Here's a long one, guys! Sorry about the strain on your eyeballs, but I really wanted to finish this arc. Then we can get to the good stuff... heheheh. (side note, I love pulling all these basketball idiots together) Side, side note- I did skew from canon a bit here. I figure it was okay since I had two teams with two OCs and I didn't skew much... but yeaaah.

warnings: violence, cursing, mean behavior, bad editing

disclaimer: I do not own kuroko no basuke


All You Need Is Trust

There are many ways to kill a man.

Standing in front of her bathroom mirror, Hana rolled her finger over the blunt edge of the pocketknife. She hadn't used it since her father gave it to her last year and for good reason. It was small, less than two inches, but it was sharp. A flash of her reflection caught on the metallic sheen of the tiny weapon as she canted her head to the side.

She could stab him. It'd be a bit of a mess, but it'd solve her problems.

"Not good enough," Hana hummed under her breath, "I'd cut Hanamiya's dick and he'd probably get off on it."

No, for Kirisaki Daiichi, she needed more.

If there was one thing Hana learned from being surrounded in the last five years, it was that the death of a man came from his ego. It came from watching everything they'd hoped and planned for turn into dust. For Hanamiya especially, it would come from his dreams dying at the hands of a smiling teenage girl.

She'd done the prep work.

Imayoshi supplied the technical details for their match and she knew them well enough to integrate into her scheme. Their foul play would be an issue, but she had time to figure out a plan for that. The crux of it all, Hanamiya's file from Torio's notes, was tucked into her back pocket as the key to her final blow.

She still hadn't read into the secrets hiding in its depths and she wouldn't. Sure, there was probably some juicy, mouth-watering information tucked in that little treasure trove of secrets, but it would be too much.

It would just make all Torio's taunts about their similarities true and that was an avenue she wouldn't venture down.

That wasn't her. That wouldn't be her.

Besides, she had her own assumptions about Hanamiya's blackmail. There was no way the boy had coasted to captain without hidden motives.

He'd cast his own rope, all she needed to do was hang him with it. Kirisaki Daiichi would follow. Giants always fell without a base. Weaken their inside, twist their perception, and when they're confused and floundering— go for the knees and snap the joints of their formation at the foundation.

Flipping the knife between her fingers, Hana's attention twisted back to the mirror in front of her. She didn't like what she saw. Thin strands of black hair hung over the moon of her face, the long ends of her bangs grown out past her chin. Dark circles hid under her eyes, purple against the pink of her skin.

It'd been a long time since she'd focused on her appearance.

She'd been too busy, too tired, too everything.

Scrunching her nose up in a grimace, Hana pulled at the longest section of her bangs. They were uneven and straggly and before she could think better of it— she brought the knife up and slashed.

Hair trickled through the air and into the sink.

When she was done, her bangs fell just beneath her eyebrows. It wasn't the best haircut she'd ever had, but her hair was finally out of her face. Wide green eyes sparkled back at her, fueled by something she didn't have a name for. It tasted like iron on her tongue, like the determination of a man going to war.

Like the fury of a woman scorned, like a viper lunging for the kill—

"Okay," a voice drawled at her left, "That was a little dramatic, don't you think?"

She blinked, jolting out of her thoughts, "Really? I thought it was cool."

Uoya sighed, caging his forehead in his hands as he sat on her bathroom counter, "Hana— no."

"It's what they do in the movies," she plucked at the short strands of her bangs, "There's like a whole genre for it. It's my transformation arc—"

"You don't need a transformation arc," Uoya deadpanned, "You need a restraining order."

"Funny coming from you—"

"I've spent the last five hours listening to you plot out psychological warfare against a high school basketball team." There was a thump as he pushed himself off the counter and came to stand beside her. Uoya's eyes met her own in the mirror's reflection, "I think I have the right to be concerned."

Okay, fair enough. She didn't wince, but it was a close thing, "I've got to be thorough. You know Torio, he's probably planning some sketchy shit."

"Hence the restraining order." Palms landed on her shoulder and Hana found herself unceremoniously pulled out of the bathroom. "Put the knife down and focus on something that isn't murder for five seconds."

"It's not murder, it's—"

"It's ten o'clock on a Thursday night," Uoya cut her off before she could finish, leading her back into her room, "The game's tomorrow, you've done everything you can."

She disagreed. Quite heavily, "I still need to figure out how to get the referee to agree to an assistant. If I can't get that then we're dead— Hanamiya will still be able to do his shit and then I'll want to kick his ass and it'll be a whole thing."

"That's out of your league," Uoya sighed, shoving her toward her bed before stretching his arms over his head, "No one's going to listen to a manager, Hana-chan. You're just going to have to take what you can get—"

On the end of her mattress, Nūdoru's head perked up at the sound of their voices. He'd made a home in the mess of papers she'd sprawled out through her bedsheets. With a grunt, the big oaf stretched his legs out, knocking some of the more lackluster diagrams she'd drafted to the floor.

Hana's eye twitched at the sight of a messy drawing of Torio floating to the ground.

"That's such bullshit," she grumbled under her breath, throwing her body atop her bed and pulling her bear plushie to her chest, "Like are they blind? Every team that's faced them this year has come out injured. Someone has to be paying attention."

"I'm not saying it isn't," Uoya agreed, flopping down on the bed next to Nūdoru. The big dog sniffed at him before dropping his head into Uoya's lap. "But it's your word against their's, you aren't going to—"

A plan began to fester inside her head.

"What if it wasn't just my word?" She sat up, waving the plush around for emphasis, "What if it was—"

Uoya groaned, already knowing where this was going, "No, we are not starting this. Did you not hear me? It's ten o'clock on a Thursday."

"That gives me the school day to get it done," Hana mumbled under her breath, finger pulling at her lip as she thought. "I've got contacts with all the teams from the preliminaries—"

Her word might not be enough, but everyone's? There was a plethora of people all itching for the chance to get some type of retribution against Kirisaki Daiichi— Seirin included. It wouldn't be hard. All she needed was a signature. The worst one to secure would be Shutoku, but Midorima might be willing to supplement.

Or maybe she could go directly to his coach?He did think they were dating. I could frame it as a labor of love—

"You're impossible," Uoya deadpanned as he watched, "People are sleeping, Hana."

It was too late, the plan was forming. She waved the concern off, "We're teenagers. None of us sleep."

He sighed, but he was handing his phone over all the same, "Some of us would like to."

"Spend the night," she motioned toward the extra pillow on her bed, scrolling through his phone without blinking, "You were planning on it anyway."

He made a frustrated sound under his breath, but Hana didn't pay it any mind. He should know better by now.

Her focus was solely on his phone and the mass text message she was about to send out. Things were coming together nicely. If she could pull this off— the three pillars of defeat would be secured. She'd have the information for Kirisaki Daiichi's technical defense, an extra referee to monitor their foul play, and a psychological weapon to crush their morale.

A truly unholy smile crept over her face.

Uoya groaned.

xXx

Friday morning practice at Shutoku was always a bit underwhelming.

Midorima himself much preferred their afternoon practices, but with the Winter Cup approaching and the near loss to Seirin during the preliminaries, he didn't fault the coach for his decision. While he wasn't concerned about their game this evening, it was clear that their team needed to improve before the tournament began.

If Kuroko and Kagami improved so quickly, it wouldn't be out of the question to imagine the rest of his former teammates had as well.

His thoughts strayed to Akashi, worry and a bothersome sensation of irritation coasting up his rigid spine. Midorima hadn't planned on seeing his former captain so soon, nor had he predicted the growing force of his new, dangerous personality. He'd been similarly surprised at the outcome of their conversation.

Where Midorima had anticipated irritation at Hana's ever-encroaching involvement in their lives, he hadn't expected manipulation.

It was subtle, easy to overlook in the heat of the moment, but as his thoughts continuously trailed to their last meeting, Midorima began to nitpick the interaction. There had been anger, but it'd been fine-tuned, sharpened to go against the manager's weak spots with intention.

He'd attempted to make a divide. To separate the growing familiarization between them through the exploitation of her vulnerability. Had Akashi chosen a weaker target, he might have succeeded.

It wasn't out of his former captain's forte to manipulate, but Midorima didn't understand the goal.

If he'd only sought out her removal from their lives, he might have understood, but Akashi had hinted at her return. He'd brazenly implicated that she'd be crawling to him.

It was that directive that Midorima couldn't comprehend.

Akashi had always valued control, but this leaned more toward possession. A facet of control that his former captain seldom entertained.

Rolling the ball between his palms, Midorima lifted it to his chest and shot. The swoosh of a successful score rang through the noisy gymnasium. Going to retrieve another ball, the sound of the door opening cut his movements short. His glasses flashed as he twisted his head over his shoulder, spotting the hunched figure of his coach stepping into the room.

"Midorima," Coach Nakatani voice appeared resigned, as if he'd been up all night fighting a battle he didn't sign up for, "I need you to consider the possibility of getting a new girlfriend."

A blush burned his ears as Midorima's arms froze, dangling awkwardly near his chest. His tongue refused to untwist in time to deny the accusation.

"I've never had this much trouble with any team until her," Midorima didn't think he was supposed to hear that, his coach rubbing his hand over his wrinkled forehead as he stepped into the gym. "Kaijo's coach warned me about Seirin— should have listened."

From where he stood next to the upperclassmen, Takao's lips curved into a smirk, "Imamura-chan causing trouble again? You sure know how to pick them, Shin-chan~"

Midorima went to snap, but his coach beat him to it, "I've gotten three emails from her. One of which was forwarded from the head of Seirin's athletic department," his dark eyes narrowed in irritation before he sighed, "I'm going to respond, but it counts as one of your requests for the day."

"I didn't— she isn't—" Midorima blundered through his response before he tightened his spine, mouth pinching tight as he attempted to force normalcy, "I wasn't aware she was attempting to contact you."

He was going to kill her. Did she meddle in his affairs on purpose? Was it another scheme— another attempt to pull Seirin to the forefront of the rankings? The thought rankled.

Midorima wasn't unfamiliar with her plans, but to be so bold as to contact his coach directly— he'd mistakenly assumed that their familiarity removed him from her scheming. Takao's muttered laughter only made his irritation spike.

"Seirin's manager?" Kimura questioned instead, "What does she want now?"

Despite Midorima's irritation, he wasn't blind to the lack of heat in his teammates question. Since her meddling in their game with Kirisaki Daiichi, his teammates had thawed against the once bothersome manager. Midorima's brow twitched, unsure how to digest the new development.

"Doesn't look like I'm the only one," his coach grunted, pulling his phone out of his pocket and frowning at whatever he saw, "Make that four emails. She's apparently recruiting signatures for extra league support for their final game against Kirisaki Daiichi. She's citing a clause about flagrant behavior."

Midorima's thoughts trickled to a halt. That was surprisingly high-handed of her.

It didn't match the juvenile approach she tended to default to. This was a scheme of high standards— something he'd almost envision Akashi taking part in. Taking a step back, Midorima pushed at the bridge of his glasses as he worked through the information.

Otsubo blinked, his water bottle halfway to his mouth, "She is? That's ambitious of her."

"Every team in our local division has signed. Captain and coach," Coach Nakatani rubbed at the bridge of his nose, frown growing as he read through the email, "Shutoku is the only one who hasn't. Know anything about this, Midorima?"

He didn't, but he didn't verbalize the denial. He was busy working through the implications in his own mind. With extra referee support during their game, it would be difficult for the Kirisaki Daiichi players to implement their physical attacks— not impossible, but the blind zones would be severely limited.

If she'd truly gone as far as to reference the league-ordained citations as well, it may even prevent their advancement the rest of the season.

It wouldn't halt their foul behavior, but it would present a consequence. A warning that they would need to abide by for the rest of the season. Unwittingly, his attention flickered to Takao.

He could vividly recall the bruises that littered the point guard's abdomen after their own game against the offensive team. He didn't dare consider the emotions that crept to life when he envisioned the same injuries Kuroko would be facing this evening.

While it was clear Hana's actions were sparked by her desire to defend her own team, this would provide security to other teams as well. It was a decision routed in selfish desire, but it had far-reaching outcomes. Midorima's thoughts drifted to the manager herself as he recalled Kirisaki Daiichi's behavior off the court.

A surge of unwelcomed fury spiked at the simple recollection. His mouth pressed into a line at the memory of Kuroko's strained focus, Hana's grimace as the player grabbed her. The spark of fear when he'd thought she'd be hurt. Yet, he could remember the pink flush on her face and her satisfied smile at another enemy plot taken apart as her phone smashed into pieces.

If this was her revenge— his lips twitched, swallowing the smirk that dared to threaten his apathy.

For once, he had no desire to stop her.

"We should sign as well," Midorima eventually responded, refusing to look at his teammates, "If only for the sole reason to get her to cease emailing you."

His teammates stared at him. Kimura's brows were hiked high in subtle confusion, but a quick look traded with Miyagi had him shaking his head in bemused resignation. Behind them, his coach sighed, muttering something under his breath as he typed out a response on his phone. For all his bravado, Midorima didn't miss the grumbled backhanded praise about teenagers biting off more than they can chew.

"Awh, Shin-chan—" Takao needled when no one else appeared inclined to speak, "You care so much! It's adorable!"

He didn't respond to the jab beyond a stiff, "Shut up, idiot."

Midorima would examine the strange warmth in his chest later.

It'd been a long time since he'd felt pride unattached to victory.

X

Her plan had three steps.

The first step was to secure the perimeter. This included the addition of an extra referee. With Shutoku's signature completing the petition, she'd managed to set up an outer defense ring and an extra set of eyes. It wouldn't make it impossible for Kirisaki Daiichi to attack— but it was a good deterrent.

The second step, the one she was going over now, was to build a strong internal defense. Thanks to Imayoshi's knowledge, she had that down pat. Passing out the little note cards to the individual players, Hana smiled at Izuki's befuddled expression.

She kind of figured it had something to do with the little bird figure she'd sketched on the corner of his own notes, but she'd let him deal with the cuteness himself.

"So, as you can see here—" Hana motioned to the notes she'd handed out, "You're going to need to focus on your blind spots. Kiyoshi, that's your knee. Taiga, focus on your ankles and shins. One good kick there and you're on your ass."

The rest of her audience sat interspersed throughout the science lab they'd hijacked after school. Due to the game starting in two hours, they had about a thirty-minute period of free time before they'd need to start traveling. It was the last chance for their coach to go over their game plans, but it also provided Hana an opportunity to give her team a heads-up on the plan she'd spent hours concocting.

The whiteboard behind her listed out the rest of the information. Complete with drawing aides! Similar to the diagrams she'd provided Shutoku for their game, Hana mapped out what she knew regarding Kirisaki Daiichi's defensive formation— paying particular attention to the little devil horns on Hanamiya and Torio's stick figures.

When she turned her attention back to her teammates, Hana awkwardly tucked her arms behind her back. It wasn't like she had an issue with public speaking, but her audience left a bit to be desired. Bunch of dicks. Hyuuga had his head in his hands, muttering something defamatory under his breath, while Kiyoshi looked like he'd swallowed a lemon. Riko was the only one who appeared to be taking Hana's plan into consideration.

Which was good because it was a little too late to go back now.

"Can you go back to the first step, Imamura-chan?" Riko sat atop a desk, motioning to the area on the whiteboard Hana labeled as Consequences for Their Actions. "You mentioned a petition— did you actually make one?"

"Oh, hell yeah," Hana tilted her head over her shoulder with a smirk, "Furihata is printing it right now. I already emailed it to the main referee for the tournament, but it helps to have it in print."

Riko blinked, mouth twisting in speculation, "You actually got signatures?"

"Mhmm," Hana drawled, shuffling on her heels, "Every team from the preliminary matches has signed— even got a couple from the Inter-High tournament."

"How?" Hyuuga was the first one to speak at that. He finally lifted his head off the desk, but Hana couldn't peg the look he was gifting her.

"Spy ring comes in clutch," Hana only smiled, swallowing the snort that wanted to escape at Izuki's chuckle, "Shutoku was the last one to sign, but I got their signature during lunch."

She'd also gotten a strongly worded email in response. Something about how using Shutoku's email was primarily reserved for students and business associates— not rival basketball managers. She snorted mentally. Just be glad I went the email route instead of sending a text. Can't imagine that would have gone over well.

"A petition for what?" Kagami grunted from the back of the classroom. He was squinting at the board, an irritated vein throbbing in his brow, "We don't need all of that. It's basketball—"

"The high school league has a specific clause related to sportsmanship," her chapped lips burned at the stretch of her grin, "Disciplinary action is possible for teams not sticking to the culture of the league. All I had to do was send over the data from Kirisaki Daiichi's matches this year and the signatures confirming the injuries."

Which sounded easy in theory, but man— it'd been a pain. The director had a stick so far lodged up his ass, Hana was honestly surprised he could talk without splinters. She'd ended up having to pull Takeda into the email traffic to even get a response. Something the basketball aide had been more than happy to support.

Chaotic good sensei for the win.

"What are you trying to get out of this?" Riko finally spoke, her hazel eyes narrowed, "I'm not saying it's a bad idea, but I don't understand what you're looking for here."

I'm looking for blood. That didn't sound appropriate though, so Hana kept the morbid thoughts to herself.

"If you'll look at point one—" she motioned to the whiteboard, "Having a second referee is going to really screw with their shit. They're going to have an extra set of eyes on them, so they won't be able to block all the physical attacks. It's going to ruin their strategy— not only are they going to have to play without fouling, but they've got the league on their ass. One wrong move and they're in trouble for the rest of the season."

Hana waved her hand in a so-so motion, "It's not going to stop it completely. They're dicks, they're going to try and hurt you guys— but," she smirked, "That's where the notes I gave you guys come in."

Taking a deep breath, she launched into the final part of her explanation, "Even though they're a bunch of assholes, they're assholes who know what they're doing. Hara— the purple-haired one," Hana pointed at the drawing of a stick figure with a bubble, "really only supports defensively. He'll go for your ankles. Same with Yamazaki. They aren't great. Mitobe and Izuki are good matches for them. Tetsuya too."

"Furuhashi and Seto are decent offensively, but they work best on defense. They'll be the ones in front of the net. They're going to go for your chest and stomach," she jabbed at the next stick figure, "Seto works with Hanamiya to build out that weird spider thing they've got going on. He's probably the smartest one on the team besides Hanamiya, but he doesn't do much. Just kind of moves around near the center to direct the play. Kiyoshi can handle them, Taiga too."

"Hanamiya is the best technical player on the team," Hana rolled her eyes at the admission, "He's got a solid offensive skill set. Watch him. He's quicker than the others. Izuki isn't a good match for him— no offense. He's an ass, but he's smart. Imayoshi told me he's got near-perfect recall abilities. Think Momoi but with shitty eyebrows. Taiga and Hyuuga will be the best for him."

Kiyoshi would be too, but like hell was Hana going to offer that option.

"Torio, their manager, does what I do," her smile crept back to life as Hana propped her hands on her hips, "But I've got him handled. By the time step three is done, he's going to be useless."

She wasn't going to get into the details yet, but it would be glorious.

Hana couldn't wait to see him fall.

As her explanation crawled to a halt, Hana tried not to twitch at the gobsmacked stares focused on her figure. Fukuda and Kawahara were shaking like lambs. Cowards. In front of them, Riko had a hand over her mouth, but Hana wasn't stupid. There was definitely bloodlust in her aura. Out of all their teammates, she was probably the one who wanted to see Hanamiya fall the most.

It's a special kind of hell to sit on the sidelines when the few people you give a damn about get hurt.

"Imamura—" Izuki gaped at her, the expression mirrored on Tsuchida's own face, "You're—"

"Kind of terrifying," Koganei finished where Izuki couldn't. It didn't escape her notice that he'd scooted as far back into his chair as he could, "Do you do this for all our opponents?"

"Only the assholes," Hana admitted. Too much effort for the regular guys. Tucking her hands back behind her back, she rolled back on her heels, "So, are we good? Because I'm trying to be the bigger person here and give you a heads up, but—"

Stretching her hands over her head, Riko glanced toward Kiyoshi with a wince, "The petition is more than we could have hoped for. But Imamura-chan?"

She blinked, twisting her attention to their coach, "Yeah?"

"Be careful," there was a solemn tone to the order, Riko's attention a little too sharp on her face, "If this works out the way you're planning, it isn't the kind of thing Hanamiya will forget."

"Oh, I know," Hana smiled, a tad too wide, "That's covered."

Riko traded a look with Hyuuga, looking like she was going to say something else but ultimately deciding against it. With another shake of her head, the coach ordered the team to move out of the door. Fukuda and Kawahara were chattering amongst themselves, trading their notes like Pokémon cards.

Hovering awkwardly at the head of the classroom, Hana took a steadying breath before forcing her shoulders back. Her team approval was secured, but that wasn't going to be the hard part.

The hard part came next. Somehow, she'd need to separate herself from the team and find Hanamiya. It'd be a risk, but there was no way in hell she was letting her team get captured in the fallout of her big reveal—

A heavy hand fell atop her head, cutting her thoughts short. Canting her head back, Hana raised a brow at Kiyoshi's sudden appearance. His brows were hiked high in his hairline, a soft frown making the muscles in his face pull strangely, "What's step three?"

Damn, she'd been hoping to avoid this. Should have known better. Kiyoshi was stubborn as a mule. When she focused on his face, another one of those patented I'm Disappointed In You looks Kiyoshi tended to favor was directed at her.

She'd had enough of those lately. Thank you very much.

"That's between me and Torio," keeping her neck bent, Hana tried to change the subject, "How are you feeling? I know now's not the best time for a mental health check-in, but you're not about to run out and beat Hanamiya's ass are you?"

Behind her, she heard the door click shut. It didn't escape her notice that two figures were lingering in the classroom. Kagami hadn't got up from his seat, but Kuroko had since moved over to stand beside him. A quick glance back at them made her internally roll her eyes.

They were both watching their conversation like hawks. Nosy biddies.

Kiyoshi managed to smile despite the tension coating his shoulders, "No, I wouldn't do that—"

She tsked in genuine disappointment, "A damn shame."

"I'm okay though," he kept talking despite the interruption, his dark brown eyes scanning her face in silent consideration, "I wasn't sure how I'd feel facing him again, but I know I need to be there. It was the whole reason I came back."

"The whole reason?" Hana needled, trying to wade through the pressure with a jab of humor, "Thought you came back for Riko. Got to get the romance flowing again. Teenage hormones are such a bitch—"

Kiyoshi's hand ruffled her hair, a good-natured grin cutting off her taunts, "You're changing the subject, Imamura."

"Ehhh, maybe—" Hana waved her hand, not daring to look back at the eyes she could feel digging into her back. Come on, Tetsu. Not the time. Instead, she poked Kiyoshi in the ribs with the pointy part of her elbow, "We can argue about that later. We've got shit to do."

She should have guessed it wouldn't be that easy.

"You know, the extra referee is more than enough," Kiyoshi trailed off, his hand leaving her head to settle on her shoulder in silent reassurance, "You don't need to provoke Hanamiya any more than you have."

He didn't need to verbalize the rest of his thoughts for Hana to get the gist of it. Kiyoshi was determined— hard-headed to a damn fault. Normally, Hana could appreciate that, but she needed him to trust her in this.

She knew it wouldn't be easy. Like all teenage boys with a savior complex, Kiyoshi thought he could solve all his problems himself. She'd freely admit that was a bit hypocritical of her, but she was going to do this, dammit.

Basketball trauma be damned.

"I do," his fingers tightened on her shoulder, but Hana plowed on, "It's personal, Kiyoshi. Not just because of what they did to you. I—" her words caught her throat, "I need to beat them. I gotta prove I'm my own person and not whoever the hell he thinks I am."

"He?" Kiyoshi frowned, "You're talking about their manager, aren't you?"

Still feeling Kagami and Kuroko's attention, Hana rolled her shoulders back before sighing. Might as well bite the damn bullet.

"Yeah, I don't think I explained the whole shitshow to you," she hesitated just long enough to groan, "I did not want to do this whole friendship therapy thing today."

Kiyoshi grimaced, his hand twitching on her shoulder, "You don't have to explain—"

"Yes, I do or you're going to keep looking at me like I kicked your puppy," Hana cut him off with an eye roll, "Just give me a sec. I don't do emotions."

Okay, come on. She mentally talked herself up, trying to ignore the way the mere thought of sharing her memories made her curl into a ball of dread. It didn't help that Kuroko and Kagami continued to linger. Biting her lip into her mouth, Hana chewed on the skin until iron flooded her tongue. Think about the reward. Do not think about feelings—

Easier said than done.

"When I transferred to Teiko, Torio helped me out. I was—" Hana's lip curled at the admission, "Overwhelmed. My mom had just kicked me out of the country and I didn't have friends. I was a stupid kid. I looked up to him and he abused the hell out of it."

The mental echo of a basketball dribbling on the pavement rang in her ears as she walked through the doors of the past. Come on, flower! Do it for me! Tucking her sweaty hands into the pockets of her pants, she let her gaze skitter across the classroom floor. All the while, Torio's voice boomed in her head like the tolling bell of the dead. I know you can do it, we just need a little more information. You can do that for me, can't you?

Her hands were sweaty, the bag she'd touted in over her shoulder casting her spirit down like a physical weight.

"I didn't realize it at first. I thought it was normal, just friend shit," her thoughts trailed off, green eyes flicking toward Kuroko for the barest hint of a second, "For a whole year, I did whatever he wanted me to do. He has a hard-on for the Generation of Miracles, you know? He made sure I hated them too. I thought it was normal—"

It wasn't. She knew that now— knew it was just a result of his inferiority complex and an imagined grudge against a group of freshmen who'd managed to steal the spotlight. But she hadn't known that then. Hadn't realized that the blind hatred was what he wanted all along. Talk about a trauma bond.

"Look— I'm not a great person in general, but I was really, really shitty back then. I lied to referees, stole notes from other managers, broke into their coach's office—" Hana trailed off with a shaky shrug, "He convinced me that the only way I'd ever be worth a damn is if I was able to help him."

They aren't your friends, Hana. Torio's voice crept back in, insidious and slow. The phantom sound was a mixture of his prepubescent voice and his new, lower tone from a few weeks ago. Like it was yesterday, Hana could remember sitting with him outside during lunch hour. His hand rubbing her hair as he chattered on and on about how he was going to beat Teiko's first-string team.

You're a liar, flower. Just like me.

Torio's taunts were a dangerous lull in her head. No matter what she did, they wouldn't shut up.

"Gave me a hell of an inferiority complex, I'll tell you that," she swallowed the bile the recollection brought, "Then he showed back up, came around a few weeks before their match against you guys last year. He wasn't nice, but he wasn't mean either—" Hana pasted on a fake smile, "Until I didn't listen. Shit got pretty nasty when he figured that out. He said some stuff, pushed me around a bit."

She wasn't going to delve into the more recent issues, like the stalking and the harassment. They knew the bare bones of that already and it wouldn't do to bring it back to the surface. Not only for Kiyoshi's sake but Hana's own. She needed to keep that fear smothered.

Channel it into rage and murder. Problem solved.

"Anyway— you want to face Hanamiya head-on, I get it. I want you to. I want you to beat the ever-loving hell out of him—" she forced herself to meet his eye, "I have to do the same thing. Just— just let me do this."

She hoped that was enough. Hana didn't think she could share more without trouble. No time for mental breakdowns today, satan!

"Hana," Kiyoshi whispered, his hand never once leaving her shoulder even as he bent down to meet her at eye level, "I understand."

Brown eyes met green, a quiet moment of silent understanding passing through them. As her heart finally came back under control, Hana couldn't help but mentally laugh at the reversal of roles. Here she goes, pouring her heart out to the guy who ultimately sent her down this path.

It didn't escape her notice that her first introduction to Kiyoshi had a similar tone, except back then Hana had been the one comforting the fallen giant. Damn fate. The fickle bitch probably planned this.

"Good— that's good," she scrubbed at her face instead, canting her head up to the ceiling, "Glad that's over. Seriously, that was awkward as hell—"

She spoke too soon.

"Just because I understand doesn't mean I'm not going to look out for you," Kiyoshi's hand squeezed her shoulder, cutting her off, "I want you to be careful. I don't want any of the people I care about getting hurt," he smiled at her, a soft little expression that nearly made her wince, "That includes you."

And basketball daddy is back. Her mouth pinched in distaste, "Didn't you hear me? I've got it covered. He won't—"

"Will you shut up already?" Before Hana had time to breathe, a heavy hand was shoving her head down. Her forehead nearly knocked Kiyoshi in the chin as Kagami scowled down at her, "You're such a damn hypocrite. Going on and on about not needing help— are you an idiot?"

Shit on a stick. She'd forgotten about the eavesdroppers.

"That hurt, you dick," instead of thinking about them hearing her own traumatic backstory, Hana defaulted to violence. She kicked Kagami in the shin, "Don't even start! You're just as bad!"

Despite the attack, Kagami didn't let up. His massive hand kept her head pressed down as he snarled above her, "Stop trying to be a martyr! You're both being ridiculous."

Like he had room to talk. Hana growled, "I will kill you—"

"Kagami-kun is right," Kuroko cut her threat off.

Sometime during the conversation, he'd walked across the classroom to stand next to Kiyoshi. Sensing the change, Kagami let go long enough for Hana to glare up at him. Bad move. Fathomless blue eyes were locked on her face, his mouth pressed in a tight line as he held a hand out to her.

For once, she didn't have to guess at the emotion hiding in his face. Kuroko was pissed.

"We're a team," Kuroko's warm palm captured her own, helping her into a standing position but not once breaking his stare, "We'll win together."

God dammit, not the eyes of death.Hana huffed, tilting her head to the ceiling instead of meeting his gaze any longer than she had to, "I never said we won't. I'm just evening the playing field—"

"You can't do that if we don't work together," he was still frowning when she finally glanced at him, but there was a sympathetic layer to the expression that hadn't been there a second ago, "You have to trust us, Hana."

"I do! It's not about trusting you," she countered, "Tetsu— you saw what happened last time. You nearly got your ass beat—"

She was starting to understand Kiyoshi's plight. No wonder he got so frustrated with her— this shit was maddening.

"That was my decision," Kuroko interrupted, "I support the people I care about." His eyes were suddenly sharp on her face, "We're going to take care of Torio-san. He isn't going to bother you again."

That shouldn't have made her heart race. It really, really shouldn't. Not knowing how to respond, Hana gawked, "You—"

She didn't get a chance to finish her retort. Without further ado, Kuroko tugged her closer to his side, never once letting go of her hand. Green eyes narrowed on his thin chin. Someone's touchy. Hana wasn't really sure how to feel about the sudden surge of protectiveness.

It made her feel things that she really shouldn't be feeling right now. More emotions. She was really tired of those lately. In front of them, Kagami snorted and Hana flipped him the bird.

From Kuroko's other side, she caught Kiyoshi's brows hike before he shook his head in amused resignation, "You guys are something else."

Hana wholeheartedly agreed with that sentiment. Somehow, she'd gone from spilling her guts out to being herded like a misbehaving kitten. It shouldn't have been comforting— it shouldn't!

But with Kuroko's silent backing, Kiyoshi's daddy vibes, and Kagami's whatever, Hana was beginning to understand the merits of teamwork in this regard. Damn you, Tetsuya.

This was his fault. Somehow, someway, he'd gotten his way. Again.

Ugh. Her face screwed up at their attention. God, this was such a bitch. But— thinking about Torio and Hanamiya made her resolution falter. It wouldn't hurt to have backup.

Maybe they were right.

Maybe she didn't need to take this on all by herself. Kagami's exasperated eye roll made her momentarily retract that statement, but before she could snap, Kuroko's grip tightened in unspoken approval. The tension in her shoulders immediately faded.

Praise kinks are such a bitch.

"Okay," she eventually sighed, letting Kuroko loop his arm around her waist without complaint, "Since we're doing this—" she glared at Kuroko's nose, but he didn't even blink, "I guess I'll fill you in."

"That would be good," Kiyoshi encouraged good-naturedly, "We just want to help, Hana."

Kuroko twitched at that, but Hana chose not to look into the subtle movement. Not yet. There would be time later to address the strange reaction to her first name.

Instead, she took a steadying breath and admitted, "The third step is psychological warfare."

Ignoring Kagami's groan of disgust, Hana met Kiyoshi's dumbfounded gape with a sharp grin.

"I'm going to destroy Kirisaki Daiichi from the inside out."

xXx

Aomine propped his chin on his hand with a sigh.

The stiff seat he was lounging in was digging uncomfortably into his tailbone. Behind him, some kid kicked at the back of the chair. The fifth time in five minutes. He'd been half tempted to say something to the little brat, but one look from Momoi bound his tongue.

Navy eyes narrowed on the manager beside him, something like a pout making his lip curl downward at the dirty trick she'd used to lure him to the stadium.

She knew his weakness was porn, dammit.

"Don't look so glum, Dai-chan," the witch in question jabbed him with her elbow, Momoi's smile making her eyes curve, "You were planning on coming anyway."

She was right, but like hell was Aomine going to admit that to her. Besides, he didn't want to be here. If anything, he'd rather be locked in his room and taking a well-deserved nap. Preferably with a new magazine.

With another sigh, Aomine tilted his head to the ceiling, "Someone's got to look out for that idiot."

He just never thought he'd be the one doing it. It should have been Kise. He'd know how to handle the temperamental witch. Even Midorima would have been a better option, but somehow Aomine had taken the responsibility on his own shoulders.

All it took was one stupid afternoon and he was back where he started.

He didn't even have a good excuse. After everything they'd been through, Aomine deluded himself into thinking his past with Hana was going to stay there. He kept her at arm's length for a reason. It was supposed to be easier. Except, that damn woman was like a feral cat.

She dug her claws in and wouldn't let go.

No matter how hard he worked to push her away, a part of him continued to wait for her to come back. Before he realized it, he was looking forward to it. The realization was more than annoying— it was ridiculous. He was supposed to have grown out of thinking with his dick. He didn't even like loud women.

Yet somehow, those feelings he'd worked so hard to bury always found their way back to the surface.

"It appears you're not the only one thinking that," Imayoshi turned around in his chair in front of them, propping his head on his arms as he smiled placidly, "Kaijo's here as well."

Aomine groaned low in his throat, canting his head to the right, "Great."

His captain was right. A few seats above them, Kise led the group of his teammates down the staircase. The blonde's arms were waving in the air as he blabbered, the outrageous grin he wore promising another headache. He could hear him already, the familiar excitement making him long for his bed.

Before Aomine had a chance to hide his dull stare, gold eyes flickered toward him and Kise's mouth opened in pleased surprise.

"Aomine-cchi! Momoi-cchi!" Kise's captain tried to wrangle him back by the collar of his uniform, but it was too late. In three quick steps, Kise was at the head of their row, "I didn't think you guys would make it!"

His team wasn't far behind him. The short captain with the ugly eyebrows, Kasamatsu, smacked Kise in the arm, "Don't run off like that, idiot. Besides—" sharp blue eyes narrowed on the rest of Aomine's team, "You shouldn't be so familiar with our rivals."

With a mental snort, Aomine threw his head back and yawned, "Are you still on that? Give it up already."

They should have known better. Rivals? As if. They were never going to beat him. Their match was done before it began. There was no point thinking otherwise.

One of the Kaijou players shrieked indecipherably. The noise made Sakurai jump, their terrified point guard throwing his arms up and apologizing on Aomine's behalf, "Sorry! Sorry! Aomine-kun didn't mean that—"

"No need to apologize, Sakurai-kun," Imayoshi corrected with a smarmy smile, his eyes crinkling in faux amusement, "I'm sure they know all about unruly freshmen."

Wakamatsu chuckled at the jab and Aomine nearly rolled his eyes. Instead, he settled on scoffing, "Don't compare me to him. We're nothing alike."

Behind them, there was a tense moment of silent communication amongst the Kaijou players, Kasamatsu's eyes narrowing on Imayoshi in suspicion. Aomine's brow quirked at the look, a growing smirk denting his cheeks. Guess the kid wasn't stupid, after all. Good for him.

"Don't worry, captain," Kise cut in before the tension could get any worse, "We made up! Aomine-cchi's rude, but he isn't that bad."

This time, Aomine didn't succeed in hiding his eye roll, "We didn't make up, dumb ass—"

Whatever else he planned to say was cut off by Momoi's elbow ramming into his ribs. Their manager pasted on a pretty smile as she addressed the other team, "Are you guys here to watch Seirin or Shutoku?"

"Seirin!" Kise chirped back as he sat down on Momoi's left. Behind him, his teammates gawked. "Well, Shutoku too, but I really wanted to be here to make sure everything goes okay. After that weekend—" Kise grimaced before forcing his face back into a relaxed smile, "I guess I just want to make sure Hana-cchi stays safe."

"Good luck with that," Aomine grumbled under his breath. He ignored Imayoshi's intrigued expression and sighed instead, "Imamura can't stay out of trouble."

Meanwhile, the rest of the Kaijo team hovered in the aisle. Kobari was the first to sigh before stepping down a row and plopping into the seat next to Sakurai. Behind him, Kasamatsu and Moriyama exchanged a look as they followed in his steps, filling the last two seats beside Kise. The annoying one, Hayakawa, squawked as he crawled over the rest of the chairs and collapsed next to Wakamatsu.

Tōō's center winced, scooting over in his chair to avoid the boy's angry gibberish.

"I'm sure it won't be that bad," ignoring his own team's discomfort, Kise leaned around Momoi to speak directly to Aomine, "Kuroko-cchi won't let her get hurt. Besides, I'm sure she has something planned."

Aomine didn't have to reply to that. Momoi did it for him, her grimace appropriately reflecting his own thoughts, "That's probably not a good thing, Ki-chan. You know how Ima-chan's plans usually go."

"She's going to do something stupid," Aomine added on, propping his arm on the seat and cupping his cheek as he twisted his attention down to the empty court, "Wouldn't be surprised if she punches that bastard."

He wouldn't mind seeing it though.

His beatdown on the Kirisaki Daiichi manager had been severely underwhelming. One punch and the idiot was down like a rock. Didn't even try to get back up again. Aomine had expected more of a fight— had wanted more than the lackluster cowardice he'd been given. He didn't like cowards.

Especially cowards who messed with the few idiots he could stand.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, Aomine-kun," Imayoshi hummed, jolting Aomine out of his own thoughts, "It looks like little Imamura-chan has a few tricks up her sleeves."

A blue brow quirked in interest as Aomine followed his captain's attention to the commotion in front of the scoring box. Three people sat behind the scoreboard, looking over a sheet of paper and addressing the two referees in front of them. The older one threw his hands up in defeat before snatching the younger, junior referee by the back of his uniform and tugging him to the other side of the court.

"How clever," Imayoshi was smiling and Aomine's eyes narrowed in suspicion. It wasn't often his captain genuinely complimented someone, but if he was seeing things correctly, Imayoshi looked thrilled. "Someone's requested two referees for Seirin's match. I'm sure Hanamiya-kun will be pleased."

Kise froze, staring at the court, "You don't think—"

"Oh, yes. I would safely say this outcome is due to Imamura-chan's influence," Imayoshi's eyes curled in mirth, "She's limiting Kirisaki Daiichi's control of the court. I'm impressed."

Aomine's pointed stare flicked to the back of his captain's head, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Kirisaki Daiichi relies on fouling their opponents out of the eyes of the referee. It's how they secure such high scores without penalties," Imayoshi twisted in his chair, a finger pushing the bridge of his glasses up his nose as he smirked, "With an extra set of eyes, their strategy is severely limited. I wonder—"

There was an inappropriate level of interest in his captain's tone. Imayoshi wasn't one to flirt, Aomine knew that, but it didn't stop his hackles from rising. Judging from Kise's suddenly straight spine, he'd caught the same thing. Gold eyes turned sharp, Kise's levity vanishing in a flush of chilly silence.

"What is it, captain?" Sakurai asked before Aomine could do anything more than glare.

"Oh, nothing, Sakurai-kun," Imayoshi caught Aomine's eye and smiled with a quick flash of teeth, "I'm merely curious if Seirin's manager would like a tour of our facilities after the Winter Cup. If her loyalties haven't been snatched up before then, that is."

Kasamatsu sighed at the end of the seats. Without a glance at the blonde, he snapped a hand over Kise's mouth before he could speak.

Beside him, Momoi gaped. For a few scant seconds, she didn't know how to respond, "I don't think that's a good idea, Imayoshi-kun."

"We'll see," Imayoshi twisted his attention back to the game, but not fast enough for Aomine to miss his mouth twitching in amusement, "Maybe I'll contact her after the game. I reckon such a scheme deserves recognition."

Aomine snarled, the subtext of his captain taunts not going unnoticed. Like hell you will.

Before Aomine could think better of it, he took a page out of the kid's book and kicked the back of his captain's chair.

Wakamatsu cursed, but Imayoshi's resulting chuckle only made Aomine's lips press into a scowl— navy eyes digging into the back of Imayoshi's head hard enough to kill. Beside him, the force of the assault made Sakurai squeak, terrified brown eyes flicking over his shoulder.

Whatever he saw reflected in Aomine's stare had him bursting into tears.

xXxXx

Hana sneezed.

The papers she'd been pulling out of her bag scattered across the floor at the force of the action. Half way through the stadium doors, the rest of her team paused— an even mix of annoyed and curious expressions watching as she floundered to gather the notes back up. Beside her, Kuroko sighed, bending down and retrieving a few of the paper scraps with a resigned huff of amusement.

"My bad," she grunted, stuffing the notes under her armpit and motioning to the door ahead of them, "It's hella dusty in here."

One of Riko's perfectly plucked brows quirked, "Are you ready, Imamura-chan?"

"Yup, yup— one hundred and ten percent ready to kick some ass," bouncing on her toes, Hana threw her coach a massive grin, "I'm so stoked. Beyond stoked. Like you don't even know—"

Her team responded as one, "We know."

Okay, rude. Hana's mouth pursed, twisting her attention to Kuroko's sympathetic gaze. His brows were low on his forehead, hiding some of the emotions he'd been sporting since her impromptu emotional purge back at school.

He'd been wearing the same expression the entire ride over to the stadium. It was a strange mix of worry and pride, with an extra dash of resignation thrown in for good measure. It was safe to say her trio of spontaneous listeners didn't like her plan.

Kagami, for one, made it quite clear that he thought she was the biggest idiot to walk the face of the earth. Kiyoshi also hadn't been pleased— his mouth had frozen in a strained half-smile as Hana meticulously went through how she was going to decimate Hanamiya's mental stability. By the time she was done, Kiyoshi looked like he was one swift wind away from fainting.

Kuroko had only patted her on the head and asked her to refrain from this type of planning again.

Hana wasn't going to make any promises. Despite the stoic sigh he offered in response, she made sure to pass on that tidbit of forewarning. You know, just in case. Never know when psychological torture might come in handy. Snapping her attention back to the present, she smirked at the boy in question.

"You know, I think I understand why friendship therapy is so overutilized in anime," with an extra skip to her step, she followed the rest of her team out onto the court, "I feel like I could get away with murder."

As the bright glow from the overhead lights inside the stadium caught her gaze, Hana couldn't help but chuckle menacingly under her breath. Think of the chaos!

The unbridled joy at the thought of watching Kirisaki Daiichi fall probably said something negative about her personality. But dammit, she'd earned this.

After weeks of harassment and a broken phone, Torio and Hanamiya earned all the hell she was about to rain down on them.

Before she could too far ahead of him, Kuroko's hand twined into her own, "I understand your motivation, but please remember to be careful," his eyes traveled to movement behind her shoulder, "Torio-san is cruel."

Following the line of his sight, Hana's attention focused on the back of the boy in question. She didn't doubt the warning. In fact, it was quite well received.

Torio was dangerous. He had a gift for twisting the truth and breaking your defenses down until everything you once believed in lay in ruins. But he was also someone Hana knew intimately well.

She wasn't afraid of him anymore.

"I get it," Hana squeezed his hand once before letting go, "If shit goes to hell, I'll just grab Taiga. He can crush them with his man boobs or something."

It was obvious Kuroko didn't like that. His mouth pinched the tiniest bit, but whatever he intended to say was halted by the arrival of the man they'd just been speaking about.

Like Hana knew he would, once Torio caught sight of her, he was meandering across the court and headed straight to her. Stepping out of Kuroko's space, she twisted on her heel and met her former mentor head-on.

He looked like hell. His hair was greased back, the bandana he'd taken to wearing stained at the hairline with sweat. Dark eyes narrowed on her face even as his mouth twitched into a charming smile, pulling harshly at the purple bruise over his cheekbone and his right eye. Behind him, she caught Hanamiya twisting his head over his shoulder, inky hair nearly hiding the ferocious furrow of his bushy eyebrows.

"Hey, flower," Torio smiled, all silk and menace, "Can I talk to you for a minute? It won't take long."

Kuroko hovered, but Hana subtly waved him off. She didn't want him to see this. Didn't want him to see her like this. As much as she loved it, the chaos, the manipulation— it wasn't a pretty sight.

Pasting on a smile of her own, she nodded in faux submission, "Yeah, that'll be good—" forcing her words to catch in her throat, she tilted her head demurely to the ground, "I needed to talk to you anyway."

She knew it wouldn't be that easy. Not with the bruise, courtesy of Aomine, still tainting his skin. Torio stared at her for several seconds, catching the way Kuroko stepped back with a quick flick of his eyes. Suspicion crept into his expression with the slight clench of his jaw. Hana waited it out.

He'd taught her better than this. Never give all the information right away. Reel them in, wait them out, and sink in the hook.

It was clear he remembered his own lessons. He was sizing her up. Trying to find a weak spot— something he could manipulate. Forcing her shoulders to slacken, Hana tilted her body away from the rest of her team and brought the strap of her bag over her chest.

Pretend. Pretend. Pretend.

"Did you?" Torio finally responded. His head canted to the left, the light catching the reflection of his piercing, "About what?"

Caught him. Refusing to meet his gaze, she tried to push color into her cheeks in a mimicry of an ashamed blush, "Look— don't make me say it. You know what this is about, dammit."

It was the right thing to say. Torio tried to hide the quick flare of victory with a sympathetic smile, "You don't want your team to hear, do you? I get it, flower. It's not easy asking for help."

"They can't know, Torio," Hana whispered, stepping closer into his space. She purposely left her team at her back, making sure Kirisaki Daiichi's side of the court could see her face. Making sure Hanamiya could see, "I don't— I don't want them to hate me."

"Hey, hey—" before she could blink, he had an arm thrown over her shoulder. Oh my god, what is it with men and touching? It didn't hide the way his head jerked to the side, beckoning someone closer, "Don't worry about that. You're doing the best you can."

Bitch. Her brow tried to twitch at that jab, but she hid it with a grimace. Behind Torio, Hanamiya broke off from the rest of their team. She heard someone behind her make an alarmed noise, probably Koganei, but Hana kept her attention on the incoming threat. Hands tucked over his chest, Hanamiya's dark stare sized her up— taking in the meek curve of her shoulders, the blush on her cheeks, and the pained look in her desperate stare.

He saw what he needed.

He saw what Hana wanted him to see.

"If it isn't little flower-chan," Hanamiya grinned as he made his way over. His head canted to the side in a manner Hana assumed he found intimidating, "Long time, no see."

Her heart was racing, but not in fear. Pure, unadulterated fury pulsed in her veins. Pretend. Pretend. Trying to act afraid, she took a step closer to Torio's side, letting his arm tighten over her shoulders as she flung her wide eyes up to him, "Torio— not him—"

"Hana," Torio tsked, a mocking sound disguised in sympathy, "It's okay. I can't help you unless my captain agrees."

"Are you surprised? You didn't think he was in charge, did you?" With an exaggerated pout, Hanamiya mocked her, "Don't be stupid, trash. You want something. Spit it out."

Torio's arm tightened on her shoulders, his hand rubbing at her arm, "You want your team to be safe, don't you, flower? That's what this is about. Right?"

Well, Hana would give them props. They nailed the whole good cop, bad cop thing. She pitied the teams they'd faced in the past— this was pretty brutal. Had she not come prepared, she might have struggled, but as it was, Hana had them both right where she wanted them. Fiddling with the strap of her bag, she pulled it to her chest.

"I do," Hana whispered, taking a risk and casting her gaze to the ground, "I know I pissed you off— but please, don't hurt them."

It was the right thing to say. That dangle of power in his grasp. He thought he had her right where he wanted— her desperation for safety fueling his ego. For the barest split of a second, Hanamiya's mouth twitched in victory before he smothered the expression.

"Why shouldn't I?" Hanamiya bent at the waist, face empty. Any speck of emotion he'd pretended to have had vanished, "Do you think you have a choice? You're nothing—"

"Makoto—" Torio cut him off, "Let's hear her out."

There we go. The first nail in the coffin. Unlike Hanamiya, Torio wanted something. He'd been harassing her for weeks about their notes and now she knew why. He wanted access to the information he'd stored at Teiko, but he hadn't filled Hanamiya in.

He was trying to be subtle, to twist this conversation in his favor. Had it been anyone other than Hanamiya, the manipulation might have gone unnoticed, but it didn't. Hanamiya was too much of a control freak for that and his manager had just done the unspeakable. Torio spoke against him, spoke against his orders.

The first seed of doubt had been planted.

Hanamiya's head whipped to the side, gaze going dark, "What did you say?"

"Give Hana a chance," Torio tried to maneuver the conversation back to safe grounds with a slow smile, "She's desperate. Don't you think we should help?"

"You want to listen to this trash?" Hanamiya finally spat out, "Don't get ahead of yourself, manager."

Oh, ho ho. Hana's brows hiked into her forehead. This was easier than she thought it would be. Judging from the undercurrents of tension in their conversation, there was more going on within Kirisaki Daiichi's power structure than she thought. She wasn't too surprised— Torio was never one to satisfy himself on the sidelines and being a manager had to burn.

Still, he was being awfully bold. Something's happened between them.

"I'll help you!" Hana cut in before Torio could talk himself out of the hole he'd dug. It made the older boy's mouth pinch in irritation, but it succeeded in bringing Hanamiya's attention back to her, "You wanted my information— that's why you took my phone, right? Look, I'll— I'll give it to you."

That promise cut Torio's bravado short. He didn't want that. It was clear in the way the arm over her shoulder squeezed. After a few seconds of silence and a long look at his captain, Torio tried to interject, "Hana—"

"You think it's that easy?" Hanamiya sneered, but his gaze kept slipping back to Torio.

Again, his input hadn't gone unnoticed. The tension between the two thickened. Torio was walking a very slippery slope. He wanted the information, but he didn't want Hanamiya to have access to it. Hana could understand why. The vile uncrowned king was going to lose his shit if he found out about Torio's blackmail of his own captain.

Unfortunately for him, that was just what Hana wanted.

"I— please," Hana swallowed her pride, forcing herself to beg as she canted her head up to meet Hanamiya's gaze, "Don't hurt them and I'll give it all to you. Everything."

From the corner of her eye, she caught Torio's face blanch. His arm dropped to his side, pieces putting themselves together. He didn't know where to look, focusing on Hanamiya's face before turning his suddenly beseeching gaze onto her, "Hana— you said— you said it was gone."

"I lied," Hana made her shoulders curve inward, trying to keep the both of them in her line of sight, "I was scared, I'm sorry— I'll give it all to you if you just leave them alone."

She watched Torio the closest, able to catch his heart crawl to a standstill as he realized what she was offering. His stare flew to Hanamiya— sweat creeping down his brow as he tried to figure out how to divert the conversation without letting his captain know just what she had possession of. He was already on a thin line, but if Hanamiya knew just what she was suggesting, Torio would be well and truly fucked.

"That's it, isn't it? That's why Torio was following me after school, that's why he sent those threats," Hana pretended to sniffle, "You knew he had information and you wanted it back. I get it."

Across from her, Hanamiya's face went through a strange combination of emotions before he settled on apathy, "Do you? Why do you think I want that trash's information? Maybe I just wanted to see you cry."

"Maybe," she watched him from under her lashes, a languid grin stretching her face, "Or maybe he didn't tell you what it was."

Hanamiya blinked once and Hana had to swallow her victorious grin. She nailed it. Hanamiya had no idea that it was Torio's information. If he had, she wouldn't have been the focus of the assault. If Hanamiya had known he'd had a mole in his team— he'd exterminate it before dealing with the containments.

Amazing what you could put together with the right pieces.

"Hana—" Torio was growing increasingly stressed, his face pulling too tight around the edges of his charismatic mask, "You can't—"

"I can," Hana couldn't stop her grin if she tried. Fiddling with her bag, she pulled out the information in question, "I mean, I have it right here—"

Torio tried to move, but Hanamiya snapped the file out of her hold before he could so much as twitch. There was a mutter of confusion from her team behind her, closer than she remembered them being the last time she checked, but for now, her focus remained on the two boys. On the way Hanamiya's face slowly flushed red and the sudden pallor overtaking Torio's expression.

"What the hell is this," Hanamiya didn't ask, but Hana answered him anyway.

"I think it's blackmail, don't know where it came from though," she shrugged, hiking her shoulders in lazy apathy, "I found it in Torio's old stuff at Teiko. Figured he could give you the explanation you needed."

Before Torio had a chance to snap back, Hanamiya interrupted him. His voice was empty. No emotion, no infliction, "Did you read this?"

"Nah— I did something better," she took a slow step back, meeting Hanamiya's stare with a sharp grin, "I made copies. Think about that during the game, will you? I'd hate to have to do something nasty."

Before Hana could blink, Hanamiya moved. Her eyes screwed shut in preparation, but he didn't go after her. His pale hand fisted in Torio's shirt, yanking the Kirisaki Daiichi manager toward him with a snarl. Torio was a couple of inches taller than him, but it didn't stop Hanamiya from getting in his face— teeth bared in a snarl.

Spit flew from his mouth as Hanamiya hissed. Behind him, the rest of Kirisaki Daiichi suddenly looked invested in the conversation, "Explain this— now."

Good luck talking yourself out of this one, bitch. Hana wanted to cackle as she watched the chaotic pieces of her puzzle fall into place. Unnoticed by the two dueling teammates, she took a step out of the danger zone.

Torio's lip curled, but he backed off easily enough, "She's lying. Think this through, Makato—"

"Don't tell me what to do!" The grip on Torio's shirt tightened, yanking the taller teen down, "You've been a pain in my ass all year. Don't get ahead of yourself just because you want your bitch back—"

Torio said something too low for her to hear, but whatever it was, it made Hanamiya sneer. Okay, well, this has been fun. As much as Hana would love to see this continue, there really wasn't enough time. Her head canted toward the right, spotting a group of her teammates hovering just close enough to intercept.

"You guys should be careful," Hana interjected, taking another step back. Her sudden change in demeanor didn't escape their notice.

Sneering, Hanamiya turned to her, "What'd you say, trash?"

Her eye twitched at that, but Hana held her tongue. What a dick. She jerked her head toward the left, bringing their attention to the extra referee hovering a smidge too close for comfort, "Did you not notice?"

Without letting go of Torio's shirt, Hanamiya cast his sharp glare over the rest of the court. When he caught sight of the referees, his mouth twisted into a downright savage snarl. She could see the moment it clicked.

"I get it. Hard to trust a manager that wants to betray you, right? I mean, who knows what's in there—" She pretended to snap her fingers, "Maybe something about your missing coach?"

Hanamiya's grip fell off Torio's shirt as he cursed. Hana had just enough time to see his nostrils flare before his hand snapped out to grab at her arm, "You bitch—"

She danced out of the way with a slow grin, "Let's not do that. There's a lot of eyes on the game today, huh? Guess the league finally started looking into the matches. You know, with all the injuries lately—"

"Hana—" Torio stared at her, but his face was feral. Sweat dotted his brow, a scowl working its way over the once charming planes of his face, "You don't know what you're doing—"

"Whatcha mean, sensei?" Hana forced herself to blink, pouting dramatically in confusion, "This is what you wanted, right? Isn't that why you were you were asking about my old notes?"

"Explain," Hanamiya cut off whatever Torio intended to say. His face was shrouded in shadow, a malicious sort of anger growing in the corner of his eyes, "Before I make you, trash."

"Name calling, ouch—" wisely choosing to take another step back, Hana only shook her head in denial, "You should ask your manager. He can explain better than I can, but you should really think about what I said. Trust me."

She didn't stick around to see the outcome of that statement, but she still caught the way Hanamiya spun to Torio, spitting something vicious at the other manager. Triumph crept up her spine, but she was far from done. This was only the beginning. By the time the game was over, Kirisaki Daiichi was going to be in scrambles.

Before she had a chance to gloat over her incoming victory, a hand snatched her by the back of the collar. The fabric of her tee-shirt cut into the soft skin of her throat as she was unceremoniously yanked backward, the sight of Torio's bared teeth her only warning. Oh, come on! In front of her, Kiyoshi broke off from the rest of her teammates, but he didn't make it in time.

"What do you think you're doing?" Torio's breath was stale against the curve of her ear, "You aren't going to win this, Hana."

"Come on, Torio. I thought it was obvious—" his grip on her collar tightened, cutting her air off, "Awh—Are you worried? Something in there you don't want him to see?"

Kiyoshi's eyes went wide as they locked on Torio lurking over her shoulder, his stride coming faster. Behind him, Kagami cursed before following in his steps. Hana would have appreciated the thought— if she could breathe. Choking doesn't do it for me, thanks though.

She couldn't see Torio sneer, but she could hear it in his tone, "If you think this is going to make a difference, you're more useless than I thought."

"Maybe it will, maybe it won't—" she hissed, wincing at the hot wash of air he continued to breathe down her spine, "But I fucking promise you, if any of my teammates get hurt, I'm leaking everything. You don't want that, do you?"

"You worthless little bitch—"

"That's enough," it wasn't the voice she was expecting to hear. Twisting her head to the left, Hana spotted Kuroko right beside her, his hand locked around Torio's wrist, "Let go of her, Torio-san."

Neither boy moved for several seconds, but it was enough time for the rest of her team to arrive. With Kagami and Kiyoshi leading the charge, Torio had no choice but to let go. Rubbing at the curve of her neck, Hana twisted on her heel just in time to see her former mentor sneer down at Kuroko before he twisted that vile expression onto her.

"I knew you'd try and pull something like this," Torio shook his head, the light from the ceiling catching the yellow tint of his bruise, "You're still so stupid, Hana. I taught you better—"

"You should go to your team," Kiyoshi interrupted. Beside him, Riko had her arms crossed over her chest, a downright nasty expression pulling her face tight. "They're waiting for you."

Torio went to say something, but he stopped just as quickly. Hana imagined it would be hard to speak with the entirety of Seirin staring him down. Even Furihata stood nearby, a worried little frown marking his face. From beside Hyuuga, Kagami stepped forward, tugging Hana back by the back of her shirt. Bodyguard mode activated. His narrowed red eyes traveled down the full length of Torio's body before his lip curled in disgust.

"Hah—" Torio eventually laughed. It was a nasty, despicable sort of sound. "Of course. Always hiding, aren't you, flower?"

Once upon a time, that would have hurt her. Not anymore. There wasn't any shame in letting her team back her up, in allowing someone else to help. With the silent backing of her friends and team, Hana let the words roll over her shoulders without sticking. Friendship therapy no jutsu for the win.

"I learn from the best," Hana let Kagami pull her behind him, poking her head out around his shoulder to smile sweetly, "Have a good game, Torio."

He stared at her for several seconds too long before he scoffed. Without another word, he turned on his heel and went back to Kirisaki Daiichi's side of the court. Except, he didn't join them. Hanamiya and Furuhashi watched him as he approached, their conversation cut short. Hana didn't have to guess just what they'd been talking about. It was obvious in the way Hanamiya's face darkened.

"Imamura-chan," Riko's voice broke her out of her observation, "What was that?"

"That—" Hana watched Torio hover on the outside of his team. He didn't join their huddle. "Is what happens when your team doesn't trust you."

This was going to be more complicated than she thought.

xXx

"Breathe, Shin-chan—"

The command was easier said than done.

Midorima's narrowed gaze was locked on the back of the Kirisaki Daiichi manager, the ball between his palms suddenly too heavy. He was supposed to be preparing for their upcoming game, but his focus had been stripped away by the events occurring on the other half of the court. His heart was still beating a second too fast, the stress of the confrontation wearing on his nerves. He wasn't the only one.

Beside him, Miyaji whistled under his breath. "That was—" Miyaji shook his head, long blonde strands swaying in front of his eyes, "I knew it'd be a rough game for Seirin, but I didn't think it'd go that far."

"Really?" Takao questioned as Midorima fought to get his nerves under control, "They almost beat us. Kirisaki Daiichi shouldn't be an issue—"

Behind him, Midorima heard the sound of Otsubo's dribbling come to a halt. His captain made a noise under his breath, something Midorima would almost label as disgusted, "They've got history. Seirin played Kirisaki Daiichi last year. It was the game where Ironheart got injured."

Switching his focus to the player in question, Midorima's gaze focused on the wrapped knee of Seirin's center. He hadn't been there for the blow, but it'd been a cautionary tale throughout the rest of the league whenever Kirisaki Daiichi was mentioned. As far as he was aware, the injury had been taken care of, but it was clear there was still a lingering tension between the two teams.

"If you were there, you would understand," Otsubo continued, watching Kiyoshi as Seirin prepped for the first quarter, "It was intentional. The kid blocking him jumped for the rebound later than he should have— they knew what they were doing."

At that, Kimura added his own input, "Looks like the managers have history too. Know anything about that, Midorima?"

He did, but obviously not enough. Green eyes sharpened on Kiyoshi, watching as the taller boy bent at the knee to pat Hana on top of the head. The manager was holding a chilled water bottle against her arm, nursing a slap she received from their coach when the altercation was done. Despite the tension of the confrontation with her former friend, Hana was smiling up at Ironheart as she made a rude hand gesture toward the other side of the court.

Even as the game started and Seirin moved onto the court, he couldn't look away.

He caught the exact moment Hana's smile fell, the lines of her mouth twisting with barely hidden dread, and Midorima's chest constricted.

"I'm sure Imamura-chan will be fine, Shin-chan," Takao tried to cajole him, following the path of his stare. Despite the assurance, he caught the wary undertone of Takao's response, "Don't look so worried."

Midorima wished he could agree.

X

On the outermost ring of the seats, a head tilted in thought.

He truly hadn't intended to come back after last weekend. He'd intended to let his reservation for the weekend go unfulfilled, but his lack of satisfaction at the outcome of his last meeting brought him back to Tokyo for the second weekend in a row. Observing the court below him, he couldn't find himself to be disappointed in the decision.

This wasn't what he'd been expecting. Someone had failed to share the span of recent developments with him. Atushi had given him an overview during their travels out of Tokyo, but it appeared that even his former teammates were not fully aware of the scope of the issue.

He recalled the face of Kirisaki Daiichi's manager. Normally, he wouldn't have wasted his thoughts on someone of such little importance, but he remembered that face better than most. The older boy had been there during the game which marked his loss of control over Hana. The day he'd miscalculated to such a degree that even the scraps of their acquaintance couldn't be manipulated back together.

As the game in front of him began, he couldn't help but consider the implications of the confrontation he just witnessed. There was a weakness to be found in their reactions, but for once, he didn't dwell on the best way to exploit it. Instead, he watched the way the boy, Torio, kept his gaze locked on Seirin's manager. There was a muted surge of annoyance deep in his chest, something he'd once thought he'd buried, that caught his focus.

Straightening his spine, Akashi forced the emotion down.

He no longer had the need for things of that nature.

xXx

It was only three steps.

Three simple phases mapped out to the goal like flag posts on the highway. The final portion was already in motion. The only thing she had left to do was damage control.

Her parting words should have been enough to hold his hand— make him question his movements, but Hana knew better. Hanamiya was a narcissist with the thin skin of a megalomaniac. Sure, she'd frayed his trust in his manager, but Hanamiya wasn't one to cower.

She'd scorned him. Caused a hitch in his plans. He should be doing something.

Which made the first quarter of the game so 'd anticipated violence— it was their standard operating procedure and while the extra referee would quell some of it, she hadn't expected for it to completely vanish. In the entire first quarter of the game, Kirisaki Daiichi didn't strike once. They played like a normal team, faces entirely too relaxed as the score ticked higher in Seirin's favor.

By the time the bell rang, they were behind by sixteen points. And yet, Hanamiya didn't seem concerned. He merely observed the scoreboard in quiet boredom.

It wasn't normal.

Even with her promise of information, he should have done something. It wasn't in his nature to heel.

Pacing in front of her team as the court emptied in preparation for the second quarter, Hana rehashed out every piece of information she'd shoved in her brain. It was the only thing she could think to do. Riko took it all in, a tired expression lining her pretty mouth, but Izuki and Koganei were swiftly becoming overwhelmed. Koganei went as far as to squeak— arms flailing as Hana pulled him in for a demonstration.

"Remember, if they come up on your side, watch your kidney," Hana motioned to the area in question, jabbing the muscles in Koganei's abdomen with a sharp nail, "Hurts like a bitch. When you aren't guarding, keep an arm tucked in—"

"Are you…" Kawahara blinked at her, mouth agape, "Are you talking from experience, Imamura-chan?"

She waved a hand, "Doesn't matter. Make sure you've got a jockstrap on," she didn't use Koganei as an example this time, something the upperclassman greatly appreciated, "It's literally a dick move, but you know how it is—"

"We really don't," Kagami muttered under his breath, tilting his head to the ceiling to avoid looking at her, "Can you shut up already?"

"I've seen you half-naked," Hana deadpanned, "Don't try and be a prude now—"

Kagami froze before his face flushed red, spit flying from his mouth as he jabbed a finger in her direction, "The hell you have!"

Really? Talk about denial. He took his shirt off during practice all the time. Hana raised a brow, "You have a freckle on your nipple. Did you know that, Taiga?"

At the end of the bench, Kuroko choked on the water he'd been sipping on.

Kiyoshi made a considering noise as he sat on the bleacher in front of her. Furihata and Fukuda were busy rewrapping the width of his knee in sports tape, but it didn't stop him from smiling, "You should try and calm down, Hana."

"I am calm," she countered, ignoring Koganei's confused mumble at her first name, "I'm so calm— like, so calm— it's literally amazing."

She wasn't calm. Not a chance in hell. Her mind was busy working through everything she knew about Kirisaki Daiichi— trying and failing to figure out where she'd gone wrong. She'd thought she'd changed the course. Hana had a clear mental image of how this game was going to go, but her assumptions weren't fitting.

She'd lost track of something— missed an important detail she just couldn't put her finger on.

Before she had time to fall deeper into her thoughts, a hand was scuffing the back of her head. Her captain's glasses shined as he oh-so-gently pushed her to the bleachers, "Sit down already. You've caused enough trouble."

Ouch. That stung. That familiar feeling of uselessness she tried to smother crept back in, but Hana bit down on her tongue instead of addressing it. Enough emotional trauma today, brain!

Her mouth popped open, a sarcastic retort ready on her lips, but Hyuuga's expression cut her short. After Riko's verbal beat down and a nice long scolding on how careless she was being, Hana had resolutely avoided looking at any of her more temperamental seniors. It was safer that way. While Hana understood that they fretted out of care, it didn't make their disappointment any easier to handle.

Except, Hyuuga didn't look disappointed.

He looked eager— his dark eyes narrowed behind his glasses, excitement coasting his shoulders as he turned his attention back to the court and eyed the referees covering the sidelines. When the bell for the second half rang out, her captain twisted his attention back to her.

"You did good, Imamura. We're already in a better position than I'd thought we'd be," he didn't say anything as he jogged back onto the court, "Let us handle it from now on."

Oh. Okay. That was good. She'd never tell Hyuuga that, but his approval was sorely needed. It felt very nice. Like a hug from a puffy cloud

She didn't have time to linger on the sweet feeling of fuzzy satisfaction. Before she could do more than gape at her captain's back, Kagami's sweaty hand was slapping her in the back of the shoulder, "Stop looking like that. It's weird."

"Will you stop hitting me? Jesus Christ—" She cut him a look, "Are you seriously mad at me for looking happy?"

"Yeah, cut it out," Kagami grumbled under his breath, not once looking at her as he stepped back onto the court, "Your face can't handle it."

Furihata, her favorite little angel, chimed in, "I think it's cute, Imamura-chan. It's good to be excited!"

"See, now that's what I'm talking about. Thanks, Furihata—" she leaned around Mitobe's figure to grin back at him. Only to blink when he blushed in return. Is that… normal? Is that a thing now?

She intended to question him about it, maybe offer him some water, but movement on the court caught her attention. As Seirin lined back up on the defensive line, Hanamiya stretched his arms behind his back— the echo of his shoulder blade cracking from across the gym. It wasn't the noise that got her though.

It was his smile.

His head canted to the side, his hair shadowing the expression hiding behind his bangs. On any other teenage boy, the smile creeping between his cheeks might have been serene. It had a layer of assurance to it that promised victory— but on Hanamiya, the expression was a threat. Behind him, Hana caught Hara's head tilt in interest before a delighted chuckle sneaked out from their side of the court.

On Seirin's side of the court, Kiyoshi's feet stalled. His head tilted over his shoulder, gaze sharpening on Hanamiya but remaining silent. Hyuuga said something in response, but she was too far away to hear. Whatever it was, it only made Hanamiya's grin twist into a smirk.

Salt built on the back of her tongue.

At Kirisaki Daiichi's bench, Torio crawled to his feet. Hana's gaze trailed to him before she could think better of it. His shirt was still ruffled from where Hanamiya had grabbed him, but the tension he'd worn for the first half of the quarter was gone. In its place, a faux bravado bloomed. She recognized that expression. Knew it intimately well.

It was the look of an animal trapped— the snarl before they chewed their own arm off to escape.

Everything clicked.

"The first quarter was bullshit," Hana's heart lurched, but she couldn't do anything except whisper the warning to her coach, "Hanamiya wanted to see what he was working with— dammit! They're planning something."

Unfortunately, right now, they were a factor out of her control. It was a hard pill to swallow. Off the court, Hana could hold her own and slide the scales in her favor through manipulation— but once their feet stepped over that white line, she was powerless. There wasn't anything she could do except watch.

Hara threw the ball in, letting Yamazaki take it down to the half-court line. Izuki took right and Hyuuga took left, but before Hana could even blink, Yamazaki lobbed the ball down to Hanamiya. They were fast. Faster than they'd played earlier— Kagami went to block, but he was screened in by Furuhashi and the ball went into the net.

"They've changed their pace," Riko grip went tight on the clipboard, "It's the same strategy, but something's different."

It happened in the split second the teams went past each other to pass the ball in. Hanamiya's shoulder knocked into Kiyoshi, making the taller boy stumble the slightest bit. At that exact moment, Hanamiya whispered something and whatever it was, it made Kiyoshi's face go white. Behind him, Hyuuga took a step forward, brows drawn and mouth flat. Hanamiya didn't stick around long enough to see the fallout, waving jauntily over his shoulder as he moved to defense.

Riko was right.

Something changed. Hana just didn't know what.

X

Kiyoshi knew this game would be difficult. He'd prepared for it. Day in and day out, as they advanced through the preliminary tournament, he'd spent hours thinking about how this game was going to play out. He'd thought of his teammates injured, of his own scream when his knee caved under pressure—

He'd thought he'd be ready.

"Careful, Ironheart," Hanamiya's hot breath wafted over the skin of Kiyoshi's neck as Izuki brought the ball down the court, "You don't look so great."

Sweat dripped down Kiyoshi's brow, his focus drilling into the ball bouncing beneath Izuki's palm. He couldn't listen to Hanamiya's taunts. He knew better, but—

"Your team is putting on a good show," Hanamiya fainted right, his arm catching Kiyoshi in the side when he tried to get open for a pass, "But you're not going to win. You should give up now before it's too late."

The blow hurt— but Kiyoshi had been expecting it. Forcing his mouth into a thin line, he ignored Hanamiya's violence to support his team.

Izuki paused for several seconds at the half-court line, dribbling just a smidge faster as he looked for an opening. Hyuuga was closest to him, but he was backed into a corner with Hara and Furuhashi's attention. Kagami would be the next best bet, but he was just a bit too far and with Yamazaki hounding the line like a dog out for blood, Kiyoshi worried Izuki wouldn't make it in time.

Izuki passed to Kagami and Kiyoshi went wide, ready to support at the goal.

"When I destroy you and your garbage team," Hanamiya continued to whisper under his breath as he followed Kiyoshi, "I can't wait to rip your manager apart. You thought she was smart, didn't you?"

Kagami lurched for the goal and Kiyoshi couldn't breathe—

"Your whole team is just as bad as you. You and your damn idealism," Hanamiya's voice crept back into his focus, even as he prepared to rebound, "When I'm done with them, there's won't be anything left. I can't wait to see you break—"

Before Hanamiya's taunt could finish, Kagami skirted past the last player of Kirisaki Daiichi's defense and jumped for a goal. His hand smacked into the metal railing of the hoop, the dull thump matching the erratic pound of Kiyoshi's heart as the score clicked up two points in Seirin's favor. His shoulders slumped in relief before he went to jog to the other side of the court, but an outstretched hand cut him short.

"Are you listening to me?" Hanamiya grinned, his hand holding up Kiyoshi's escape, "Pay attention. You don't want to have a repeat of last year, do you?"

Before Kiyoshi could even try to find a response to that, Hyuuga stepped between them. His nostril flared, a hand pushing the rival player back as he snapped, "Don't talk to him."

The grin that crept over Hanamiya's face at the interruption caused Kiyoshi's spine to straighten in dread. With a mocking tilt of his head, Hanamiya hummed, "What a protective team. You really think you can save them, Ironheart?"

"We can save ourselves," a new voice spoke behind Kiyoshi, Kagami's hand firm on his shoulder as he cut into the conversation, "Worry about the game and quit talking shit."

"Can you?" Hanamiya needled, taking a step back and throwing his shoulders up in a careless shrug, "I'll admit, the extra referee presents a challenge, but—" his mouth quirked in a slow grin, "I don't have to hurt you on the court."

Dread crept up his throat as he watched Hanamiya purposely skim his attention to the sides of the court, his head canting to the side as he eyed the rest of their team on the bleachers. Kiyoshi couldn't help but follow the silent direction, his mouth going dry as he saw what captured his attention. Riko and Hana were talking at the front of the bleachers, the manager throwing her arm out as she whispered something under her breath.

"You should tell your manager to mind her own business," Hanamiya chuckled, giving them his back as he walked to the other side of the court, "Or maybe I will. She's a cute little thing— but I like them better when they cry."

"Don't," Kiyoshi finally spoke, his heart beating too hard, "Your issue is with me, Hanamiya. Don't—"

Hanamiya only laughed as he caught up to Furuhashi, "You're wrong about that, Ironheart. I hate you and your entire team—" darkness crept over his face as he grinned, "The only way this will end is with you broken. All of you."

Before Hanamiya could get comfortable in his victory, a quiet voice cut in, "You aren't worried?"

Hanamiya's gaze flickered to the right, annoyance pulling at his mouth when he caught sight of Kuroko's shadowed face, "Why should I be? "

"Your team is good, Hanamiya-san, but you're missing something important," Kuroko's head tilted, just enough for Hanamiya to glimpse the bright blue of his stare, "Should you not worry about that?"

Furuhashi frowned, but it was Hanamiya who finally spoke, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Our team trusts each other," Kuroko blinked once with a strange sort of quiet fury Kiyoshi had never seen the other boy possess, "Our basketball is stronger than yours."

The whistle cut off whatever Hanamiya intended to say in response. With a scoff, the Kirisaki Daiichi player gave Kuroko his back and moved to his position as Hara tossed the ball in. Except, as Kiyoshi kept his peripheral focus on him, he caught the growing snarl on his face. It grew as the ball may its way toward the goal before it finally snapped.

With Hyuuga guarding his front, Hanamiya caught the pass from Yamazaki—

"Hyuuga—" Hana's voice rang out across the court, "Move!"

Hanamiya's elbow swished through the air where Hyuuga's face had once been, but their teammate didn't get out of the way fast enough. The sharp point of Hanamiya's elbow clipped him in the neck, and Hyuuga stumbled backward with a sharp cough before he fell back and took a knee to catch his breath. Hanamiya's arms hung in the air, his expression victorious and Kiyoshi's heart lurched—

"Foul!" The sound of the whistle cut through the air, "Number four!"

The triumph on Hanamiya's face morphed into fury. He spun on his heel to glare at the referee, but when nothing came from that, his stare traveled to the sidelines. Kiyoshi couldn't see what face he made, but he could see the way Hana stood straighter— her mouth twitching as she fought off another grin.

"You—" Hanamiya hissed, just loud enough for him to hear, "I'm sick of you—"

Kiyoshi stepped in front of him, blocking off his sight and meeting the furious stare head-on, "Your fight is with us, Hanamiya."

"Tch," Hanamiya could only scoff, turning his attention back to his own side of the court, "This isn't over, Ironheart. I'm just getting started."

Kiyoshi didn't respond. He didn't need to.

For the remainder of the quarter, Hanamiya made good on his threat.

xXx

"This is awful," Momoi whispered, her thin hands clutched in front of her mouth, "Poor Kagami-kun—"

Aomine didn't disagree.

It was painful to watch. Seirin had the advantage in skill, but they were stumbling through Kirisaki Daiichi's offensive maneuvers. After the initial take down of their captain, the violence came to the surface. His mouth pursed in disgust— cowards. It was one thing to beat a team through skill, but this wasn't that.

Seirin's center, Kiyoshi, took the brunt of the attacks. Aomine knew trash talking well enough to identify it and the kid was on the losing end of Hanamiya threats and his fists. Aomine's fist curled in his lap, annoyance biting at his tongue as he watched the team struggle. The only thing that kept him from losing his shit was the referee. It was a mercy that the fouls were being counted.

"Kuroko-cchi is mad," Kise added on with unnecessary observation, "I haven't seen that kind of face in a while."

"Of course, he's mad," Aomine droned, his eyes narrowing as the referee called another foul, "This goes against everything he believes about basketball."

If there was one thing he could appreciate about Tetsu, it was his unwavering dedication for the morals he believed in. Aomine might not share the same opinion, but this was one circumstance that they'd both agree on. His focus fell on the boy in question, his brows hiking high in his hair line at the sight of the angry furrow hiding in Kuroko's expression.

"Ah, I was wondering when he'd finally snap," Imayoshi commented. His chin was perched on the back of his fist as he observed, "I'm surprised Hanamiya-kun's patience has lasted this long."

Navy eyes canted to the right as Aomine questioned, "What are you talking about?"

"The consequences are catching up to him," Imayoshi explained, waving lazily toward the boy in the middle of the court. Hanamiya's hand were braced on his knees and he panted for breath, the rest of his teammates keeping a wide distance, "He's realizing there's no way to win with their strategy."

"The fouls," Momoi added on, scooting forward in her chair to get a better look, "They're going to be in trouble soon."

"That's true. But it's also Seirin," shifting his shoulders, Imayoshi twisted to the manager behind him with a closed-eye grin, "If there's one think Hanamiya-kun hates more than anything, it's a team like theirs. He can't crush their spirit so easily."

Aomine head tilted, watching the court as Hanamiya straightened to his full height. It was just in time for the halftime buzzer to ring. The Kirisaki Daiichi captain snarled, running a frustrated hand through his hair before he glared at the other end of the court. It didn't take a genius to figure out what caught his attention.

Huddled together at their bench, Seirin spoke amongst themselves. Kagami went to Hana and Kuroko, rubbing at his arm. Behind them Kiyoshi winced as he took a few steps to the right, bending down and picking up a water bottle. Hana threw her arms out, her mouth moving a mile a minute as she pointed accusingly at the other side of the court, Kuroko nodding along with whatever she was saying.

It was only because he was paying attention that Aomine caught the way Hanamiya's sneer rested on them.

Damn woman. He didn't understand how she constantly found herself in trouble. It had to be curse at this point. Before he could think better of it, Aomine was moving. He swore to himself he wasn't worried, but it didn't stop his body from moving. Beside him, Momoi made a confused noise, but he waved her off.

"I'll be back," Aomine crawled to his feet with a grunt, "Got to take a piss."

That shut her up like it usually did. He didn't miss Imayoshi's quick look nor the smug smile hiding in the corners of his captain's cheek, but he didn't say anything. It was all for the better. Aomine wanted to get this over with. He'd thought he'd gotten away with his exit.

But before he could fully step out into the aisle, he heard Kise chime in, "I'll come too!"

Aomine's eyes closed as he sighed.

xXx

The violence she'd been expecting finally made its appearance.

By the time the second quarter ended, half of her team was covered in bruises.

The only one spared from the sudden onslaught was Kuroko, who'd been substituted with Mitobe halfway through the quarter. They were finally making their way off the court, Izuki favoring his left leg as he grimaced. Behind him, Kagami scowled at a sore spot on his arm, but it was Kiyoshi who'd taken the worst of the blows.

His entire arm was red and there was a bleeding mark on his leg that Hana was pretty sure came from Hara.

The only plus side of the whole thing was that Kirisaki Daiichi currently had at least three fouls per player. With the league only allowing six fouls per player, they were already pushing it to the limit. Hara in particular only had one left before he'd have to be subbed out. Scrubbing a hand through her hair and trying to ignore the way it shook, Hana listened with half an ear as Riko directed them toward the locker room.

She didn't notice how far she'd trailed behind the group until Kagami and Kuroko fell into step beside her in the hallway. Kuroko was quieter than normal, but Hana didn't blame him. He'd been on the edge of his seat the entire game and there was a cloying sort of anger radiating from his shoulders as he sat beside her one the bench.

Something happened on the court, but she didn't know what. Ever since Kuroko had been subbed out, he'd stuck to her side like glue. More so than normal. She didn't have the balls to ask him, a little bit scared of this new, vicious Kuroko, but she figured it had something to do with the conversations taking place on the court. She'd only heard a bit of it, but what she'd managed to gather— it'd been nasty.

"Dammit," Kagami cursed under his breath as they walked, his fist shaking from where he'd curled it against his side, "This is bullshit."

"You need to ice that," Hana offered from his side. She eyed the blooming bruise on his upper arm, her brow puckering in worry at the red already seeping into his skin, "There should be some—"

She didn't have a chance to finish.

Before Hana could swallow, someone stepped into her path.

"You think you did something?" Hanamiya cut her off, blocking her from Kuroko and Kagami just ahead. She heard Kagami curse, but it was eclipsed by Hanamiya's smirk, "You thought I didn't know about my own manager?"

Great. Just what I needed. Rolling her shoulders, Hana tried to step past him, "Sorry, I didn't know you were an idiot. My bad for doing you a favor—"

I'm so tired of this team. She could see Kagami nearly bowing over Hanamiya from behind him, but Hana held a hand up in warning. Kirisaki Daiichi may get away with this type of behavior, but Kagami couldn't. He was too loud, too bright— it'd be their damn luck to get suspended during half-time.

"A favor?" A hand latched around her wrist, pulling her back as Hanamiya spit down at her, "You think I need a favor from you? From worthless trash? I don't need anything from you—"

That was the wrong thing to fucking say.

You know that type of anger that makes your vision bleed red? It burns everything up and leaves no survivors. The type of blind rage that leave you shaking in its aftermath. As Hanamiya droned on and on, everything around her went crimson. The events leading up to this game and the memory of her teammate's injuries had her snarling in the back of her throat.

Rage coated her tongue, giving it the slick taste of iron as she met Hanamiya's hatred head on.

"You need my cooperation, or did you forget that?" Hana took a step forward, meeting Hanamiya's gaze head-on with a bravado she didn't truly feel, "I have copies, idiot. I'll send them out— you don't think I will? Think I'm naïve enough to let you go?"

He didn't immediately respond to that. It gave her just enough time to really take in his expression. She hadn't quite realized how brutal psychological warfare truly was, but she was seeing all the effects of it firsthand. Despite his claims, Hanamiya hadn't expected this. He might have had suspicions about Torio, but whatever he read in that file truly shook him.

Unfortunately, Hana wanted to break him.

"Well, let me clear that shit up for you," Hana took another step toward him, nearly hitting his chest with her chin, "I don't care about you. I think you're a piece of shit— in fact, I'd love to share that information around. I want you to lose, Hanamiya."

Kagami grunted from behind Hanamiya, but his push forward stalled. She didn't dare peer around the boy in front of her to see what they looked like, terrified she'd find judgment. Instead, her vitriol twisted back to the boy ahead.

"I told you what would happen if you hurt my team," she warned, jabbing a nail into Hanamiya's chest, "You did it anyway— what makes you think you have any power over me right now?"

Hanamiya's face turned an alarming shade of red, "I'll break them—"

"No, you won't," this time, she grinned for real, "You know why? You're a second away from fouling out. Your team is so close to being suspended for the rest of the year that you can't do shit. You got away with it for this quarter, but you think you can keep it up? News flash, bitch, you can't. When this is over— you're going to have nothing."

She waited for that to sink in, counting down the seconds. God, why is basketball so damn dramatic? When he didn't immediately respond, Hana figured it was time to end this.

"Or you could fix this," she held out the metaphorical olive branch, grin twisting into a smirk as his face darkened in fury, "All you got to do is play fair, Hanamiya. I'll get rid of those files and you—" she licked her chapped lips, "Can take of the trash inside your team."

Dark eyes narrowed, "Are you trying to threaten me?"

"No," Hana grinned with too many teeth, "I'm warning you."

She didn't wait for a response. Shoving past Hanamiya's arm, Hana stomped down the hall toward her lingering teammates. That felt good. She should really do that again, maybe make a habit out of it. It sure as hell beat therapy— her feet clicked to a halt when she caught sight of her audience.

"What the hell was that?" Kagami stared at her like he'd never seen her before, "You just— what?"

It wasn't his expression that had her mouth going slack. Oh, no. It was much worse than that.

Just behind Kagami and Kuroko, two familiar faces stared back at her. Kise looked half a step away from breaking into a run, but Aomine leaned against the wall. His dark brows were hiked high over his face, predatory eyes scanning her from head to toe with a slow creeping smirk.

Kise could only gawk at her, "Hana-cchi—"

"That was hot," Aomine interrupted, arms bracketed against his chest as he observed, "Didn't know you had it in you."

Beside him, Kuroko sighed.

"Jesus Christ," Hana muttered under her breath. There went her good mood, "Why are you guys everywhere? Don't you have lives?"

"We came to check on you—" Kise was the first one to respond, his gold eyes wide as he continued to gape down at her, "The game looked pretty brutal."

"You could say that again," Hana grunted. Scrubbing at her face, she took another long look at the boys in front of her, "How much of that did you hear?"

Aomine's smirk grew into a languid grin. Hana still wasn't quite sure how to handle the way he was looking at her. Is this what those romance authors call hungry? "All of it. Thought we'd have to step in when this bastard didn't move."

"Well, thanks—" she cut Kagami off before he could spiral into another rage induced rant, "Uhm, so we're going to go now—"

Before I die of embarrassment. It was one thing for them to observe from the stands, but to see her do this shit up close? God, Hana would rather die. Kuroko was bad enough— he was still staring at her, not having stopped since the spontaneous confrontation. Hana wasn't keen to look into whatever hid in that expression.

Before she could too far away, Kise skittered up to her side, "Wait, wait! Are you sure you're okay, Hana-cchi?"

"I'm fine," she pushed at the blonde's chest, halting the incoming hug before it could begin, "Let me have my dramatic exit."

"Yeah," Aomine drawled, his mouth twitching as he watched her leave, "It's an exit, alright."

There was a smack of flesh hitting flesh, before Kise hissed, "Aomine-cchi!"

You're kidding me. Stonily, Hana twisted her head over her shoulder, "I will kill you—"

Her voice immediately petered off when she caught Aomine's gaze travel back up to her face. For a hot minute, she couldn't believe what she just saw. Aomine didn't have the same issue. His brow crept up, the silken edge of his smirk making his face look extremely punchable. Especially since he just got caught checking out my ass.

"We're not doing this today, goodbye," grabbing hold of Kuroko and Kagami's arms, Hana pulled her silent teammates after her without another look back, "I hate life. I'm done."

Kagami didn't have the same issue, "Did he just—"

"We're not talking about it," Hana cut him off before he could begin, refusing to acknowledge the blush sneaking up her cheeks, "Focus on the damn game."

Thank god he listened. Hana didn't know what to do with the sudden barrage of emotions still fighting for dominance in her chest. On one hand, she was still pissed. There was no way she wasn't going to be pissed until this game was over. On the other hand, she was realizing she was way out of her damn league.

I hate basketball. I hate basketball. I hate basketball—

Thankfully, despite the numerous interruptions, it didn't take them long to make it back to the locker room. Releasing a deep breath, Hana tried to calm down before she faced the rest of her teammates. They still had a lot to prepare for and no matter how much of a verbal dressing down she'd just given Hanamiya, she was sure the rest of the game was going to be just as brutal.

Unfortunately, Kuroko decided now would be a good time to break the silence.

"Hana," Kuroko paused right in front of the door to the locker room. His depthless blue eyes peered down at her, missing some of the rage he'd been carrying since the end of the second quarter, "Your birthday is next week, right?"

Hana's steps stumbled to a halt, her hand on the doorknob, "Yeah? Why?"

"That's good," he merely nodded once before stepping through the door and rejoining their teammates, "I believe I'll buy you a leash."

"That—" she could only stare at his back, "That better be for Nūdoru!"

Like the shit he was, he didn't respond.

xXx

The final half of the game started off differently.

For one, Torio's lip was bleeding. Hana hadn't quite been able to stop gaping at that when she noticed. He'd tried to wipe it off with his shirt, but the blood kept coming. Flesh wounds are a bitch. She didn't really know how to feel about that— especially when she noticed the smarting on Hanamiya's knuckles.

It was what she wanted. The chaos and the retribution, but dammit, Hana had wanted to do it herself.

"They're changing their strategy," Riko brought her attention back to the game, pointing out the second difference, "The fouls are catching up to them."

"Finally," Hana grumbled under her breath, leaning back on her palms, "They were pushing it."

Riko made an agreeing noise under her breath, hazel eyes flicking to her once, "That was a good call with the referee. It—" her mouth pinched, thoughts likely stuck in the past, "It made a difference, Imamura-chan."

Not enough of one. Hana's shoulder curled inward, shrugging the praise off, "I'm still pissed they got hurt. I didn't want— that wasn't supposed to happen."

"You can't control everything," Riko countered, but her voice was soft, "I thought we'd be in worse shape."

"I can try," she muttered petulantly, "Someone's got to play god."

To be fair, Hana agreed to an extent. There'd been injuries, but nothing like she'd prepared for. My first aid kit gets to stay a mystery for today. Rolling back her shoulders, Hana twisted her attention to the boy beside her. Kuroko had mostly been quiet since the start of the second half, but he was taking everything in with a keen eye.

That was good. Izuki was struggling on offense, Hanamiya's interceptions getting better now that they'd changed strategy. Kirisaki Daiichi was building out the spider web formation Imayoshi had warned her about and with the new substitution and introduction of Seto, they were doing it quite efficiently. Her team's passes weren't getting inside and Hyuuga, their only outside shooter, was struggling after the physical play of last quarter.

"You ready to get back in?" Hana nudged Kuroko with her elbow, tilting her head toward the game when he looked at her, "Izuki could use the backup."

"I'll be ready soon," Kuroko responded. His fingers inched across the bleacher to twine with her own, "I'd like to get a better idea of their defensive strategy before I enter."

Well, I can do that. Kicking her legs out, Hana explained, "It's the spider web thing I was warning you guys about," her foot pointed in Hanamiya's direction, "They're herding Izuki's passes since they know his movements."

Making a noise under his breath, Kuroko nodded, "I see. Then I think I'm ready."

"Seriously?" Hana couldn't help but question, nearly rolling her eyes when he blinked back at her, "That took like five seconds. You didn't need me to explain at all—"

He didn't respond to that accusation with anything more than a bemused look, Riko's timeout breaking off their conversation as she ordered Mitobe off the court. Drama queen. Mitobe took Kuroko's place without further ado, his head tilting in thanks as Hana handed him a water bottle. On the court, Kuroko and Kagami touched fists before the game began anew.

It was an immediate improvement.

Hanamiya couldn't intercept passes he couldn't predict and Kuroko was anything but predictable. Where the score had once ticked up in Kirisaki Daiichi's favor, they were slowly but surely catching up. Between Kuroko's passes and Hyuuga's renewed three-pointers, it didn't take long to come back. There was two minutes left in the game when they finally surpassed them.

The change in pace also had the added advantage of destroying Hanamiya's final grip on stability. As the score continued to click up in Seirin's favor, his actions grew more erratic. He couldn't pass without Kuroko intercepting and as it continued, his face flushed in fury. He spat something out at the smaller boy on the court before Furuhashi passed to him.

That's where things went wrong.

In a perfect mimicry of the attack he'd done against Hyuuga, Hanamiya's elbow rammed through the air.

Hana barely had time to scream, "Move!"

Thankfully, she didn't have to. Kuroko was already moving, his body jerking back and away from the attack with speed she didn't know the boy had. Blue eyes met Hanamiya's dark glare, a snarl building between his cheeks as he panted down at Kuroko's startled face.

"Personal foul! Number four!" The referee called out, less than a minute on the clock, "Player four out!"

Time clicked to a standstill as Hanamiya realized what he'd done. The ball between his palms dropped to the floor, rolling toward Kiyoshi as Hanamiya stared at the referee in silence. Like a bomb waiting to go off. Hana couldn't hear what he said, only able to see the way Hanamiya rammed his shoulder into Kuroko's arm before marching off the court.

"He's out," Riko whispered, watching as Yamazaki got called in as substitute, "That's— that's never happened."

"He's more than out," Hana's focus was on the referees, the two of them discussing something in quiet tones before the senior referee nodded, "They're taking notes. Kirisaki Daiichi is royally screwed."

It was a shame Izuki wasn't there to appreciate the pun. You know, uncrowned kings and royal? Whatever. As she watched Hanamiya kicked a water bottle under the bleacher, Hana couldn't help but grin. For the first time that day, she felt like she'd actually done something. Something useful.

The final few minutes of the game went on without a hitch. Without Hanamiya on the court, Kirisaki Daiichi struggled. Individually, the players were decent, but they were held together by Hanamiya's cruel reign. Without it— they were just ordinary players facing off against a team fully outside of their ranking.

When the final buzzer rang, it did so with the cheers of the audience.

The sound crept over the court like a wave— shock, pride, awe sinking into the faces of each of her teammates before realization hit. Hyuuga was the first to move, wrapping his arm around Kiyoshi and tugging him into a hug that Izuki joined in on. There was a suspicious wetness on her captain's face, but Hana kept that observation to herself.

"Hell yes!" Instead, Hana threw her arms up, snatching Riko in a hug that nearly toppled them to the floor, "We're going to the Winter Cup!"

"We did it—" Riko cried into Hana's shoulder, her arms too tight around the shorter girl's waist, "We did it!"

Before they could catch their balance, the rest of the team on the bleachers was atop of them. Fukuda practically brought them both to the ground, Koganei's wild laughter cheering them on. Tsuchida helped them to their feet, but even he was smiling at the victory. When Mitobe lifted them both in the air, Hana laughed.

We did it!

xXx

The sun was just dipping below the sky when their team finally made it out of the stadium.

Rubbing a hand over her sore shoulder, Hana glowered at the back of Mitobe's head, "I can't believe you dropped me."

The taller player refused to look back at her, but Hana caught the way the tips of his ears burned red as he ducked his head bashfully. Koganei snickered at his side, but for once he didn't try to translate Mitobe's silent remark. Probably trying to save the boy's dignity. I'll remember this.

"Here, Hana—" Kiyoshi chuckled, handing over the icepack he'd been holding against his arm, "You can use this."

"Dude, I'm not taking your ice," she waved him off, hiding behind Riko when the friendly giant continued to hold it in her direction, "You need that way more than I do."

"You know, I've been meaning to ask," Izuki stopped a few feet ahead of them, twisting on his heel and raising his brow at the spectacle, "When did you two get on first name terms?"

That was a good question. Canting her gaze toward Kiyoshi, Hana quirked a brow in question, "Yeah, since when did that happen? You just kind of did it."

"Ah— well," suddenly sheepish, Kiyoshi scrubbed at the back of his neck before he looked up at the sunset, "You were just telling us about your past, it felt right."

Koganei suddenly jumped into the conversation, quite literally. His sharp finger was pointed at her chest with a grin, "Does that mean I can call you Hana-chan too?"

From the back of their group, she heard Kuroko sigh.

"I guess?" Hana hesitated, casually pushing the upperclassman's finger out of her face, "I don't really care anymore. You guys can all call me Hana if you want—" she rolled her eyes before admitting, "God knows everyone else does."

A range of expressions occurred at that. Furihata ducked his head to hide his sudden blush, but it was Hyuuga's scoff that caught Hana's attention, "I'm not doing that."

"Okay, everyone except you then."

Hyuuga's mouth opened in afront before his eyes suddenly went wide behind his glasses. Hana didn't have a chance to look into the change— the sudden snatch of the back of her shirt jolting her back as she was unceremoniously yanked around.

Before she had a chance to blink, hands latched around her collar and pulled.

"You," hot air coasted her face as Torio snarled down at her, "You and I need to talk."

For once, she was speechless. She heard Kagami in the background, but her focus was fully on the angry teenager in front of her, "About what? Let go of me you—"

Her threat got cut short. Torio's face was a mess. Hana thought the cut lip was bad— but that had nothing on this. His face was a mess of red and purple splotches, the skin under his eye inflamed and swelling. There was also a suspicious lack of eyebrow piercing.

"You're going to give me those notes," Torio yanked her closer to his chest, his hands moving to her shoulders to keep her still, "If you know what's good for you, you're going to listen to me, Hana."

He was shoved off her before she could finish. Kagami took his place, his arm wide as he snarled at the rival manager, "What the hell do you think you're doing? Don't touch her!"

"Do you understand what you've done?" Ignoring Kagami, which was a sight of itself, Toio nearly spit at her from across his shoulder, "You've ruined everything—"

That was bold of him to say. Like really? Use your brain. Riko suddenly came up on Hana's left side, letting Hyuuga take her right as their coach crossed her arms angerly over her chest. Torio went to lunge again, but Kagami kept him back— not even grimacing at the push.

"I ruined it?" Hana snapped back, "You're the one who made all this shit! I didn't do anything except show Hanamiya how much of a backstabbing bitch you are!"

That was not what he wanted to hear. His eyes went black, fury eclipsing his expression as he snapped, "Do you see what he did, Hana?! You did this because you wouldn't listen—"

"Save it, Torio," shaking her head, Hana took a step back all while gifting him the nasty look she could muster, "I don't want to hear it— you got what you deserved."

And more. Hana didn't want to be in his shoes, that's for sure. The fallout from the Kirisaki Daiichi game must have put Hanamiya in a mood. Unfortunately, Hana couldn't find it in herself to be sorry for him. He'd brought this all onto himself. She'd honestly be surprised if he survived the rest of the school year.

Oh, well. Do stupid shit, win stupid prizes.

"You're useless!" Snarling like a feral dog, Torio pushed Kagami's hand out of the way to grab at her, "You think you've won! You haven't done anything—"

Whatever he intended to say was cut off by his face lurching sideways, teeth clacking as the force of the punch nearly knocked him off his feet. Kagami jerked, cursing as the boy suddenly went down. Red eyes flew to the culprit, nearly bugging out of his head as he stared at her.

"Ow, ow, ow—" Hana winced, rubbing at her knuckles, "That hurt so much more than it did last time. What the hell?"

Riko made a noise low in her throat, hazel eyes wide as she gaped at Hana's hand. Behind her, Kiyoshi coughed. Hana wouldn't firmly say it was laughter, but it sounded close. Knew basketball daddy had a sadistic side. Kagami hadn't stopped staring at her. She was beginning to worry his face had gotten stuck.

Torio gaped up at her, palms flat against the sidewalk, "You bitch—"

"Dude, it's over," Hana grumbled, cradling her sore hand to her chest. It didn't stop her expression from souring at the blood dripping down Torio's eyebrow and to his cheek, "We're done. You lost, I won. Give it up already."

"I'm going to—"

"Do nothing, dumbass," her eyes went sharp, mouth pinching in warning, "Unless you want everyone to know what you did. I may not be friends with Akashi anymore, but you've got a lot of blackmail on his team. Maybe I should call him?"

He didn't say anything in response, but his glare did it for him.

"That's what I thought— ow," rolling her wrist out, Hana turned her attention back to her shellshocked teammates, "Can I have that ice now? I changed my mind."

"Uh, yeah. Here," Kiyoshi blinked slowly as he handed it over, "Are you— okay?"

That was a big question. Taking a second to do a mental inventory, Hana tried to figure out just how she felt about that question. Physically? No, she wasn't fine. Her hand hurt like a bitch. Mentally? Hana was on cloud nine. Akashi could jump out of a bush and she'd hug him. She felt that good.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine," without another glance back at Torio's prone form, Hana began to march down the sidewalk, "We're getting coffee. I think I've earned it."

Nobody argued with that. Frankly, Hana didn't think they could. They were still staring at her like she'd crawled out of her own grave and did the macarena. Dramatic idiots. She didn't wait for them to follow, more than happy to get away from the stadium and embrace the warm coffee soon to be in her future.

Wrapped up in her thoughts, she didn't notice the way Kuroko lingered just long enough to see a shadow stepping out from behind the staircase.

If he happened to catch sight of red eyes—

Well, he didn't say anything.

X

On Monday morning, Hana had a leash waiting for her atop her desk.

She sighed.


Thanks for the love! I really enjoyed the comments last chapter and the insight you guys as readers are giving me. It means a ton!