Takao's POV
"That Chinese team is tougher than expected," Imayoshi said from my left, sipping his dark roast coffee. The smell brought back memories of a time of coffee and close friends and helped us fall right back into place.
"It shouldn't be this close of a game," I said. "Look at the sweat on sexy Shin-chan's brow."
"Daddy's all sweaty," Akira giggled.
"Yes, sweet girl, he's workin' hard," Imayoshi said, smiling as he ruffled her hair. She looked up at him, out of the corner of her eye. "He's workin' a tad too hard, if ya ask me."
"Is it just me, or does Akashi look distracted?" Kasamatsu asked from the other side of me as the whistle blared and Team USA called a timeout. From the floor, Shin-chan looked up at me, and heaved a large sigh, before trotting over to the bench to confer with his teammates.
Mitobe's text reached all of our phones at the same time. [If this first game is this hard, how bad will the game go against Team Japan on Friday?]
"They're gonna hafta pull somethin' outta their —"
"Language!" I warned.
"Now, Bat, I'd be offended if ya weren't so astute," Imayoshi said, grinning. He adjusted his red, white, and blue lanyard, worrying at it as he observed every movement in the game. "They'll hafta pull somethin' outta the air if they don't wanna go into that game with a tick in the loss column."
"You're just scared of playing them yourself, Saint," Pacifist dismissed with a huff.
"As if I'd be scared of some squinty-eyed punks from China," he said, grinning. "Yao Ming's forty-years-old, even if he's got some height on Murasakibara."
"Some height…?" they continued on, trading banter about Ming, but I was hardly listening. Out of the air, I thought. There was only one thing that they could do with the Chinese defense double-teaming Shin-chan and keeping him from landing his three-pointers.
"But isn't this supposed to be a USA Dream Team? Where are all those ridiculous slam dunks these superstars are known for?" Kasamatsu demanded. "Do you think they'll bench our boys? They've got to try something different."
"Midorima and Akashi are both goin' back on the court," Imayoshi told us, seconds before the two of them headed back in.
"How do you do that, Uncle Saint?" Akira asked.
"What?" he said, his eyes closed into tight slits.
"Look into the future?" she asked, her voice hushed and small.
"It ain't the future, sweet girl, it's just havin' faith in our friends."
As the buzzer sounded and the game started again, Akashi looked more in the right frame of mind. He stopped, took a deep breath and threw the ball back into play, bypassing the more obvious pass to Shin-chan, and instead finding an opening between him and The Shark. It was the play I would have made.
"Good choice, Emperor," Kasamatsu shouted as The Shark brought the ball up court and into the paint in seconds. A cheer arose behind us as the action picked up.
"It's really not fair that he's got four Point Guards nit-picking his every move," I said.
[Three] came the text almost as the words left my mouth.
"Shut your mouth Chatterbox, you'll always be a Point Guard. 'Sides, it's not like he doesn't have the whole world watchin' him. He's used ta pressure."
"What's Daddy doing?" Akira asked, bouncing on my knee. "Dada, he can't do that without you!"
Shin-chan dropped down into a shooting stance, hands ready to receive, and his feet left the floor as Akashi lined up the shot that would put the ball directly into his hands, already reaching the zenith of his jump.
"NO, DADDY!" she screamed as she launched off my lap, kicking me in the groin as she scampered free.
Shin-chan hesitated and Akashi threw the ball to one of the other players in a split second. Shin-chan followed them up court in a dizzying burst of speed.
I coughed, cleared my throat as I adjusted my bruised parts, and jumped to my feet. I cupped my hands around my mouth for a better call and yelled with all my might: "Persistent and tireless!"
"Wipe the floor with them, Socialite!" Imayoshi yelled, on his feet next to me while Akira pouted in Mitobe's lap. Kasamatsu lept to his feet, picking up my call of persistent and tireless.
On the floor, I saw Shin-chan regain his composure, setting up for the next try. Akashi must have seen the resolve, for he sent the next lighting fast and accurate pass directly into his precious fingers. The ball popped out of his hands and sailed across the room, finally overcoming the double-team, and fell through the hoop to an utterly quiet crowd. As the ball made contact with the floor, it sounded like a shotgun blast. The entire arena erupted in cheers.
I fell back into my seat exhausted.
"No fair, Dada. You hate it when he does that with anybody else."
"You're right, Akira, but I hate it when Daddy loses more than anything else. Don't forget that's our secret. No telling Daddy that I hate his shot."
"Yes, a secret, just like Daddy and I have secrets."
"You have more than one with Daddy?" Imayoshi taunts my little girl.
"Yup," she holds out three fingers.
"Three? That's a lot of secrets to have."
"Yup, he doesn't want you to know that he cried when Bing Bong died in the Inside Out movie, or that he's ashamed I speak and read English better than him, or —"
"That's enough, we can't tell all of Daddy's secrets to everyone."
"It's ok, we're all family here," Imayoshi said.
"Don't tempt her, Saint," I warned. "Mitobe, can you hold the fort here? I need a moment?" I asked.
He nodded and began to distract Akira with her snacks. I got to my feet and Imayoshi followed me, his back slumped and his hands shoved into his team jacket.
When we got around the corner, I said, "I just need a moment —"
He placed a hand on my shoulder. "Are you ok?"
"I don't need a therapist," I spit out too harshly, glaring at the large embroidered 'P' on the center of his chest.
"I know, ya just need a friend. Someone ya can cuss at and say what ya mean."
"I hate it," I said, biting my lip and willing the tears to stop, but failed.
"Have ya told him?"
"What? That I hate the most amazing shot he can do? Do I tell him to stop playing as a Miracle? To hobble himself because I'm jealous? That's like telling me not to speak English," I gulped, rubbing at my eyes.
"Why does it bother ya so much?" he asked, massaging my shoulder gently.
"It's like… he's cheating on me. That's our technique, damit."
"What's wrong with Dada?" Akira said, running up to me, Mitobe looking sheepishly at us.
"What are you —?"
[She had to pee.] The text answered.
"Oh, ok, I'll take you to the bathroom," I said, holding out my hand.
"Who's cheating Dada?" Akira demanded, hands on her hips.
"No one's cheating me, Akira, it's just an idiom and it was a poorly chosen one."
She glared at me, not budging.
"Sweet girl," Imayoshi said, getting down on her level. "Adults sometimes don't like it when they share special things with people outside of their families, but sometimes they have ta in order ta win. Do you understand?"
"Dada doesn't like it when Daddy does his special shot with Jiro-kun?"
"Smart girl," he sighed, petting her hair again. "It makes him sad."
"Don't be sad, Dada. Daddy's gonna win and make you feel all better," she said, wrapping her arms around my leg.
"I know he will, Akira. I know he will."
Midorima POV
When the game ends— USA 113, China 70 — there is a crowd of spectators begging for autographs from the overhang above us. I see Kazu, Akira, and the Point Guard Poker Players waiting in seats off to the left. Even family is not allowed on the courts, so I will have to go up to see them, or yell in an undignified way to coordinate where to meet up with them after I shower.
I sign more Knicks memorabilia than Olympic, but I'm most surprised when a young woman hands me an old copy of Gekkan Basketball with a cover story about our game against Team Jabberwock. It is in pristine condition.
"I haven't thought about this game in a long time," I say, as she directs me to sign the cover.
"It was the first time you and Akash-sama did that shot you did today. It was just as awesome seeing it this time as it was then."
"You were at that game?" I ask, looking up at her.
"Of course I was, you don't recognize me, do you?" She pouts.
"I…" I stutter.
"It's ok," she laughs. "Out of time and place, I can't imagine you'd remember me, in class you only had eyes for Takao-kun. I used to sit next to him during our third year, in fact."
"I'm so sorry, I remember your face, but not your name."
"Just make it out to Rei Shimoda."
"Shimoda-chan, yes, now I remember. Did you see Kazu is in the stands behind you?" I point with the pen, then scribble "Persistent and Tireless" below my face.
"Takao-kun," she turns and calls to him.
He waves and stands coming toward her with Akira on his hip. "Shimoda-chan, so nice to see you again."
She hugs him, "And who is this cutey?"
"This is our daughter, Akira."
"I'm four years old," she squeals.
"Oh my, she's precious. I always knew the two of you would end up together. Do I still call you Takao?"
"Kazunari is fine. I've been a Midorima for a long time, but it still confuses our friends to call us both that," he says, so at ease and comfortable, that he once again puts me to shame. She snaps a quick picture of me below and takes a selfie with Kazu and Akira before exchanging email addresses and promises to keep in contact. As she moves to Seijūrō's line for autographs, Akira peers above the overhang and glowers at me.
"What have I done to anger the princess?" I ask, voice full of contrition.
"It's not a joke, Daddy, I'm angry at you."
"For taking that shot? I heard you say no, but Dada was louder. I had to follow his will."
"For cheating on Dada with Jiro-kun," she shouts. Kazu throws his hand over her mouth, but she bites his hand and fights him off.
Shimoda-chan's jaw drops. All eyes swing to us, and Seijūrō's calm demeanor breaks as his head swivels toward us. "What did she just say?" someone asks.
"I what?" Seijūrō asks, as the card he's signing flutters to the ground.
"Oh, no, I didn't mean… oh, my god," Kazu sputters. His eyes are veined red and his under eyes-area is puffy and swollen.
"Kazu, I…" His face has turned bright red to match his eyes, his fists clench and unclench - he's digging his fingernails into his palm, while his whole body practically vibrates.
"You can't use that shot with Daddy anymore, it makes Dada cry," she sobs.
"That shot, the special one, I see, Akira-chan," he answers her very solemnly. "I don't want to make anyone cry. Do you know why it is such a powerful shot, Akira-chan?"
"Because Daddy's 'off the hook'," she answers proudly, the tears stopping in her inherited Midorima arrogance.
"It is, but without the months of practice that he and Dada put into it, I would never have been able to do it with Daddy. It is 'off the hook'", he quotes her, "because your parents worked so hard to make it so. Without your Dada, it wouldn't have been possible. Your Dada is just as amazing and I hope he realizes it."
"Well, duh," she says, crossing her arms and tapping her foot.
"Kazunari, may I borrow your shot until the end of the Olympics?" he asks my husband.
"As long as you win, you can continue to use it in Olympic play," he says, sniffing and fighting back tears. My husband is the bravest man I've ever known, and despite my feigned ignorance, I know how much it hurts him to see me use that move with anyone else. Akira is right, in her blunt way, it is cheating on him with Seijūrō and it isn't fair to him.
"You have my word of honor, Kazunari," he says and bows to my husband, before turning back to Akira. "Is this compromise acceptable to you?"
She scrunches up her nose as she considers. She looks at Kazu who appears to be looking anywhere but at her.
"Alright, but if you make my Dada cry again, I'll kick you in the shin!" she declares and I can't help but picture the action and I have to stifle a laugh.
"I need to speak to you alone, now," Kazu says as we clear the front door of my parent's house.
"Akira," I say, immediately, knowing that whatever he needs to say has been brewing since the end of the game. "I don't believe you've told Grandma the story of the Mermaid in the bathtub. Perhaps now would be a good time." I'm not sure I can deal with his anger about the shot right now; I already feel so damn guilty that it made him jealous and our daughter angry.
Akira considers me, Kazu, and my mother and sensing all the mixed emotions coming off the two of us, she goes to my mother without a fuss. "Did you know, Grandma, that every time you fill a bathtub, a mermaid…" she narrates as she takes her hand and leads the way to the hallway bathroom with the large tub.
I push Kazu toward our bedroom and he stumbles down the corridor as if intoxicated. As we cross the threshold, he falls forward onto his knees and clutches at his chest. I freeze unable to process what's going on.
"Kazu…should I call dad?"
He starts hyperventilating and that I can deal with, I close the door and kneel beside him, slowly rubbing circles on his back. I force his head down. "Slow down, baby. Just breathe. Whatever this is, we'll get through it."
He leans forward on his left hand and holds out his right, showing me the tiny bite marks that surround the meatiest part of his thumb. It's starting to turn purple, but she hadn't broken the skin.
"That looks painful," I say, knowing it isn't what is bothering him, but it is the only thing I can think to say as he pushes back and his wild eyes stare into mine, searching for some answers.
"When she bit me," he starts to say, but is wracked again with such cries that he sags into me. "I wanted to hit her so badly… I'm such a horrible person."
Ah, there it is, the actual issue. "No baby, wanting to hit her doesn't make you bad, but hitting her in anger would have. You made the right choice because you are a good man, and a wonderful parent. You are not your father."
"Are you sure?" he asks, his beautiful gray eyes pleading for the right answer. There is only one I can give and, for once, I am one hundred percent sure that I am about to say the right thing.
"I am," I say, taking his bitten and bruised hand and turning it over to reveal the crusty bloodied crescent moon gouges he'd put in his hand, clenching them to hold his anger back. "These marks tell me that you are nothing like him. You'd rather hurt yourself, than Akira. Those thoughts never surfaced from his drunken mind."
His eyes go between my face and this hand multiple times before the tears finally slow and he sees what I see. For all his wide vision, sometimes he is as blind as his nickname.
A/N: Have a Happy New Year!