••••••••••••
Chapter Six
What happens in Teikou bleeds out to the rest of the world
••••••••••••
Some people would call it an accident but Midorima knows better and calls it fate. After all, it's not like him to forget things in his locker, no matter that he'd just started using it yesterday – when he became an official member of the Teikou basketball club.
He's surprised to find that the gymnasium lights are still on. Maybe the custodians aren't done yet so he decides not to worry about wasted electricity. His shoes make no sound as he walks past the court, eyes longingly staring at the three-point line where he'd vowed to never miss another shot.
The locker room door squeaks as he enters, trying to be silent despite the knowledge that everyone else had left. He passes rows of lockers until he gets to the backmost aisle where all the freshmen are assigned. Midorima is running the numbers of his locker combination in his head but it all stops when he comes upon a sight that's he was never meant to see (or was, depending on your beliefs.)
Midorima stares, mute.
Akashi has never looked so scared, pulling the towel to cover everything that's not meant to be seen. "What are you doing here?"
"I left my textbook. There's an assignment due tomorrow," Midorima says in a plaintive tone as though he hasn't received the shock of a lifetime. They stare at each other for an eternity that lasts some five seconds. "Excuse me." He passes Akashi and heads over to his locker, calm and collected.
Meanwhile, Akashi hurriedly clothes himself in more layers than what's comfortable in the summer weather. He fixes his crooked tie and turns to find that Midorima has gone. Panic strikes him and he makes a dash for the door where his teammate is just about to leave.
"Midorima!"
Pausing in his steps, Midorima turns to Akashi with an expression of polite curiosity. "Yes?"
Akashi steels himself, at a loss of words. He expects to be bombarded with all kinds of invasive questions. In the worst case scenario, he might be threatened but this… Midorima's neutral reaction… It's disconcerting. "Aren't you going to say anything?" Akashi scrutinizes his taller teammate.
"I presume it's a private matter and if the coach has allowed it, then I can't complain." Midorima states, coolly. "The coach is aware, isn't he?"
Akashi nods. "So does our captain and all authorities of note."
"Then I have no questions though I must apologize for walking in on you. It won't happen again. I'll see you tomorrow, Akashi." Midorima inclines his head in farewell, moving out the door in an unhurried pace.
Left in the locker room, Akashi finds his heart to be calmed by those words. Not having to explain himself is a refreshing experience.
••••••••••••
Akashi watches Midorima closely the next day. The guy is a loner, but he's already made that clear during tryouts. He goes through the routines in strict silence, honing his still-imperfect form under the upperclassmen's tutelage. Midorima is very reserved but maybe that's just his excuse for ignoring Akashi the whole time.
Once practice is done with, Akashi stays behind as usual. He passes the time until the lockers clear out by chatting with Nijimura. In their quiet corner of the bleachers, Akashi divulges that he's been discovered but there's no need for panic since it's only Midorima.
"Midorima, huh," Teikou's Captain muses, rubbing at his chin. "He's a promising player with all that height and focus."
Akashi agrees. "But he plays alone."
"Well, we're going to have to work on that," Nijimura replies with an easy shrug. "You could use some friends of your own, Akashi-kun."
••••••••••••
"If you really want to improve then you have to go beyond the normal drills."
Midorima lowers his shooting arm, turning towards Akashi who has taken the spot beside him. He adjusts his glasses, giving way.
Akashi palms the ball passed to him, eyes set on the hoop looming high above. He jumps to make for his lack in stature and the ball soars right in. "I can talk to the captain about giving you extra practice time," he informs Midorima.
"I can talk to him just fine," Midorima replies, a little suspicious. "What is your true purpose?"
Akashi leads him towards the bleachers to get some privacy. Seating himself on a higher tier to keep on level with Midorima, Akashi explains. "I have decided to trust you."
Blinking, Midorima's lips quirk down. "I appreciate that but what you're really asking is for a cover. It'll be suspicious for you to keep staying late by yourself."
"It won't be suspicious if I'm staying late for practice with a teammate," Akashi smiles, knowing that the odds are his favor. "You can perfect your technique on court and maybe warn me if someone's coming into the lockers while I take care of my business."
Midorima tells himself he's only doing it for the extra practice time. If he wants to succeed, he has to do everything in his power to achieve his goals.
••••••••••••
In the stillness of the court, the rubber ball makes a perfect arc towards the hoop. Midorima wipes the sweat off his brow and picks another one from the cage. He gets into position, left-hand fingers supporting most of the ball's weight. 89…
"Hey, Midorima, a little help here?"
Midorima jerks, releasing the ball prematurely. The clang of the ring and scoreboard when the basketball ricochets off them is a cacophony to his ears. He glares at the head poking from the locker rooms. "What do you want, Akashi?"
"The clamps aren't holding, I think they're broken. Come see."
Abandoning his shooting practice with a long-suffering sigh, Midorima goes into the locker rooms where Akashi is waiting for him with his fasteners and a long measure of gauze. Midorima inspects the metal clamps, finding the springs loosened; he tries to reattach them to no avail. "Your best bet is to buy new ones," he informs Akashi. "Or get a quality binder. I've found reputable online stores that sell them." When Akashi merely stares at him, his expression turns bashful. "What?"
Akashi hums, gathering his things. The light blue shirt he wears isn't buttoned down, showing plenty of what he's trying to hide upfront. He levels his red eyes at Midorima, intrigued. "You're different from the others," he says, putting his gym bag together. "You don't look. You don't question. What are you, Midorima Shintaro?"
"I'm only human," Midorima replies, somewhat terse. He's asked himself those same questions but have not come up with the right answer.
"Mm, that's what you think," Akashi says, buttoning up his uniform and putting on his tie. "You're moving farther and farther from the three-point line as you practice. What exactly are you trying to achieve?"
"Same as everyone else. A starting position."
"And after that?"
"…"
Akashi looks down at himself, fully dressed now but with evident convexities where there shouldn't be. His purses his lips and bears it. Looking back at Midorima, he nods. "If you can't admit it to me, that's fine. The first step is always accepting it yourself."
••••••••••••
"Hey Mido-chin~"
"Yes, Murasakibara?"
"How come Aka-chin doesn't have a penis?"
Midorima chokes on air, glad that he had put away his drink when the taller teen chose to ask him that question. He raises narrowed eyes at the guy who's stuffing his cheeks with sugar-coated snacks. "How am I supposed to know?"
"Well~" Murasakibara chews slowly. "You're the smart one~ So tell me~"
If they weren't in the relative isolation of the gymnasium, Midorima wouldn't have dared breach the topic. But as it is, practice is over and the new captain has all the other members leave once the clean-up is done (Murasakibara being an exception since he has fallen asleep and only recently woke at the sound of Midorima's shooting.) Midorima is having a drink while they both wait for Akashi to come out of the locker rooms. "I am in no position to tell but I am curious as to how you can say such things…"
Taking his time to unwrap another snack, Murasakibara answers in a childish tone. "Well, I can't help but see over the other stalls when I use the bathroom… Not my fault they don't make the cubicle walls higher… And Aka-chin is always sitting down, so~"
"So you jumped to conclusions?" Midorima sniffs.
Murasakibara shrugs.
"That's not a very nice habit, Atsushi."
The pair on the bleachers turn towards the voice. Akashi's steps are easy as he comes up to them. He hands a pair of scissors back to Midorima who stores it carefully in his bag. "Sorry, I took so long. The cutting is a chore but it has to be done." Akashi sweeps nimble fingers over the jagged edges of his hair. Turning his gaze over to Murasakibara, he speaks again. "You are not to repeat those words again, understood?"
"But I don't like secrets~" Murasakibara pouts, curiosity winning over the imminent danger that's hanging over him. There's a spark of rabid attention under the lazy droop of his eyelids.
"It's not a secret now that you know it, Atsushi," Akashi states calmly. Too-calmly in fact, that Midorima is a little worried. "And I don't think it makes any difference after the fact that I have beaten you."
"Mmm…" Murasakibara lolls his head from side to side, humming as he deliberates. "I guess that's true…"
"It is," Akashi nods, satisfied. "You don't want me peering into your stall now, do you, Atsushi? With all the ruckus going on in there, I might have to report you."
Midorima narrows his eyes confusedly at Murasakibara who has started giggling. "What…?"
"But it's so nice to see them try…" Murasakibara licks at the cream filling that's smudged at the corner of his lips.
Akashi sighs at the predictable response. "It can't be helped that most teenagers have very curious minds but it wouldn't do to invite trouble like that."
"I'm not going through any trouble, though," Murasakibara says, sucking the powdered sugar off his fingers. "I just sit and let them do all the work…"
Out of the corner of his eye, Akashi watches as Midorima tries to hide his discomfort by shuffling the deck of cards that is his lucky item for the day. Maybe it was a bad idea to get the guy hooked on Oha Asa but no matter – Midorima's playing gets better every day since he believes that nothing can go wrong and neither of them can complain about that.
Midorima is distantly aware of what Murasakibara is talking about and not too long ago he'd confessed to Akashi himself how he'd found no inclination towards such things. He was one step away from consulting a doctor, to see what's wrong with him because what he is experiencing cannot be a product of admirable self-control or extreme discipline. No matter how traditional his upbringing, it certainly couldn't have resulted in such a backwards attitude.
Akashi looked up at him then, dead-serious over their half-finished shogi game and told him to never again compare himself with other people. They're not like him, not like them. Those people aren't at their level, they are unworthy. The glint of gold in his left eye gave Midorima no room for argument.
You and me, we're special, Akashi had said, impressing those words upon him with utmost certainty that Midorima found it impossible to contradict. He didn't want to. People called him – them – the Generation of Miracles. A superfluous moniker that he could be laughing at but instead takes pride in. By virtue of it, he will become untouchable. Unquestionable.
He's glad that he talked to Akashi first.
Midorima meets Akashi's eyes now, thinking that he's seen the same flash of gold as back then but it could just be the ceiling lights. Somehow, he knows that Akashi is remembering the same thing. The ace of spades is face up on his deck.
"To each his own, then," Akashi states, smiling at his shooting guard and center. With these two and the rest of the Teikou team, he is guaranteed a win for any and all upcoming competitions.
••••••••••••
Midorima's heart is pounding as he cuts through the school halls. Classes are on-going and he might be missing an important lecture but an issue of greater importance pulls at his feet. His phone presses against his leg as he runs up the flight of stairs, a cold deadweight in his pocket.
He stops in front of third floor bathroom, unsurprised to find the door locked from inside. Checking himself, Midorima wills his breathing to even out before knocking thrice on the door. "Akashi, it's me."
For the first few seconds there's no noise, then he hears something muffled, pained. Midorima swallows and knocks again. "Open this door." Let me help. You called for me, right? Let me do my job… as your vice-captain, your confidante, your friend.
This time he hears footsteps, uneven and halting. Midorima's hands helplessly curl into fists by his side. He can do nothing but wait and when the knob finally turns, he all but forces the door the rest of the way open.
He's met with a blank face and heterochromic eyes. Akashi's expression has been wiped clean of the panic he must've worn when he called Midorima not more than five minutes ago, urgent and pleading for the latter to come find him. "I am sorry for disrupting your learning, Shintaro," Akashi says, prim and collected as though his pristine pants aren't soaked in red.
Midorima can't bear to look into those eyes. He finds the trail of blood behind Akashi to be somewhat more comforting in the most skewed way imaginable. "You should go to the nurse."
"I am not sick." Akashi is deadly with that disengaged tone. "Only sick people are required to visit the medical ward."
This isn't Akashi, Midorima has to remind himself to keep from reaching out and touching the mannequin's face. He adjusts his glasses instead, sight blurring even as he speaks. "The nurse has a change of clothes. You can't expect to resume classes in your state."
Akashi looks down at himself, a slight pout surfacing as he muses. "I suppose you're right." He moves past Midorima and makes his way down towards the school clinic.
Midorima grabs a mop from the bathroom and locks it with his exit. He dutifully cleans after the other teen, letting not a single drop remain in their wake. Goodness knows people have seen him carrying more ridiculous items than a mop in these halls.
Akashi's pants are soaked through by the time they reach the clinic. The school doctor quickly whisks him away to another room and Midorima follows until the door is shut in his face. A friendly nurse approaches him and takes the mop from his hands, bringing it to the bathroom to clean up. She thanks him for his assistance and he tells her there's a bigger mess in the males' bathroom on the third floor.
••••••••••••
Akashi has been forever changed. Then again, they all have – changed for the worse as Kuroko would say. Teikou's basketball team has become unstoppable in their quest for victory. They are no longer the Generation of Miracles but a band of monsters out to destroy everyone that stands in their way.
Midorima makes his shots from the half-court line and Aomine charges through every defense, racking up points that dishearten even the bravest souls. Kise uses their opponents' strengths against them and Murasakibara personifies an impenetrable wall, dooming all attempts to score. Akashi never loses and Kuroko quits the team.
••••••••••••
Kuroko stares at the trophies lined up in neat rows beyond the glass, glinting under the low light and taunting him with the accolades but he isn't moved. Not when there's not a single smiling face in the accompanying photos. Well, there used to be but not anymore.
It's more than the philosophy that he's leaving behind, he tells himself, eyeing the first photo that includes him – smiling shyly under the arm wrapped around his shoulders. Aomine has shone blindingly bright even back then but there's a darkness in his eyes now that scares Kuroko as much as it challenges him to do something about it. And he does, he plans to.
He looks at the next photo and there he can see how they've become more than just acquaintances, a true team to be reckoned with, renowned for generations to come. Aomine's smile rivaled the sun that day when his raw talent started to bloom. No matter what Akashi would claim, Kuroko knows that he had found out first. He was Aomine's shadow after all, and even now he can still…
No. Kuroko refuses to go there. Not right now. Maybe some time in the future but not when the wounds are still fresh. It's all partly his fault for hoping against hope and now he must learn to stand on his own. He envies Momoi for not giving up, he wishes he had even just half of her valiant grace but he also knows that such qualities would only be wasted on him; he is but a shadow, after all. It's in his nature to find a new light.
The slam of the doors behind him is final. His first step out of these sacred halls is the hardest but after that decisive move, the rest are easy.
••••••••••••
In retrospect, Kuroko shouldn't have expected for things to be so easy since they rarely do end up as such. He lay in his bed that first night, unblinking. His new light is much like Aomine; too much, in fact, that he supposes he does have a type. But this one's a little more ragged around the edges, practically shiny-new from the metaphorical box that he came from.
Kagami-kun is loud, a shameless glutton, and so unapologetically pure that Kuroko feels like some evil mastermind from those novels he constantly carries around. Kagami-kun loves basketball, with all his mind, all his heart, and it shows. It makes Kuroko's heart soar, it rings something deep in his very soul.
With Kagami he stands a chance. With Kagami he proves his point to his former teammates. The wins are just a bonus, his true reward lies in the rekindled friendships and the new ones he bridges. Midorima would probably call such partnership a product of fate, and if Kuroko is inclined to believe so, well, Midorima doesn't need the satisfaction of knowing.
Actually, it's a little amusing that the offish shooting guard has become a light by his own right and found himself a shadow to boot. Takao reminds Kuroko of Kise, albeit with a lot more common sense. This Takao is gifted, though by no means on the same level as the Generation of Miracles or Kagami. Despite this, his partnership with Midorima makes them a formidable opponent on court. What Kuroko didn't expect to have to compete off of it as well.
He turns, displacing the covers as he reaches for the phone on his bedside table. Sleep refuses to grant him reprieve, as a result his mind is flooded with hoards of meaningless questions. His body is tired from the afternoon's drills and he vaguely wonders how Midorima does it, shooting perfectly, endlessly, day after day. The photo loads and his eyes are glued to Kagami's honest smile – one that Kuroko would never tire of seeing, one that he selfishly wants to be the sole recipient of. Some part of Kuroko gets disheartened the longer he stares at the photo, wishing to be the one beside his light.
If his suspicions are correct, then he really has no luck with love. Maybe he shouldn't have devoted himself so much to Kagami, maybe he should've waited longer after Aomine before finding a replacement, maybe his lack of sleep is making him think irrationally because he knows – he knows it on the most intimate level of his being – that Kagami sees him in the same way. It's in the little things – that one burger from the stack reserved for him, the second longer that Kagami lingers when hugging him after a winning game, the noble (and amusing) effort Kagami puts in dealing with Nigou when he thinks Kuroko isn't looking. He loves the way Kagami has threaded so seamlessly into his life, the balance of power shared between them – pulsing and passionate, promising. Kuroko very much wants them to acknowledge this possibility, wants this dream to become a reality much like the way all the others have.
He wants everything with Kagami.