheen of annoyance. It didn't take long for him to put two and two together. His attention flung to her, a glare cutting his dark brows down his face.

Helping Takao to his feet, Midorima didn't miss it. Green eyes narrowed on the other side of his court, "It would appear so." The statement came across as a threat, Midorima's predacious stare drilling into Torio's head, "Remember to guard your back, Takao."

Giving him a thumbs up, Takao grinned. It wasn't kind. His eyes almost mirrored Midorima's own expression, "Don't worry about me so much, Shin-chan. This will be easy."

Hana hoped he was right.

The game was called back into session, Shutoku in possession of the ball after Hara's assault. Takao took lead and the rest of his team spread out behind him. It didn't escape Hana's notice that they'd mirrored the sketch of the ideal offensive position to combat Kirisaki Daiichi's defense. Thank god. Took you long enough.

Shoulders losing just a bit of their tension, Hana went to sit back down, only halting when she felt the tale-tale sign of eyes on her back. Her head tilted over her shoulder, and she stiffened. It was one thing to have Torio's attention on her, but combined with Hara's, it made the hair on the back of her neck spring to attention.

Realization reverberated in her chest as the buzzer for halftime rang out.

Looks like I finally woke up the wasp nest.

By the time Seirin's game ended, Shutoku suffered seven injuries. Takao suffered the brunt of it, his loudmouth making him an ideal target for Hara's deliberate jabs. Miyaji and Kimura had a few bruises littering their arms, but it was Midorima that Hana worried about the most. With only three minutes left in their game, he was currently unscathed.

Which would have been a good thing, but Torio was growing increasingly complacent.

It worried her. He'd watched the game carry out with little more than a grin, Torio's focus never straying too far from Midorima's position. He was like a wolf waiting for the deer to stumble. When he wasn't watching the former miracle, he was staring in her direction, going as far as to wave when the fourth-quarter buzzer rang.

As Seirin walked up to do their finishing handshakes, Hana noticed it— a single mistake.

The frantic energy of a game nearing its end rolled through the air. Kimura stepped forward just a touch too far, his protective radius leaving Midorima alone. She didn't spot anything immediately, Kirisaki Daiichi's second-string players taking up the majority of the court as they went for a shot. It was only when her gaze landed on the back corner of the court that she realized Midorima had been left fully unguarded as Miyaji also moved for the rebound.

Before the ball could hit the backboard, Hara was at his side.

The smack of the ball echoed over the court before it hit the edge of the hoop's rim. It rolled across the metal, tipping toward the floor and away from the net. As it fell, the players surrounding the hoop jumped, arms reaching for the rebound.

Hara did the same.

Midorima didn't.

"Shintaro!" As Hara's fingers skimmed the air and he began his descent back to the court, Hana screeched across the court, "Move!"

For once in your god damn life, you better listen to me!

Midorima moved.

Hara's elbow never met, swooshing through the air where Midorima's face once was.

The court went silent— broken only by the buzzer signifying the end of the game thirty seconds later.

Green eyes met Hana's own, shock overtaking Midorima's face for half a second before realization sank in. It made his face look younger and less cruel. Meanwhile, Takao began to fuss, hurrying to check on Midorima as the game came to an end. Otsubo and Kimura weren't far behind him. Despite the influx of his team surrounding him, Midorima didn't take his stare off her face.

He wasn't the only one.

Feeling the familiar drag of attention on her flesh, she flicked her attention back to Kirisaki Daiichi's team. Lavender hair and an amused grin caught her eye. Hara's head tilted and Hana had the distinct realization he was recategorizing her— like she'd changed the trajectory of a course she had no intention of ever taking.

"Good call," Hara called out from the court, uncaring of the stares it garnered, "That was going to be bad."

It wasn't a compliment.

X

Hana couldn't keep her fingers from shaking.

Her team walked down the hall around her, talking amongst themselves, and quietly celebrating the second win of the preliminaries. Kuroko took point at her right, his heavy blue stare locked and loaded on Kagami's tense back. Despite the win, there was a somber atmosphere amongst the team.

An upcoming game against one of the rainbow squad will do that to you.

"We've got two wins under our belt, but I'm sure you guys already know how difficult our next game will be. Shutoku's been practicing," Hyuuga talked as they walked. He pushed the bridge of his glasses up his nose as he shot a look back at the huddle of teammates following him, "It won't be easy."

"We've got a day to practice," Riko chimed in, "Make sure you're well-rested."

Hana didn't join in the discussion. Their game against Shutoku tomorrow was going to be difficult, but it didn't have her full attention. No, her thoughts captured that. There was a stark difference between being threatened verbally and seeing the execution of that threat in action. It made all the highhanded warnings of the last few weeks more disturbing.

Midorima had almost been hurt.

It'd been too close. If she hadn't been paying attention—

"Sorry," a shoulder clipped her own, the smell of bubblegum overpowering. Spinning on his heel, Hara walked backward down the hall and through the throng of her teammates, "Clumsy me."

He smiled behind his ugly mop of hair when he caught her eye.

Fury made her teeth ache.

That bitch. Hana jerked to a stop, left arm stinging as the rival player continued down the hall. The rest of her teammates came to a halt around her. Kuroko's hand latched onto her shoulder, steadying her from the abrupt bump. For once, Kagami was silent. She almost wished he'd say something, just to give her anxious energy an outlet.

"That was one of the guys from Kirisaki Daiichi," Furihata stated, watching Hara's back disappear, "Imamura-chan— are you okay?"

No. She wasn't okay. She wanted to hit something and hit it hard. Not the time, not the time—

"I'm fine," if her voice came out strained, it wasn't entirely her fault, "Didn't hurt a bit, he's got some weak ass shoulders for a basketball player."

No one said anything in response to her deflection. It was probably for the best. Hana felt like she was made of string, strung too tight and ready to burst. As her team walked ahead, she slowed her steps. Someone was talking ahead, Riko probably, but Hana didn't stick around to hear what they were saying. Her temper wouldn't allow it.

It was becoming ridiculous.

Every chance she had a moment to breathe, something new was happening. Between the stalking and the threats and now the game against Shutoku, Hana wasn't sure she'd ever find time to sit down. Not to mention her locker at Teiko— as much as she hated to drag him into this, she'd probably need to ask Uoya to check it out.

"And here I was thinking Akashi was the worst," Hana muttered under her breath, breaking off from the group as they made it back into the main portion of the stadium. She hovered in the hallway instead, throat tight, "Might as well start offering him virgin sacrifices. Maybe I'll get something to go right—"

"I don't believe that's necessary."

It probably said something about how stressed out she was that Hana didn't jump. She just didn't have the energy. Steps slowing, she glanced to her left, completely unsurprised to see Kuroko beside her. Babysitter squad assemble. He tightened the handle of his duffle bag over his shoulder and stared at her.

"Tetsuya," she acknowledged, "Here to walk me home?"

Because apparently, she needed that now.

Despite the venom in her tone, Kuroko shook his head, "No. I wanted to check on you. Kagami-kun wanted to come too but I didn't think it would be appreciated."

Definitely not. Hana snorted, "Good call. But I'm fine—" the lie got caught in her throat and she swallowed, "I'll be fine. Shutoku's game just got me riled up."

That was an understatement. Hana hadn't been this furious in a while and that was saying something. Add in the still churning adrenaline from a match nearly gone wrong and she didn't feel too hot. It made every word that come out of her throat too sharp, too mean. Not exactly something she wanted to direct at Kuroko or any of her teammates.

"I saw what happened with Torio-san. You were right to be concerned," Kuroko eventually admitted. He let silence sink into the air as they trudged into the dark waters of the conversation topic, "I wanted to thank you. You protected Midorima-san."

Right. Her throat closed in irritation, thoughts going back to the final play she'd intercepted. His thanks felt unearned. Despite everything she'd done to prepare Shutoku for the game, they'd still come out with injuries. It was only luck that it was nothing worse than it was. All because Torio had a grudge to pick. My damn baggage is ruining everything.

"Don't thank me," Hana finally snapped, throwing her arms out, "It shouldn't have happened in the first place. Hanamiya and the rest of Kirisaki Daiichi weren't there which means they didn't even plan on playing. But I had to go and piss Torio off. That's why Midorima and Takao got hurt—"

Before she could finish her statement, Kuroko grabbed her wild hands. Gently, he brought them back to her chest, "It isn't your fault, Hana. Torio-san is—"

"Is a piece of shit," a heavy gust of air left her lungs, making her feel strangely empty, "You know, he's doing this because I won't help him."

It all came back to that damn binder.

"That still doesn't make it your fault," He repeated, his fingers squeezing her own, "Torio-san isn't a good person, but it isn't because of you."

She couldn't help but scoff, "If I hadn't—"

If she hadn't fallen into Torio's hatred of the Generation of Miracles during middle school. If she hadn't spied for him or lied for him. All the ifs piled up into one noxious conclusion. If that godforsaken binder never existed, maybe they wouldn't be here.

Yet here they were. Stuck.

"I'm going to kill him," Hana eventually whispered. Kuroko's fingers twitched in her grip, but she didn't let go, "Like actual murder. Decapitation style type of shit."

She was going to start with Torio and break them apart from the inside out. By the time she was done with Kirisaki Daiichi, they'd be lucky to have a basketball team left. She was going to wring them dry for everything they've done this season and the past— years' worth of aches and pains because some egotistical douchebags couldn't control the world.

She expected Kuroko to balk, to let go of her and take a wary step back. Instead, he did the opposite. Because of course, he did. When did Kuroko Tetsuya ever match anyone's expectations?

Laying his forehead against her own, his breath warmed her face as he said, "I won't tell."

Before she could catch herself, Hana laughed. It was a tired, weary sound but it erased the frown that seemed to permanently mar Kuroko's face, "I'd hope not. Let me know if you want to help. I always told you you'd be a good assassin."

"If that's what you need," hands trapped between their bodies, Kuroko hummed in amusement as he blinked down at her, "I'll always help you, Hana."

The earnest statement had her mouth twitching, a tired smile breaking the grim lines of her face, "I'm going to milk the hell out of that promise."

He didn't say anything to that, but he didn't have to. Letting go of her hands, Kuroko stepped forward to wrap her in a calm hug. God damn it, Tetsuya. Warmth bubbled in her chest and Hana sighed, allowing the gentle emotion to take hold for once.

Hands wrapped around her waist and Kuroko's head canopying her own, Hana finally let the stress of the day slacken her shoulders. Like twenty pounds had been taken off her back, she let her spine relax and tilted her head to rest on Kuroko's shoulder. Closing her eyes, she took a deep inhale and let the air sink out of her chest. They didn't speak, but Kuroko never let go.

A dry deadpanned voice broke the moment, "What do you think, Seto? Should we interrupt?"

Her head snapped up so fast it hurt. While the voice wasn't recognizable the name was and as Hana lifted her head off Kuroko's shoulder, she caught sight of two other familiar faces. Hara leaned against the wall, fiddling with a broken stick of gum, and just in front of him, Yamazaki Hiroshi scowled. If they were there—

Kuroko's grip tightened and Hana knew.

They'd walked into a trap.

"You heard Hanamiya," another voice yawned, the dry scratch of fabric indicating movement, "Let's get this over with already."


Thank you all for the kind reviews!

I honestly can't express how much they encourage me to get lost in this story.

Your words make me love writing again.


Answering some questions from last chapter:

1. Momoi was originally slated to be part of the harem and likely will continue to be, but I've gone back and forth on it because I like their friendship. It'll probably continually go back and forth throughout the story mostly for realism (they're teenagers, they gotta experiment), and because I do think Hana isn't super great at differentiating the line between friendship and romance and it's gonna cause some confusion down the line.

2. I totally did make her sound like a kleptomaniac last chapter. That was my bad. In my head Hana isn't a kleptomaniac (which is subject to interpretation as all literary works are), she just has a bad habit of doing reckless things in order to feel more in control. As a younger kid, this started by stealing when she was uncomfortable (her mom's boyfriend's wallet, the teacher's pen) and it follows her into her teenage years but she has better control over it. (again, interpret how thou will!)