Title: He's Just There
Summary: Never gave a single thought for who he is. He doesn't even consider the thought of what he is to others. And to them, he's just there for them, an unknown presence that can affect them in the slightest. And when you rid of that presence, a hole, a void pops up-right at their hearts. A void that's can't be filled, unless by him.
Chapter 3: Books weren't quite the read, unless it was recommended by you –Midorima Shintaro
Chapter Summary: Books is my remedy, poems are my cure. But when he became my only, it seemed to abstract, that it was like book.
Chapter 3: Books (Midorima)
"The book is open, clear for me to read. But doesn't mean I want to read it."
The library: It was his favorite place to be. It held the written classics from long and new authors, the hyped up poetic mind transformed in words, simple stories of fantasy or fiction, learning material for projects, maps or atlas of the world and more pictured based books- lack in words; manga, comics or magazines. It was the empty house of books, no sound usually allowed, except for the quite whispers coming from the people or the books. Its page turning was a given sound, something heard ever, and it was a noise that was nothing to our acknowledgement. Beside so, there was the sound of the typed of computers, scanned up prints and reloading of books on shelves or check out. Every day I would sit here, rechecking out his favorite books, waiting for him coming back. Are compatibility with blood types was a negative, and beside the literature reads, we didn't quite get along. But even though he was an Aquarius, I would rather defy faith just to see him again.
I walked steadily down each isle, passing books of different sizes. Rows and rows were in Teiko's library, having books too impossible to get. I was searching the classic Hamlet, a required project needed for literature. I looked for the velvet colored paperback, written in its golden letters in cursive. The summary written explained Hamlet was the Prince of Denmark who learns the true death of his father; who was killed by Hamlet's uncle Claudius; who marries Hamlet's widowed mother to gain the throne. Hamlet is sunk in the despair as the result of discovering the murder. He was torn between the sadness and pursuit for revenge. I heard you get a deeper intent if you read the book, hence me finding trouble to find it.
But it seems to be deeper trouble to find such a book. But the searched ended when a book was placed in my taped hands. My eye snapped at the person, who gave me my waiting book. The way he is though, was too hard to explain. He had no appeal, no presence to call his own. I stumbled a bit, and I looked down at him. Shorter than me by a few, his face was stoic, no expression revealed. His eyes were big cerulean; his hair was odd just like the rest of the miracles. I took the book with gratitude, and he walked away with no word towards me. I stare down at the worn out book, it cover almost ripped with paper almost yellow. I went towards the front desk, checking out the book.
Days passed since I have gotten my book, quarter more till the book would end. Side notes were made, to understand the intent of the books story line, to each characters dialogue and desire. The story was the pure aspect of revenge to its full extent. Hamlet's murderous and deceitful ways would suggest the villain, but the words would bring such a thought to a standstill, giving sympathy toward the mad man, Hamlet. I assumed that I would be finished with the book, and I sat in the library, scanning through and writing down the notes. Hamlet: His motives were deep founded, starting with mourn of his father's death and mother's haste in remarrying to her brother-in-law and his Uncle, Claudius. Hamlet thinks before he acts, usually that would be the smart thing- something most protagonists lack. But Hamlet's thoughts were filled with the desire of revenge; isolating himself to the point people would think he's mad. Which in some interval, he is mad; mad in search for revenge.
A shadow over passed me, blocking the light from reaching my paper and tip of the pen.
The black ink would dry thin soon, and looked at who was watching over my shoulder. It was him again. "Your thoughts on hamlet is quite virtue. You have the idea of hamlet completely." He was reading my thoughts. "It's quite rude to read over someone's shoulder, let alone their work." He didn't say anything. "That's true, do you like this story?" He completely ignored my question. But he continued to stare down on me, so I gave in. "I guess, but it's quiet, unethical, just my thoughts." He smiled at me. "I agree. Besides, classic novels aren't my cup of tea. I prefer a good deep-throat tragedy; or a mystery with modern crime, psychological and mythology. And at times I'll accept science fiction." Why was he telling me this?" "Excuse me, but I find no point in you telling me such unneeded information." "Do you not fine are conversation quite…. Appealing?" He asked. I raised a brow, not sure of how to respond. Did I find his words and conversation appealing?
"May I make a remark on the story?" I stare at him; he's quite the interesting one.
"What do you think of Ophelia?" I turned toward him. Ophelia: the part much written for men in my case. "Her character was kind of murky to get, because she was torn into two contradictory poles. Her father and brother believed that Hamlet would use her, taking her virginity and throwing it away because she could never be his wife. Her brother and father, they find Ophelia as the vessel for mortality whose purpose was to me a dutiful wife and steadfast mother. Though in her heart, Ophelia believes Hamlet harbors feelings for her, even though he swears he never did. Many times, I find Hamlet taking her as a sexual object, a corrupted and deceitful lover. I believed the father's words governed her, but her Renaissance sense of romantic love also rules her. For stuck toward this feud, she goes crazy, and soon her faith was sealed when she fell into the river by the break of the tree's branch." My explanation was quite unexpected for me. But I could tell the man acknowledged my answer.
"What would be yours?" I asked. "Out of the characters, I find her one-dimensional, potential of a tragic heroin. But instead she crumbles into insanity, becoming merely tragic. The confliction with Hamlet and Gertrude would be displayed between Hamlet and Ophelia. Hamlet's rage toward his mother was much conflicted upon Ophelia, because he believes her hiding her base nature, just like Gertrude. Through Ophelia, we were able to witness Hamlet's evolution, or de-evolution towards woman, believed the purest of woman outside is actually the black inside, corrupted and are in need for sexual desire. Many times, I believe Ophelia was accused many times based on what she really is. Even to go far, that they use her to find what Hamlet was up to. I believe that Hamlet probably did all this toward Ophelia because as stated before, was because of his mother; putting one's duty over oneself, but not toward him, Hamlet." My eyes widen in pure astonishment. His input was deep and meaningful, probably imprinting in my mind. "How would you take Hamlet as?" I asked without a thought.
I ended up not finished Hamlet that day, because of the conversation, input and output of Hamlet. Kuroko Tetsuya was interesting; his thoughts would even sometimes distinguish a new point of view. He stated one of his favorite parts about Hamlet was Ophelia's flowers of message. One of the many ways to expression her thoughts and feelings, and not be insulated in front of others. His intakes of things are in such a level.
I came the next week, hoping to find a book that Kuroko would suggest; I looked for him and saw him sitting at the library desk. "Kuroko…" I noted that he reads a book during times, where his assistance is absent. "Yes Midorima-kun?" For some reason when he says my name, my heart fluttered. "Yes, I was wondering if you have any books you could recommend, hence we seem to have similar taste in books." He nodded and got up. He motioned me to follow, and we entered the forest of the library. We based each genre, from mythical, to fictional, to memorial and to hysterical. He started taking several books down. "This one is quite good, "Slow heights no Kamisama" by Mizuki Tsujimura. Or maybe you would like "The Makioka Sisters" by Junichiro Tanazaki." He kept going on and on, books and books he read poetry he was into. He even stated his favorite motto, "Once-in-a-lifetime encounter."
Though an interesting question popped up, "What book best describes you Midorima-kun?" The question struck me as odd. "What a ridiculous question." He smiled sadly, I felt a pang a guilt hit. "But if you really want to know yours Kuroko, I believe the book you best describe Kuroko, is "In Search of Lost Time". He looked puzzled at my answer.
"At first glance at the plot it seems to be quite inconspicuous and the beginning it starts quite slow. But when your patient enough, the story connects to you-drives you in- and you get hooked to such a thing. The plot isn't any kind of conventional plot, hence instead a first person memoir of the narrator, as he comes to age in the beginning of the 20th century in the high society circle of Paris. To add, the narrator himself isn't a strong and heroic person; he is a sickly, sensitive young man who's a bit effeminate."
"By the one is looks, it's not quite promising book to read and get into, but it's quite the contrary. Instead you enter an extraordinary experience. The work of literature takes you toward the innermost thoughts of the protagonist's key events in his life. Than you would experience his everyday anxieties, daydreams, obsession and you grow to feel as if they were real friends or acquaintances." He stared at me. "To me Kuroko, you best fit this book." He smiled at me- a smile that's worth a lot to get. Something I wouldn't mind seeing a bit. "Thanks, Midorima-kun. So you find me as a classic type." I blushed at his last sentence, and turned back toward my book before he could see.
"Do you want to know yours Midorima-kun?" I looked up at him. Wouldn't hurt... "What childishness, tell me if you really want, not that I mind." He nodded.
The book he prescribed for me quiet astonishment, I was truly baffled at the chosen book. I could only question why. "Kuroko, why would you choose a poetry book?" He didn't speak, the only thing he said made me flustered. "Because everything just- in the book, compared is who I believe is you. Just think this Midorima-kun, "Outer books have a tittle, inner books have meaning." Well, bye Midorima-kun." And Kuroko started walking off to help another student. I never really realized that I found resentment towards the student who took Kuroko away.
I entered the library once more this week; the smell of musty and leather, but it was quite comforting. The place was emptied; and usually the library was quite old and rural. The only sound was the ticking clock, and the sound of books being shuffled. I followed the noise, entering the maze of the library; everything caged me in, entering a new world. I turned the next shelf, to finally see 'him', placing books back into its place. "Kuroko" He snapped his gaze down toward me, he was a top the latter. "Midorima-kun…" He started to walk down slowly, and jump down a bit. "Is there something you need?" I looked into his eyes; they clashed with my greenery for eyes. "It's quite empty in here. Where are the other people who assist here?" "They're gone today, and the librarian is teaching a lesson on something." I nodded at his answer. "I was looking for a book, a poetry book; anything to recommend?" His smile enlightened me.
"Actually…" He started climbing once again up the ladder, reaching on the top most shelves, a book in his hand. He started to climb down, the ladder clanked with each step down. He handed me the book, a hard cover book, it was a maroon color, and it seemed quite old and worn. "You might find this a surprise, but I was the first person to check that book out ever." I looked at him in surprise, this book was all worn. "That's seems quite delusional don't you think?" He chuckled. "Yes, but it's true. What's the most interesting is that's my book." He pointed at the book, motioning me to open it. I started flipping the cover open, and in cursive, Kuroko's name was written out. "Actually, I donated this book to the library, but no one seems to have discovered it. The librarian even forgot we had such a book, so she said I could have it back. Would you like to keep the book Midorima-kun?" He gazed pondered over him. I flipped toward the first page, scanning the essence of the book.
"It's not like I mind reading such poetry. Thank you." He nodded, and started walking away. "But Midorima-kun, before you read the last poem…" I turned toward him. "Would you please come see me?" I questioned his request. But he's already letting me borrow such a book, so… "*Sigh* If you wish." And I wondered off to read the poems.
The clock ticked in the background, my room was enveloped into darkness. My feet settled into my carpet's floor, walking in the dark. I had no problems getting towards my desk, the familiar path of walking this route. I sat down, flickering the lamp's light on. The poem was laid in front of me, and I turned the hard cover. The words were black-inked, cursive. I read the first poem.
~Beings for Humans
A lie, the truth
Could this tale be a fable?
A tall tale, so stretched it's almost rubber?
For the answer depends on thee
We are no antique, but we are no future
We are there, but not here
We are everywhere, but gone
We leave them be, slip from their memories
We hold the pain of knowing of just used to
From B.C to A.C, infinity is what we last
Memories ever bottled in this capsule:
A capsule they call bodies.
We came to fix tragedy from reality
Change problems towards proclaimed
Tinker the heart's no-mill pain
And make it up and running again.
Loneliness, sadness, anger and revenge;
Fulfilling, happiness, joyous and forgiving;
We shall not leave till it has been fixed
No matter the hatred that kills their soul
That no physiatrist could ever mend
We will sew it up, till there is no more fluff
Then finally… we will part from them,
Along with "our" memories
This poem was different. It talked about these beings, and what they were. Do the beings symbolize something about us humans, something that protects us and fixes our wretched hearts?
~Waltz
I met you in the rain one day
A plip, a plop,
A dribble, a drop;
Why hello, stranger
We were blessed by the sky's tears
A chill in my bones,
A spark in my veins,
The sky is mourning,
The angels are renting,
The clouds have lost their way
But I met you
Illuminated by the sheen of cascading dew-
I saw your face
I'll be honest, stranger
But when the winds were wailing,
The air was crackling,
And the archangels were weeping-
I saw your smile
And I let my walls come down
Shall we seek shelter?
"Why…"
Dare deny the beautiful rain?
A wry twitch of the lips,
A clipped exhale,
…A chuckle?
How rude
I can stand here too, you know
But how cliché is it to just be,
When it is much more fulfilling to do?
Your thoughts exactly it seemed
"So stranger…"
An extent of a calloused hand
Followed by a flick of the wrist
"Perhaps you'll waltz in the rain with me?"
Ridiculously unconventional are we…
But for some reason, I accept
Without a moment of hesitation
A step here, a foot there
A leisurely rhythm
I'll never forget how we danced in the rain that day
Because I never saw the stranger again
It was the next day, and it was lunch hour. But my thoughts and sight was transfixed on the poetry. I already reached the 15th page. The poems writing were all different, like it's the point of view of others. Plus, each page, the ink in the beginning was less visible, that it was hard to read. But slowly I could see the ink's writings; it's beautiful cursive.
~Time Capsule
Let's pay a tribute to days long past!
We, who have been inseparable since childhood,
I dare the world to part us
For we are still connected
Remember, remember
Our fragile youth days
A timid toddler
And a boisterous playmate
Rendezvous at the rusted swigset
To laugh at the rules,
To leap and soar like majestic birds,
To dismiss the worries of life
A casual prank on each other's siblings
Of hooded flashlights and mischievous sleepovers
To share a plate of chookies
The struggle of learning how to read
Until one ill-omened day
A parent's new job, a more lavish house
Promises are ringing in empty ears
Devastate, I am
Why must you go?
Life obstinately parades on, it seems
There's no point resisting, but…
A compromise, perhaps?
We should make a time capsule
Donate your favorite toys and books
Leave a shard of your memory-
Your soul; your heart
We'll bury it-
Infinitely deep…
For no one else need see.
A cherished secret between you and me
A vow to return
An oath to meet again
It's the string that eternally binds us
So be safe on your way
And check back some day
We'll open out time capsule together
I flipped to the next page; page 29
~Reunion
I am a person naïve enough
To wish upon a star long dead
To cling onto a fading hope
Keep faith in a forgotten cause
When the day came that my prayers have answered
I finally got to see you again!
But why am I confined in this stuffy building?
Within these stark white walls
Amongst the plain, polished halls
In this blank, empty room
There's no furniture, flowers or paintings
I'm also wearing the strangest thing…
It crosses my arms-
Over my chest; over my heart
Do they call this a straits jacket?
They speak to me oddly-
Slowly; steadily
They watch me intently
Observing my every move
Hushed by whispers calculate behind my back
There are clipboards, always
Words, numbers, charts and graphs
Then on a bizarre summer day-
I realized something
Are they scared of me?
Am I a specimen?
Do they think…
That I don't notice?!
But a luminescent as a mythical creature
A saving grace shines through this all
I get to see you again!
You walk to my bedside, steadfast and solemn
A plastic name tape pinned to your lapel,
A banquet of flowers clutched in trembling hands
You take a seat
With a sigh, your gaze right into my eyes
It almost penetrating my soul with intensity,
I merely blink.
What was that about?
But to the matter at hand-
Aren't you proud of me?
I finally caught your attention
After so many years,
We reunite!
But why am I in this dreary place?
Why is there such a look on your face?
I didn't do anything wrong?
I simply wished that we could meet again.
Page 59
~For he- I must savor
"For he-broken reeds
Yet to fix the hollow,
Solemn till morrow,
I will savor thee."
I go on towards the next poem. Page 67; I noticed the poems are becoming more...
~A winter conspiracy
"The snowy droplets,
Fall from the scars of the sky
Gray and black, no white-
Like a clear-white sheet,
Blankets over the city, it falls asleep;
Through the clear-seen glass
The world a pure white
No cluster, No fluster
Just sleeping tonight
The crackly ice
Becomes a kaleidoscope
His eyes bream maple
From the dancing flame
I enter the home, a hollowing homing
I peer at his gaze and words
Once- filled of passion for her
But now it's nothing more
I came to stop it
The shatters, the clatters
Clean the wilted rose
His mournful wails
Clashing conspiracy
A tug, a squeeze
I grasp onto his pleads
I savor him
As he savors me
I mend the tattered, bruised heart"
The next one irked me a bit, Page 78.
~Lost
I lost something, an eternity ago
I contemplate each night in my dreams
But was it ever theft…
At all?
How truly talented one must be
To find what may never have existed in the first place
Every human being is born with many traits
Selflessness, kindness, angst, and-
Oh, yes… compassion
How they develop is dependent on us
Water the garden, and you shall have roses
Weed the garden and brighter blossoms will replace them
Neglect the garden… and your flowers will wilt
Its common sense
But if there are no blooms to begin with?
A barren field; a desolate wasteland
Is it only human nature to my naturally blessed-
With the roots of mortality?
Such was my dilemma
A heavy burden I could not shake
Up until I came of age
And met the strangest type of person
You found so much more to me
Than a materialistic thing
And that was merely within
Our first minute of acquaintances
As that days passed us by
We talked, we laughed, and I knew
You had grown on me
An inconspicuous sprig of vine guarding its tree
We were closer than I'd ever been to a classmate
Despite this…
Our bond isn't suffocation
Was this what they called…
Friendship?
Before I'd realized it
This outlier became a major part of my life
Deep in my soul
The seeds of compassion
Had slowly, but surely, begun to bloom
Coaxed by none other than you
You proved their existence
That I was more than an empty shell
So someday, perhaps
When the garden has achieved its full radiance
I want you to be there
Spring will descend beautifully this year.
I turned the next page, number 87. I looked to see that the book was almost done, I checked to see how many more poems left but… the rest was blank. 13 plank pages of nothing. Meaning this was the last poem I was going to read. It has been a week since I received the book and saw him, but I remembered his request like it was still fresh.
I entered the library, it felt good coming in again, everything calming and quiet. The place was vacant still, so I looked around to find Kuroko. He was at the front desk, helping a student check out. I walked over towards him, after the student left, I walked up. "Hello Midorima-kun, it's been a while." A nodded, and held the book out. "Did you read the last poem?" "No, I was simply asking why I'm not allowed to read the last poem. "That's because it's not yet complete." Complete? Is that why there were 13 pages blank? But how could it gone through publishing if… "That's ridiculous Kuroko, why was would people publish the book if there was an incomplete poem, let alone 13 blank pages.
He stared at me with those eyes, knowing my thoughts inside and out. "Don't worry, just let me see it." He took the book out of my hand, and started skimming through the pages. He gazed at them nonchalantly, as if he was pained from just looking at it. "Don't worry, it's complete. But you need to read it at home tonight." "Tonight? Why not now?" He nodded is no. "No, it has to be tonight Midorima-kun. Can you promise me that?" I started at him; he's giving me another foolish request, but in the end I… could only accept it. Usually I wouldn't accept such frugal request, but I guess I am now.
I was about to leave, before I felt a tug on my shirt. I looked at the pale fingers, clipped onto my Teiko uniform. "Midorima-kun, do you want to hang out now?" Huh? "Don't you have to stay?" He shook his head no. "Someone else is here too, so I'll just leave it to them. So?" He gulped. Those eyes burned wholes in my flesh, I couldn't say no. "If you really need me too, then I'll comply."
Isles and isles, books in each lot, varied by sections. Displays of books were presented, to catch customers' attention and possibly buy a book or two. Yes buy, as in- I was in a book store. "Midorima-kun, after we choose some books we can go and get something to eat." I could barely hear Kuroko because he was too busy mumbling and trying to find a book. I guess I could find something as I wait for Kuroko. I start looking down different sections, at first it was materials for school but now I was looking up books. I grabbed a book off a shelf, looking at its cover. My eyes would always wonder though, wonder at nothing. Because I would think of that time Kuroko asked me such a question. "Midorima-kun, what book best describes you?" I grimaced.
I placed the book back into its original placement. I turned around to which I thought I was going to face Kuroko. But instead I see nothing there. "Kuroko?" I start looking back and forth, noticing he was no longer in this isle. "Kuroko?!" I start walking around each isle. I forgot that his presence is at -0, meaning he doesn't have any. "He should have a bell on him, so he people don't lose track of him." I wavered, what if Kuroko ditched me? I was always the strange one out of everyone; the odd ball out. I even here from my mother that I was strange and how I probably don't have friends.
What I hate the most of that sentence, is that she's… not wrong. I started to slow my pace, till I came to a complete standstill. I started down at the floor, looking at the tips of my shoes. People have always thought strange from me, when I was younger I was too smart for my own good. So the kids in the neighborhood would tease and make fun of him. As he grew older, he found he had an interest in things people found weird; soon my interest became an obsession. So now people would mock me, even my own team. Did Kuroko feel the same way? I grimaced, a pool of anger whelmed up in me. I felt this feeling before and I never enjoyed it. I clenched my chest, and was ready to walk away.
Until he appeared in my eyes, I caught his powdery blue hair. He started to walk over toward me, and I found myself walking towards him. "Midorima-kun, gomen. I got lost a bit; I was worried I lost you." He bowed. I started at him, a feeling a relief over-whelming me. We walked out of the store, I paid for my materials and so did Kuroko. "Let's go get something to eat." Earlier we were at the part of Tokyo's main hot spot, but now as we continued to walk; the crowd started to lessen. Where soon it seemed it was just the two of us. It was a mere hush, and the only sound audible was the rustle of trees, shaken from the wind. Or other people, who we just seem to pass. We passed many restaurants before, but Kuroko just kept moving along.
We left the restaurant after so many walks and we continued the same path because it seems we live the same way. My breath hitched; at first I was surprised, taken back. It was just complete silent between the two of us, yet now there is talk. And I'm not the one saying or doing it. I nodded, giving him the okay. Usually I would complain, and argue for such vague decisions. But at this point, I'm too deep-in-thought to really say. The place was quiet simple, something convenient and ordinary. It was quiet between us; our connection in the library compared to here was quite vague. Not as vivid or spontaneous, but more off put and tranquil. "Midorima-kun..." My green emerald stared at him. He was looking straight, no turn back or side.
"Do you ever wonder if your life was a book?" Another odd question, but I comply. "Hmph! Such vaguer questions again Kuroko, how stupid. But since you want to know, I'll answer." I fixed my glasses. "It would be quiet boring don't you think?" "Is that what you think?" I eyed him, but nodded. He smiled. "I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit, Midorima-kun." "Oh, how so?" "You have a tragic background, and something special that no one else has. Plus, if anything I find you a great read." For some reason, I felt embarrassed by that last statement, since Kuroko seems so highly about books. "*Cough* How stupid, I won't continue such dumb antics." After so, we started to part ways. "Before you go Midorima-kun…" I turned towards him. "Just know I don't find you weird or strange of any sorts. Like I said before… I find you a great read." And we left it at that. Later that night, we continued the book, and it seems the pages have been added.
~Mascaraed Mask
The light symphony, a discord tune
Plays the night away till pass dew
The sway of the dance, hypnotically loom
Till the end of the song with a bow
The click-clank on new bought shoes
A piano tux and the Champaign dress
Two partners in perfect sway, they dance the night away
A kiss for their pleasure, as they cascade on the dance floor
The mask covering up façade, so we may not be judged
Who knew it would only take a string and glass
For others to accept your being
At times is seems, one is never enough
So another, we add
Like a double edged sword, a double edged façade
Is enough to fool the world, as we continue the rendezvous
But you took a step into this ball room
With no judgment of any kind
You enter in with no hiding behind a solemn
As if you have nothing to hide
You, who wears no mask; while the others do,
Why do you not hide, revealing your cerulean eyes?
Why do you not glare and stare as the others gossip about you?
Do you taunt them somewhere in your mind?
Do you hope for karma to do its duty?
No- that's wrong!
You have nothing to hide
I can see it in the apple of your eye
The pure-clear feeling, I watch as you cross my path
I let you pass, but no!
I stop, and take off the silly mask
I whisk you around, like whip cream on cake
And I led a dance with you on par
You do not question my antics
No spark in the eyes, but a smile of grace plastered on
As if you were happy about this dance
Two people, different from the world
No hiding behind a mask, tonight we dance
A step-one-two, a whisper of the night we follow
Quite a point of view, a world is like a mascaraed, and everyone hides behind a façade. I continued on, and it seems I came to the last poem in the book. Late as it was, I ended it here. And read the last poem of the night tomorrow.
I guess life can be a book, the idea someone disappearing from thin air seems such a fantasy, to unreal to conjure up. But I guess it's safe to say for once, that Midorima Shintarou is an idiot. Because next day, I entered the library; I would wait for the usual hello or shuffle of the books. But it was nothing, the library was fuller than ever this year, and at the front desk-I see no sight of the powdery blue of hair. I checked each row, to spot the small figure, reaching for the top shell on the tip of his toes. Could he be out today? How rare for him to be absent, he didn't seem sick yesterday. I walk up to the librarian, occupied by other students. I waited for a path, before taking it.
I walked over when it was my turn, and she smiled. "Oh! Nice to see you here again Midorima." I nodded. "May I know if Kuroko Tetsuya is absent today?" Suddenly her gaze turned into utter confusion. "Kuroko Tetsuya? I'm sorry, but we never had anyone with that name in the library committee; I don't even think there is a Kuroko Tetsuya in this school." Is she playing with me? "You must be mistaken, he always at the front desk reading when no one is needed, plus the library is never this busy." She frowned. "I'm sorry Midorima, we can search the student data base, but I'm telling you there is no one." She logged in her computer, and I couldn't believe my eyes as we check the T-section. No Kuroko Tetsuya, not even a TETSUYA! "Then, why is the library so busy out of known where?" "What are you talking about? It's always like this every day. I'm just lucky to catch a breath." Suddenly, I was the one with utter confusion. I walked away, trying to think logically about this.
I came home that night, and my mind was so fogged. I tried to find answers to solve this problem, but nothing came to mind. Till it fell out of my book bag, the poetry book! I turned the page, and there was the last poem.
~Word play
I shall not forget our little talks
A thoughtful muse here
A sarcastic quip there
It always was a joy conversing with you
Such fresh thoughts
With a free disposition
I've never met a being so brutally honest
With unshakable belief in their opinions
A man of little words
Yet each weighed so heavily on his tongue
What a worthy opponent…
In the elegant spar of speech
But we chanced to meet in an unorthodox way
I, as per norm, was diligently writing…
Until a sudden presence made itself known
Claiming his existence all along
An enigma all on his own
But his watchful eyes were sharper than they seemed
Soon the fateful hour descended
He wanted to discuss my writings an unfamiliar notion
A barely recognizable face-
But my instincts urged me to accept
Rarely do I heed their calling
However-once, just once…
"I suppose we may."
And the remainder is,
They would say…
History.
I was in utter chock. This poem describes…. Me and Kuroko's… Than on the back, there was a note.
After so, I never saw him again. Every day I would pass the library, it's once peaceful place was now swarmed with students. And the once ghostly figure I have known to call a friends… has disappeared from my life. Like a book in a story, books can become a reality; quite the cruel reality.
"It was fun till it lasted. I hope you found it quite the read. I told you your life was quite a book; interesting isn't it?"
-Kuroko Tetsuya
Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroko no Basuke/Basket; all rights go to Fujimaki Tadatoshi. All I own is this fan-fiction plot line.
A/N: Finally down with Midorima's~ sorry it took so long. I was so happy, I asked my friends to make some poems for me to use, and aren't they beautiful. They were of course written by EternalWaltz. She worked all night on the poems, and I was moved, I shed a tear or two. XD Though, I did a bit of the poems. This chapter was pretty long to make, so you can see why it took a while. Plus exams are in, and a lot of last minute projects. DX But thanks for waiting, and please follow, favorite and review. Tell your friends too! And swing by EternalWaltz account, and read her book, "Shatterproof".
Extra News: EternalWaltz and I have created a separate account together; called moonlitsonata23. We are going to publish a KNB Military AU, soon together. It's quite exciting; we've been planning this over the course of the month.
Next chapter… Aomine-kun.
EternalWaltz Poems:
-Waltz
-Time Capsule
-Reunion
-Lost
-Word Play
My Poems:
-Beings for Humans
-For he- I must savor
-A Winter Conspiracy
-Mascaraed Mask
黒子のバスケ© Fujimaki Tadatoshi
He's Just Here © Made2352