A/N: Well, Classic here! I have certainly never written anything like this before, so I hope that this is to your liking. Many thanks go to Lassitude, the crack artist, for her crackifying, and to "Chameleon" for providing some interesting inspiration. We hope you enjoy reading this!
Warning: Midorima + Crack.
Disclaimer: We do not own Kuroko no Basuke nor its characters
"...Cancer will have the worst luck today. Woe to the Libra that crosses your path, but beware any run-ins with Scorpios. Counter your bad luck with your lucky item of the day: an IV drip!" The perky sound of the Oha-Asa rang out from his phone.
Midorima paled considerably as he heard the foreboding statement. He nearly dropped the phone he held in his hand - except, that would bring even worse luck to him if he did that and managed to shatter the screen - so he grabbed it tightly, as if it was a lucky item in itself.
Thinking quickly, Midorima flipped the phone that he had snapped shut back open and dialled a number.
"Takao," He said the moment his call was picked up. "Do not come within a 500m radius of me today."
Without waiting for any sort of acknowledgement, he slammed his phone back shut. Now he was to get to his routine. Everything had to be exact and precise today to prevent the Gods of Misfortune from raining sh*t down on his smooth Gatsby-fied hair.
He mentally went through the steps in his head, although it really was second nature to him by now.
1. He had to comb his hair with 50 strokes of his cyan comb - because deep red was Scorpio's colour and cyan was its complementary colour.
2. He had to...
3. He had to...
4. He had to...
5. He had to file his nails and re-bandage his fingers as he did every day - because... well... this was not to be questioned.
6. He had to get his lucky item before the clock struck 8.12am - because his life today depended on it.
Failure to accomplish such critical a task would certainly result in disastrous consequences.
(Such as…for a very brief moment, an image flashed before his mind. He would be wearing a full black tux, a single red rose tucked away in his breast pocket, hair looking glamorous thanks to Gatsby, as he stood before his audience. And then everything would be spoilt when Takao, clad in a pure white gown, strutted down the aisle, grinning like the idiot he thought itself made Midorima's brain – and stomach – launch into spasms. He almost jumped into a hypothetical bush, but even that would be too embarrassing.)
But that was beside the point. Right now, all he needed to do was acquire his lucky item.
Except… should he order an IV-drip from the Oha-Asa? He had not broken his tradition of ordering his items from them since the start of the first lunar month of the year. Yet, would it be more beneficial for him to instead use an IV-drip from his father's hospital? Blood relations usually proved fortuitous, and having grown up as a doctor's son, he was all too acquainted with the importance of cleanliness. The risk of infection - which could affect his hand - was far too high.
He imagined his slender fingers swelling up with the 5 cardinal signs of inflammation (Tumor - swelling, Calor - heat, Rubor - redness, Dolor - pain, and... the most dreaded: Functio laesa - loss of function) and nearly fainted at the thought.
That simply would not do.
He looked at his watch (that was on the un-bandaged hand, of course). He had precisely 46 minutes to get to the hospital and find himself his lucky item. So, he did what any sensible person with a one-track mind would do. He ran. Not before putting on one of his shades with a smirk (swag). No one would ever recognise him.
Except, he was. He did not understand how.
"No."
As his father laid down his final verdict, Midorima felt the world beginning to spin around him. He blinked multiple times, fighting to keep himself steady and not crash to the ground.
MIDORIMA SHINTAROU
If asked to describe him, the words that would invariably be said would include:
(Tsundere)
Focused.
Confident.
...Eccentric.
The secret behind his confidence, focus and any other tendency was none other than his eccentricity.
It was because of his strange outlook on life that he could not be considered normal. His belief in destiny, horoscope, luck and many of what others considered occult mobilised him and gave him strength. It was all organised in his mind - a mysterious labyrinth of carefully ordered routines and well-defined patterns. He would retrace the same steps every day, lucky item in hand. It was integral to him. A guide lamp that was ever-changing, yet in essence, always the same - at least, in his mind.
It was all in the mind.
All one needed to do was deny him that light, and he would be lost and left stumbling around in the dark.
So, he made sure it never happened.
Until it did.
.
.
.
It was 8.11.
He had failed.
Being distraught, mildly hysterical and simply because he was reeling in the wake of the peril he found himself in, he answered the call - without looking at the identity of the caller.
"Shin-chan!"
3.456789s later, a nurse pushing an IV drip and a trolley full of medical probes and equipment crashed into him.
A first aid box hit his head.
He hit the floor (the floor hit him?).
He heard a shrill scream.
And then the darkness came.
When he awoke 2 hours later, he was lying in a bed in hospital ward 1-A. He must have been hallucinating, for he thought he saw a pair of heterochromatic eyes observing him coolly from the bed next to his. That particular set of red and yellow eyes.
...At least he had his IV drip next to him.
May lady luck grace him.
