A/N: To all the people still reading, thank you so much for continuing on. Thanks as well to all the reviewers. You are my lifeblood.

You Were Conceived Next to a Tortoise Enclosure

The Talentless Miss. Tsukino

"I mean, I could probably wait a little while longer… no, Aomine isn't coming round for a few hours still so... no, I haven't left yet… yeah, I guess… yeah… yeah… okay cool. Haha, yeah, keep one eye ope- okay, bye."

The hand holding the phone fell limply to her side. Tsukino stared up at the big Craft, Craft, Craft sign. She'd brought enough money for supplies, or rather, a half-asleep Zinan had shoved a wad of cash into her hands on her way out. She had taken up up the attack stance, but he had already slunk into the dark recesses of his bedroom before she could question this newfound generosity. Maybe Ichiro going off to University had made him soft. They were close after all. It must have been weird not having him around. Probably he was lonely. Reaching up, she scratched at her shoulder.

Yaga-san, the owner of Craft, Craft, Craft caught sight of her and waved. There was a big cheerful smile on his face. Tsukino grinned back but it felt weird. She was acutely aware of every muscle in her face, like they were pushing back against the expression. She felt herself blink a couple of times, as if to correct the malfunction, recalibrate, but it just made it worse. Pretending to yawn, she scrolled through her contacts.

Another three hours before Aomine was meant to come over. Could she ask him to meet her earlier? They could walk round the shops like they used to. No. It felt too awkward to ask so she scrolled down her contact list.

Momoi was away for the weekend.

Sakata would definitely come, but Tsukino knew she had cram school.

Midorima would probably say no unless she made it sound like he was doing her a favour.

She was still annoyed at Murasakibara after what he'd said to her at the last practice match. Even now the memory made her broil.

That left-

"I'm offended I wasn't your first choice," said Kuroko, peering over her shoulder at her phone.

"It's 'cos I knew you were there the whole time," Tsukino said, without turning round.

"Why were you about to call me then?"

"Dramatic effect."

Kuroko bumped her shoulder. "You know it hurts my feelings when even you don't notice me."

"I noticed you, okay!" snapped Tsukino, bumping his shoulder with much more force. Stiff as a board, Kuroko tipped onto the floor. "Oi!"

"So cruel," said Kuroko, lying on his side.

"I'll kick you," threatened Tsukino, unperturbed by the whispering onlookers.

"I'll tell Sakata-san you learned how to forge your mother's signature."

Immediately, Kuroko was hauled to his feet. Tsukino brushed the imaginary dust off his clothes.

"Are you okay? You didn't bump your head or anything?"

Kuroko pressed a hand to his head and feigned a winced. "I am a little dizzy."

"Oh?"

"And a bit parched."

"Uhuh." Tsukino could see where this was going.

"That reminds me; a new milkshake stand just opened up."

"Did it."

"But I think… oh shucks, I must have left my wallet at home."

They stared at each other. Hearing him say shucks with that deadpan expression made all the nerve-endings in her body vibrate in disgust.

"Damn," she finally said.

"I'd really like to try their vanilla milkshake."

"No way?!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up, "You'd really like to try another vanilla milkshake. Because all the other vanilla milkshakes you've had could never give you an idea of what this vanilla milkshake might taste like."

"I guess I should ask Ogiwara-kun to take me for a milkshake when I next see him."

"OVER MY DEAD BODY!" bellowed Tsukino. She grabbed hold of his wrist and dragged him in the direction of the milkshake stand, grumbling venomously the whole way. "That egg-breath, butthole for a face, BASTARD, tryna steal my subordinate, ohohoho, he'll see, kidnap his little brothers and feed them to Number Five."

When she turned to glance at him over her shoulder, she was blinded by the kind of smile that could light up the world. It disappeared when Tsukino shoved him in front of a little girl in the queue. It took a while for Kuroko to explain that a 'Birthday Girl' badge did in fact outrank her Swim Club one.

With only half an hour to spare, Kame burst into the house, hastily picked the lock on the downstairs toilet and wrenched a limp Saburo out by the collar.

"I require your culinary skills, little brother," she hissed, dragging him into the kitchen.

Mama Tsukino was bent over a laundry basket in front of the washing machine and did not look up from her task when they entered.

"Kame-chan," she said, "let go of your brother. He won't be able to cook for you today."

"Why not?" demanded Kame, opening the fridge and placing his head on one of the shelves. "He loves cooking for me."

"He absolutely does," Mama Tsukino said placatingly, "but Papa, Buro, and I have our appointment today. It's on the calendar."

Most family calendars give you about five columns for each member. Since there were seven of them, that meant there was a lot of overlap and, as a result, the calendar on their fridge was covered in the kinds of illegible, haphazard scribbles you would expect to find on a bathroom stall in a bad part of town. Kame hardly ever looked at it. Since both it and the binder shared a common organisational ancestry, it brought with it a deep dread.

"We have family therapy," Mama Tsukino explained when she saw her daughter struggle to decipher the writing.

"Oh, that," said Kame, making a face. "Well, Buro-chan, you can probably whip up a few sandwiches-"

"I've already left you some snacks in the fridge," said Mama Tsukino, hanging up the damp clothes on the drying rack. "And there's some ice cream in the freezer."

"Rocky Road?"

"Of course, and a couple of other flavours so Aomine-kun can have some too," said Mama Tsukino, knowing that should Kame choose to have any children, her daughter's inability to share ice cream would one day extend even to them.

"Is Zii-nii going?" asked Kame. She released Saburo from the makeshift cryogenic prison and he skulked away.

"Not today," Mama Tsukino said absentmindedly, "Your brother needs some rest after working hard all week."

"Haha, that's funny. Zii-nii. Hard work. Haha."

"Let him sleep okay. Don't make too much noise."

Begrudging nod.

After Papa stowed Number Five under his arm (because nothing less would keep him from Kame) and Mama Tsukino located Saburo, who had somehow spider crawled his way onto the ceiling of the toilet, they said their goodbyes.

As they disappeared through the doorway, Saburo gave his sister one last look of pleading. She saluted her fallen comrade, safe in the knowledge that she would never again be asked to return to family therapy. The snake had been a good idea. Even Ichiro had his moments.

Apathetic wasn't a word that Tsukino knew. If she did, she might have been able to understand what was making her so uncomfortable while she sat across from Aomine. A pitiful turnout of two books sat on the low table between them. Sakata had given her a reading list, but she'd only been able to find those two at the school library. She'd texted Aomine a few days ago to ask him if he could check his local library, but he had shown up empty handed. Tsukino wasn't the kind of person to demand apologies (unless they were written in blood) but the half-hearted 'my bad' exposed the itch on her shoulder. In the silence, she kept scratching at it.

The highlighter in Aomine's hand hadn't moved for a while. Tsukino glanced at the booklet she had printed out for him to read. Again, she wasn't the kind of person to judge someone's poor work ethic, but he could at least pretend to be highlighting stuff. That's what she did when she wanted to show willing. Of course, Sakata would later quiz her, discover the flimsy subterfuge, and then make her repeat the process until she got it right. But something told her she wouldn't have this kind of sway over Aomine.

More and more, she was starting to see what Murasakibara had meant.

"What's wrong with your shoulder?" Aomine asked.

Tsukino looked up, her hand pausing mid-scratch. "Huh?"

"You keep rubbing it," said Aomine.

"Just kinda itches," she said, lowering her hand and rolling the shoulder back. "Got bit maybe. Zii-nii could be tryna to poison me again."

A grunt marked the end of this interaction.

About twenty minutes later, Aomine abruptly reached over and pulled the sleeve of her shirt up and over her shoulder. The skin practically glowed red.

"It looks like a rash," said Aomine, releasing her. "You got antihistamine cream?"

"What's that?"

"Where's your medicine cabinet?" asked Aomine, getting to his feet.

"Are you asking me if I know where the drugs are?" said Tsukino, grinning at him. "Drugs such as laxatives?"

Something in the hard contours in his face softened. "Still on your shit."

Choked laughter escaped her at his unintended pun and a small smile surfaced and disappeared, unseen by the cackling gremlin. Still, the tension in the air was unwinding.

"C'mon, I'll take you to the good stuff," she said, leading him down the ladder and into her parent's room.

There was a small adjoining ensuite with a toilet, a sink, and a standing shower in the corner. Tsukino opened the cabinet above the sink and gestured grandly at the rows of different medication.

"They used to keep it locked up," said Tsukino, radiating smugness.

Aomine gave her knowing look. "Guessing they gave up."

"The path of least resistance," said Tsukino, which was what the family therapist had said when making Ichiro and her sign an official document that made them agree to never again step foot inside the building.

"You sure it's okay to go through your parent's stuff like this?" asked Aomine.

"If you're worried about finding condoms, don't worry. I don't think my parents know what they are," said Tsukino.

Aomine glared at her, but she simply grinned back until he gave up. The cabinet was quite packed and had a few boxes. It made sense with five children of varying ages, one of whom had the self-preservation skills of small, vicious dog. He handed some over to Tsukino. Her mood had improved greatly, and she started shoving anything that looked remotely cream like in his face and asking: "Is this it?!"

Eventually, it was.

"Come here," he muttered, uncapping the tube. He held her sleeve up and spread the cold cream over the red welt. Then he put the cap back on and told her to rub it in while he washed his hands.

"My hero," she said, clasping her hands together by her chin.

Did he flinch? Or was that her imagination.

As soon as they re-entered her room, she could feel the goodwill that had built up begin to evaporate. This process only sped up when Aomine dropped back into his seat and started flicking absentmindedly through the pages. It disappeared completely when she took her place opposite him. What had seemed so comfortable moments ago now seared the back of her neck with a white cold burn. "My hero" replayed over and over in her head as she asked herself why she had done that and then asked herself, wait, what was wrong with doing that? She'd joked about worse things with Aomine. Why did she care? He'd never cared before. But then he'd never flinched, at least not like that.

"This stuff is so boring," she said, waving the book that she had painstakingly been taking notes on, emphasis on the pain. This really wasn't her forte. She much preferred being under the heel of Sakata when it came to studying.

"Yeah," said Aomine. For a second, she thought he was going to highlight something, but he just twirled the pen in his hand.

"Found anything useful?" she asked.

Another grunt.

As the silence reasserted itself between them, Tsukino started to sink. It wasn't the usual defeated slump brought on by the presence of Zinan's savage mockery, nor was she dissolving into a pool of spitting, hissing acid the way she did at the very mention of Ogiwara. She was sinking. Sat opposite Aomine, dragging her pen under each line so that she could read every word, she was sinking. And it brought with it an edge of terror, the kind that first comes to you in early nightmares as shapes, not words.

Tsukino had never been good at feelings. She knew this. Of course, she knew she was bad at it. People had been telling her ever since she was able to talk. Oh, Tsukino, you're so insensitive. Oh, Tsukino, you don't care about anybody's feelings. Oh, Tsukino, you'd never understand.

And she didn't understand. She didn't understand what was going on with everyone around her. She didn't understand why Midorima was growing more and more impatient with each tuition session. Or why Kise didn't come to Craft, Craft, Craft anymore. Why one minute Aomine and her were laughing and joking, and the next he was flinching as if she'd burned him.

And why, she thought, digging her pen into the page so hard it left an indent, why had Murasakibara called her pointless the other week when she was just trying to cheer on the team? Akashi had just stood there, saying nothing, like it didn't even matter. Like she didn't matter. She didn't understand. She was doing everything exactly the same as she'd always done and somehow… somehow… somehow, she was still doing it wrong.

And none of them would just tell her so she could fix it.

"You know, I'm kinda tired," said Tsukino, staring at the rip she'd made in the book.

Aomine dropped his book on the table and stretched his arms above his head. "Yeah, let's get something to e-"

"You should probably go home," said Tsukino, already packing her things away.

"Huh?"

"I can finish the project after school tomorrow. Don't worry, I'll write up a script, so you know what to say on the day."

"You're gonna finish it on your own?" scoffed Aomine.

"It's not like you were doing anything."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Look, I get it, you don't want to be here," said Tsukino, her words tumbling out. It was like a seesaw. She was sinking, but something else was rising. "So, if I'm such a pain in the ass to be around, you should just leave, right?"

Aomine stared at her, and she stared right back. It had been like this with Oshiro, hadn't it? Like she wasn't in the driver's seat anymore while all those things that were meant to stay hidden away poured out.

"The hell is your problem, huh?" said Aomine, expression darkening.

It was the same expression that had stared down Kira, Nakadan and countless others on the court, stared them down until they were flattened beneath it. Tsukino had been wondering how long it would take to reach her.

"You're my problem," she half-shouted, stabbing her finger at him. "You and your stupid, fat face."

"That doesn't make any sense," said Aomine, his expression momentarily replaced by bewilderment. "What's my stupid, fat face-"

"So, you admit, you have a stupid, fat face."

"Shut up," snapped Aomine. "What's any of this got to do with us doing this project?"

"You're not even trying, okay, and I know I suck at studying but at least I'm trying," said Tsukino, getting to her feet. She grabbed his bag and held it out to him.

Gritting his teeth together, he glared up at her.

"You don't need to pretend you care about this stuff okay!" She was fully shouting now. "So just leave! Go sit on a stupid roof or whatever the hell you do these days! I don't need you!"

Snatching the bag out of her hands, Aomine got to his feet, and marched over to the ladder. For a second, it looked like he was about to turn and say something, practically trembling with fury. Having sunk so deep, Tsukino could only stare up at the apparition of herself with its fists balled at its sides, unable to summon up the courage to stop him as he disappeared down the ladder.

She waited a few seconds, listening. Then the front door slammed and the signals in her brain kicked into gear. She grabbed her own bookbag, dropped onto the first-floor landing, and stomped down the corridor. Zinan's bedroom door was ajar and as she approached, he appeared, leaning against the frame.

"Last known location?" he asked with a beatific smile.

"Mareo's," she snarled.

The door slammed once more. Zinan, who had grown comfortable on the doorframe almost dozed off. He was quite proud of himself for managing to go from deep sleep to effortless look of nonchalance in a matter of seconds. After all, he had a reputation to uphold, and annoying the Almighty Midget Middle Child was a duty he took very seriously.

Letting out a wide yawn, he waddled sleepily down to the kitchen. There were a bunch of snacks that Zinan guessed had been put out for Tsukino and her friend, which meant they'd taste that much sweeter if he ate them all before she got back home.

Just as he was about to dig into a tub of Rocky Road, there was a knock at the door. Probably little sis forgetting her keys. Shovelling a heap of ice cream onto the spoon, he carried the tub of ice cream with him to the door. Smile in place, he put the chain on the door and opened it a crack.

"What's the pass- Oh, it's you Aomine." Zinan undid the chain and opened the door fully. "You forget something?"

Aomine, who clearly hadn't been expecting to see Zinan, looked like a deer caught in headlights. "Yeah, I left my jacket in Tsukino's room."

Zinan ushered him in with the spoon. "Come in, come in. Want some ice cream?"

Aomine's eyes fixed on the label a millisecond too long.

"Don't worry, she's not here, and I won't tell if you have some," said Zinan, leading them into the living room and dropping heavily onto the couch. "I want her to think it was me who ate it all. Come sit, take a load off!"

"No thanks, I really need my- Wait, Tsukino's not here?" Aomine asked distractedly.

"Nah. Left right after you did." From the corner of his eye, Zinan saw the look of discomfort twist on Aomine's face and grinned. "She seemed pretty upset. You know why?"

A dark expression came over his blue haired underclassman and Zinan's grin widened.

"Oh, I get it, it's that," said Zinan, nodding sagely.

Aomine's eyes snapped to meet his, and though it was clear he was trying to hide it, there was an eager questioning behind them. When Zinan merely continued to stare at him, shovelling more and more ice cream into his smug face, Aomine relented.

"What's that?"

"Why do you care?" asked Zinan, practically singing the words. "Is it 'cos you like-"

"Screw this," Aomine grumbled before Zinan could finish his sentence.

He disappeared upstairs. Zinan waited until he'd returned, shrugging on his jacket and swinging the front door open.

"Our Kame really sucks at expressing her feelings, doesn't she?"

Aomine froze in the open doorway.

"Been like that since she was small…er, throwing tantrums and getting angry over meaningless stuff, or at least, what seemed like meaningless stuff," continued Zinan, watching Aomine's back carefully. A back could be expressive in its own way if you knew how to read it. "For a while there, I was hoping she'd end up with Tetsuya-"

The flinch was so obvious Zinan had to stop himself from cackling.

"-you know, since he's so patient and understanding. With someone like him, Kame would never have to worry about being misunderstood."

Now he was gripping his fists so tightly, Zinan wondered if he'd draw blood.

"But that quickly flew out the window after he rejected her confession, and she swore bloody vengeance on his future offspring. Even at three years old, Tetsuya had more sense than most."

The fists unclenched.

"It seems like she has lots more friends these days. Lots more opportunities for her to misunderstand people. Lots more opportunities for people to misunderstand her," said Zinan, letting out a low whistle and walking over to the front door. He once again executed the perfect nonchalant lean against the door frame, smiling at Aomine's distant gaze. "I bet even the star player of a basketball team knows what it's like to be surrounded by hundreds of smiling faces and feel completely, and utterly alone."

Their eyes met then and the smile on Zinan's face faltered briefly. Not because Aomine's expression surprised him. It was all too familiar. Those expectations that piled onto you when you were meant to be the smartest, the fastest, the best of the best. You could reach for the stars but the stars, though they may have been beautiful, were also cold, and the warmth you now so desperately seek as you cast your reach behind you, seems so far away, so, so far away that maybe they're no longer reaching for you.

"Where?" relented Aomine.

"Mareo's." Another flinch. "I'll text you the address."

"I don't have your number."

"Don't worry," said Zinan, grinning the grin inherent to big brothers everywhere, "I have yours."

As Zinan returned to the couch, half a tub left to go, he hoped he had said the right things. After all, there was something to be said, he knew, about those people who didn't even know how to reach, people like Kame who stood in the cold and watched the warm world around them until they turned bitter.

Mareo did not live far from the Tsukino residence, but Aomine walked fast anyway. A stopwatch was running, and he needed to come in under a certain number of seconds to qualify. Jogging the last stretch, he stopped in front of a grey, two storey house that had a nice car sitting in the adjacent driveway. A very nice car. Almost too nice for this kind of neighbourhood.

A picture was beginning to form in Aomine's mind of the type of people that lived in such a house. People that, yes, he thought as he approached, swept the porch every day regardless of weather, and took a ruler to the blades of grass at half meter increments. People that earned a modest living but detested the idea that other people in their tax bracket should think they were peers somehow. Okay, maybe they had a similar level of education, and sure the companies they worked at were equal contenders in the market. But they didn't shop at the same stores, did they? After all, their taste was much more refined. So they had the nicer car, the nicer clothes, the monogrammed towels, meanwhile, in the background, Aomine's financier of a mother would always point out, they were racking up the mother of all credit card debt. All for the sake of appearing better than everyone else.

If you were gonna be a stuck-up bastard, Aomine thought bitterly, at least have the credentials to back it up.

Ringing the doorbell, he only had to wait a few moments before he heard someone over the intercom.

"Identify yourself," came the imperious voice.

Deep breath. "Name's Aomine-"

"State your business," said Mareo.

Count to ten. "I-"

"Faster!"

"Tell Tsukino to come out," snapped Aomine, doing away with niceties.

"Kame is in the middle of a very delicate task at the moment. You will need to arrange another time to speak with her. Please leave immediately- hey, wait, Kame-"

The door swung open, and Tsukino shot out, dragging Aomine by the elbow over to where he presumed the property line ended.

Mareo appeared in the doorway with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He seemed to object to the very notion of being exposed to the outside, never mind that it was quite a warm day, and the sun was shining. Instead, his mouth was pinched in the permanent disappointment of someone who had smelled a stealthy fart and could not for the life of him locate its source and so was determined to make his displeasure known to all who stood in the elevator.

"Hurry up, Kame," Mareo called to her, tapping what looked like an expensive watch.

"That's the guy you look up to as a mentor. What a dick," remarked Aomine. And there was something else that was really pissing him off.

"You talked for like two seconds," said Tsukino.

"Yeah, and it only took me two seconds to see what a dick he is."

"Okay," shrugged Tsukino. "Mareo is a dick-"

"Hey!"

"-Did you come all the way here to tell me that?"

Aomine tried to ignore the boy standing in the doorway whose ponytail was rippling elegantly in the breeze.

"We have a project to finish," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets in an attempt at nonchalance. "Let's go."

"I'm busy," she said, pointing her chin in the air.

Having realised that her two-inch growth spurt had coincided with everyone else's two-inch (plus) growth spurt, Tsukino had taken to wearing heels. It didn't make a lick of difference when Aomine leaned over her though, engulfing her in his shadow.

"I'm not gonna ask you twice," he said darkly. "You got two minutes to get your shit or I'm gonna drag you by the ankles, brat."

"Kame, if this thug is bothering you, say the word and I'll call the police."

"Hey, asshole, how about you mind your damn business," Aomine said evenly, eyes never leaving Tsukino's.

Ignore him. Ignore his slender features and thick eyebrows. Ignore how his dark eyes were framed perfectly by two long bangs. Ignore how his hair looks exactly like Takeshi Kaneshiro's did in House of Flying Daggers. Shit.

"Please don't tell me you've been blowing me off to hang out with people like him, Kame," sneered Mareo. "No wonder you're making such little progress with your model making."

"Go back inside, Mareo," said Tsukino. "I'll be there in a minute."

"I'm holding you to it. I'll be timing you."

The door clicked shut and they were finally alone. Aomine's expression relaxed at once.

"You let him talk to you like that?" he asked.

"Like what?"

"Like you're some kinda servant?"

"That's just the way he talks," said Tsukino shrugging.

"And that's okay with you?"

Another shrug.

"C'mon, Tsukino, you're better than that."

The statement hung between them for a long moment as Aomine tried to decipher the look of frustration in her eyes.

"Mareo might be a dick," said Tsukino, "but he's my friend. Since elementary school, no matter what happened between us, he's always needed me by his side."

"Tch, don't be naïve. How many times do we have to go over this? He's using you."

Tsukino's look of frustration morphed into anger. "Okay, so maybe he is using me, but at least with him I always know what to expect. He knows I'm dumb and bad at everything and he doesn't care. He's never left me behind no matter how pointless I am."

"Pointless?" said Aomine, then it dawned on him. "Don't tell me you're still hung up on what Murasakibara-"

"People like you," snapped Tsukino, stabbing her finger in his chest, "could never understand someone like me. Everyone loves you. They look up to you like some kinda God. Why? 'Cos you're a genius. You were born talented. You don't even need to practise and the whole world will fall to their knees."

It was such a throwaway statement; Tsukino could never have known. After all he'd spent the last few months going out of his way to avoid her. That look in her eyes when he'd left her at the stadium after the match with Kamizaki, so like Kuroko's. He should have kept his distance. It would have been better for everyone. If nothing else, it would have stopped the next words from being spoken into existence.

"If you're so terrible, what's the point of even trying then?" asked Aomine.

Now it was his turn to sink.

"Huh?"

Except he had been sinking for a while so this didn't feel strange to him. In fact, it was almost comforting. He brushed her hand away and straightened up so that he was staring past her.

"People like you," echoed Aomine, a bored expression on his face. "Yeah, people like you are so goddamn pathetic, bitching and crying about how unlucky you are. Blaming strong people for your own weaknesses. Gimme a break. You should just give up and waste away like all the other talentless losers out there."

"Wow," was all Tsukino could say.

"What's the problem? I'm agreeing with you," Aomine said without emotion, lowering his eyes to meet hers. "Someone like me could never understand someone like you."

The grin on Tsukino's face was nothing like he'd ever seen before. It was a rictus of hatred. "Yeah. I guess you're right."

The following week, Tsukino and Aomine stood up in front of the class. They delivered their history presentation in a dull monotone, reading from the script Tsukino had prepared and printed. Neither looked at or spoke to the other. They received a passing grade. It was the last time they would interact until the final round in the Nationals:

Meiko Junior High vs. Teiko Junior High.

A match that would cement the end of many things.

Author's Note:

The angst is here guys and it's not going to let up at least for another chapter. I've put this chapter out with minimal proof-reading because if I didn't, I would agonise over the dialogue for ages. It was really hard writing the final scene with Aomine and Tsukino. If you're annoyed by how difficult Tsukino is being in this chapter, don't worry, you're meant to be- I just hope I humanised her enough. I also hope Aomine has come off equally as difficult. They're both characters who lack self-awareness and they're both struggling with their own issues. It's like miscommunication city here and with miscommunication I wanted it to come across as believable as possible. Let me know how I did.

I want to remind everyone that Mareo looking like Takeshi Kaneshiro is entirely from his perspective. There will be more on that later.

The next chapter will end the Teiko Era and after that there'll be a timeskip. I have outlined the chapter and can already tell it's going to be one of the longest.

(Is it bad that the more I write this, the more I agree with Zinan about her and Kuroko? I mean they'd make a cute couple!)

As always please do let me know your thoughts. I'm really sorry I struggle with review replying. The backlog is so big and daunting at this point that I'm only currently replying to the ones that need direct clarification. I'm really sorry about this but please remember, I read and re-read them and they give me strength. All of your theories and suggestions warm my heart so much.