I'm terribly sorry for not updating in so long. I've either had the worst writer's block or the busiest hw weekends, though I know it's not a good excuse.

Re-reading a couple of my old chapters, I realize I actually do need a lot of revision. I've changed some things already, and will be spending a lot of time going back and editing. Probably the biggest change is that Kuroko and Takao are now both third years in college and Kuroko is 21 instead of 20. I'll be posting the edited versions onto both here and AO3, once i get around to it.

By the way, this story's birthday was exactly last week, so thank you to those who've stayed around even though I'm horrible at consistent updates.

Without further ado:

Chapter 29: Childhood & Crying

Thursday: August 8, 2028. 15:49 P.M.

Being nearly four in the afternoon on a cloudless summer day, the sun was a merciless tyrant to the earth.

Murasakibara supposed–albeit in much simpler terms in his young age–that it was at least better in Tokyo than was in, say, Kyushu prefecture. The temperature and humidity there fluctuated to points where it was impossible not to at least have a thin layer of sweat clinging to your body at any given moment of the day, even right after a shower. Thankfully he only went when his family visited their relatives, who were some of his favorites because they loved to spoil him rotten, for a few days during the ringing in of the New Year, and only very rarely during the summer months.

Eight-year-old Murasakibara Atsushi, who stood at an abnormally tall height of 5'2", puttered down the sidewalk. He found a small stone to kick and serve as entertainment as he marched through the neighborhood.

As of three months ago, he and his family had moved from a city in Nagoya to the current metropolis, Tokyo. The rest of his family had already adjusted quite well: his mother had settled in and was busier than ever (they'd moved due to a promotion she was offered), his father had recently found a new job as a part-time chef at a family diner, and all four of his siblings had made new friends, seemingly flaunting them his face when they were invited over. He, on the other hand, hadn't even made one friend.

And, though he wouldn't admit it to anyone, he was lonely.

Back in Nagoya, he had a small group to play with during and after school. Like the rest of his class, they teased him about his stature. The only times they were especially nice to him were when he had snacks or when they were playing sports in class. They weren't the best type of companions a boy like Atsushi could get along with, but it was easy to forget how fickle they could be when immersed in an especially intense game of hide-and-go-seek tag, and children don't usually want to be alone.

When he moved, he found how difficult it was to make new friends. As expected, the jeers and screams of, "giant," came up the minute he walked into class. He could handle that–it was practically his nickname before–but during a recess that week, one boy had taken up calling him, "monster." Murasakibara had seen the monsters in his favorite animated TV shows and movies, the snarling beasts and evil villains with sharp teeth and conceited smirks, and his dignity would not let those comments slide for long. He yelled back, the other boy pushed him, he pushed back, and sooner or later, someone called a teacher to break up an escalating brawl.

With faux distress, the punk had cried on about how Murasakibara had started the fight first, and after only a second of hesitation, his circle of friends backed him up, agreeing fully. The teacher looked back and forth, sighing. All the other kids who had gathered to watch the scuffle stayed silent, though a few seemed to want to help but were torn between the transfer student and the familiar classmate. No one helped him, in the end.

The teacher chose the other boy's side, even though Murasakibara's injuries were obviously worse; some scratches and only a small purple spot compared to multiple bruises and even some long, bleeding cuts from being shoved onto some rocks. He would bet his snack money that it was because he was tall, because most adults associated that with being mature. "You shouldn't pick on people weaker than you. And stop crying! You're a big boy," she had chastised, shaking her head while sending him to the nurse's office. He didn't want to be a big boy. He stopped drinking milk that day.

Thanks to what transpired that day, along with the newfound rumors about him, the mockery had gotten worse. Some of his classmates who hadn't witnessed the event believed what they heard, and were so afraid of him he could practically hear them shaking. The accounts of the incident were fluffed up, but also detailed enough that Murasakibara himself almost believed them at times, though only because he couldn't picture the ruthless bully they described being him. The other boy, his group, and even some of the other kids still targeted Murasakibara with their taunts, knowing all too well that the purple-haired boy wouldn't fight back because the blame would be set onto him again. As big as he was, he felt so small.

School passed on painfully slowly until the summer vacation started, and with high hopes, Murasakibara wished for people to forget everything about him, and for his bully to find something new to antagonize. A few weeks of the summer vacation had flown by with him lazing around the house, alone, of course, usually watching TV to procrastinate on homework.

Today, however, was different because he finally had something to occupy his time, and a reason to go outside into non-subdued sunlight and air. The first thing he'd noticed was how hot it was, but that only daunted him for a second. Nothing would stop him from going to the new bakery that'd just opened up in one of the busier districts a few blocks down. His father had brought back some goods a few days ago and since then he'd craved them, and waited for his next allowance until he caved and begged his parents to give it to him a day early.

The rock he had been kicking fell off the sidewalk, so Murasakibara continued without it. Only when he had gone down another few blocks, stride long in an attempt to reach his destination quicker, did he finally realize that he might have been lost. Another few minutes of trotting confirmed that, yes, he was; and he began to feel a sinking feeling in his gut and a dull emptiness in his stomach–he always felt hungry when he was anxious.

He wanted to backtrack, but when he wasn't quite sure from which way he came. He was merely a child, despite what others saw on the outside. His own parents appeared to forget that fact after he outgrew two of his siblings and was on his way to passing a third. Lately, he'd been slouching to appear smaller, which only made him look gloomy and his hurt his back. He slouched now, nervous.

He needed some guidance right about now, walking in this unfamiliar neighborhood, feet beginning to ache and fingers unconsciously curling into his palms. Truth be told, aside from his family and the candy-seller from his old town, most adults scared Murasakibara. When he was younger, his parents had told him not to go out alone or he'd get kidnapped by a bad person. He'd forgotten their words until now because he had never been lost this terribly. Upon this thought, some droplets began to form at the edges of his eyes, so he scrunched up his face in an attempt not to cry. Some stray tears escaped, an arm reaching up to wipe them away.

While he did so, something behind him touched his shoulder. He jumped, yelped, and spun around, swatting whatever it was with his hand. The "whatever" turned out to be a "whoever", and thankfully, it was another child and not a big, scary stranger who'd take him away.

"Why are you crying?" asked the other child–a boy. Though he tried, Murasakibara couldn't tell whether or not he was older or younger, forgetting he was off track for a moment so that he could concentrate on the question. However old, he was still sure as hell taller by five-or-so inches, even slumped over.

He lashed back with, "I'm not crying! I'm a big boy…" and stifled his sniffs. The other child reached up to pat his head and told him some comforting words that he'd never forget, even ten years later: "Just because you're a big boy doesn't mean you can't cry or be sad. Adults do it all the time. Just cry if you need to, you'll feel better." Murasakibara was given a handkerchief (which he found to be girly but didn't say so) and a piece of hard, strawberry-flavored candy. His hair was stroked until he calmed down, drifting into a few spaced sobs and the water in his eyes was wiped away.

"Are your parents around?"

"No," the purpleheaded child mumbled, finding a portion of his voice. Embarrassed as he was, having cried in front of another boy, he couldn't bring himself to speak loudly or clearly.

"Do you know your address?"

Stuttering once or twice, he recited the address he'd memorized, though it struck no light of recognition in the other boy's face. The boy looked up at him with strikingly crimson pupils. "I'll take you to the police box. What's your name?" he inquired before starting to walk. When Murasakibara didn't follow or answer, he went back and tugged his arm, saying, "I'm Akashi. I'm ten years old."

So he was older.

"Murasakibara Atsushi. I'm eight..."

"Hmm," came from the shorter boy, but he accepted the answer without any comment on his height, or any comment at all. All he did was quietly lead him, the hand on his wrist letting go after a bit. He still sent some wayward glances back to make sure the younger boy was following, however.

Three blocks later, he began to speak again. "We're almost there," Murasakibara was assured. Well, not really assured, but the thought that he'd never return home slightly diminished under a small wave of relief. He rolled the candy he'd gotten in his palm to keep from clenching his fist.

When they finally reached the small police box not far from a rustic playground, Murasakibara cringed at the officers: a portly man with a thick beard and another who was lean but had a delinquent's face. He held fast to the hem of Akashi's button-up shirt, bending forward more to hide himself behind the smaller boy but, of course, failing. The skinny one said, "well, if it isn't little Seijuurou. What brings you here today?"

The bearded man joked, "Is your friend over there lost?" and chuckled, his beer-belly shaking.

"First of all, please do not call me little," Akashi sighed, speaking more formally with the adults than he did with Murasakibara, "second of all, yes." Reading the confusion on the man's face, he added, "He's eight," and clarified, "he's lost."

The man almost started to laugh before taking a look at the boy's faces–Akashi's was a challenging stare while Murasakibara was on the verge of tears–and realizing Akashi was serious.

The other policeman, also somewhat skeptical, nudged his partner and snickered, before saying, "I'll take him home. Kid, do you know what your address is?"

He nodded, having lost his voice again, intimidated. The three–the officer and the two children, walked down the sidewalk to a car parked out front. The man opened the door for Murasakibara, signaling he should probably get in, which he did when Akashi gently prodded him. With the door still open, Murasakibara whimpered, staring at the red-eyed, redheaded boy with the largest eyes he could manage. Akashi conceded, climbing in after him and shutting the door.

Until they reached Murasakibara's house, the younger boy had found the courage to whisper questions like, "do you like sweets?" followed by the hopeful, bolder, and louder, "will you be my friend?" and "can I call you Aka-chin?"

Akashi smiled at that last one, answering, "yes, Atsushi. But only if you sit up straight–and stand up tall."

"Okay, Aka-chin." He liked the way the name sounded off his tongue.

When he got home, he thanked the officer and Akashi, and his father scolded him for causing trouble, apologizing to the policeman. Murasakibara forgot to ask if Akashi had a phone, but he only realized that after they left. He ate his piece of strawberry candy and stood, back straight. He'd heard what he needed and wanted to hear that day. He could cry in he wanted to, and he did with all his heart, and his father came into his room and tried to comfort him, thinking Murasakibara was crying because he was chided; then Murasakibara somehow cried harder because it'd been a while since his parents had treated him like the kid he was. He was even brought to the bakery, and when he got home, he swallowed his fudge-covered cake down with a tall glass of milk.

Murasakibara abruptly stopped his rapid rate of growth for two years, as if his body finally decided to comply with his pleading. It started again afterwards, but he found he stopped minding his height because it made him naturally good at sports, and slouching didn't help anyways.

I suppose you thought I'd say something like the two boys never met again for a long time after that, though that would be rather tragic and strange, especially considering they're together far into the future.

They meet again not a week later, finding each other at the Bon Festival where Murasakibara asked for Akashi's phone number. Red and purple hair was kind of hard not to spot. While video-calling each other, they found out they attended the same elevator school, though were in different buildings (the school separated children every three grade levels) which explained why they'd never seen each other around.

After Murasakibara's bully found out he had connections to a sixth grader, and that that sixth grader happened to be a very popular boy whose uncle held great amount of influence in the school, he stopped his teasing and rumor-spreading completely. It only took another two weeks or so for his classmates to warm up to him and realize he was just a normal kid like them. During the breaks between classes, he'd rush over to the next building, and spent his time talking with the redhead, sharing snacks or lunch with each other back and forth.

By the time he'd entered the sixth grade, he found out two things: that Akashi treated him like a friend and not an acquaintance like most everyone else for some reason, and that he only did that for two people–the other was another boy who was now in the same class as the redhead. The first time they'd met, he'd worn an offensively orange vest over his uniform that clashed with his green hair. Murasakibara called the boy a carrot; this boy, Midorima Shintarou, called him an impetuous underclassman with no respect for his elders. They bickered, only able to be in the same room as each other because Akashi was the mediator.

(Akashi called them both silly).

Sorry for not having actual in-game stuff, but I really need to write the background stuff first.

Thank you for reading.