"Tetsu-chan, are you all right?"

Hiroshi-san's voice was warm and concerned. They sat together on a bench, watching the basketball court. Akashi and Mura leisurely played ball in half the court, making shots on the basket and occasionally passing back and forth, sometimes engaging in a low-key one-on-one. The elementary-age children who had been playing on the court were still there, watching them with wide eyes and awed expressions. Akashi played up for his little audience, giving them charming smiles and performing flashy moves that made them laugh and clap, while Mura defended the basket and pretended to be annoyed by the attention.

Tetsu was in the fresh air. Hiroshi-san was at his side, and his friends were playing basketball, joyful and free, a pleasure to watch. His sickness had passed and his strength was rapidly returning with the good food and good company he'd been enjoying for the past few days. He should be feeling great, the best he'd been since the trouble had started a month and a half ago.

And yet...

And yet.

His head was light and his palms were sweaty and unpleasantly cold. He couldn't make the swirl of nausea in his stomach go away. A low thrum of anxiety beat in the back of his head, exhausting him, dragging him down.

It wasn't rational. After the panic attack faded, after all of Akashi's reassuring words, Tetsu had thought he was ready to go outside. He knew his father wasn't a threat to him anymore, would never be again. He knew that. He did. Even if that hadn't been true, Tetsu was here with Hiroshi-san, who had saved him once and was perfectly willing to do it again. And only meters away were Akashi and Mura, his most cunning friend and his most physically imposing friend, respectively. He had nothing to be afraid of.

And yet he was. He was so, so frightened.

It didn't make sense. That was what made him feel the worst. He told himself over and over again all of the facts. His father had never known Taiga's address, so he wouldn't know to come here. Tokyo was enormous, and the chances of him finding this place by accident were vanishingly small, even knowing that it would be within a comfortable commuting distance from Seirin.

He didn't have a reason to come after Tetsu. He had no legal right to him, and Tetsu had never known his father to be one for revenge or grudges—he just lost his temper, lost control of his rationality. He never really planned to hurt Tetsu. He just did it.

And besides, he would be busy today. Very busy. Tomorrow he was leaving Tokyo for Russia, and he wasn't coming back. He had no time, no opportunity, no motivation to attack Tetsu again.

The facts didn't help. Tetsu was afraid, and he couldn't make the fear go away with intellectual arguments. It felt dreadful. He felt out of control, unable to contain himself. Children yelled on the playground, and his heart jumped against his throat, choking him. He wanted to sink into the earth and just...just hide from it all. But he couldn't do that. He was stuck.

"Tetsu-chan?" Hiroshi-san's voice was getting more worried. Tetsu blinked and looked up at him.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"Nothing to be sorry for." Hiroshi-san reached out for him. He rested his palm, warm and gentle, on the back of Tetsu's neck. He didn't ask again if Tetsu was all right. He must have been able to tell that he wasn't.

Tetsu relaxed a bit at the touch. It seemed to ground him to reality, to the solidity of Hiroshi-san's presence at his side. He drew a shuddering breath and looked forward again. Akashi glanced at him from the court, a small frown fleeting over his lips, then turned back to Mura and the giggling children.

"I don't know why I'm scared," he murmured, trusting Hiroshi-san to hear him over all the noise of the playground, the urban outdoors. "I shouldn't be. This must be what paranoia is like."

He felt more than saw Hiroshi-san shake his head, slow and gentle. "It's not paranoia. It's trauma. You've had a lot of very bad experiences, Tetsu-chan. Your mind is trying to protect you from letting them happen again. It's normal, even healthy. I'm sorry it's so unpleasant for you, though." He gave the back of Tetsu's neck a comforting squeeze, and Tetsu leaned into his hand.

"When will it stop?" he whispered. "When will I feel normal again?"

"I don't know." Hiroshi's voice was regretful. "You'll have to be brave for a while longer. I know you can do it, though."

Tetsu breathed in, deep and slow. He had to go back to school in two days... What if he was still afraid then? Would it be even worse because it was a place he knew his father could find, or would it be better because his father would be out of the country by then? Would the shape of his fear change, causing him to be wary of more and different people? He remembered, though dimly, that he'd been afraid of some of the doctors at the hospital simply because they were male adults with a slight resemblance to the man who had hurt him. What if he started to be afraid of his teachers?

At least he wasn't afraid of Hiroshi-san, though. At least he had never been afraid of Taiga, even though Taiga was large and strong and not adverse to violence. They had both already proven themselves. On separate occasions, Tetsu's new father and brother had both rescued him, protected him, and soothed his pain and distress.

Similarly, he couldn't imagine himself being afraid of any of his teammates, previous or present. All of them had done something, large or small, to prove that they were on Tetsu's side. He hadn't been lying when he'd said that he could never be afraid of Mura-nii.

So maybe things weren't as bad as he'd thought they were. Tetsu pulled in another breath, slow and shaky, and blew it out again. He slumped down on the bench, his muscles relaxing. The fear didn't go away, but it became manageable. It helped to understand that it had a purpose, however misguided, and Hiroshi-san's touch and words reminded him that he didn't have to deal with it alone.

He raised his eyes to see that Akashi had abandoned any pretense at practice and was now just entertaining the children. They gathered around him, oohing and aahing, as he spun a basketball on his finger, then rolled it up his arm, across his shoulders, and down to his other arm, just to spin it on the finger of the other hand. It was all one smooth motion, graceful and assured. Beside Tetsu, Hiroshi-san laughed and clapped, too, utterly delighted.

"Again, again!" cried a little girl, tugging on the hem of Akashi's shirt.

He smiled indulgently at her while Mura crossed his arms over his chest and muttered that he could do it much better if Aka-chin would just give him the ball, come now, Aka-chin, stop being selfish. The children had completely overcome their initial wariness of the giant teen, and now a little boy was trying to climb him like a tree, using Mura's crooked elbow for leverage, and other kids clustered around Mura while they watched Akashi spin the ball.

"One more time," Akashi agreed gently, and he did the same trick, ending with a flourish and a showman's bow.

Tetsu blinked. There seemed to be more children now than there had been in the beginning. He looked over his shoulder and found the swings and jungle gym, full when they arrived, now sparsely occupied. Ah. They'd all come over to watch the basketball show. Akashi had that power.

One of the little boys who had originally been on the court when they arrived pushed toward Akashi, holding out his child-size basketball. "Can you teach me how to do that, Onii-san?" he asked eagerly. "Please, please!"

"Hmm." Akashi narrowed his eyes in thought. He tossed his basketball to Mura without looking and took the child-size ball from the little boy. He hefted it in his hands, tossed it into the air, and pressed it between his palms. Then he gave the boy a broad, sparkling grin. "You've used this ball a lot, I can tell. You must really love basketball."

"I do, I do!" The boy gave a little hop in the air, smiling wide and gap-toothed. He clapped his hands over his head. "But I don't know how to spin the ball on my finger. Please teach me!"

"I would like to do that." The sincerity of Akashi's smile was unmistakable. The little boy beamed back at him. "It would be a great deal of fun to teach you this. But do you know who would be even better than me?" Akashi's voice lowered with the question, and he even bent over closer to him, as if he was sharing a secret with the boy.

The boy shook his head, wide-eyed and spellbound. He lowered his voice too. "No, who?"

Akashi straightened and looked over to the bench. "My friend, Tetsu-kun."

Tetsu's heart stuttered in his chest. He stared at Akashi in astonishment, completely unable to move.

The little boy looked over him, took in the way he was sitting on the bench, limp and pale and thin, obviously weak and far from the picture of vibrant health that Akashi and Mura presented. His looked back to Akashi, his eyes skeptical. "Really? Tetsu-kun is a good teacher?"

Akashi nodded solemnly and held the basketball out to the boy. "Tetsu-kun is the best teacher I know, especially at basketball. He taught our friend Kise, you know, and now Kise is one of the best basketball players in Japan."

He made it sound so obvious. The way he voiced it, it was simply a fact. The kids could not question it—no one could. Akashi's word was absolute.

The little boy's eyes lit up, bright as the sun. He even gasped in wonder and celebration. He grabbed the ball from Akashi's hands and dashed over to the bench, several other children trailing in his wake. "Tetsu-kun, Tetsu-kun!"

The boy stopped in front of Tetsu and looked up at him with enormous eyes, clear and innocent and pure. He stared at him for a moment, then cried again, "Tetsu-san! No, Tetsu-sensei!" He bowed deeply to him, holding out the basketball in both tiny hands. "Please teach me how to spin the ball!"

Tetsu couldn't breathe. He stared at the boy, at the ball, at the children fidgeting behind him, watching Tetsu with bright, sparkling eyes as they waited for the fabled teacher promised by their new hero, Akashi. He stared at Akashi, who gave him a gentle smile, soft and understanding, and at Mura, who was occupied spinning the basketball Akashi had tossed to him and looking around to see if anyone was watching. Lastly, he stared at Hiroshi-san, who had removed his hand from back of Tetsu's neck and was now giving him an encouraging look.

"You can do it," Hiroshi-san said. "I know you can."

You're brave, Tetsu-chan, he was saying, and Tetsu knew it because Hiroshi-san had said similar things before. You're so, so brave, and you don't have to prove it to me again. But I like it when others get to see it, too.

Slowly, slowly, his fingers trembling, Tetsu reached out for the ball. "All...all right," he said softly as the pebbled surface carressed the pads of his fingers, the palms of his hands. "I'll do my best."

The boy grinned and straightened, backing up to watch as Tetsu shakily stood to his feet, holding the ball. Tetsu's fingers tightened on the little ball, and for a moment he desperately wanted to throw it away. Into Akashi's face, preferably, like he'd thrown that ball at Aomine back in the Seirin gym when everything felt so heavy and horrible.

Tetsu felt better now. He truly did. The despair and grief that had blanketed him then was largely lifted, and he was stronger and steadier in every conceivable way, not least because of the excellent support he'd been getting from everyone he knew. But he didn't feel ready for this. He didn't know if he could do it.

It was true that Tetsu had always been good at spinning a basketball. He'd spent a lot of time handling the ball, memorizing every nuance of its weight and size, the way it moved and bounced, impressing it on his skin and his spirit until he knew it better than he knew himself. It had been necessary for him to do those "magic" passes, to put the ball exactly where he wanted it with only the briefest of touches. Everyone who played basketball eventually learned or taught themselves how to do a finger spin, because it was cool and fun and impressive, and it always felt good to accomplish it well.

But what if he couldn't anymore? What if he tried to spin the ball and it just fell off his finger like a dead weight? What if he fumbled? What if it was gone? What if he made himself and Akashi look like enormous fools in front of this adoring little crowd?

He looked to Hiroshi-san again. Hiroshi-san smiled, soft and deep and confident. He had no doubts. None at all.

Tetsu drew a deep breath. Blew it out. He stared down at the ball, held steadily between his palms. He looked to the little boy.

"All right," he said again, stronger than before. "I'll show you how it's done. Pay close attention to how I do it, and then I'll teach you the steps."

He looked down at the ball again. It was small, but it felt good in his hands. Akashi was right—this ball had seen a lot of use. The rough surface was beginning to wear away in places, and the skin felt supple and relaxed in just the right way. Tetsu held the ball up in both hands, his fingers pressed against the lower hemisphere

Then he tossed the ball into the air, starting the motion with a snap of his fingers. It spun in midair, perfectly horizontal, and his index finger rose to meet it. He caught the ball exactly on the correct point, and it balanced on his finger, spinning madly away with nary a wobble.

The little boy laughed and raised his hands, crying for more. On the court, Akashi smiled and Mura wrinkled his nose. Hiroshi-san chuckled, low and deep and satisfied but not at all surprised.

Tetsu's shoulders relaxed. He forgot that he'd been afraid, forgot that he'd ever felt anything but joy to be under the sky again, standing in the light. The basketball spun on his finger, smooth and swift and beautiful. It felt like coming home.

It was perfect.