Chapter 5: Remember When

Summary: In which Furihata embarrasses himself more than once.

Furihata cannot believe he ran away.

Well, not exactly. Furihata didn't actually 'run'. It was more of an awkward sequence of avoiding any and all eye contact throughout the whole operation of 1) discreetly retrieving his bag from Akashi 2) walking backwards away with it 3) realizing how dumb that looked, hence, 4) turning around to walk the other way and 5) tripping over his own leg and falling flat on his face in the process. His suitcase slammed to the floor right beside him as though to mock his failure.

Furihata then proceeded to clumsily get up and speed-walked off to the elevator, only to remember that he's left his bag lying right where it fell the exact moment the elevator arrived. This resulted in a mad rush for the bag then back to the elevator – which, unsurprisingly, failed, the doors closing just as Furihata reached them. Typical.

Thus, Furihata was left standing there waiting for the next elevator, embarrassed beyond measure and fidgeting inelegantly under the scrutiny of Akashi Seijuuro's eyes. Meanwhile Akashi – complete with familiar demonic orbs which intensified about eightfold in the past ten years – stood there watching him with a mildly amused smile, making Furihata wish the floor would just open up and swallow him whole.

It has been five hours since then, and Furihata is still trying to get over the humiliation.

Because, really, why did he run away anyways? It wasn't like there was anything to run away from. It's not like they parted on bad terms – in fact, far from that. And yet, something about the way Akashi had looked at him, the way those lips curled into a sly smirk, that made Furihata's nerves scream 'danger'.

Which is ridiculous, because Akashi isn't dangerous. Furihata had raised the boy, for heaven's sake, there is no way Akashi could be dangerous... right?

And yet, when the ryokan staff came to hand Furihata a note from one Akashi Seijuuro, Furihata cannot help the tiny high-pitched squeak of fear that escapes from the back of his throat.

"...Furihata, are you alright?"

Izuki furrows his brows when he comes back to the room to find Furihata hugging his knees, as still as stone on the bed, eyes boring into a piece of paper sitting by his feet.

"Yes. No. Um." Furihata looks up helplessly, "I- I don't know?"

Izuki blinks. "Oo-kay. Let me see that?"

Furihata gingerly hands the note over by his fingertips, as though the piece of paper is highly radioactive.

"Hmm, let's see, let's see, 'Meet me tonight, 19.00, at my suite. I will have dinner prepared for us. I believe we have much to catch up on. - A. S.'" Izuki raises his brows, his lips curling into a little grin, "Hehh? What's this? Sounds like you've got a date – who's this lucky A. S. person?"

"Oh, n-no, no, it isn't anything remotely like a date at all!" Furihata shakes his head, waving his hands frantically in front of him. "I-it's, um, he's just a kid I used to take care of."

"Hehh? He doesn't sound like a kid. Or writes like one – look at how immaculate this handwriting is!"

"Ano- well, it's been almost ten years since I've last seen him. So he's like- um..." Furihata counts the years on his fingers, "Eighteen. Yes, Akashi-kun should be around eighteen."

"Ahh. I see. That can be a little strange seeing them after so long." Izuki nods, before he pauses, and cocks his head to one side. "Wait a second. What did you say his name was?"

"Eh? Akashi. Akashi Seijuuro. Why?"

"Akashi, Akashi... sounds familiar, for some reason." Izuki shrugs. "Oh well. I'll tell you when I remember. Shouldn't you be heading off for this dinner already, by the way?"

"Huh? What time is it?" Furihata perks up. "Don't tell me-"

"Seven minutes past seven pm." Izuki shows him his watch, blinking the numbers '19:07' condescendingly at Furihata.

"Eh?!"

"You're late, Kouki."

'Kouki.' There's something peculiar about the way Akashi says his name that Furihata can't place his finger on. There is definitely somethingunderlying the tone of Akashi's voice, something odd, but Furihata doesn't know what exactly is off about it.

Akashi is standing in the doorway to his suite draped in a dark blue yukata, leaning on the doorframe with one shoulder – arms crossed, crimson eyes wide and staring. Still staring, even after all these years. Some things never change, it seems.

Furihata dips into a shallow bow before him. "I-I'm really sorry! I forgot to look at the time and before I knew it-"

"It is alright." Akashi cuts him off with a simple wave of his hand. "To be honest, I'm pleasantly surprised you even showed up. Judging from your reaction to meeting me earlier on."

"A-ano... sorry about that, too." Furihata flushes at the memory.

"No matter. You're here, now." Akashi's lips quirk into a serene smile, pushing off the doorframe and angling his body so that Furihata can enter his room.

Furihata shuffles past him, getting a whiff of Akashi's cologne – smooth ice, spicy sandalwood – and Furihata freezes, because gone is that mildly sweet shampoo scent of a child; Akashi smells like a man.

"Is something the matter?" Akashi tilts his head, watching Furihata.

Furihata shakes his head, mumbling, "Oh, n-nothing."

"Hm?" Akashi leans towards him, red orbs on Furihata, leaning closer and closer until he is just about looming over Furihata, placing one hand above his head on the doorframe.

"U-um..."

"You haven't grown much taller since high school, have you?" Akashi suddenly asks – his face and voice all too close for Furihata's comfort.

"I- I don't think so?"

"How tall are you exactly?"

"Eh- I'm not entirely sure..." Furihata shifts awkwardly, not knowing where to look when Akashi is taking over about ninety percent of his scope of vision.

"I see." Akashi says, non-committal. Then with one last look at Furihata, he pulls back, much to the other's relief.

Furihata politely ducks under Akashi's arm and steps into his room, Akashi closing the door behind them. He motions for Furihata to take a seat at the kotatsu in the centre of the suite whilst he excuses himself to his bedroom section for a moment. Furihata, left alone, barely manages not to gawk at the array of food on the table – fresh king crab meat, sashimi, tempura, and is that-?

Furihata cannot help but chuckle fondly, grinning from ear to ear.

"Is there something amusing?" Akashi returns, a glass bottle in his hand, and moves to sit at the kotatsu as well.

Furihata smiles at him, cheeks dimpling, "I see your liking of tofu soup hasn't changed."

Akashi stills, eyes on Furihata. Those intense red orbs seem to deepen for just a second, then it is gone. Akashi sits behind the kotatsu and props his elbow on the table, casually leaning his chin on his palm. "Ah. I suppose it is only normal."

"Hm? What do you mean?"

Akashi flits his eyes back up to stare straight into Furihata's, "My liking of many things hasn't changed."

Furihata blinks. "E-eh?"

"Itadakimasu." Akashi picks up his chopsticks.

"Ano... itadakimasu." Furihata isn't given the opportunity to push into the subject any further.

They dine with Akashi's laptop playing soft music in the background, talking occasionally. Akashi asks about Furihata's job, humming agreeably when Furihata tells him he is now a school teacher. Akashi is not at all surprised that Furihata chose to go into a career involving children – after all, Furihata managed to deal with Akashi as a child, and that is no small feat. Furihata, in turn, asks about Akashi's school life and his plans for the future.

"University of Tokyo? That's incredible!" Furihata gapes, chopsticks paused before his mouth.

"Thank you." Akashi replies automatically, like he's done it a hundred times before. Furihata realises he probably has.

"Ah- but to be honest, I'm not surprised."

Akashi cocks an eyebrow, "Why do you say that?"

"Well, Akashi-kun has always been exceptionally smart, ne? Back when I used to go over to your house you'd beat me in every board and puzzle game there was," Furihata smiles and shakes his head, thinking back to the first time Akashi asked him to play Shogi against him.

'You're not very good at this, Kouki.' Akashi had said, his small fingers resetting the pieces of the board, two little red eyebrows tied into a knot of disapproval.

Furihata chuckles at the memory, "I was twice your age, but you beat me straight-up ten out of ten times."

"Ah. That's right." Akashi's lips curl, nostalgic, remembering. Then, after a pause, "'Akashi-kun'?"

"Huh? What was that?" Furihata looks up from his tempura.

Akashi watches him for a moment, "Nothing."

"Didn't you say something just now?"

"Did I, now? Do you want something to drink, Kouki?" Akashi swiftly changes the subject, pulling out the glass bottle he had previously.

"Eh? U-um, sure," Furihata nods, going with the flow. But then, something on the bottle's label catches his eye. "Is that sake?"

"Yes." Akashi replies easily, pouring Furihata and himself a cup each. "Jukushu sake."

"Jukushu?" The most expensive type. Of course. Furihata really shouldn't be surprised, but the years away from Akashi has lessened his immunity to these sorts of things. "Um... Akashi-kun, how old are you, actually? Because I thought you'd be-"

"Eighteen," Akashi hands Furihata a cup.

"A-ano... excuse me if I'm wrong, but isn't the legal drinking age twenty?"

"Yes. That is correct." Akashi nods, not missing a beat.

Furihata shifts in his seat, staring down at his cup, "U-um... as an educator, I feel like I should s-say something here-"

Akashi actually lets slip a tiny chuckle at that. The sly smirk from before is back on his face, crimson eyes glinting, "Don't pretend like you haven't done it yourself, Kouki."

"But t-technically I shouldn't really-"

"I won't tell."

"T-that's not the point-"

Akashi sighs, though he looks part-amused, "What, then? Should we pinky-promise on it to reassure you?"

Furihata's round brown eyes widen, "That is... y-you remember that?"

"Of course." Akashi raises his cup towards him, "Drink with me, Kouki. It's far better than letting me, a minor, drink all of it myself, is it not?"

"T-that's... that's cheating." Furihata pouts without realising.

"No, it's not cheating," Akashi's smirk only grows wider, "It's 'teamwork'."

Furihata, thus far, has only ever been drunk three times in his life. First time was when he graduated from Seirin High. Second time was during initiations in his first year at Kyoto University. Third was when he graduated from Kyoto, and celebrated getting a job. All three times, a big event, an occasion – not that Furihata remembers much of any of them, but he knows he doesn't allow himself to get fully obliterated unless there is a significant reason for it.

Which is why Furihata is definitely not drunk right now. Not with his still very much underage – even though he doesn't act like it at all – former student. Tipsy? Very much so. But drunk? No. Definitely not.

"Akashi-kuuun. I can't believe you remember everything! Everything, even after all this time!"

Not yet, anyways.

Akashi sits across from Furihata, watching the other's every movement with interest. His chin is propped up in his palm, an amused expression on his face. He didn't expect Furihata to be such a lightweight. Not that Akashi even considered the possibility of Furihata being a heavyweight, but he had expected at least a little more tolerance.

Akashi himself is not anywhere near tipsy. "Are you alright, Kouki?"

"I'm fiiiine." Furihata beams up at him from where his face is planted on the table. "You're not even drunk at all, are you?"

"I'm afraid not." Akashi says, with a quirk to his lips.

"How- how is that even fair?" Furihata scowls, "I'm older than you, y'know?"

"I am aware."

"There you go again, sounding so mature and proper. Just like back then!"

"Back then?"

"Backkk then. When Akashi-kun was just a child."

"I see."

"You were so smart. No, you are so smart. Like- like- a genius. I remember thinking that when I first saw you play Shogi. Your hands were tiny. Ah, you were so little back then..." Furihata drifts off, resting his chin on the table, eyelids drooping.

"Not anymore," Akashi shakes his head.

"Mm...?"

"I'm taller than Kouki, now." He says, with a small note of satisfaction.

"Eh? You are?" Furihata looks up at him again, eyes wide and round. Then, his lips spread into a gentle smile, his eyes smiling with him. "You really have grown a lot, ne?"

"Yes, I-" Akashi pauses when all of a sudden, Furihata reaches over and places his hand atop his head and ruffles his hair fondly.

"I'm glad." Furihata says, dimpling even as his eyes become half-lidded.

Akashi does not move – barely even breathes – as he watches Furihata's eyes flutter shut, his fingers still woven in Akashi's hair. Furihata's eyelashes are still as long as they used to be, he notes, and that pleases him. Not as much as it pleases him that he's taller than Furihata now, but nonetheless.

Slowly, and with care, Akashi removes Furihata's hand from his head. However, he does not let go of him immediately. Instead, Akashi holds Furihata's hand with his own, raising a brow when he sees how his palm nearly envelopes Furihata's entirely – their positions from ten years ago now reversed.

And yet, despite everything that has changed in the past many years of not seeing each other, Furihata's hand is still as warm as Akashi remembers.

"I wonder," Akashi murmurs, running his thumb across the back of Furihata's hand.

"Mm..?" Furihata hums with his eyes still closed and his face fully resting on the table. "Ne, Akashi-kun?"

"What is it, Kouki?" Akashi's voice unintentionally drops a tone, and he doesn't even notice.

"I think-" he pauses, pondering for a moment. "-I think I'm drunk."

Akashi raises a brow, amused, "Yes, I think we've established that."

"But you're not drunk?"

"Not at all."

"Not even, like, a little bit?"

"Not in the slightest."

Furihata frowns at that, and even with his eyes closed he still manages to look confused.

"What's the matter?" Akashi inquires.

Furihata shakes his head, speaking slowly, "If- if you're not drunk, then why...?"

"'Why'?" he repeats.

"Why are you holding my hand?"

The question is so innocent, with absolutely nothing but pure curiosity behind his words. But somehow that makes it worse because Akashi cannot find a genuine answer for this genuine question. There is no answer. He hadn't thought about it when he took Furihata's hand in his own, he just did. Even that by itself is unusual for someone like Akashi, because Akashi always has a plan, a clear purpose to each and every movement. Think first, act later, and never the other way around.

It's been too long since Akashi has done something with absolutely no strategizing beforehand.

"Do you dislike it?" Akashi retorts the question with a question. It avoids having to answer the question itself.

"Nope," Furihata replies instantly. "I'm just- curious."

Akashi remains quiet. Then, he gives Furihata's hand a firm squeeze instead of a verbal response.

Furihata smiles with closed eyes, "That again."

"Hm?"

"This." Furihata squeezes back, "I remember this."

"Do you, now?" Akashi says in a soft voice, intertwining their fingers. Another squeeze.

"Yes," Furihata lets his fingers fall between Akashi's, sighing pleasantly. "I missed this."

Akashi's chest tightens at that, but he ignores the feeling. "Is that so?"

"Mm-hm," Furihata nods, before he turns his head and flutters his eyes slightly open to look at Akashi – those warm caramel-colored orbs melty and glazed over. "I just- yeah. I missed you, mostly."

This time, Akashi cannot ignore the hard clench right behind his sternum. The lurch is strong enough it takes hold of his breath for a second, demanding his attention. His voice reduces to a low hum, "You missed me."

"I did!" he smiles, then giggles a little – and Akashi wishes he wouldn't do that because Furihata giggling only makes the ache, that strange twinge of pain, worse. "Ahh, can you keep a secret, Akashi-kun?"

"Of course."

"Heh, don't tell anyone this, but-" Furihata pauses to lower his voice into a mischeivous whisper, bringing his index finger to his lips, his brown eyes sparkling. "Out of all the children I've met, you're my favourite, y'know."

It really doesn't make any sense that Akashi would find someone – a grown man, not to mention; a man who's almost ten years older than him and quite terribly drunk – this adorable. It doesn't make sense at all.

Akashi squeezes Furihata's hand tight, saying nothing.

"Don't tell anyone, 'kay? I'm not meant to- um, like- have favourites..." Furihata leans his cheek back on to the table and lets his eyes fall shut again. "...or something like that... the proto- protocol and all, that's what the trainers said..."

Akashi lets him ramble on, running the pad of his thumb over the back of Furihata's index finger, watching him silently; the rise and fall of his chest. The way his lips remain slightly parted even after he's stopped speaking. For a while, the room is filled only by the sound of their breaths and the soft music playing in the background.

It isn't until Akashi is certain Furihata has fallen completely asleep that he finally speaks – leaning in close so that he is mere centimeters away from Furihata's cheek, voice barely audible.

"You're my favourite, Kouki."

Another squeeze of his hand. Another whisper.

"Be warned. This time, I'm not letting you go."

Furihata is suffering. Visibly, too, if the comments from his clear-eyed students are anything to go by.

"Furi-sensei! Furi-sensei! Are you dying?"

"Ehh? If Furi-sensei is dying, shouldn't he be in hospital?"

"Baka! Not everyone who's dying is in hospital."

"But they mostly are, though!"

"Furi-sensei kind of looks like he's dying..."

"I know! Maybe we should take Furi-sensei to the hospital!"

"Yeah!"

"Kids, kids," Izuki swoops in to save his colleague before Furihata either collapses to the floor or throws up all over the poor tiny souls crowding over him. "Furi-sensei isn't dying, alright? He's just feeling a little under the weather, so you all have to be on your best behavior and not give him any more trouble, yes?"

"Haiiii." The children chime in unison before trotting off as a group to continue their sight-seeing.

"Ano- thank you very much, senpai," Furihata dips his head – and oh, that's a bad idea, his brain feels like it's going to fall out. Ugh, he is never drinking again. Ever.

"No problem," Izuki pats his shoulder reassuringly. "Everyone's allowed a slip up every now and again. Ne, what were you drinking last night?"

"Um- jukushu sake, I think it was." Even the memory of the drink's name is enough to make Furihata cringe.

Izuki whistles. "Uwoh, posh. Shame, though. I was just about to play a pun about wine."

Furihata decides to humor him, "What about wine?"

Izuki flashes a huge smile, "When you get a wine hangover, it's called a grape depression!"

Ah. Maybe he shouldn't have encouraged him after all. Furihata can only offer a dry smile.

"Oh yeah. By the way, I remember now why the name of your date yesterday sounded so familiar."

"I-it wasn't a date!" Furihata quickly corrects him. Akashi is his former student, for goodness's sake. He used to be the height of Furihata's hip. Granted, that was almost ten years ago, but still.

Izuki shrugs, a teasing grin on his face, "Kind of looked like one when he came to send you off last night, carrying you bridal-style and all."

"W-wha- no way! B-bridal-style?"

"Yup. All to way to your bed, too." Izuki winks.

Furihata groans and buries his face in his hands. How is he ever meant to face Akashi again after this? He doesn't even remember half of the night, let alone the part of how he got back to his room. Who knows what else he had done to embarrass himself?

Izuki laughs and nudges Furihata playfully. "Come on, it's not that bad. He seems like a good kid, anyways."

Furihata thinks that his definition of 'not that bad' must be drastically different from Izuki's. After all, Furihata had to be carried back to bed by a teenager who is his ex-student because he got too drunk and passed out. No. 'Not that bad' is definitely an understatement.

Izuki continues, "I'm actually quite surprised. His reputation makes him sound like an egotistical bastard, but he seemed decent enough when he was tucking you in."

"H-he did wha-" Furihata shakes his head, deciding it is perhaps better not to know about all the details of his utter failure as a human being last night. "Eh? He has a reputation?"

"Oh yes. That's why his name is so familiar. Akashi Seijuuro, right? I recognized him as soon as I saw him. He's part of the Generation of Miracles group in middle and high school basketball. You've heard of them, surely?"

Of course Furihata's heard of them. Who hasn't? The Generation of Miracles and their insane talents are notorious amongst the Japanese basketball community. But Furihata never actually looked them up to find out about the individual members – all he knows is that they are a group of young and ridiculously brilliant basketball players. "A-are you serious? You mean, Akashi-kun is part of them?"

Izuki nods, "He's actually the Captain, I think."

Furihata's jaw drops. Yes, he's well aware that Akashi is beyond exceptional, but this is taking it to a whole different level of downright unfairness.

"Apparently he's a genius Point Guard. I've seen him play in the Interhigh finals, and as a PG myself, I was super impressed."

"Uwah, really..." Furihata is, too, a Point Guard. And everything may be purely coincidental, but Furihata cannot help but feel rather giddy that Akashi – who Furihata thought had probably forgotten all about him after a few years – went into a sport that Furihata loves, and plays the exact same position he plays.

At that point, Furihata's cell phone starts ringing. He excuses himself to pick it up, and almost drops his phone altogether when he sees the name flashing on his screen.

'Akashi Seijuuro'

Furihata fumbles to catch the device, telling himself to pull it together – why is he even panicking, really? – before clumsily pressing the green button. "A-ano... hello?"

[Kouki.]

Akashi's voice sounds even more mature on the phone, his voice smooth like brandy, straight to Furihata's ears.

"Ah, h-hai. Akashi-kun?"

[Yes, it's me.]

"H-how did you get my number?"

[We exchanged numbers last night. Do you not remember?]

"Um..." No. Furihata has absolutely no memory of that whatsoever, thank you, alcohol.

[I suppose that is to be expected, judging from your state of inebriation. How are you feeling?]

"Eh? I'm- I'm okay, thank you." That's a lie. Furihata's head feels like it's on the verge of exploding, but Akashi doesn't need to know that. "Ano... I'm truly sorry for being a burden last night."

[Not at all. Contrary, I rather enjoyed your company.]

"B-but, um, it was still inappropriate behavior on my part..."

[Don't worry yourself over it. I was the one who invited you to drink, thus technically, I am also responsible.]

"Y-you even had to, um, c-carry me back," Furihata flushes, his stuttering becoming worse when he's nervous.

[Ah, yes. That.] Furihata can almost here the sly smirk emerging in Akashi's tone. [Well, Kouki, if it makes you feel any better, you can make it up to me.]

"E-eh? M-make it up to-"

[Meet me at my suite after you put your students to bed. I do not mind the exact time.]

"Huh? A-ano..."

[I'll take that as a yes. See you tonight, Kouki.]

Akashi hangs up.

Furihata stares at his phone.

"He-hehh?!"

"Akashi-kun is in a good mood."

Akashi likes to pretend that he's no longer taken aback when Kuroko Tetsuya randomly appears out of thin air, but sometimes it is more difficult to mask his surprise. Especially when he is not prepared.

"Tetsuya," Akashi calmly looks up from his mobile phone – as though he's known all along that Kuroko has been there – and nods at his former teammate. "I thought you'd be at the onsen with your Seirin Ace."

"His name is Kagami-kun," Kuroko says. "And I've discovered the hard way that I am not very compatible with onsens, so I left Kagami-kun there with Aomine-kun."

Akashi tilts his head, "Your Ace with Daiki? If they start drowning each other I will place all the blame on you."

"His name is Kagami-kun," Kuroko insists. "And I'd like to believe my 'lights', both former and current, have more maturity than that. Also, I think they like each other plenty. They're just very childish about it." He pauses, realising. "Ah. Maybe I shouldn't have left them alone after all."

"Perhaps not." Akashi agrees.

Kuroko raises his eyebrows slightly – Akashi must truly be in agood mood if he's easily agreeing to things, instead of the usual 'yes, you should've known better' response. Not that Kuroko is complaining. Akashi in an agreeable mood is like Christmas; it doesn't come by very often and, therefore, should be celebrated.

As Kuroko excuses himself and drifts off back to the onsen area, he wonders whether Akashi's good mood has anything to do with the picture he was looking at on his cell phone before he realised Kuroko was there:

The picture of a young man with fluffy brown hair sleeping on a kotatsu table, his hand intertwined with (what Kuroko is pretty certain looks like) Akashi's own.

A/N: I'm so sorry this update is late! Feel free to throw things at me for being a horrible person leaving y'all on a cliffhanger last time. It's just University re-started again and everything's much busier than I expected it to be. Alas, updates are going to be much slower now – I won't give false promises, but I'll try my best to update at least once every month or so.

Also, WHOA. 100+ followers and favourites? How- wha- ehh? That's amazing! Thank you so much for all your support and reviews! :)