Author's Note: Okay, so quite a bit happens in this chapter! Sorry for taking so long to update! (Only like a week, but I'd planned to be updating only every few days with this story. So sorry!) Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy, of course!

Chapter 5

The next month seems to pass rather quickly. Tsukiko continues to come to the rooftop and we'll continue to have our heated discussions about the light novels. She's started to cook even more elaborate bento as well, saying that she needs to increase her range of skills.

As the preliminaries to Winter Cup begin, the Rakuzan team easily blows past the first few games. The next few are a little tougher, yet still quite easy. Despite what I said, Tsukiko decides to show up at a few of them. Somehow, when I see her in the stands, cheering (for me?), I somehow want to play harder, and maybe, I want to score more goals to show her just what I can do.

But at the end the games, I can never find her to ask her what she thought. And Rakuzan always leaves late, as a team. Some part of me wants to call her, but I never have the guts to. She probably just left as soon as the game ended. I have no business asking her to stay later than necessary.

As the finals approach, everyone begins to wonder who will make it. Rakuzan, obviously, is a definite. The other possibilities . . . Shuutoku, Kaijou, and Seirin.

We undergo a harrowing game with Shuutoku, which contains one of the Generation of Miracles, Midorima Shintarou, who reveals a new technique with the team's point guard. But in the end, thanks to Akashi, we win. Of course.

Meanwhile, the match between Kaijou and Seirin is decided: and Seirin comes out victorious.

It's a little surprising, I suppose. That Seirin, a school only two years old, has come this far. But it, too, possesses a few unique players. The three-pointer Hyuuga Junpei; the Uncrowned King nicknamed the Iron Heart, Kiyoshi Teppei; and the point guard with the eagle eye, Izuki Shun. Then there is their ace, capable of entering the zone, Kagami Taiga, recently returned from America.

And the one who is likely to give me the most trouble. The Phantom Sixth Man of the Generation of Miracles: Kuroko Tetsuya.

It is an interesting match-up, to say the least. As always, Akashi and the others seem confident in the game's victory. But for the first time, I am somewhat wary. Perhaps it is because of the Kuroko character — he is similar to me in a way.

No. That's not it. I am similar to him. No matter what Akashi says, I am not the improved version of the Phantom Sixth Man; I am just a copy of the original.

But I can't think that way. I have to convince myself that I am newer, better. Because if I don't . . . if I don't, loss might really be able to be seen on the horizon. And I cannot be responsible for my team's loss. I will not be. After all the hard work I've done this year . . .

Yet still, as we watch the video of Seirin, I make sure to watch Kuroko Tetsuya carefully. His style . . . it's so strange. Even though mine is supposed to be similar to his, we're very different. And it's clear who's better.

No. I'm better. He couldn't even shoot until lately. He can still barely shoot, and only does it when he knows there's nothing to oppose him. I am much better than that. I have full confidence in my abilities, while he . . .

The game with Seirin approaches, closer and closer, and my nerves grow. Tsukiko even begins to notice, asking me what's wrong. I don't answer, simply staring off into the distance. Finally, I say, "If you have two versions of the same thing, one that is the original, and one that is a copy, what would you prefer?"

She blinks. "What do you mean?"

"Obviously, the original, right? Original . . . it's more real, it's more authentic. That's what it means to be original, yes? A copy is simply a rip-off, something trying to be like the original, something that has no right trying to be such a cheap imitation."

"I don't know," she says, and I jerk my head up to look at her.

"What?" I ask dumbly.

"Well," she says. "It's true the original is generally thought to be better. But sometimes, the original is not all it's cracked up to be. Sometimes, the original is broken, sometimes it's unfixable. And sometimes the copy . . . well, sometimes they copy the original because they see something worth repeating. Of course, the copy will never exactly be the same. But that's sort of the beauty in it, I suppose. The copy might be inspired by the original, but it's also different; it has its own improvements, enhancements, and modifications its made, even if it's tried to stay as close to the original as possible. To me . . . both the original and copy are special."

I stare at her. "You . . . you really have a weird way of thinking."

"Weird?"

"Ah . . . interesting?"

"I'm not sure that's any better."

"Okay," I say, and I suddenly lean closer. She takes in a sharp breath, surprised by my closeness. "How about this? I don't care what kind of way you think. I've decided I just like it."

Her eyes widen and a grin spreads over her face. "Mayuzumi-senpai. Is that the first compliment you've paid me? You should do it more often."

"Ah . . . do I have to?"

"Totally! I love being praised."

"I don't want to give you too much of a big head, though."

She laughs. "Of course not."

The day of the game against Seirin arrives. My nerves are like a tight cord, tied and wrapped so thin that if you pull it too quickly, too sharply, they might break.

But as I make my way into the gymnasium with the rest of the Rakuzan team, I keep my anxiety under wraps. If they saw it, they'd never let it rest, even if I'm no one to them.

Warm-up is brief. I focus on making my shots, even though my gaze threatens to wander to the other side of the court where Seirin is making simple plays. I feel their own stares on us, evaluating and sizing us up. Well, on the others, at least.

"Seirin is not a weak team," Akashi tells us in the locker room a few minutes before the game is due to start. "You are not to underestimate them in any way. Of course, I do not believe that we will lose at all. Our victory is ensured in every way. Seirin may have their own strength, but against us, the emperors of Rakuzan, they have no hope."

And there it is again . . . weird. Akashi is weird.

Each time we go up against one of his former teammates, I wonder if he feels any remorse about crushing them, but it doesn't seem like it. He's practically heartless.

"Mayuzumi," Akashi calls out to me as the others begin to get on their uniforms.

"Captain?"

"Stay in the shadows for a while. I'll let you know when you can reveal your abilities." He smiles, a smile that is not quite sane all the way. "You are up against Tetsuya, after all."

A twinge of an emotion I can't quite name runs through me. Irritation? Regret? Anger? Sorrow? I don't know.

"Yes, Captain."

"Good."

A few minutes later, we're called onto the court. I still get a bit dizzy each time we walk out of the lockers and into the dazzling light. After never participating in games before this, it's a bit shocking.

The game starts off with a bang, with the ace, Kagami Taiga, going into the zone. That throws our calculations off a bit, but we quickly adjust, and manage to secure several points as well.

And then, Seirin's shadow is rendered useless. I can see the shock written clearly on his face, and despite myself, I feel a surge of satisfaction. He made a mistake — the original made a mistake . . . something I will not do. I can't do it. They sub him out, of course.

And then, finally, it is my turn.

I disappear.

I can hear the ripples of shock from the other team, and a burst of pleasure runs through me. For once, the attention seems to be on me.

But then — it falls apart.

He comes back onto the court, and his gaze burns into me, with such intensity that I almost want to truly disappear. I don't know what to make of it, what to think of his stare that is scalding a hole right through me. And he . . . he pushes me to my limits.

I do it. Again and again. Shot after shot.

I do the best I've ever done.

And it's my worst mistake.

I gasp out loud. "You — you dare overwrite me?" I spit out some other words. I tell him what Akashi has always said to me. That he's the worthless old model. I am better. I am stronger.

But I know it's not true anymore.

He has beaten me.

And now, I'm only a pawn for Akashi to use. Because of all the attention I am now drawing, Akashi uses me to distract the other players' attention. I could rebel, I could reject this new treatment, but I don't. I stand there, a blank expression on my face, and go where Akashi directs me. Under his cold, emotionless gaze, I am powerless.

And, perhaps, I still realize the fact that we're teammates.

I still have a duty to Rakuzan, even if I want nothing more than to really become a shadow.

This game . . .

There's something deep inside of me. I don't know why it started. Perhaps because of who I am, how I was raised, because of the way people treated me.

This game just seems to solidify it all, the truth of the matter. The question that I ask Akashi: "Who are you?" rings inside my own head.

It began as just a bit of poison. Then it spread, throughout my veins and my bloodstream, it infiltrated my whole body, until I could no longer see any such reality, any such thing as happiness. All there was were shadows.

There are similarities between Kuroko Tetsuya and I, that much I acknowledge. To an extent, we both share the title of "shadow." However, while he is a shadow that is cast by light, something created by something pure, I am nothing more than a collection of darkness. Perhaps it is only a shade of a difference, but it is there. If anything, he is a true shadow, while I am just . . . gray.

I exit the building alone. There was something different about Akashi tonight, and it just confirms in my mind that he truly is weird. After the game ended — Seirin somehow managing to grasp victory — and we lined up to give our thanks, I quickly made my way back to the lockers and changed. I didn't tell anyone where I was going. Why did I need to? I'm older than any of them. And besides, they made it clear tonight how much they care about me.

As I move into the dark of the night, lit only by a few lampposts, someone moves in front of me.

I react instinctively and step back. But then, the form moves forward into some light, and I realize who it is. She says, "Mayuzumi-senpai."

I'd nearly forgotten that she was here. I begin to approach her, but then another form walks up behind her, and carelessly throws an arm around her shoulder. She freezes.

"Hey!" I say and I move forward.

It's a boy, around her age. He's good-looking, if a bit nerdy, maybe. He has an air of careless confidence around him, and as he looks at Tsukiko, there's an expression on there that I definitely don't care for.

"Well, well, well," he says. "Long time, no see, Tsukiko-chan."

A/N: This chapter was probably one of the harder ones for me to write. There's that conversation between him and Tsukiko about the copies and the originals (I've noticed that since watching anime my thinking and subsequently my writing has become a little more . . . how do you say it - introspective?). And then there's the Rakuzan vs. Seirin game. I did not include a play by play version because that would've taken forever and writing basketball scenes is hard. So I summarized and tried to write Mayuzumi's feelings. It might be a bit OOC for him, I'm not sure. For example, in canon, he might be totally secure in the fact that he is better than Kuroko, whereas I've showed some insecurity. I don't know. Let me know what you guys think. I love hearing your thoughts. :D And then there's that cliffhanger . . .

Thanks for reading! I hope you've enjoyed this chapter! Do I sound redundant? Sorry, but it's true! Reviews are appreciated. I'll pretty much anything you give me. Until next time.

~ J. Dominique