Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Takao first meets Midorima in high school, it's just weird, weird, weird. Teikou's Miracle Shooter is tall, taller than maybe any human has a right to be, serious-faced, stern and strange. Looking at Midorima in the halls, it's easy to think that this person should be a musician, or an artist, something else just as suited to those jealously kept fingers, meticulously wrapped. Weirdest of all, their brand new ace wears her uniform long and her hair in pigtailed plaits and carries a tape dispenser which she calls her lucky item (Takao looks back on this, sometimes, and sighes for his naivete; the lucky items have only gotten worse), and when they're picked from the first-years for a showcase match against the seniors, she adjusts her glasses and says to him, "Pass me the ball."

"What?" he says, intelligently.

"You're the only other one here who has the potential to make the regulars, even at a school like this," she says. "Get the ball, and pass it to me." The other first years bite back their protests under the watchful eyes of the coach, but Takao can read the gleam in their eyes, they won't do it if they can help it. This is their chance to shine, to make the regular team, and Takao can understand that, at least. No one wants to sit in the shadows forever. But she's unravelling the tape from her fingers and they curl into the unconcious curve of a basketball, eyes fixed on the hoop, and she ran all the warm-ups and drills without shirking or condescending, and Takao wants to shine too, the only way he can, in every way he can.

He gets the ball, and passes it to her.

Sometimes he thinks of it as the start of everything, the long graceful arc of the ball, floating lazily downwards towards victory, and Midorima jerking her head at him, saying "We're on defense," as she strolls by.

.0.

Kise swans in a few minutes late for her interview in between jobs and is impossibly, improbably, even prettier in real life: long light hair, curled and styled and highlighted; huge eyes and long lashes; every inch of her height showcased in her fluttery little Teikou skirt and thigh-highs.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she says, hands with their deco nails clasped in front of her and bowing profusely, "It's just that since Teikou doesn't need us anymore I'm booked so much now and they just won't let me go! Coach, Sempai, I'm so sorry!"

On the tour of their- if he does say so himself, and he does- amazing gym and court, she picks up a basketball in the silence of the few stragglers around to give prospective stars a look at their future teammates, and almost bounces it before she catches herself ruining her nails. She shakes her lovely head ruefully, and says to the coach, "I'd be very pleased to consider Kaijou," meaningless politeness pouring out of her mouth. Her phone is already in her other hand, toys dangling off it so that it looks like her wrist would snap under it's weight.

They nod and stare, because apparently Kise of Teikou is just that intimidating. The rest of the interview passes without incident, but all Kasamatsu can think about is are they really doing this, is it really going to happen? Is this really Teikou's Generation of Miracles, have they all been under a spell for three years of victory and a season of overwhelming invincibility? She's tall, sure, but what else? Is Kaijou really going to bet their hopes on her? She's a girl, Kasamatsu isn't good with girls, any girls, let alone girls like Kise, who do things like apply makeup in class and blink at him like they know everything he doesn't, just girls. Kise wanders back out the gates like a butterfly, and Kaijou folds their hands and prays.

She's a little bit less flashy when school starts and the sighs of a thousand fans follow her around like the wind rustling through trees, and she beelines for the gym, even before the official start of practices, setting off those ripples in her wake.

"I'm the captain," Kasamatsu says, in the absence of anything else to say to a player like her, flicking idly through her phone. If he stares at the hoop just over her shoulder, she's just another uppity junior. "Practices... haven't started yet."

"Oh," she says, and lowers her lashes to look at him. He barely comes to her shoulders, and he can feel her ticking off the boxes: tall, but not tall enough, third-year, last chance to take the school anywhere. Not very good-looking. Won't look her in the eye, though she appreciates that might be hard.

Kasamatsu bristles.

She looks at him, and snaps the phone shut, putting her bag to the side, pulling off her blazer, rolling up her sleeves. "I really shouldn't," she says, pink lips pursed, "But if you'd like to, Sempai, we could play a game? It's been a while for me, though." Kise twinkles a laugh at him, and something like an ice-shard. "I'm wearing shorts, don't worry."

He colours, and snaps, "Fine." Uppity junior, uppity junior.

Kise demolishes him, but she must like what she sees, because she extends a hand to him where he's sprawled on the floor, blown away by her dunk, looking at up her bright head haloed in the lights of the gym. Kise plays like a monster. All the video in the world doesn't do justice to it. Why Kise, Coach had said, stern before the sempai, because Kise was going to be the best.

"It's all right, Sempai," Kise says, smiles. "I just hate losing too."

.0.

"You should get along better with the team," says Momoi to her, and Aomine snorts, leans her head on the broad lines of his shoulders and watches his pink head lecturing her about her life again, endlessly. Kagami has turned out to be a disappointment, and Aomine can't imagine that he'll be any better with her shadow on his back in the court. Sigh. Disappointing. It was better before she got this good. She'd thought playing against high school boys would be better, harder, but it's the same old faces and the same old plays, no one to look forward to but her own, and Aomine would quit basketball, but then she'd have nothing left.

Aomine isn't listening to him, but it's been a long time since she's bothered to, and Momoi keeps up the refrain just to make sure that she doesn't fall by the wayside and drop out of her life the way she's almost but not quite dropping out of basketball.

It's never managed to get any funnier that their manager sometimes carts their ace around on his back like a child or like a queen, and that it's an automatic part of his duties to her; but then again, short of dragging Aomine to matches in a sack, it's the only way to get her anywhere she doesn't want to go. Sometimes it's just a snap choice, and she tends to be right, they don't need her for this, but it's the principle of the thing. Someone less cautious and more stupid had once grabbed her by the wrist and tried to drag her to the court for practice: Imayoshi had not bothered with sympathy.

But when she does bother to step onto the court they believe, really believe, that Aomine can do this. She'll take them all the way to the top. It's worth almost anything to them. Momoi can only hope that it will be enough to keep Aomine tied to them in a team of no teamwork, that Touou will be the way towards healing the slashes in Aomine's basketball.

That Kuroko knew what she was doing, just as she always has.

.0.

Kagami looks up, and then, hurriedly, up again, and experiences a moment of dizzying vertigo; he's never seen a girl so tall, taller than him, hand reaching for Kuroko like a normal person reaches for a doll. Her hair falls over the new girl's expression, but Kuroko is actually getting irritated and Kagami thinks again and again with that damn team.

Himuro watches tolerantly. Murasakibara talks about her former teammates, but never as her former teammates, all about how Kise-chin is so so pretty but too pushy it's annoying and Midorima is weird but fun to tease and Mine-chin and Kuro-chin are inseparable and everyone is nice about finding her nice snacks and Aka-chin is always to be listened to. It's like pulling teeth to even get her to say something about how Aomine played boys out of boredom and the rest of them fell in love or line with basketball, like magnetism, like water running across rock, and then scattered to their different schools, like moving into formation. 

It's only on the court, caught up in the game she hates, that Murasakibara even starts to seem a part of something even bigger than she is, diminished and dissatisfied, but still overwhelming. She takes players apart in the game, and tells them about how she hates them, and sees the truth written in their eyes: here's someone who's been born better at their sport than they will ever be. Why don't they just give up now? Even as a girl, she's just been blessed like this.

She hates them, she says. It's sickening, she says. But when she turns her head in response to Taiga's taunt, Himuro thinks monster, along with everyone else there, and wonders how she can say, really, how she can say it, that she hates basketball after all.

.0.

"Okay," says Riko, hand over her thumping heart. "Okay- take off your shirt, then."

Kuroko eyes the line of boys with their bare chests watching them owlishly."Er," she says.

"Just do it," says Hyuuga. "Get it over with."

Kuroko nods, and reaches for the hem of her shirt and lifts it up, up-

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" yells Kagami, who reacts the fastest, and Kuroko stops with the band showing, her back thankfully to them and says "But I'm a girl."

"Next time," says Riko, pulling Kuroko's shirt down, "Open with that."

Chapter Text

Aomine is their first, and arguably (inarguably) their best, driven and daring and darling, playing with the boys, better than anyone else, than anything else, who tells Kuroko who cares when she’ll never be good enough to play competitively, who captivates the school idol out of stagnating and into striving, who puts on the uniform and goes onto the court, fast and fearless, before anyone else can realize a girl is competing.

Realize a girl is beating them, cool and effortless, falling and the ball flying through the hoop without touching the sides.

Akashi and Coach and Teikou’s philosophy takes over from here, but Aomine was their first, and inarguably (arguably) their best. Without her they might never tried, never have known.

.0.

Aomine grows, and enjoys it. She’s always been tall, and so have the rest of them, but now her bones ache, and they crack to bursting with her potential, sending her towering above her class, Momoi, so that she can fling wide her arms and encompass the court, get her hand around the ball and hold onto it with fingers strong enough to hang from the hoop and whoop.  

But of course, it’s Teikou’s basketball team. All of the boys are tall, taking their hearts into their hands by training. There are a few more girls fluttering around the edges taking the practices and going onto the court with their hopes fluttering in their hands, and they’re tall too, but not as tall as Murasakibara, who can spread her arms and crush all those hopes and hearts without moving; Murasakibara, who plays basketball almost by default. There are no more questions if they are suitable for basketball, only if Teikou will be enough to contain them, their genius, blazing on the national stage.

Kuroko drinks milk, resolutely. Akashi is never questioned, and the others have their strengths to speak for them, but Kuroko only has her love; the sound of shoes squeaking on the court, the bounce of the ball, the still and silent beauty of a pass in motion. Aomine offering her a fist and a look of wordless joy. No one will try harder than her. No one will want it more. Victory is the only language that Teikou understands.

.0.

The basketball club’s getting famous now, so when Kise pokes her lovely head in there, no one is surprised, but they preen a little, and nod their heads.

When she joins, they’re a little surprised, but shrug their shoulders; Kise’s famously tried everything at least once, after all, and anyone would want to play after watching Aomine, who moves like she’ll never do anything better than this.

Then she makes the first string in two weeks and people start whispering, Miracle.

Kise isn’t surprised. Isn’t this natural? Is basketball hard? Aren’t you just born pretty? Tall people will be good at basketball, right? This is just the way it is, and the only thing to prove her differently is the last girl on Teikou’s first-string, whom Kise mistakes for the sub-manager, short, and plain, and unremarkable.

She misses all her shots. It’s easy to forget she’s around because she has no presence. Kise even sneaks a look when they’re changing and it’s like a wasteland on there, filling her with pity.

But playing basketball with her is an entirely different thing, and it’s something of that wild, unrestrained rhythm that Aomine has, and something of Kuroko’s own making; everything falling into place without a strain or a sound.

It must be hard to be Kuroko. It must be hard to be her, but she keeps trying, and this what she’s made of herself, for the sake of the team. For the sake of their victory.

For the sake of Teikou’s victory.

Kise slings an arm around Kuroko’s shoulder and says, “Kurokochi, do you know, I think we could go shopping some time after practice, wouldn’t that be fun?” and laughs as Kuroko shakes her off. With them on the team, Teikou is going straight to the top.

.0.

Aomine doesn't notice when Kuroko stops coming onto the roof to fetch her for practice.

Or she might. Kuroko doesn’t check.

.0.

“Let’s just get this clear,” says Kagami. “It isn’t because you’re a girl. It’s because you suck at basketball. You seriously suck at it. You’re just not suited. But after today, I can see why maybe you don’t suck as much as I thought.”

“Thank you,” says Kuroko gravely.

“You all girls?” says Kagami, stepping out of the restaurant.

Kuroko slips after, soft as a shadow. “All,” she says, and doesn’t say, two years to become the best. A year to break my heart. Forever to fall apart. Two months to the start of the end of everything.

“Are they good, then? These Generation of Miracles?”

“You wouldn’t even reach their feet,” says Kuroko. It doesn’t matter that he barely seems to believe her. He’ll understand soon enough. 

.0.

Kuroko takes the form, and hesitates over it. The club table is right there.

This isn’t Teikou. They might not let girls play here. No one might be good enough, and all Kuroko’s dreams will go to naught. Kuroko hasn’t touched a basketball in months, hasn’t stepped onto the court, hasn’t let her heart out of her chest since she locked it up tight after their third victory.

This isn’t Teikou.

She leaves the form on the table. It’ll be nice to play basketball again.

Chapter Text

They sat in uncomfortable silence waiting for their orders to come until Kise said, “Midorimachi, hadn’t you better dry your hair? You’ll have a headache otherwise.”

Midorima glared at her, but unraveled her dripping pigtails, and squeezed water out of them with a towel retrieved from her bag, looking more and more like a bedraggled dog.

“It’s so long now,” said Kise. “You could do something really nice with that, Midorimachi.”

“It’s unnecessary,” said Midorima, black-faced. Behind her, Kuroko and Kise could both see her teammate craning his head unsubtly towards them. She pulled it all to the side, and loosely braided it, so that it draped over her shoulder. The difference was unsettling.

“You really have no sensibility as a woman,” said Kise.

“Just because I’m not vain like you-“ said Midorima.

“Kise-san has too much,” said Kuroko, quietly.

“Kurokochi, that’s mean! Kagamichi, don’t you think that these two could stand to make more of themselves?”

All three pairs of eyes focused onto him. “Leave me out of this,” he said. “It’s none of my business.”

“It must be boring being on a team with him,” said Kise to Kuroko, mournfully. “Not as boring as being on a team with you, though,” she said to Midorima. “Pass me the ball! Three-pointer. Pass me the ball! Three-pointer. But you seem to be doing well with them.”

“Die,” said Midorima. “Why shouldn’t we do well with our teams?”

“Sometimes you’re difficult to deal with,” said Kuroko calmly. “It’s just that.”

“You’re just thinking too much,” said Midorima, but Kagami thought in that moment about Alex, and being wolf-whistled down the street and talked down to on the court, and maybe he knew about why Kise and Kuroko would be worried about this weirdo getting along with her new team, no matter how good she was.

.0.

“Oh,” said Kasamatsu. “Worst thing about Kise hands down is that she’s more popular with the girls than we are.”

“She is?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, with the dead resignation of a man pushed past his edge a long time ago. “Bentos, love letters, cheering squads, fanclubs… at least the girls throttle the flow of boys because the last I heard if you wanted to give her a love letter you had to go through our manager, the manager of the soccer club, the student council secretary and the kendo club vice-president.”

“Ah,” said Takao. “People just kind of think Midorima is weird. They’re right, mind you, but that’s pretty much all the attention she gets.”

“Isn’t that good, then?” said Hyuuga. “With Kuroko- well, mostly we forget she’s a girl. Or that she’s there. Sometimes.”

“Sometimes Kise will swap shirts right on the court,” said Kasamatsu mournfully. “She pulls someone aside and uses them as a screen while she does it. It drives opponents mad.”

“It’s good that that won’t work on us, then,” said Riko.

“…that would definitely work on us,” said Koganei. “Are you joking, coach? Look at her.”

“Oh, it drives us mad too,” said Kasamatsu, while Riko tried to and was restrained from stabbing Koganei with a spatula. “Mostly because she’s so careless about it, but there you go.”

“Midorima doesn’t even show her knees if she doesn’t have to,” said Takao. “What’s really intimidating is when she takes off her jacket and the guns come out.” He patted his bicep. “That scares them.”

There was a lull in conversation as everyone looked towards what they had mentally dubbed the ‘troublesome’ table and Midorima’s tall straight back was softened by the long loose braid falling over her shoulder, Kagami’s massive bulk next to her further shrinking the impression of overwhelming, enduring superiority. Kise, just across, was just about as big as Midorima- sleeker, maybe, where Midorima was self-contained.

“I’ve had this thought before,” said Hyuuga, “But they’re really different when they’re not playing basketball.”

Takao looked at Midorima and thought about seeing her at lunch or in between classes, clutching her lucky item, away from everyone else, and at practice, clutching her lucky item, practicing away from everyone else. But the Midorima he’d seen bits of just now, sharp and raw and dangerous, racing towards some pinnacle that no one else could see- “On and off the court, maybe,” he offered.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” said Riko. “This is only the start of the matches! We’re going to be playing basketball all year.”

“Well, if we don’t knock you out first,” said Kasamatsu, putting a portion in his mouth.

“Oh, taunt the losers, sure,” said Takao. “I’m flipping this over now, watch and learn.”

.0.
 
Riko pawed through her closet and passed Kuroko the swimsuit.

"Sorry for the imposition," said Kuroko, and took it.

"It's alright," said Riko. "But do you really not have any other swimsuits than your old school one or bikinis?"

"I outgrew them," said Kuroko, with a faint air of dissatisfaction. Riko did get the impression that Kuroko would run and do the exercises whether or not she was wearing a bikini while she trained, but just preferred not to go through the rigmarole. Riko didn't blame her.

"Does it fit?" she called.

"Yes," said Kuroko, and stretched her arms above her head as she came around the partition. Kuroko was muscle of an entirely different kind from Riko's, conditioned differently, trained differently. Kuroko could throw a basketball all the way across the court without blinking. It showed, in how Kuroko's shoulders bunched, and the muscles in her forearms moved under her skin. Riko looked again, blinked.

"It's just a little tight around the chest," said Kuroko, confirming her suspicions.

There was a moment of silence as Kuroko stared straight ahead and Riko tried to pretend she hadn't been staring at their number eleven's breasts. They're... there. That's all Riko is willing to cop to.

"Well, if the boys have any energy to care after the workouts are done," said Riko, just cheerful enough, "Then obviously I'm not working you guys hard enough!"

Kuroko nodded, and hid a gulp. It wasn't as though anyone else was going to care about what she trained in.


#enter Momoi #Kuroko-san Aida-san's swimsuit is waaaay too tight for you #everyone else: whelp we're dead

.0.

Meeting one Generation of Miracles member was like explicating the ends of another, the way they bleed into each other, on each other, like old paint-stains on a white wall graffitied beyond recognition, until the center part of them was a muddled mess, and that core was the Teikou middle school basketball team, the place where they’d tangled together so deeply there was almost nothing left to any of them but basketball.

But Aomine appeared to mostly consist of basketball, and there’s her mark on Kise, the flash-bang of her game, the cool dangerous sway; Kuroko, the wild-soft unyielding pressure of total control. There are the contrasts of each other, too, Aomine’s insolent swagger and Kuroko’s calm self-possession, her smirk and Kise’s bright smile. There's Midorima’s beaten-tight game and the way Aomine eels around him, without seeming to, without meaning to, like there’s nothing she’ll ever do better than this.

Kagami plays Aomine and understands for the first time how Teikou has written itself into its children, and how right they are to carry that birthright, how they’ve beaten dominion into a generation of middle schoolers; that defeat can be precipitated on an unbreakable wall of despair.

And here’s Kuroko, again, or the echoes of her, in how Aomine stares at him like a personal disappointment, in how he gasps for breath when she downs him, inescapable, inexorable, unbeatable.

Aomine is waiting for someone to try again, try harder, and Kuroko will never stop trying. Is this what Kagami’s been looking for? Have his senses been dead until now?

Kagami plays Aomine and it’s a revelation; loses and it’s like the first time he tastes air. 

“Ah,” said Murasakibara, reaching into the circle of boys with one impossibly long arm. “Kise-chin.”

One of the boys looked indecently excited. Himuro wondered if it was him feeling his age, or that he’d just experienced more than they had from being dragged back and forth over the Pacific Ocean, but he didn’t see anything to get this enthusiastic about in a spread of an admittedly pretty girl in fairly ordinary clothes.

“Kise?” the fan said. He was a member of the basketball club, and another first-year. Himuro was working his way up the ranks a bit more carefully than he would like, but Coach had already started watching him, and Murasakibara had had to see only one Mirage shot, barely completed and still in the stages of testing, for her to gravitate to him. Well, that and the fact that Himuro passed three different convenience stores on his way to school. “Murasakibara, you know Kise?”

“She was in Teikou with me,” said Murasakibara, and turned the pages slowly. “She’s gotten prettier.”

“Know her?” said one of Himuro’s own classmates, yet another basketball club member. “Are you really in the basketball club, idiot? That’s Kise of the Generation of Miracles! She’s playing at Kaijou now.”

“Playing,” said Himuro, and cast an eye up to Murasakibara. “Like you?”

“Him,” said the mouthy one, stabbing a finger at Himuro, “We can forgive. But you! The Generation of Miracles is famous! The five geniuses of Teikou, and all girls! How can you not know this?”

“Six,” said Murasakibara absently, now done with the spread and skimming an article about a new pastry shop.

“Six,” said Himuro, and tried to imagine, five more Murasakibaras, half-genius and half-god. But no, she was one, wasn’t she, the model, and Himuro studied at her bright smile and came to the realization she was probably taller than he was, and her arms and legs in their soft, fluttery fabrics were muscled and strong.

Murasakibara had relinquished the magazine without much ceremony and returned to her snacks. “Kise-chin, Aka-chin, Mido-chin, Mine-chin, Kuro-chin,” she said, counting them off on pocky sticks. “Ah, but Kuro-chin isn’t like us.”

Himuro contemplated the Gordian knot of conversation that followed as the other two tried to extract more information from Murasakibara, which anyone could have told you was an exercise in futility.

“It must be an interesting story,” he said. “How did you girls start playing on the team?”

Murasakibara had gotten bored of the conversation before it even started, and only the fact that Muro-chin had provided half the snacks in her bag kept her from ignoring the question outright. “Because we’re the best,” she said. “You’ll see, in the Interhigh. Mine-chin and Aka-chin are still left.”

Himuro slanted a glance at the chatty one and he nodded. He’d been Murasakibara’s official babysitter, before Himuro turned up. “Touou Gakuen and Rakuzan High. We’re looking to go up against Rakuzan first.”

“I’m not playing,” said Murasakibara. “Aka-chin will win anyway.”

Himuro paused. Murasakibara was one of the strongest players he’d ever seen, perfectly engineered for basketball, and so competitive that sometimes he thought all she was working for was to win matches, even if she barely bothered playing properly in them.

“Hmm,” said Himuro. “So, if they beat the sempai and go on through, who’ll win? Touou or Rakuzan?”

“I don’t care,” said Murasakibara.

“The coach said she’s showing Touou versus Seirin later,” said the one whom Himuro desperately wished he could remember the name of. “It was a slaughter, but so were the Rakuzan matches.”

Murasakibara munched on. “Seirin,” she said, through a mouthful of crumbs. “Seirin. Seirin. Seirin. I forget.”

“Maybe you’ll remember when we watch the match,” suggested Himuro gently, and watched the emotions flicker across Murasakibara’s face: confusion, boredom, boredom, disdain, irritation, resignation, boredom.

“Can we go to the combini after?” she said.

“I think I remember the terms of our relationship,” said Himuro.

Chapter Text

“I’ll never understand how you got them to agree to this,” said Hyuuga to Riko. “We’re going to get slaughtered without Kagami, you realise.”

“A woman has her ways,” she said. “Stop complaining and show some spirit. Look at Kiyoshi! He’s getting along fine with them.”

“He’s a dumbass,” said Hyuuga, accurately. “And he’s got a fancy nickname too, so Midorima and him and the rest of Shuutoku’s elite are probably old enemies from the middle school circuit.”

“Iron Heart,” said Midorima measuredly as Kiyoshi bounced on the balls of his feet.

“Oh, Midorima-kun,” he replied. “It’s been a while! You’re prettier than ever! Let’s have a good game!”

“Such a fucking dumbass,” breathed Hyuuga, into the silence of the entire gym freezing as one to stare at Midorima, dressed in baggy practice clothes, taller than all but two males in the room and already sweaty from warming up, stare the very scant few centimetres up into Kiyoshi’s stupid, smiling face, and thankfully fail to pull back her fist and clock him one.

She transferred the laser beam of her gaze to Kuroko, who shrugged expressively. Their coach merely stared on, unperturbed. Takao prepared to have to throw himself in Midorima’s way so that Kiyoshi could be dragged out of the gym and preferably burned at the stake.

Ootsubo thought at their ace very hard that assaulting a guy who had just gotten out of the hospital was the worst of all possible ideas.

“...yes,” she said, pointedly ignoring Kiyoshi’s outstretched hand, and over Riko’s screech of ‘TEPPEI YOUR KNEE YOU ARE NOT PLAYING, OUT’. “Fine.” She nodded to Kuroko. “Let’s have a good game.”

“I don’t suppose at any point during the game you might be moved to aim one of your threes at his head,” said Hyuuga, partially to her, and partially to relieve his feelings.

“If you had any accuracy worth speaking of,” she told him, “You’d be able to do it yourself.”

“If I had any sense worth speaking of I’d just have joined the baseball team,” muttered Takao. “Shin-chan, don’t let your fan distract you, hmm-kay? You can flirt with Seirin later.”

.0.

Being sent to run up and down the beach all day while Kuroko and everyone else got to face off again against Shuutoku sucked, and the perfect topper to being hot, sunburned and having sand fucking everywhere was going to brush his teeth, realizing there was a girl washing her face at the basins, sneaking up to try and surprise Kuroko instead for once, and instead failing to surprise Midorima, who looked at him as though he was an idiot.

“What’re you doing on this side?” Kagami said, looking at her a bit doubtfully.

“I’m sleeping with your coach and Kuroko,” she said. “I asked and they said it was okay. I don’t want to sleep with my team. It’s easier if it’s all-girls.”

“What’s wrong with rooming with boys?” said Kagami. “If it’s your whole team in the big room, I mean.”

Midorima glared at him, a deeply disapproving look of are you stupid? “Among other things,” she said. “One of them has brought along Kise’s latest photobook. Their conversation is annoying.”

“Ah,” said Kagami, who wasn’t sure what a photobook was, but wasn’t about to ask because Midorima looked in a mood to kill.

“I could be Kise and pretend they’ve ever got a chance of looking up my skirt,” Midorima said, stabbing at her cup with her toothbrush. “Would they like that? ’Oooh, my bikini’s coming undone inside my shirt!’ Try getting anything useful out of boys after that kind of ridiculous display.”

“Okay,” said Kagami.

“Or I could be Aomine,” said Midorima, now squeezing out her face towel with prejudice. “’It’s too hot. I’m taking off my shirt and sleeping on the balcony. Look and die.’ And I could punch them whenever I didn’t like their faces, how would they like that?”

Kagami made an indistinct noise around his own toothbrush.

“And then just because I don’t want to wear my trackpants to sleep, Takao has to go on and on about it,” she continued. “’Oooh, are those your legs?’ Yes these are my legs. Shut up about it.”

Thus prompted, Kagami looked down at certainly more leg than Midorima usually deigned to expose in practices or in games, as well as very muscled calves. Midorima was not small by any measure, and she played basketball seven days out of seven, and it showed. She noticed him looking.

“I hope you have horrible luck tomorrow,” said Midorima, jamming her glasses on her face, and stalked out.

.0.

“Midorima will be spending the night with the Seirin coach and the other girl,” said the Coach. “She will rejoin us in the morning.”

A murmur goes up from the boys, generally sighs of relief, but Takao tipped back his head and said, “Wow, we’re getting close with them. Why doesn’t Midorima want to sleep with us?”

The Coach eyed him. “I can’t imagine,” he said, heavily sarcastic. “But it makes things easier for us, and it was her idea.”

“Shin-chan hates us,” said Takao mournfully, once Coach had left and they began to gossip about Midorima and Seirin and the Seirin match.

“Maybe she just didn’t want to deal with being leered at all night,” said Miyaji, sighing over Kise’s sweet face. She was just a model, and would never replace his idols in his heart, but still. She liked basketball.

“Leered?” said Ootsubo. “I thought that Midorima insisted on staying with us because she didn’t want to be treated differently. Was anything-” he left the edge of it hanging in the air.

“Yeah, yes and no,” said Miyaji, “Midorima’s usually just Midorima, but then she went down to dinner in shorts and there was some definite leering going on.”

“Don’t look at me, sempai,” said Takao. “I wasn’t looking at her legs.”

“No,” said Kimura. “You were just trying to smell her hair all through dinner, which wasn’t weird at all, Takao.”

“It looks a lot longer once it’s down,” said Takao, which he was aware did not help his case.

“Anyway,” said Miyaji, “Long story short she decided she didn’t want to sleep in a roomful of guys and I can’t blame her, because I don’t want to sleep in a roomful of you guys either.”

There were a few minutes of busy silence, and then a third-year said, “Maybe she wanted to run into Kiyoshi or Kagami.”

Miyaji and Kimura exchanged looks that meant we should watch this fucker.

“You mean,” said Miyaji, preparing to squash him. “That guy she can’t stand, or that other guy she can’t stand? Yes, I could see that.”

“They’re tall,” said the third-year. “I mean, taller than her. Girls like that. Usually.”

“Captain,” said Takao, “I think he’s looking at me.”

Ootsubo ignored this- mouthy juniors were a curse from the basketball gods that he did not deserve, much like the Generation of Miracles entire.

Miyaji snorted and said, “So’s the captain. You don’t see her giving a damn.”

“But he said she looked pretty,” said yet another first-stringer, all whom had apparently been rendered so redundant by Midorima’s addition to the team that they had nothing to do but gossip. “And he’s… Iron Heart.”

“Iron Heart has always been like that,” Ootsubo said, to quell the conversation. “And the next person who wants to discuss Midorima’s love life can take triple drills for the rest of the camp.”

.0.

“Shin-chan, you’ve returned to us?” said Takao, tipping his head back to look up at her as Midorima picked her way through the futons and glared a second-stringer from the spot which was most advantageous to her fortune for the day, and sat on it to brush her hair out before lights-out, folding her legs beneath her. They were still bare up to mid-thigh, but by now everyone was wrung out enough by three days of exhaustive, endless practice to not care anymore that Midorima was female and had legs, not even when she spread out a curtain of long dark hair over her shoulders and blinked at Takao with tolerance that originated in a mixture of exhaustion and satisfaction.

“Seirin’s leaving,” she said, shrugged. “It was necessary. They’re going to watch the Interhigh tomorrow.”

Takao hissed a long soft sound of disappointment. “Man, that’s a match to watch.”

“Kise and Aomine?” she said, disinterestedly, working out a knot. “Not really.”

“I would have said Kaijou and Touou,” he said to her. “How do you think we’d like it if every time we came around, they just said ‘there’s Midorima! And absolutely no one else!’”

She looked at him as though he was an idiot. “It’ll come down to Kise and Aomine,” she said. “And that is what they say.”

“I wish you geniuses were easier to deal with,” said Takao sincerely, rolling onto his back to relieve his feelings. Always the same Shin-chan. “We normal people exist, you realize.”

“Sometimes they mention the captain,” she said. “If that’s what you mean. And of course you exist.”

Takao rolled himself back up into a sitting position, and squinted at her, sitting seiza on her futon brushing out her hair; smiling. “You are in a good mood,” he said. “Did you run into Kagami again and smash him again? Or was it Iron Heart, this time? Are you working your way through them? Did you set their first-years to doing drills? Give their coach hair tips?”

“As if,” she snapped at him. “It’s just- If Iron Heart was in Seirin all this time…and what they’ve been doing….” She trailed off, and a thin sharp slash of excitement, fever-hot, cut across her face. “Then Kuroko chose well, after all. Seirin is strong.”

“Why are you so happy about it?” moaned Takao, throwing himself across his futon. “It’s not good for us if they’re strong, you know.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, and cast her eyes over her team, their team, yawning and stretching and talking in quiet voices about nothing in particular, united in purpose if not in activity. “We’re strong, too. Shuutoku,” she added generously. “Not just me.”

Takao made a face. “I know you’re a girl and all,” he said, watching Midorima run a hand through her hair, oddly delicate without a lucky item clutched in the crook of her arm, fingers untaped, and prettier than ever bouncing around in his brain. Had he ever known they would be here, and would he ever have given it up? “But can you not say such disgusting mushy sappy things? It’s weird.”

“Shut up, Takao,” she said, and looking at her Takao thought we mean you. You're stronger than any of us. We'll say Shuutoku, and mean, you. You're going to the top, and we're just along for the ride; we didn't know what we were getting into but we're never going to regret it.

---------

“We could ask Kise, you said,” said Moriyama, head down on the table. “She’s a girl, you said. She’s sure to have pretty friends, you said.”

“Hey,” said Kise.

“To be fair, they did come, and they were very pretty,” said Kobori. “They just left after we kept…talking about basketball.”

“Kise why didn’t you stop us,” said Moriyama.

“I don’t understand what’s wrong with you,” she said to Kasamatsu, completely ignoring her other sempai. “I mean, you talk with me all the time, and I’m a girl.”

 “Not like a real girl,” said Kasamatsu, without thinking.

“What,” said Kise, setting down her boot-clad heel with an audible thunk. The rest of them sucked in their breaths, tutored enough to recognize that even if- perhaps especially if- the girl was Kise, lovely but familiar, that was not something that should ever come out of a guy’s mouth.

“I mean, you like basketball,” he said. “You- you’re- you play like-“ he waved his hands, sunk into an ocean of despair.

“Oh, god,” said Kise. “Is that why you couldn’t look me in the eyes when we first met, and at the interview? I thought you just didn’t like that I was a girl, not that you were this bad with girls in general!”

“Maybe that’s what we need,” mused Moriyama. “Girls who like basketball. Kise, do you know any like that?”

Kise blinked at him slowly, and, when he did not appear to be joking, said “Yes, sempai, but they would all be better at basketball than you are.”

“But all of you are pretty,” he persisted. “Surely-“

“If you want to hit on the Generation of Miracles, you’re on your own,” said Kasamatsu. “Try it the next time we face them, see how they like it, we could use the laugh. Kise- Kise, what’s with your face.”

“I just tried to imagine the kind of guy who would hook up with any of them,” she said. “It’s absolutely impossible.

“Ah, not just for you,” she clarified hastily. “For- for anyone.”

“Even you?!” yelled Hayakawa, getting worked up again, for no reason.

Kise’s eyes swept shut, weighed down by long, long dark eyelashes and a nominal amount of glitter, and she looked at Kaijou’s captain through them, now examining in his head the possibility she’d just raised, and looking suitably horrified. “If you guys don’t have any time to do anything other than play basketball and sleep, please think about me,” she said.

They nodded their heads, and sighed.

.0.

Requested originally by kisseki-no-sedai on tumblr

Talking to Kise while in school was always a surreal experience for Kasamatsu, not least because Kise constantly traveled in a cloud of fluffy-haired, short-skirted girls and tall, similarly short-skirted sports girls, who squabbled good-naturedly over their idol and enacted stirring stories of love, friendship and youth all over the school grounds while Kise beamed benevolently down upon their heads. They formed ranks around her whenever an auxiliary cloud of boys materialized in Kise’s vicinity- and they always did- and parted ranks to let the chosen few through: the aspiring idol from class 3, the captain of the baseball team, who confessed with monotonous regularity once a month, and Kasamatsu himself. Kise would blink mascaraed eyes at him, smile with shiny pink lips, and endure Kasamatsu staring fixedly at a point over her shoulder not even risking catching a glimpse of their femaleness throughout any given conversation.

Kise had once tried to explain to Hayakawa why the captain got to talk to her in school and he decidedly did not- nationally-ranked school sports team captains outranked everyone in sports-crazy Kaijou, up to the actual student council executives; he was the most senior of all her basketball seniors; everyone thought Hayakawa was really annoying and they didn’t like him; the girls tended to take Kasamatsu’s frozen silence around them as evidence of much-valued seriousness and solidity of mind towards basketball; they wanted her to have as much time with him as possible before he graduated and left for university.

“What?” said Kasamatsu, while Hayakawa went into fits in the background.

“Oh,” said Kise, pausing mid-drill. “Because I like you.”

“Oh,” said Kasamatsu. “Wait, what? What, WHAT?”

Kise blinked at him, too-innocent. “Well, that’s their reasoning,” she said, and began counting off on her fingers, her other hand still dribbling the ball. “We’re always training together and we talk a lot, you treat me differently from other girls, and I’m always happy to see you."

Kasamatsu hyperventilated and made gasping noises and waved his arm at the whole expanse of the gym full of basketball club members, which Kise correctly interpreted as “We’re on the same team, of course we spend a lot of time together, do they think you like all these guys?”

“I told them that all my heart was in basketball and I had no time for love,” said Kise, soothingly. “They think it’s very brave and they’re looking forward to our wins at the Winter Cup.”

Moriyama had taken hold of a clipboard and was now scribbling furiously. “…happy…to…see…you,” he said. “Are those it? Are those the signs a girl likes you?”

“No girl has ever been happy to see you!” snapped Kasamatsu. “We’re barely happy to see you. EVERYONE STOP TALKING ABOUT GIRLS DURING PRACTICE.”

Kise laid a hand on her forehead and swooned onto the bench, narrowly missing a water bottle and the coach, who had a hand over his eyes and was muttering to himself. “Kyaa, Captain,” she said. “So forceful! So cool!”

“DOUBLED DRILLS,” Kasamatsu shouted at them. “ALL OF  YOU!”

Kise laughed, tipped the ball over her hands and began to do her drills double-time just to show she could.

Tagged: #Hayakawa actually does like Kise #no one encourages this #Kise: still the sanest person in any given team

Chapter Text

Kagami doesn't know why it should actually surprise him any more, but Hanamiya Makoto- after a night spent hating the name, and concocting dire punishments for some evil player's stupid face- looks sweet. Her long hair is fastened to the side, and she's tall, but not Midorima-tall, not Aomine-tall, though he will concede that possibly no other girls are going to be as tall as the Generation of Miracles.

The coach and captain stare at her with loathing across the court. Her team- her team, as Kagami notes the four on her jersey- smirk a little, stretch a little, go on warming up. They're completely unconcerned that Seirin are boiling over.

All except Kiyoshi. "Hanamiya-kun," he says, accepting the ball.

"You look good," she says to him, smiles. "Really, I wouldn't have expected it."

"So do you," says Kiyoshi, and maybe- maybe- there's something of a strain to his smile, but Hanamiya tips her head to the side, folds her hands in front of her, sparkles.

"So kind," she murmurs, around one graceful hand. "Ah," she says, and smiles again, behind that same hand, with her all malice and spite, looks sweeter and sweeter still. "Do be careful, in this match, Kiyoshi-kun. We wouldn't want any kind of recap of last year."

Kagami has never wanted to punch a girl so hard in his life.

.0.

Aomine yawned, heading for the washroom. Boring, really, all the faint ache of watching Kuroko be her best with someone else aside. She had no idea why Momoi had bothered convincing Imayoshi to bring her; no matter how eager he was to show off his genius junior- or girlfriend or ex-girlfriend, or something? Aomine didn't care- it wasn’t as though Kirisaki was going to make it past Seirin or Shuutoku. They hadn’t even tried with Midorima, she’d heard, and that was laughable enough, as though they were so weak that even Midorima’s prissy face had scared them off. It wasn’t even as if Kagami was going to improve magically once his legs had healed, even if Momoi had been right that she had had a hand in that by challenging him when he was supposed to rest. It was a pity that Kuroko hadn’t let him punch their opponent, but that was her all over; nothing allowed to interfere with the game.

Maybe Momoi had brought her along just in case Kuroko needed help getting rid of the body after, she thought, and then, speak of the devil.

“Oh, you,” she said to Hanamiya Makoto, washing her hands.

She simpered at Aomine. Aomine had a certain amount of respect for anyone who both openly loathed her and wasn’t actually afraid to show it even when she was looming over their pathetic heads, but Hanamiya’s seething, dead-eyed hatred of the entire world frightened Momoi, and fencing barbs with her wasn’t worth the time.

“You’re going to lose,” Aomine informed her, just as she was about to return to her sad little team. She simpered back at Hanamiya, who was pretty, in the right light, but not that pretty. Imayoshi was just warped. “Just to save you the time.”

“Oh?” she said, “Do tell. Please do tell.”

“It’s just that you’ve made her angry now,” Aomine said, and meant, don’t forget, she’s one of us, better than anyone else. Better than you. “It’s just that.”

.0.

“So tense,” said Hanamiya, strolling back onto the court after half-time and cracking her neck, smiling at Kuroko, at Kiyoshi. “Couldn’t find a man in this bunch to relax you in the locker room, sweetie?” Where the referee couldn’t see, she made an indescribably filthy gesture at her, leaving them in no doubt as to her meaning. Her other hand covered her mouth demurely as she giggled.

Kuroko only stared at her. It was categorically impossible for Seirin to loathe every fibre of Hanamiya Makoto’s being more, but somewhere they found extra supplies of hatred and disgust.

“You motherf-“ Kagami began.

Kuroko pinched him. “Baiting,” she said, moving into position.

“I know,” he hissed back, and then the whistle blew.

~

“Kuroko,” said Hyuuga, as they waited in the locker room for Riko to pronounce Kiyoshi able to walk home, her strong hands moving up and down his limbs with gentle efficiency. “What Hanamiya said- in the match-“

“I don’t understand why anyone would play so horribly,” said Kuroko, and Kiyoshi nodded, followed hesitantly by the people who did not think that basketball was a set of life principles.

“No-wait-that is-“ sputtered the captain. “I mean- do you get that, a lot? Did you get it? Because you’re- you’re a- and you’re playing with us-“

“Yes,” said Kuroko, ever direct. “Do not concern yourself. I have heard much worse from other opponents.”

“Yeah,” said Hyuuga. “That’s- that’s my point. Are you- I mean, for all of you…does it get- bad?”

Kuroko looked around at all their anxious faces, and something about the day- the match, their bruised limbs, the way Aomine had smiled when Kuroko came out for the fourth quarter, and at the end her back in the Touou Gakuen uniform, so strong , and insurmountable- made her say, “Of course. But the only thing to do is keep playing. We were not playing basketball to please anyone else but ourselves.”

There was a moment of dreadful silence, and Hyuuga thought about the Generation of Miracles, and looked at Riko looking at Kuroko; he’d heard some things they didn’t like there too, about a lone girl playing at being coach with a group of boys, going on training camps unchaperoned, head bent with his late at night over match videos, working until the words blurred before her eyes. He wanted to say, which opponents, what filth, and scrub it away from all of them, even sparkling, giggling Kise and snobbish, serious Midorima. Shuutoku had turned positively frosty towards them after Kiyoshi’s idiotic comment at the camp, taking their Miracle under their wing, because she was theirs, their teammate and comrade. It was not anything to be taken lightly.

Kiyoshi broke the silence with a sigh as he stretched out his massive arm and tested the bindings for mobility. “Speaking as an opponent,” he said. “I can say that no amount of cursing would have changed the score on the board. There was nothing anyone could say after that, and there was nothing else worth saying or doing.”

Kuroko regarded Kiyoshi with her unreadable eyes, and everyone recalled that Teikou had faced off against Shouei in over a year of overlap.

“Of course,” agreed Kuroko, who would always carry some things about Teikou close to her, and not just Aomine, but all of them, who’d worn that jersey and walked that road. “There’s nothing else we need to hear.”

Chapter Text

“Shame about that Josei boy,” said Imayoshi. “That was exceptionally cruel, even for you.”

“I’m sweaty now,” said Aomine, irritated. “Anyway, screw him.”

Imayoshi did have to admit that calling Aomine a gorilla-woman, while largely accurate, had been an obvious stupid impulse from the start. But then their center had gone on to add that Shuutoku’s Midorima was just so, so much more woman than Aomine was, and that had been that. For half of the fourth quarter Imayoshi just had a nice long chat with their captain about how cute their enthusiastic idiot first-years were, and it had ended on quadruple score. “Well, that was kind of a waste, you know,” he said.

“What the hell do you mean, a waste?” said Aomine.

“Well,” said Imayoshi. “He’s… big, good at basketball, and kind of stupid. Seems like your type.”

Aomine stared at him flatly. “Captain, are you hitting on me?” she said.

“No,” said Imayoshi, decisively.

“Are you gay?” she said. “Because I do not want to have that conversation with you. Get Wakamatsu to do it. Though I suppose Hanamiya would turn anyone gay.”

“No,” said Imayoshi.

“You can’t have Momoi,” said Aomine. “He’s in love with Kuroko. You could try Ryou.”

“We’re not having this conversation,” said Imayoshi, giving up. And he’d arranged such a nice surprise for them, too.

“You started it,” said Aomine, and flung her arms behind her head. “When are we getting to the hot springs, anyway? My shoulders hurt.”

.0.

“Touou Gakuen,” breathed Izuki. Suddenly Seirin was seeing more of the other team than they’d ever really wanted to, stretching and spread out like cats after a kill, smug enough to purr. How did they miss them coming into the bath? Except that Seirin had been making enough noise to drown out any number of incursions by destined rivals, and this is just their life now. Hyuuga almost looked around to assure himself that Seiho wasn’t making an appearance, or Kirisaki Daichi.“If you guys are here,” said Kagami, making a deeply embarrassing aborted gesture towards the other side of the bath, that palace forbidden to them by Riko’s fists and Kuroko’s blank, staring eyes. “Then-“

“KUROKO DON’T SLEEP,” roared from over the wall, a depressingly familiar sentiment, and the sound of splashing.

Momoi made a concerned face and started to rise from the water, but Hyuuga stopped him with a glare. “Sit down, pretty-boy,” he said. “Kagami, out.”

Kagami exited with what could be called unseemly haste. Momoi pouted and sank down into the water, which was all Hyuuga wanted, because Riko getting another look at shirtless Momoi, pink and flushed from heat, and delicately, exquisitely good-looking, was really the last thing he needed, ever.

On the other side, Riko herself watched Aomine hoist the smaller girl over her shoulder and out into the changing room before she was able to move, then, hearing Kagami ordered out on the other side, decided she wasn’t getting into the middle of that for anything, especially with how the water felt on her poor body.

Aomine put Kuroko down on the bench and walked into the boy’s changing area to find Momoi’s bag and dug out the Pocari she knew must be in there. Even though Imayoshi had sprung this ‘treat’ on them last-minute, there was no way that Momoi hadn’t known and planned it, right down to Seirin cavorting like idiots in the boy’s bath. It doesn’t take any kind of information specialist to know, or least remember, what Kuroko is like, and to know that Momoi will have prepared her favourite drink to offer as a token of his enduring love.

That was how she came to be in a perfect position to sneer, “You wore swim trunks in the hot spring?” to Kagami as he emerged, dripping wet and shirtless, blotchy all over from heat, chest heaving slightly as he stifled a yell from seeing her.

“What the hell are you doing in the guy’s changing room,” he said.

“I asked you first,” said Aomine, with dignity.

“There are naked guys over there,” he said, pointing behind him. “What the hell are you, a girl, doing in here? And what about Kuroko, did you take her out?”

Privately, even Aomine had to concede that he’d won that one, so she said, “Kuroko’s thirsty,” and waved the Pocari bottle at him. “Otherwise, fine.”

“Okay,” said Kagami, taking out his clothes. Aomine eyed him and the muscles moving in his arms and back as he pulled his shirt over his head. Had he improved? He seemed stronger, but then, they all should be, since the Winter Cup was upon them. (Akashi, Kise, Midorima, Murasakibara. And Seirin. Things were looking up.) Water dripped off the spikes of his hair, and ran down the cords of his neck: as thick around as her thigh. Well. Maybe Kuroko’s thigh.

He’d opened the gate, hadn’t he? Aomine had felt it in her bones. But he wasn’t good enough yet, might never be, he’d never beat the best.

She realized he was staring at her, hands on his waistband and face scarlet: was he-- oh.

“Get out,” he yelled, and Aomine flushed and pretended she hadn’t been staring, then walked out to the bench where Kuroko was and met her level gaze.

“Thank you,” Kuroko said, and took the drink.

“You’ve improved,” Aomine said, and bought her own drink, sipped it, and let the silence dissolve all her feelings, the tense familiarity of Kuroko’s silence, the heat lingering on her skin. Her anticipation was coiling against the chill in the air. Soon. “But it won’t be enough.”

“It’s for fighting against Aomine-san,” said Kuroko and looked up at Aomine: Kuroko, yes, who never gives up. Who’ll give a good fight.

“Sorry,” Aomine said, “But the ones who’ll win at the Winter Cup will be-“

“Us,” said Kagami, dropping an arm around her shoulders, heavy with muscle and warm on her skin, through her shirt, and then Aomine punched him in the kidney.

---------

For annotated-em on DW

They're thirteen years old, and Midorima has never met anyone else in junior high who owns as much makeup as Kise, who smoothes so much colour on her face and winds up looking like there's nothing there at all, brings more makeup to school than books. Kise curls her hair and sharpens her smile, and isn't like anyone, like any of them.

Kise is the prettiest girl in Teikou, people whisper, maybe prettier than even Akashi, and she plays on the team with them, plays almost as well as Aomine does after only a week, a month. Kise joins Midorima on their trips home casually, as though it's natural, when Midorima never talks to the girls like Kise, sitting on the boys' desks fluttering their painted fingers and failing tests and hiking up their skirts.

As if Akashi for a sort-of best friend wasn't enough, thinks Midorima, and twitches her fingers away from tugging down Kise's skirt, complains about the time Kise takes to put her face back on after practice. Doesn't touch Kise's hair, for all its softness and fluffiness.

Kise lifts Midorima's skirt to mid-thigh in illustration of her potential and pouts her shiny lips at the other girl, chases after her and all the rest with powder puffs and two-for-one salon offers, hands out her samples like candy. She even gets Aomine to start using a hairbrush, a heretofore unlooked-for achievement in the field of womanhood.

Midorima tries to resist. Makeup isn't for students still at school, her mother says, but for special occasions. Midorima doesn't want to be one of those girls, talked of as problem children, silly and flighty and empty and colorless inside. But Kise slides her hands through her hair to braid it up when Midorima doesn't want to untape her fingers to do it, and cuts her preciously long nails, meekly taking Midorima's nail care lecture on the long walk home, shoulders drooping and aching with hours of endless practice.

Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, and when they're all sprawled in the corridors of the stadium eating from plastic wrappers and talking of nothing in particular, Kise wheedles from Kaijou's huddle that she has a new lipstick she thinks Midorimachi will love, absolutely love. Midorima thinks of all that while she hoods her eyes and presents her face for painting. At least it's better than thinking about the surprised noises everyone is making, about how Kise is wearing no makeup at all and is still unfairly, enduringly, surpassingly lovely. How they're so close to the Winter Cup she can taste it.

Takao is hissing for Miyaji-sempai to move, move so he can get a good picture, and Midorima can see Kaijou's captain hitting every one of their regulars he can get his hands on for staring.

Kise makes a pleased little noise and hands Midorima a hand mirror for inspection, and- Midorima can't help herself, over too many years of Kise's faces and social indoctrination- Midorima pouts into her reflection, ignoring Kise's squeak of triumph, and admires the shine on her lips.

Let me show you how to love me.

#when you say hijinks I hear 'feels' #Kise is probably single-handedly responsible for the Miragen's socialization #feel free to imagine Kise smirking at Takao through all this #Midorima is actually VERY good at the makeups by now #aaand kind of so is everyone else #because Kise

.0.


Furihata is about five seconds into trailing after Kuroko when he realises that this is nothing less than a spectacularly bad idea. Even with all the times Kuroko wanders off, it always seems to be to some purpose, or at least Furihata assumes. Sometimes it's hard to talk to Kuroko. But cutting into a private gathering of old teamates- old enemies? Old friends?- seems to be a bit much.

All the quasi-familar faces are gathered on the steps, and he's seen them all before, been horribly intimidated by them all before, but somehow it's worse when they're gathered here like this. He barely hears them chat to each other, too consumed in counting and re-counting; there's one of them missing. Even from a gathering like this, there's a space they've left empty.

And then Rakuzan's Akashi arrives.

Furihata never considered it before Kiyoshi-sempai, but when looking back in hind-sight, he can see the space that Kiyoshi-sempai left in Seirin, not just number-wise, but team-wise. His reliability, his stability, even his occasional flight of fancy. Seirin holds them all. All that time sitting on the bench, he thinks about it often. Aomine-san's ferocity is in all of them, their amazing, impossible basketball. In Midorima-san's relentless precision is Kuroko's incredible concentration, Kise-san's technique. He can't even imagine the person who captained this incredible team. Just by standing there, she centers them, and they turn their heads to her, fixed on their leader.

All of them are pretty girls, but Akashi-san is downright beautiful, even with half her face in shadow, even when she's dismissing him from their presence and Furihata can't move, he can't move, he has to get out of here, there's not even any reason to be terrified of a perfectly reasonable request but he can't-

Kagami's hand lands on his shoulder, and Furihata shudders in a breath. Every member of the famous team focuses in on Kagami like sharks.

.0.

Kise caught up to Akashi as they passed the open doors to courts numbers three to five, bursting with indignation. "Akashichi," Kise said. "Akashichi, look at your hair! Look what you've done to it! How are you going to fix that? I know someone you can go to, but you won't have time right now, and look at you!"

Akashi endured this diatribe with- well, she wasn't really listening. Kise would be dramatic like this sometimes, like she was all that stood between their team and sewing burlap sacks into dresses. Akashi thought instead of their upturned faces staring up at her, the god-speed reflex of Kagami's dodge, the set of Kuroko's eyes.

"Mou!" said Kise, and then threw herself dramatically against the wall as their teams came into view, tapping their toes waiting for their errant members. Her own team, naturally, came to attention at her approach. "Look at her," she said to Rakuzan. "Look at Akashichi! Why does she do these things? Can you believe it?"

"Did you... do something to your hair?" said Hayama, peering at her. Mibuchi was gaping and gasping for air, clutching his heart as he stared at their captain.

Kasamatsu crossed his arms and said, "Kise, get over here and see if you can give me any kind of reasonable explanation for disappearing like that."

"Akashichi," said Kise, with the absolute confidence of one possessing the perfect trump card.

Several other Rakuzan members muttered among each other. Kasamatsu's eyes narrowed.

"Sei-chan, you... cut your fringe?" said Hayama, coming close to peer into her face. "Just now?"

"Akashi, girls can't just do that to themselves!" Mibuchi burst out. "Your lovely hair!"

Akashi sighed as Kise's bright head fell forward onto her hands with a sob. "I'll go to a proper hairdresser once the Winter Cup is over," she said. And won, she meant.

Kise's hands almost reached Akashi's face before she thought better of it, paralyzed by the cold calculating glare of the Empress's Eye. "Maybe you could try tying it another way," she muttered, sadly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Moriyama puff up his chest and quickly put away his notes so he could- oh no. Kise's eyes darted from side to side.

"You should go and prepare for the matches you have today," said Akashi, to all of Kaijou, not just Kise, and no one was really surprised when they automatically moved to obey.

Chapter Text

For cakechoz, Aomine in Kagami’s apartment.

Aomine prowls around Kagami’s apartment like a cat, perching on counters, draping herself over the couch, poking into the bedroom, sticking her head under his bed and demanding to know where his porn stash is. It’s horrible and awful, and all Kagami can think is that Aomine’s school skirt is incredibly short, and she doesn’t wear those long socks that all the other girls that he knows do with their uniforms. She just has on ankle socks, snug around her feet, her sneakers kicked off in his doorway, and her skirt sits on top of all that exposed skin, riding up her thighs. She sits on his bed and says his mattress is nice, almost grudgingly, then goes for the sparse stacks of books and the more substantial stacks of sports magazines. 

Kagami doesn’t want to say that in one of those books are the pages of the magazine where Teikou’s Generation of Miracles was featured, and the picture is of them in the Teikou basketball uniform, Aomine proud and defiant, staring straight at the camera secure in victory. He’d found it after she’d challenged him at the sports gym, putting history to the face she’d put to the name. Kuroko isn’t even in that article. He doesn’t have any excuse, except to claim that he has it for one of the other members of the team, and when he thinks about that he can almost feel Midorima’s eyes boring holes into him and see the smile spreading across Kise’s face. The other two are unthinkable. Even Aomine won’t believe him, and if she does believe him about the first two, it’s just as bad.

“I’ve got- biscuits,” he says, and points over his shoulder to the kitchen, where it’s safe. Where there’s nothing for Aomine to find out about him, except that he cooks and cleans. That can only be a plus.

“Biscuits?” says Aomine, turning her head up to him, unimpressed.

“Look, get the fuck out of my room,” snaps Kagami. “What are you doing in a guy’s room, anyway? Stop poking around.”

Aomine sniffs and stands up, muttering to herself about how Momoi lets her do anything she wants, and Ryou, and Imayoshi-san.

“Is that let you,” says Kagami, unable to banish the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, coiling under his lungs, “Or unable to stop you?”

“What’s the difference,” says Aomine, pausing on her way out, right up against him in the door, face close enough that her breath is warm on his face. He hasn’t had a girl look him in the face like this for a long time, and Aomine’s face is creased up with annoying him, and she’s so close, and they’re all alone.

“Lots,” he manages to say.

Aomine makes a face, and, just to prove he can’t stop her, dives into the other room and bounces on that bed too.  Alex yelps, Aomine curses, and they tumble off the bed in a tangle of skin and sheets and too much skin for any sixteen year old boy to rightly have to bear. It's like fucking girls gone wild in his apartment, except Alex, and except Aomine.

Kagami thinks about shouting at Alex, I thought you were going sightseeing with Tatsuya, but he really doesn’t want the attendant conversation about bringing a girl to his empty apartment right now, at all, ever. Already Aomine is making stifled, disbelieving noises as they untangle themselves from the sheets. Alex is beginning to coo and Alex still doesn’t have a shirt on, and why can’t Alex lock the door when she’s sleeping and why didn’t he check that she was out?

Kagami retreats to the kitchen and digs out the biscuits. It’s going to be a long evening.

Tagged: #the stupidest of all possible hookups #he actually really did bring her there to meet alex #it's just that he sort of misrepresented the time a little #aomine rolled up her skirt before she met him at the station #a girl learns things from knowing kise for years is all i am saying

.0.

For 26icecreamsundaes, Momoi and Kuroko’s date.

“This may be the worst idea you’ve ever had,” said Aomine, crouched behind the wall with Kise. “And believe me, you’ve had plenty.”

“Shhh,” said Kise, “I think Momochi is about to take Kurokochi’s hand. Carefully, carefully, Momochi! You mustn’t spook her.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t have anything better to do on a Saturday,” said Aomine. “I can’t believe I didn’t have anything better to do on a Saturday.”

“It’s Kurokochi’s precious first date,” hissed Kise. “Weren’t you worried? And anyway, I thought you and Momochi were together at first, you know, aren’t you affected even a little?”

“No?” Aomine suggested. “It’s not bad for her if she catches him, though. He’s responsible and his grades are good and he isn’t bad-looking.”

“He looks very nice,” said Kise, squinting, which was true. She’d seen parts of that outfit at a shoot just last week. Kuroko, by contrast, wore pants and a shirt. A cute shirt, but still. Kise had been working very hard at socialising her teammates out of sheer desperation, but Kuroko resisted all attempts by Kise to ambush her with a makeup bag, a mirror and a fashion magazine. “You can see why all our year is in love with him.”

“They are?” said Aomine, now picking her ear with her pinky.

“They’re not going to tell you if they are, they think you’re his girlfriend, obviously,” said Kise. “No, Kurokochi! Those girls are eyeing up your date! Take his hand! Claim him!”

“They probably can’t even tell she’s there,” said Aomine. Kuroko, next to Momoi’s sparkling good looks, was barely air.

“We’re going to need to do something,” said Kise. “Look, they’re beginning to approach him now. Ah, that one's pretty.”

“You want us to start a fight?” said Aomine, surprised. “Isn’t that a little much?”

“There’s no need to start a fight, mou, Aominechi!” said Kise. “We…we pretend we’re his extra girlfriends! He’s too much of a player, we don’t want him to hurt their pure little hearts. Aominechi, they’re going to ruin the date.”

“I was wrong,” said Aomine, standing up and rolling her shoulders. “That's the stupidest idea you’ve ever had. Why would we want Kuroko to go out with him if we were his extra girlfriends, anyway? Wouldn’t we want to keep him for ourselves?”

“Because we’re also…lesbians,” said Kise, with awe at her own brilliance. “Aominechi, go hit on them, and pretend to be a-“

“If I just go tell them not to hit on him will you shut up,” said Aomine, and Kise zipped her lips shut and nodded enthusiastically.

Tagged: #kise actually meant 'pretend to be a boy' #aomine could do that at 14 #16 not so much

.0.

For a dear anon, Takao/Midorima, High heels

Today’s lucky item was high heels.

“There’s no way chicks wear this,” said Takao, lifting one sleek black shoe- a practically vertical incline, supported by thin black straps and a wicked-looking spike, nearly as long as his hand. “I think you could kill someone with this shoe. And not by making them wear it.”

Midorima pressed her towel over her face and shot him a dirty look. “I wear it,” she said.

“You’re not tall enough?” said Takao, casting a glance up to her. “Wait, these are yours?”

“Size,” said Midorima by way of illustrating his stupidity, and Takao looked down at her basketball shoes: bigger than his, massive, but that was in the nature of basketball shoes. Anything more unlike the heel in his hand was hard to bring to mind.

“Put them on,” he said, and then caught at his mouth; where had that come from?

“What?” said Midorima, pausing in gathering up her gym bag; practice was over, even endless exhaustive shooting practice, and the regulars were dripping off to the lockers to shower and change before heading home.

Takao could think very fast indeed, it was what made him such an excellent point guard. “I…bet you can’t walk in them,” he said. “From- from the vending machine out to the rickshaw, and then home.”

“I own those,” said Midorima. “They’re my shoes. I’ve had heels since I was twelve. I can walk in them.”

“I bet you can’t,” he said. “I’ll bet… One selfish request. Any time. Anything. I’ll back it up against whoever you like. All the way out through the school, until the rickshaw. I’ll bet you tip over and I have to catch you in my strong manly arms before you fall flat on your face.”

He had her on the hook now, at the hint of a challenge, and she threw the towel over one shoulder, said “Fine,” threw her gym bag over the other shoulder, and stalked off to the girls’ showers, seething.

The heels dangled from his hand as he waited at their usual spot, the vending machine at the opening of the sports buildings, where he could hang out and commiserate with his fellow regulars about being appointed Midorima’s servant as they drank energy drinks and waited to trail off in groups. She came striding along the corridor with her school shoes on, and Takao waved the heels to her, and grinned.

She snarled at him, grabbing the shoes. “Let’s get this over with,” she said, and cleared the lone bench of two kendo club second-years with a jerk of her chin so she could sit on it to put them on. Miyagi and Kimura, watching, sighed.

Midorima wore black knee socks that Takao correctly suspected on any other girl would have been thigh-highs, very correct and demure. Watching her slip them off carefully to keep from stretching them, revealing the muscles of her calf, all of Midorima’s skin very pale against the unrelenting black- the miles of leg suddenly revealed- the way the straps cinched around the bones of her ankles- Takao began to get the impression that he was teetering on the edge of something he probably could not take back.

It was getting cold enough that Midorima dried all her hair before leaving, which had left Takao with enough time to be interrogated about why he had their ace’s lucky item and a shit-eating grin, and now left them open to ambush by the coach and captain, fresh from post-practice weekly discussion.

She stood, and Takao looked her up and down, all the long graceful lines of her limbs. Something was changed in her stance, the curves of her legs reframed in a way that Takao could not drag his eyes from, and it made his mouth run dry.

Ootsubo nodded in greeting, and then looked up into Midorima’s face, with a bemused expression. She cleared him by a handspan, and looked dispassionately down onto the rest of them.

“I’ve made a bet with Shin-chan,” said Takao, just to forestall their coach’s raised eyebrow.

“One he’s going to lose,” said Midorima, and then she thrust her bag at him and said, “Let’s go.”

“Does it invalidate the bet if I’m carrying your bag,” Takao started to say, but then Midorima produced a complicated little hip-jar movement to navigate the grass-filled spaces in the path, half between a mince and a sway, and the words died in his mouth as she walked off, her prim uniform fluttering.

“Ex-cuse me,” he said to the sempai and coach, all watching him and her in varying degrees of bemusement and fascination, and followed, shouldering Midorima’s bag.

“They always go home together, don’t they?” said Miyagi, in the tones of someone making a horrible and awful discovery.

“This feels like a terrible mistake we should stop him from making,” said Kimura, watching them walk away, or rather, Midorima walk away, and Takao trailing after at just the right distance to keep all of her in view.

Tagged: #takao is at once the most pitied and most envied man in shuutoku #the coach is just -_- i've been here for 11 years guys just go on being young

.0.

When the time came for Kiyoshi to turn up behind the school at the abandoned gardening club area, almost every single Seirin club member was already there, hiding with varying bits of success behind bits of greenery and the crumbling masonry.

“I know that Kiyoshi is stupid,” said Hyuuga, “But I’m not sure he’s this stupid. He’s going to notice. Why are we all so nosy? THIS IS STUPID.”

“Of course he’s going to notice,” hissed Izuki, laid out nearly flat behind a water feature, getting moss all over his uniform. “If you keep noising around.”

“Shut up,” said Hyuuga.

“What are we doing here,” said Kagami in an undertone to Furihata, pressed nearly cheek to jowl behind the basins, peering over the top. His back hurt from crouching. Mitobe tried to attract Nigou, but the dog rolled around on the grass, ignoring his imploring gestures.

“Someone sent Kiyoshi-sempai a love letter,” he said. “Said to meet here, after school.”

“What’s a love letter,” said Kagami, blank.

“It’s like a…confession,” said Kawahara. “Um, you send it anonymously to your crush, and then you fix a time to tell them you love them and would like to date them.”

Kagami stared at him uncomprehendingly. “Words came out of your mouth,” he said. “But they didn’t make any sense.”

“It’s a beautiful love tradition for our delicate springtime of life,” snarled Hyuuga from across the yard. “Go be American and unrestrained somewhere else.”

“Kiyoshi’s coming!” chirped Koganei from around the side of the building. “Hide, hide!”

Kiyoshi ambled into the yard and smiled benignly at what everyone hoped desperately were the plants, growing with abandon and very very green against the blue and black of their uniforms. In one hand was the light blue envelope which had fallen out of his shoebox that morning, directing him here for a private conversation.

“Kiyoshi-sempai,” said Kuroko, nodding in greeting.

“Oh, Kuroko,” said Kiyoshi. “You’re here?’

Every single watching Serin member choked as one. When did she get here, their collective eyes shot to each other. Has she been here all along? Doesn’t she know to hide?

Is….is she here because she SENT THE LETTER, emitted Mitobe’s eyes first, alight with concern that they had intruded into the feelings of their most private and withdrawn member. They immediately recoiled, repulsed by their thoughtless actions.

“Kiyoshi-sempai,” said Kuroko, very serious with her hair blowing about her face, as Nigou chased butterflies and Izuki desperately tried to keep the dog from noticing them. “I…I came to Seirin because of you. I followed your progress after you graduated from middle school, and I came to Seirin because I knew that Iron Heart was here.”

Kiyoshi made one of his stupid faces, and kicked his feet. “Well,” he said. “It was more complicated than that, you know.”

“I know,” said Kuroko, and looked at him straight and pure. “I wished to quit basketball too. But in the end… I’m so glad I came to Seirin. I’m glad you didn’t quit basketball.” She paused. “I wished to tell you that,” she said. “Before you returned to the hospital.”

Kiyoshi smiled at her, soft and sad and sweet. “I’m glad you didn’t quit basketball either,” he said gently.

Kuroko nodded, and then walked off, her business finished. Nigou yawned, pawed at Kiyoshi’s pants, and then followed, tail wagging briskly. Kiyoshi put his hands on his hips and let out a sigh, then nodded one more time around at the greenery and followed them in the direction of the clubhouse.

Everyone else stayed exactly where they were, choking back their tears and clutching their hearts, digging their fingers into the earth and having feelings everywhere.

“Couldn’t she just have told him that at practice?” said Kagami bluntly, standing up and wincing as his back protested. “We’re going to be late, now.”

“Shit we’re late for practice,” said Hyuuga jumping to his feet, then falling over onto Izuki because his legs were numb, eliciting a squawk of pain.

“No,” said Riko, arms folded, the air crackling behind her, “Really, are you?”

Tagged: #she actually signed her name on the letter #it's just that none of them noticed it

Chapter Text

Imayoshi overheard, and wished he didn’t:

“Of all the bad habits to pick up from Ki-chan,” said Momoi crossly, “I said if she wanted it done she’d have to alter her skirt herself, and I knew she’d be too lazy to, but somehow she’s got it done and now I’m getting complaints from the teachers and other students because she’s never careful about how she sits.”

Ryo made a small, miserable sound. “Sorry,” he said. “Momoi-kun, sorry, sorry! I didn’t want to, but after she heard I could sew she- she just-“ He wept.

“Ryou-kun,” said Momoi, after a measured pause. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but do you also do pants?”

.0.

“I have horrible luck today,” said Midorima.

Takao blinked at her. “Good morning,” he said. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in almost three days, which is amazing for us. Gee, Takao, it’s fun to be back playing basketball again.”

“You’re not funny,” she told him, and swept past him majestically, heading for the gym.

“Yes, yes,” said Takao, and fell into step with her, noting without very much surprise the box of tissues cradled in her arm. “We’re having a practice match today, though, so don’t think Captain will let you sit out too much.”

“Why not?” said Midorima, sounding genuinely surprised that she would not do exactly as she wanted in the matter that she preferred, and hang everyone else.

“Midorima-chiiiiiiiiiiiiii!” squealed Kise, leaning by the side of the gym surrounded by club members pretending they weren’t staring at her. She waved frantically, and her tiny, tiny skirt bounced teasingly.

Takao couldn’t see Midorima’s face, but Kise could, and he could see her face, and the smile that spread across it was nothing short of evil.

“It’s with Kaijou,” he explained, somewhat redundantly, and then Kise bounced up and was upon them.

“My house was near,” she explained, head nestled on the hand Midorima was using to keep her off, “So I just came ahead and I’ll change here.”

“Your house isn’t anywhere near here,” hissed Midorima. “You just wanted to turn up in your miniskirt and cause a fuss.”

Kise laughed, and sparkled, pulling on the edges of Midorima’s scarf, and apparently couldn’t stop touching Midorima, all fluffy hair against their ace’s severity, sharp smirks painted in pink lip gloss set against Midorima’s scowl. It was amazing. “Your sempai asked me for an autograph,” she said. “I kissed the paper for him.”

“Which one,” said Takao. Purely, of course, as a matter of academic interest.

“I’ll point them out if you like,” said Kise, and twinkled.

“That would be amazing,” said Takao sincerely, and twinkled back.

“I think you should take me to the changing room you use now,” said Kise. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you without your clothes on, Midorimachi. Has anything changed?”

Some fifty boys in earshot choked as one.

Midorima grabbed Kise by a handful of shiny hair, slapped her taped fingers over Kise’s mouth, and dragged her off.

Takao waved as they went past, beaming.

“Mou,” said Kise. “Midorimachi, you’re still so me-an.”

“You’re still an idiot,” said Midorima, “Also, what’s with that uniform? You’re still shameless.”

“I wear shorts,” said Kise, and flicked her skirt to show Midorima. “There’s no problem.”

“There’s the problem of us being in school and what is and is not appropriate for high school students,” said Midorima.

“Well if we cared about what was appropriate we wouldn’t be here,” said Kise, and knew she’d scored a hit when Midorima just banged open her locker to start changing.

---

“You’re not playing,” said Kaijou’s coach.

Kise didn’t blink. “Of course I am!” she said, brightly, and turned the full force of her sweet, long-lashed gaze onto her captain.

“You’re still injured,” said Kasamatsu, staring at a point somewhere above her head, manfully resistant. “You’re not playing.”

“I don’t look injured,” she said, and tried to stick out her leg for them to look at it. Neither of them took this bait, though a whole gym full of boys leaned in at the invitation to stare at Kise’s legs.

“Sit on the bench and shut up,” said Kasamatsu.

It was nearly on the tip of Kise’s tongue to say you’re not going to win without me, but visions of bodily maiming and all her hair being pulled out flashed before her eyes and stopped her before she could make such a horrible mistake. They’d put her in soon. They’d have to. Midorimachi would push them, and then they’d put her in.

They did not.

Halfway through the practice match, Takao realized that Kise wasn’t just sulking and pissed off, but also doing her very best impression of Midorima’s sulking and pissed off face, emitting an aura to curdle sports drinks.

He stifled a snort and turned to look at the mirror image sitting right next to him.

“Shin-chan, calm down,” he said. “We shouldn’t steamroller them so badly, it makes them look bad.”

“Kise’s up to something,” said Midorima, staring straight across the court and frightening a few of the more impressionable first-years. “She wouldn’t have come at all otherwise. She hates being made to sit out.”

“You’re not going to get her onto the court by being pissed off,” pointed out Takao. “Besides, if she can copy the Hawk’s Eye, she’s welcome to it.”

“Something more than that,” Midorima said, frowning.

“Third quarter,” called Miyaji. “First-years, don’t slack off.”

Kaijou lost, in the end, but not as badly as Shuutoku would have liked them to. Kise, still seething, stalked off with Midorima to change back, leaving the rest of them to make awkward small talk as the coaches conferred over DVDs and carefully refrain from falling onto each other’s shoulders, weeping profusely about the Generation of Miracles and swearing eternal brotherhood in the face of the collective suffering of the High School basketball world.

“Good game,” said Ootsubo to Kasamatsu.

“Yes,” he agreed.

All appropriate topics of conversation exhausted, they stared into the horizon in a stoic manner, and then a blur dressed in Shuutoku’s summer girl’s uniform and carrying Shuutoku’s distinctive orange bag clutched in her arms dashed past them, screamed, “I WAS NEVER HERE,” hurdled the sinks- the sinks what the fuck- and disappeared around the corner of the building.

“Oh, god,” said Kasamatsu, quicker on the uptake than all of them.

Midorima charged into their midst, a fury of undone pigtails and Kise's too-small-on-her uniform. There was a handsbreath of height between them and they were roughly the same size, but that didn't account for the precise tailoring of Kise's uniform, tiny skirt creeping up Midorima's legs, and the way the shirt strained at the buttons with a combination of Midorima's exertions and the apparently healthy effects of shooting practice and amazing genetics on a young woman.

"Where is she," demanded Midorima, futilely holding down the edge of the skirt, as if that fixed anything. "Where is she?"

Struck silent by her descent among them and Kise's hell-for-leather flight, the boys could only gape at her. With her hair coming undone around her shoulders and her eyes sparking with fury, Midorima was terrifying, even for one of the Generation of Miracles. Kasamatsu began choking reflexively.

"I can't comment on Kise's whereabouts," said Moriyama, stepping up to the plate with a flourish. "But may I say, Midorima-san, you are looking exceptionally lovely in Kaijou's- urk." Midorima had lunged forward in one of those impossibly fast reflex movements, and grabbed him by the collar, dragging his face up to hers. Not with her precious shooting hand, though. He drew in a breath at once terrified squeak and hiss of being really really turned on right now.

"Where," she snarled into his face. They all pointed as one.

Midorima dropped him unceremoniously and gave chase. Kaijou offered a prayer for Kise's person to whoever would hear it.

Moriyama muttered as his teammates helped him up, his hand over his chest to calm his racing heart. "Was the compliment too much for a young lady junior to myself?" he said. "Ah, but the website said-"

"I don't care what the website said," said Kasamatsu. "I'm going to kill Kise."

"Midorima may get there first," said Ootsubo blankly, trying to calculate the damage that would ensue from their ace murdering someone within school grounds.

Miyaji couldn't help a sound of horror. "But Kise's face," he said. "She needs it for her job! She's only doing the most important shoots as it is!"

"Kise isn't supposed to be exerting herself," said Kobori, frowning. "Should we go after them?"

"No?" suggested Takao. "Shin-chan's in a killing mood." He sighed, extravagantly. "On a related note, does anyone mind if I just propose to them? Either of them. They're incredible women. I can get married in high school, right?"

"There's a limit to old teammates," said Kimura, ignoring this. "Captain?"

"Takao," said Ootsubo, intent on punishing their junior's careless jokes. "Go after them and if they're killing each other, stop them."

Takao squawked in protest, but the captain held firm. He darted a look to Kaijou, but Kasamatsu-san had a hand over his mouth, green with the very thought of following them. The rest of them stared back at him with 'better you than us' written all over their faces. There wasn't a single first-year among them, either.

"Man, I hate seniority," Takao said, and under his own seniors' glares, trotted in the general direction the girls had gone.

They hadn't managed to get that far after all- or Kise had unwisely doubled back and been caught.

"I can't believe you," said Midorima, Kise weeping in pain under her arm. Takao winced at what their ace was doing to her. Midorima was pissed. "How could you do that? What if coach saw! How am I going to face to my sempai! DO YOU EVER THINK ABOUT THESE THINGS AT ALL."

"Coach is bargaining with yours for videos," said Kise, frantically trying to escape, a process that apparently involved far more squirming and leg than Takao had previously thought possible. "That always takes a while. Anyway, they should get to see another side of you! Otherwise, how would you ever get alon- ow ow ow Midorimachi stop it stop it owwwww."

"And your ridiculous uniform," said Midorima, in full lecturing steam. "How do you go to school in this? You're still a high school student! Why do your clothes have to be like this!"

Kise screwed up her face and wailed, "There's nothing wrong with my uniform! Just because you're an e-cup, you don't need to be so mean to me-ee!"

"That doesn't have anything to do with this," snarled Midorima, sticking her finger into Kise's face. "You're just too shameless!"

"I didn't even get to plaaaay," whined Kise. "You got to have a whole summer camp with Kurokochi and Kagamichiiii."

"That's your own fault," said Midorima. "And don't bring the camp up, it was horrible."

"I lost," said Kise, then, and went limp, pressing her bright lovely head into what Takao would forever now remember as Midorima's e-cups. "Midorimachi, I lost to Aominechi."

"Don't CRY," said Midorima. "I thought you didn't mind losing. And it's not like-"

Kise continued to make loud, fake-sounding crying noises, face buried in Midorima's chest.

"Stop that," said Midorima, but her hand on Kise's back gentled, and she bent her head over Kise's so that her long ropes of hair brushed Kise's shoulders. Kise sniffled and burrowed in.

"If you'd been more careful you could have lost to me today too," said Midorima. Takao winced. Oh, Shin-chan. Always so clumsy.

"I wouldn't have lost," said Kise, emerging lovely face no worse for wear except for a little redness around her eyes that could have been put down to mere tears of pain. She settled onto a bench, and dug around in Midorima's bag.

"Yes you would," said Midorima, automatically.

"No I wouldn't," said Kise, and then pulled the familiar Shiruko can out of the bag, condensation still beading on it. She'd stopped to buy that? No wonder Midorima had caught her. "For your fake victory against us."

"Forget the drink," said Midorima grimly. "I want my clothes."

"Well," said Kise, and waved the can. "If you don't want it-"

"I didn't say that," Midorima snapped, and grabbed it from the air as Kise tossed it to her, laughing.

“Did you see what you came to see?” said Midorima. “And don’t play dumb, Kise. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”

Kise- what Takao couldn’t help thinking of as the real Kise, the sharp-eyed monster watching the court like a starving animal- smirked, and said, “Of course I did. I'll be back in the time for the Winter Cup, Midorimachi. Be ready for me there. Be ready for us."

“Of course we'll be,” said Midorima, and they locked gazes.

“That’s at once inspiring, and annoying,” said Takao, who felt this was the right moment to interrupt without being assaulted or unduly embarrassed or- jealous. It had been the same with Seirin, with Kuroko, the feeling that no one else could interfere. Shuutoku couldn't hold a candle to Teikou, to all those years of victory and oaths. Shin-chan glittered at Kise and wasn't Shin-chan any more, but Teikou's miracle shooter, eyes fixed on something far above them. “The rest of us might as well be air to you lot, obviously.”

Kise looked at him with vague surprise and then- twinkled. Takao felt a chill go down his spine, a sensation he had not had to entertain since junior high. "I meant Kaijou," she said, innocently. "We're ready for all of you, any time."

"You're going to regret going up against us," said Midorima, and her hand landed bracingly on Takao's shoulder in Shuutoku solidarity. He looked at it and contemplated the possibility that he was a pervert. "All of you."

"Shin-chan," said Takao with feeling. "I knew you loved us."

"Stop your ridiculous jokes," she replied. Takao stared up into her serious face and desperately avoided looking downwards at gaping shirt buttons. He was surprised to find he hadn't been joking about- about- Midorima's refined prettiness, with all her hair loose over her shoulders from her exertions, unexpected colour in her face, and her figure outlined in Kise's uniform. Man. They were going to have interesting and slightly disturbing dreams for a while. His fingers itched to twine themselves in her hair.

Kise smiled, then, teeth spreading across her face. "Takao-kun," she cooed, and crossed her legs, the dark collar of Midorima's uniform slipping sideways on a milk-white collarbone and the slope of her shoulder. "Don't you think I look good in your uniform? Isn't it nice? What about Midorimachi in mine? Isn't she nice?"

Takao and Midorima flushed in unison. Midorima made a noise of utter scandal, grabbed Kise, and once again dragged her off.

He followed them past the group of sempai now actually falling on each other's shoulders weeping about the unfairness of crazy hot female genius basketball juniors. Midorima stared at them, clutched her jacket to her chest, and edged past.

"Mission accomplished," said Takao to Ootsubo, saluting.

"Please don't get married in high school," the captain said. It had clearly been preying on his mind.

Takao regarded him gravely. "That's only your opinion," he said.

"Laps until the day you die," said Kasmatasu to Kise as she was manhandled past.

"Yes sempai," she said obediently, meek as milk. 

#Kise is not sure why Midorima picked Kaijou's school uniform over Kaijou's basketball uniform as less embarassing to chase her in #frankly neither am I #the coaches actually came out halfway #and then right back in for a bracing drink

Chapter Text

For 23dragon: Miracles!, Murasakibara + Midorima; skirts.

Of all them- Kise possibly excepted- Midorima works the hardest at being a girl. It’s hard to take care of hair that long. She’s graceful and well-spoken and takes all the right lessons and does all the right things. Basketball is really her one great rebellion against the life fate has drawn for her, and even it must have been prepared for her in some way; all her height was obviously meant for something. If Kise has been trying to turn them into girls, Midorima hopes to lead them by example into being ladies, because playing basketball with boys is no reason to turn into one, Aomine always excepted.

But in Murasakibara her heart despairs. The height- ha- the height is nothing. But Murasakibara is lazy and slovenly and doesn’t care, and Akashi won’t make her, and it’s like Murasakibara is some kind of alien or wandering bear who’s decided that playing basketball is the life for her, and refuses to accept the rest of the trappings of human existence. Akashi views Midorima’s efforts with the same amused tolerance she views everything, but demurs commitment. Part of playing Shogi is knowing when to let a piece go. Akashi is already perfect and sees no reason to do anything but commend Midorima’s efforts for what they are.

Apparently for the sheer novelty of things, Kise dressed as a prince for the school festival, and left the terrible minds in her class to fall on Murasakibara as their princess. Once Midorima had wrested- outright wrested, because Kuroko has very strong and determined hands- her lucky item from the idiot brigade, she was treated to the full glory of Murasakibara under bribe of more sweets than she can eat in an hour; the ballgown, the curls, the smoky eyes and crimson lips. The waste.

The satisfied smile. “Sachin’s class has crepes,” she said, and waved her coupon triumphantly.

“You concealed Kuroko for crepes,” Midorima said, and meant you betrayed me for crepes.

“Yes,” she said. “We should go eat crepes.” Murasakibara picked up the long flowing skirt- how on earth they’d found it Midorima was never going to understand- and pointed in the direction of Momoi’s class.

“No,” said Midorima, and picked up the hem of her cloak to demonstrate the proper way, patient, enduring. “Like this.”


.0.


The thing is when they start in Shuutoku, no one really believes it. Her. Midorima. They hear hundred percent accuracy and imagine the softest of soft touches floating the ball down from the three-point line, something closer to luck than genius. Anyone can be accurate, they imagine. Even a girl. Maybe especially a girl. It takes something delicate to make a three-pointer.

Midorima, who doesn’t so much make three-pointers as she does annihilate the net with the ball, comes as something of a shock.

Midorima must have the heart and lungs of a horse to keep going the way she does, as Shuutoku’s practices thin out in a hurry. The second that the court clears enough, she kicks them off the half-court and claims it all for herself, then keeps on shooting, keeps on making them, sweating through her practice clothes and not ever speaking to anyone. The coach’s simple answer to this is, “She joined us because she believed we would aim for the top.” There’s not really anything you can say to that, except maybe to cry, and bend your head to train harder. Three times national champions, and it doesn’t take any kind of genius to hit on why the Generation of Miracles have scattered the way they have. One of them intends to come out on top.

Takao trains harder. Midorima’s only gotten more amazing, more unbelievable. She tucks her sleeves up into her shirt to practice and the movement of her muscles under her skin is enough to make anyone stop and stare. But it’s not like they get treated to that view that often. Midorima wears exactly the same training clothes as the rest of them, huge shirts and long shorts. They’d probably fit the captain just as well, and Coach works them hard enough that anyone could forget Midorima’s a girl, except for the two long pigtails on her shoulders, except for the infuriating things she says in her unmistakable voice.

“I want the full court,” she demands one day, and promptly uses up a selfish request to get it done. Full fucking court. That leaves them to use the outside courts or just do normal drills outside, and even Coach gets that faint line between his eyes and lets Miyaji-sempai mutter on for a full half-hour about what fruits he’ll throw at her head for shooting practice. It seems to energise him, though. He does almost a third again his normal drills.

And then, and then. When the tournaments start, they’re embarrassed to have to acknowledge that the predicted gaps in their team play don’t matter at all, just as she had said they would. It’s not even that they’re that good. It’s that she is. With Midorima on the team, all they have to do is pass to her. And that’s where Takao begins to shine.

Midorima doesn’t talk about what he likes to think of as his confession to her, all his blood and sweat and tears. It might actually embarrass her a little, and isn’t that the most bitter nail in his coffin, to be pitied by someone you had no hope of ever matching up against. But he’s keeping his promise to himself. Takao has always had talent, if not genius. He hasn’t stopped aiming for the top.

After two straight quarters of sitting out against a no-name school with members who gulp promisingly at the sight of her and worse at the scowls of the sempai, Midorima appears to come to a decision.

“Coach,” she says, and stretches her offensively long arm to grab Takao by the shoulder, across the Captain and Kimura-sempai. It’s just like Shin-chan, to not, say, just call his name to get his attention. The sempai are at the end of an amazingly long rope, but they’ve also been winning without any trouble at all. Coach lets her be carted around in a rickshaw like a princess. He is going to let her do exactly as she wishes twice more today.

“I want the ball,” she says.

“We all want the ball, Shin-chan,” says Takao. “That’s why we chase after it. That’s why the game is named basket-ball.”

“I want it all the next quarter,” she said. “I’ll be at the three-quarter court mark.”

There’s a moment of astounding, breathless silence. She lifts her eyes behind their stern spectacles and says, “I will make the shot.”

Coach agrees, because apparently this their life now. Three-quarter three-pointers. They’re in high school, and Takao must be dreaming.

“Geniuses must breathe a different air than we do,” remarks Takao.

“If she misses,” snarls Miyaji, and then stops. Shin-chan doesn’t miss. There’s already a huge hole in their heads when it comes to her missing. It might be literally impossible.

Midorima’s arms bulge as she stretches them, untapes her fingers. Delicate hands, though. Slim wrists. Perfect nails. Strong shoulders in Shuutoku’s jersey.

She makes the shot. And then another. And another. There’s barely any more noise on the court, and the rest of them might as well not be there. Takao doesn’t know why Midorima bothers testing her shots in game conditions. Their ten-point lead stretches to a twenty. At the start of the fourth quarter, she gets up again. If Takao didn’t know better, he’d say that Shin-chan was pleased.

“Full court,” she says, half to herself. Takao catches it.

“Full court,” he repeats, a little louder. Ootsubo-san half-turns. The opposing team look thoroughly demoralised.

They have a twenty-point lead. Coach barely has to nod his approval.

When the ball slams through the net, laser-straight, everyone turns to look at Midorima standing in front of the other hoop. She doesn’t even see them looking at her. Her gaze is fixed on the hoop.

“Kisseki no Sedai,” murmurs through the crowd. Midorima doesn’t seem to hear them either. Her goal is so much further away than this.


.0.


For phob-phil, Riko, Alex and Miracles!GoM bonding over basketball strategy and the WNBA.


“Honestly,” said Alex, “I wasn’t expecting all that much when Taiga said that girls were the top players in the high school league. But you guys are pretty strong, aren’t you? These players are all tops, too.”

“Well, we try,” said Riko, who’d been unable to escape Alex’s crushing grip and in any case was beginning to get used to the alarming familiarity with which their first-years’ acquaintances tended to treat her. Having Aomine grope her in the hot springs and Midorima scrub her back at camp had really expanded her horizons. “It really is true, though. The Generation Of Miracles is all girls.”

“Well, at the high school level,” said Alex. “But your invisible girl- Kuroko?- Taiga says she’s good.”

“It’s a different kind of good,” said Riko, exchanging glances with the rest of Seirin. “I don’t- I’m not sure it can be explained.”

“You won’t need to,” said Hyuuga. “Shuutoku’s up next, and that’s Oonita. They took 4th in the Interhigh.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed behind her glasses, and Riko’s own eyes totalled up what stats she could see; he was good.

“Wait for it,” said Kagami.

Midorima stepped out blazing. Alex sucked in a breath, long and shocked and didn’t take her eyes off the shooter the whole match, the whole breathless slaughter, Midorima’s focus never wavering and Shuutoku’s ferocity on display.

“Taiga,” she said, forgetting herself and speaking in English. “<Taiga, that’s amazing.>”

“<She’s taller than I am,>” answered Kagami in the same language. “<They’re all that strong.>”

“Even stronger than at the preliminaries,” said Riko, half to herself.

“<I want one,>” said Alex.

“<What?>” said Kagami.

“<Introduce me,>” demanded Alex. “<My god if we’d had even one of those->”

“<We’re in the middle of a tournament,>” said Kagami. “<You can’t scout them while we’re all preparing for matches.>”

Riko’s eyes rolled up in her head at the thought of the Generation of Miracles unleashed on the world. But Alex-san would, wouldn’t she? The WNBA... the pros. And Alex-san would know.

“<After>,” said Alex. “<After, then. Taigaaaaa->”

“<Fine,>” said Kagami, giving in with suspicious quickness. “<But not her, she’s horrible. I’ll find you another one. Or Kuroko can.>”

Kuroko, thus volunteered, gave Kagami the side-eye. He made a face at her, it was Alex.

“Taiga,” said Alex, “<A lady-wrangler already? I’m so proud.>”


.0.


Kagami turned the corner in the combini to see that Murasakibara, unbelievably, incredibly, was still throwing snacks into her basket. She wasn't even doubling up on flavours, because this was a new place or new flavours about- something promotions. Aomine and Tatsuya had informed him thusly. ("No duplicates. Ever. Don't ask.")

He cleared his throat. "Um," he said. "Aomine's- outside. So's Tatsuya." And when I asked them why I should be the one to come in and get you they just looked at me and smirked.

Murasakibara flicked a glance at him, then said, "Get another basket."

Kagami, seeing literally no other alternative and also the opportunity to make sure that Tatsuya and Aomine weren't plotting anything, went to fetch another basket. Aomine had cracked her Pocari and was perched on the stone rim of the store, looking deceptively peaceful and sleepy and benign. Tatsuya was sitting next to her obviously thinking about having a smoke, watching a group of punks roar in on glorified scooters. Kagami tried to beam disapproval at their backs as they began to make fun of the newcomers.

“Here,” he said, handing it to Murasakibara.

“Last one,” she said, with all apparent seriousness. “Tomato-unagi or wasabi-bbq?”

“Both?” he said. This seemed to be the correct answer; Murasakibara nodded and added them to the pile.

She dumped the baskets at the counter and hummed happily as the counter staff dealt with a six-foot-ten girl and a ridiculous amount of snacks by...staring over their shoulders in horror?

“-bitch-” Kagami heard faintly, then he whirled around and Aomine had one leg extended in front of her, and she’d just kicked a guy dressed in an improbable amount of leather and hair gel in the balls. His five friends began to roar expletives.

Tatsuya creased up and began to laugh, which was obviously very helpful.

Murasakibara tutted and sighed, “Mine-chin,” as though just watching Aomine beat someone up tired Murasakibara out.

Aomine cracked her neck from side to side, then stood. She topped the tallest of them by a head. But she was wearing her uniform, and the skirt must have done something to their brains, because three of them advanced on her, and someone else grabbed Tatsuya by the collar and tried to drag him up.

Tatsuya slid his bag off his shoulder and barely bothered cocking his fist.

“Miss,” said Murasakibara, impatient. “Miss, I want to pay.”

The plastic wall shuddered as Aomine bounced someone’s head off it, leaving a smear of blood. The cashier cringed, but worked faster.

“Pay so we can get out of here,” said Kagami. "I- I don't know those people, please don't call the police-"

“Muro-chin’s waving to us,” said Murasakibara.

Kagami looked. Aomine was grinding a guy’s face in with a foot to his back, and Tatsuya had picked up one of his arms and was indeed waving to them with it, sparkling. Aomine was finding this hilarious.

“I can’t go anywhere with you guys,” he muttered. Tatsuya began to go through the punks' wallets, Aomine watching with interest. Murasakibara shurgged and took her snacks.

“Cracker?” she offered.

"Yeah," said Kagami. "Sure, why not."

.0.


For anon: Miracles! Sleepovers- and crashing thereof.

Note: Set in the hypothetical selection camp of please make this happen after the anime, and... more or less the prompt! Hahahaha. SOMETIMES THINGS DON'T HAPPEN IN MIRACLES, GUYS.


“Punishment game,” said Kagami. “I didn’t even want to play.”

“Shhh,” said Himuro. “Over the balcony, come on, and you should have known better than to get into a poker game with Imayoshi-san.” He hung from his fingertips and then dropped, and gestured for them to follow him.

“If you’re so smart, why are you coming with us,” hissed Kagami.

“I forgot to unpack my bag from the last time I used it,” said Himuro.

“So?”

“So I had half a bottle of Jack in there. If I do this I don’t have to run laps tomorrow.”

“Christ, Tatsuya,” said Kagami, and then, “Momoi, come on over.”

“These hands are for collecting data,” said Momoi. “Not for ledge-hanging. And as the only one of us who won’t get beaten up when we’re caught, why are we going over the roofs?”

“Kuroko won’t get in a whack or two?” said Takao, and swung himself over with annoying ease.

“Kuroko-san would have to catch me first,” Momoi said. “And I know where Aomine keeps her shoe collections.”

“Part of the rule is we can’t warn them we’re coming,” said Kagami. “That’s...asking for trouble. We have phones. We can ask for one of their team jerseys. They won’t rat us out, right?”

“Akashi-san will back up the rest of the captains,” said Momoi. “Is that even a question you need to ask. And then, and this naturally follows, we will all die for ratting them out to her. Our best bet is Kuroko-san or Kichan.”

"What are you two in for, anyway?" said Himuro. "Sorry, Momoi-kun I know, but you're Shuutoku's...?"

Takao introduced himself and grimaced. "Never bet Miyaji-san and Ootsubo-san you can name more members of AKB48 than they can."

"But with Ryou-kun on our team," said Momoi, pouting, delicately flushed from the exertion of dropping into Kagami’s strong manly arms. "I thought for sure we had it."

"Once they started listing their graduation outfits we were done," said Takao. "It was an honorable defeat."

"Sorry, I only listen to their music because I like it," said Ryou sadly. “Sorry.”

They turned to the last member of their party, who had somersaulted down from the ledge and was subtly vibrating with excitement.

“Nothing’s more romantic than a late-night meeting by chance,” said Moriyama solemnly.

“...any of them in particular?” said Himuro.

“I prefer to let such things take their course,” said Moriyama. “All ladies are beautiful to me.”

“We’re all going to die,” moaned Sakurai. “Er. Sorry.”

Once they’d crossed the roof, it was only a short climb up to the balconies of the other wing, where the teachers and the girls were staying. Apparently it had been like a reunion in there, right up to the point that Shuutoku’s and Touou’s coaches had accidentally called Riko ‘Tora’ in the middle of discussion. Man, that had been embarrassing.

Unsurprisingly, the lights in the rightmost bedroom- Kuroko, Kise and Aomine, if Kagami remembered correctly Kise ricocheting around the lobby cheering her room assignment- were still on. The left one, with presumably the rest of them, was dark. That was good.

“This is not good,” said Takao, reporting back with a salute. “The window is open and Murasakibara seems to be out, but Akashi-san and Shin-chan are still going at it. I don’t think they’ve stopped playing shogi once this whole camp.”

“Well after the camp you can have her all to yourself again,” said Momoi. “Or, and I don’t recommend this option, take up Shogi and tell Midorin you want to get good enough to challenge Akashi-san.”

“Do girls like smart guys?” said Moriyama.

“That disqualifies all of us,” said Kagami.

“Kuroko and Kise and Aomine are talking or something,” said Takao. “There’s no way we can get to them without Shin-chan or Akashi noticing, and there’s Aomine’s Touou jersey on top of her bag, but we can’t get to that either.”

“Are they in their sleeping clothes?” said Himuro.

Sakurai squeaked disapprovingly.

“Tatsuya,” snarled Kagami.

“I mean,” said Himuro. “They’ll have to get ready for bed at some point. They’ll need to go wash their faces and brush their teeth.”

“Best chance?” said Moriyama. “Ah, but to leave without making contact- what?”

~~

“Excuse me,” said Moriyama, sweating slightly as he faced down Akashi and Midorima. Midorima’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at the mere sight of him, but he would persevere. Faint heart never won fair lady. “But I would like to request a word of you ladies.” Their hair was spiky around the edges from washing their faces and their skin was fresh and clean and they smelled amazing. What a wonderful time to be alive.

“Go, go,” hissed Himuro. They spilled into the room and began to- as politely and carefully and non-pervertedly as possible- scout for a school team jersey. It needed the number, or they weren’t going to be off the hook. Akashi’s was out of the question, but they’d all brought their uniforms with them to camp, and surely there’d be more. Aomine’s bag- which was Aomine’s bag, they all looked the same with shirts and shorts spilling out of them, and the tinned smell of deodorant heavy in the air. Kagami gingerly grabbed for a red-and-black scrap of cloth and realised he had her shorts, surely the jersey was just a little further in-

Aomine slid back the sliding door and squawked. Kuroko, with excellent presence of mind, grabbed for Kise’s mouth before she could fill her lungs to scream.

“Shit,” said Kagami. Precious minutes ticked by as Aomine demonstrated that Momoi was not, in fact, the only one would escape being beaten up when they were caught. Kuroko caught Takao when he would have dived for the window, and Kise twisted Himuro’s arm up behind his back until he gave up and came quietly. Ryou just curled up on the floor and cried.

“Kise, watch the door,” said Aomine, when she’d dropped the last of them on the floor. “What the hell is this?”

They explained, while Kuroko and Aomine and Kise from the other side of the room Judged Them.

“I’ll make this short and sweet,” said Aomine, tapping her chin. “You can have my jersey, but every single one of you owes us now. Individually. Something big and you can’t refuse us when we ask. No expiry. One-time for each of you to each of us.”

“That’s too much!” said Momoi, visions of eternal servitude- and this was Aomine, eternal servitude it would be- dancing in his head.

“Way too much,” said Kagami.

Himuro totaled up the probability of any of them ever coming up to Akita and kept silent. Kise smirked at them all from her position at the door.

“This is a deal or when Akashi comes in I tell her you were trying to steal our underwear,” said Aomine, with the air of delivering a coupe-de-grace.

They began sputtering at the sheer bald-faced audacity of that lie.

“Her underwear too,” said Aomine.

“You’re going to get us all killed,” said Takao, impressed.

“Kuroko,” said Kagami, trying to appeal to the voice of sanity in the room.

She eyed him and shrugged. The faintest twitch of a smile lingered around her mouth. Kise and Aomine were horrible influences. “Take it or leave it,” she said, crossing her arms.

“I can’t be a pervert,” said Ryou, clinging to Kagami’s arm. “Kagami-kun, I can’t, I can’t.”

“Akashichi’s coming,” said Kise. “And woo-ee she is pissed. What’ll it be, boys? I don’t suppose I need to remind Takao-kun that the rest of his high school career is going to be non-existent if we tell Midorimachi you were after her delicates.”

Kagami gritted his teeth, stared right into Aomine’s smirk, and said, “Done, but I won’t forget this.”

Takao leapt up, snatched her jersey from her hand, and ran for the window. “Every man for himself on the escape,” he hissed, and sprang out. Himuro followed slightly more decorously with a Sakurai crying with relief and Momoi muttering around a headache. Kagami was just about to follow them when Aomine caught him right as he was going over the railing, impossibly fast, and continued smirking right in his face, annoying, infuriating, incredible.

“No goodbyes?” she purred. “We just saved your asses, you know.”

Kuroko pulled the curtain closed over the window to stop Akashi wondering why the boys were running off along the roof, leaving just a long sliver of light from the room into the balcony.

Kagami looked up at all the blues of Aomine’s hair and eyes coming alive in the moonlight and the bright white glare of the outdoor courts, and choked.

“Aominechiiiiiii,” called Kise, warning them. “Stop howling at the moon.”

She tched. “Remember you owe me,” she said, then threw his arms off the rails so that he landed onto the ledge, and had to scramble to keep from falling to his death.

“I just said that moron,” he stage-yelled at her back, outlined against the room’s light as she went back inside.

#they made it guys #ish I guess #it's not a shounen training camp until people are stealing uniforms from each other #I don't like to think what happened to moriyama #THIS ONE IS SO SO LONG.

Chapter Text

Five times Riko had to deal with Kuroko’s Terrible Friends

Walking into the bath, she saw that Midorima was already in there, the long wet dark ropes of her hair spread over her shoulders as she sighed in the bath. As expected, Shuutoku's practices were just as intense as Seirin's. Riko had even gleaned a few useful tidbits, such as, if they're not throwing up, they haven't run enough yet, and why walk when you can sprint? It was very educational.

She turned her head to the entrance at the sound of the door. "Kuroko?" she murmured. Midorima was apparently blind without those glasses, which Riko stored away as a fact to further needle Hyuuga-kun with and said, "No, it’s Aida."

"Seirin's coach," said Midorima, as though there was an abundance of girls in the inn at the moment. Her shoulders flexed just above the water, and Riko caught herself staring- D? E? and those muscles, smooth under her skin. Some of the boys had trouble building that much muscle tone. The stats climbed quickly in Riko's eyes, incredible.

"Kuroko will be along after she stretches," said Riko, settling in to soap herself. They staggered the shower times somewhat, to avoid overwhelming the inn with sweaty teenage boys. She'd left the boys to their stretches to wait out Shuutoku's deluge and Kuroko was still with them. It was nice to have another girl along, even a girl like Kuroko, who never talked and passed out immediately on her futon from exhaustion.

Midorima stood up, and Riko really did stare- her figure- the slow gradients of gold up her long limbs from training in summer- Teppei might have been onto something, when he'd said that Midorima was pretty, blinking steam from her eyes.

"I'll scrub your back," she announced, squinting as she located a washcloth and advanced on Riko.

"What?" said Riko.

"You're older than we are," said Midorima, which Riko supposed- yes, but-

"Midorima-san," she said, calmly but firmly taking hold of her hand with the washcloth and relocating it. "That's not my back."

"Really?" said Midorima, coming in close to try and focus.

"Really," said Riko, and bit back anything further.

“I… notice you are getting sunspots on your shoulders,” said Midorima, after a pause. “You should watch out for that. It’s very unattractive to have happen.”

“…what?” said Riko, turning to look into Midorima’s squinted-up face, examining her back.

“You should be applying an adequate amount of sunblock for summer training,” Midorima said, going to adjust a missing pair of glasses. “It’s simply a matter of being conscious of your health.”

“I-“ said Riko. “I see.”

.0.

Relaxing in the water, Riko sighed at the noise the boys were still making. Honestly. Trying to peep on the women’s bath. It was like nudity made them all kids again, even Hyuuga-kun, even Teppei. Boys. Riko could not locate Kuroko in the steam, and did not try.

“You mind?” muttered through the shadows, familiar.

“Ah, no- EH?” said Riko. “You’re Touou’s-“

Touou’s ace turned her head and look at Riko without comprehension. “What?” she said.

“…Seirin,” said Riko.

“Oh,” said Aomine, and then clearly thought very hard while Riko continued to stare at her. “Oooh, the coach. Aida, Momoi said. Seirin’s here?”

Riko jerked a thumb to the wall, where the boys were yelling again, and Aomine said, “Huh.”

Riko’s mind raced. Aomine’s stats were staggering, amazing. She rolled out her shoulders and they flexed in ways that made Riko’s head spin. And her chest- Aomine was tall, and sitting in the water she-

“We just came from a practice match with Josei,” said Aomine, aware that there was probably some flag-flying she should do here for Touou. “We won. You’re kind of flat. Maybe you don’t eat enough.”

“What?” said Riko. How did that even follow- oh, that Josei boy. The pervert. But she didn’t have to take this. Kind of flat? Just because Aomine was-

“I mean, even Kuroko’s- wait-“ said Aomine, looking around. “If you’re- then isn’t Kuroko-“

Kuroko’s limp body bobbed to the surface, and Aomine and Riko emitted faint, but perfectly synchronized squeaks of horror.

“KUROKO DON’T SLEEP,” roared Aomine, and scooped the other girl out of the water as easily as a ball.

.0.

"Teppei," said Riko warningly, calling Kiyoshi to heel. Kiyoshi had a brand new pack of candies not yet opened, and he offered them to Murasakibara with a smile and to the sound of Kagami's friend murmuring something frankly unkind about strangers with candy.

Murasakibara stared intensely at the pack and then glared at Kiyoshi. Riko didn't blame her. Hyuuga-kun had the same suspicious stare when it came to Kiyoshi all the time. She took it, then held it as Kiyoshi beamed at her relentlessly. "What?" she said.

"Nothing," said Kiyoshi, still smiling.

"Is it your last pack?" said Murasakibara, unwilling to let go of it now that she had hold of food.

"Yup!" said Kiyoshi. You'd think that anyone would have more sense than to bait someone where her team of muscular athletic boys could see him, but apparently not.

"We'll buy you some more later," said Riko, exasperated, coming up to his elbow to tug him away.

"Okay," said Kiyoshi brightly, finally letting go of the candies.

Murasakibara stared at Riko, and then fished out a snack from her pile and gave it to her, apparently working on the principle of equivalent exchange with anyone not Kiyoshi. She returned to her team and their coach shared a speaking look with Riko about difficult players.

"Er," said Riko to Murasakibara's back. "Thank you." She turned it over and read the packaging.

When Teppei leaned over her shoulder and read, "With collagen for improved ski-" she punched him in the gut.

.0.

Akashi swept right past Kagami’s prone form and Riko met her gaze. She didn’t doubt that Rakuzan’s Akashi knew who she was, and that Seirin intended to face- and beat- Rakuzan in the finals. If she didn’t know now, she would by the end. They were ready for it. If Akashi-san- no, wait, there was no need to add the –san, she was a first year brat like the rest of them, and Riko had her pride- if Akashi thought she could scare them by so obviously dismissing them and being perfect and beautiful even right in the middle of a match, then she had another think coming.

Then Akashi’s gaze… slipped downwards, and Riko’s followed, automatically. Ha. Ha ha ha. Ha-ha. Rakuzan’s golden girl was flat as a board. Riko knew it was petty and beneath her, but Akashi had looked first, and the moue of her perfect little lips would linger on in Riko’s memory as a small hot coal of satisfaction for hours, even looking at the terrible score on the board, and Rakuzan’s tense focus.

.0.

Kise dug into her bag, sparkling, as behind Riko and Kuroko the boys scrambled into the corners shrieking about their maidenly virtue like idiots. “I almost forgot I wanted to give this to you- Kurokochi, you should really use that mask, it’s a sample and I can always get more for you if you want it, okay?- but Riko-san, this would be way better for wrink-“

Riko shuts the locker room door in Kise’s face.

Chapter Text

Kagami opened the door onto Tatsuya’s smiling face and fought the urge to promptly close it again. Instead he pointed silently to Aomine and Alex curled up on his couch sniggering to each other.

“She wanted to meet another one,” said Tatsuya apologetically.

“Oh god another one,” said Kagami, as Murasakibara stared at Tatsuya until he bent over and yanked at the laces of her shoes so she could toe them off, carrying what appeared to be a metric ton of snacks. Some of these she put to the side, glaring at Kagami like he was going to touch it, but some Tatsuya unearthed and made a great show of presenting to Kagami. “She has the best taste,” he confided. “We got a bunch of great deals.”

“Stop enjoying this,” said Kagami, making a face at him.

“You’ve got a nice place,” said Tatsuya, and smiled, a little sly and a little sweet, and Kagami was pretty damn glad they were friends again, if they’d ever stopped.

“Mine-chin,” said Murasakibara.

“Yo,” said Aomine, tucking herself to the side of the couch. Alex beamed up at Murasakibara and bounced up with excitement, going to the boys.

“<Boys,>” said Alex tenderly, hands on both their shoulders. “<I’ll admit, I didn’t expect this, but good job.>”

“<What do you mean, good job,>” said Kagami.

“<They’re fine women,>” she said, face completely straight. “<You’ll both have wonderful basketball babies with them.>”

“Alex,” tutted Tatsuya, a mild smile on his face. “<We’re just teammates.>” He paused. “<What’s Taiga’s excuse?>”

“<Fuck you,>” said Kagami.

Alex laughed delightedly and swanned back to the couch, a girl on either arm.

“<Really, though,>” said Tatsuya, looking at Aomine, who was pretty enough, he supposed. Still, Murasakibara’s Teikou stories had been eye-openers. “<I guess I can pretty much pin your taste now. Tall, dark, good-looking, good at basketball, terrible person.>”

 “<You’re not a terrible person>,” said Kagami automatically, before realizing that Tatsuya had trapped him again. “<You don’t get to lecture me about taste in women. When you were ten you were going to marry Alex>.”

“<When you were ten>,” said Tatsuya, “<You were going to marry me>.”

“<Worst two and half seconds of my life>,” said Kagami, talking of a crush that had lasted a whole two and a half months, a lifetime. Tatsuya had been horrible to be in love with. He was also sort of horrible to be friends with, but Kagami was used to him now.

Aomine was watching him and Himuro talk with slightly narrowed eyes, she’d noticed him at the Yousen game and Murasakibara liked him, but that was no help at all; Murasakibara liked anyone who would scatter snacks into her lap. He tilted his head up to Kagami’s, conspiratorial, intimate. They whispered to each other like best friends. His basketball was beautiful, even she would admit that. He’d made a shot and the breath had paused in the mouths of the entire stadium, following the lines of his limbs. Kagami had looked at him, that time, as though this person who loved basketball was breaking his heart.

That was sort of the problem with Kagami, really, same as Kise. They were kind of idiots about basketball. Kind of idiots anywhere.

She looked at the back of his neck as he moved. They were going to play basketball later. That would be nice.

.0.

“Kuroko and Momoi are on their way up,” said Kagami. “Where’s Aomine?”

"She went back into your room," said Alex.

"<You couldn't have stopped her>?" said Kagami.

"<Six foot four and in peak physical condition>?" said Alex. "<I'd like to see you try>."

"<You're six feet tall and you once hit a drug dealer so hard there's still blood spatter on that court>," said Kagami.

"<That was different>," said Alex, primly.

"Have you been having fun with Alex?" said Tatsuya to Murasakibara.

"I guess," she said. "You two talk a lot, though."

“We’ve been friends for a long time,” Tatsuya said. “Like you and Aomine-san, right?”

“Maybe,” said Murasakibara. “Mine-chin was having fun.”

“I don’t doubt it,” said Tatsuya, as Aomine poked her head out Kagami’s bedroom door and called, “Hey, the boxers in this drawer are clean, right?”

“Everything in a drawer is clea- GET OUT OF MY UNDERWEAR,” roared Kagami.

Alex and Tatsuya dissolved into giggles. Murasakibara snickered into her potato sticks.

“We’re here,” said Kuroko, taking off her shoes as Momoi hung onto the wall, laughing so hard he was gasping for breath.

“….that wasn’t what it sounded like,” said Kagami.

“Aomine-san, we’re here,” called Kuroko.

“He’s got boring underwear,” said Aomine, mincing out of his room looking pleased with herself.

“Is that my shirt?” said Kagami.

“Yeah,” said Aomine. “I’m not going to play in my uniform, obviously.”

“Didn’t you bring your own shirt?” said Momoi.

“It’s a few days old,” said Aomine without batting an eye. “This is marginally better.” She sniffed the shirt. “It’s clean.”

“Of course it’s CLEAN- are those my pants?” said Kagami.

Aomine looked down and said, “Of course not. That would be weird. You’ve got kind of wide hips for a guy.”

“How is what NOT a weird comment?” he said.

“Look at Momoi,” she said, pulling his shirt tight. “Skinny as a twig. Skinnier than Kise.”

“Leave me and my hips out of this,” said Momoi, batting her off.

They walked down to the outside court, bickering. Kagami could already imagine the dirty looks he was going to get the next time it was time to take out the recycling.

"How're we going to do this?" said Aomine, who hadn’t let go of the ball all the way down the elevator, spinning it in Kagami’s face. "Boys against girls? Me, Kuroko and Murasakibara?"

"Oh, no," said Kagami.

"Don't you want to be on a team with me?" said Tatsuya, in mock-indignation.

"It's being on the team against them that's the problem," said Kagami, making faces at him. "They'd beat us so bad it wouldn't even be embarrassing. It would just be sad."

"Whiner," said Aomine, and sparkled at them.

"Probably true," said Tatsuya, smiling up at Murasakibara. She crunched her crackers a touch sullenly.

"I have the solution," announced Alex. "Tatsuya, you're with me and Aomine-chan, and Taiga, you've got invisible girl and the one-girl basket wall."

"That's not a solution, that's just you deciding for us," said Kagami.

"I won't accept any objections," said Alex.

"I don't have a problem with it," said Tatsuya.

"You're not going to beat me anyway," said Aomine.

"Do I have to move?" said Murasakibara.

"Not unless you feel it's necessary," said Kuroko, patiently.

"It would very much please me if you did," said Tatsuya, beaming into her face.

"Do I have to stop eating?" said Murasakibara, after a few seconds of glaring into that face failed to produce any measurable effect.

"It's Aomine," said Momoi. Murasakibara sighed expressively and tipped the rest of the packet into her mouth, crumpling the wrapper and handing it to Kuroko, who took the three steps to the trash can and dropped it in.

"How the hell did she get away with just standing there all match, anyway?" said Kagami. “You guys put up with that?”

"She was on the same team with Aomine, Kichan and Midorin," said Momoi, as through that explained everything, and maybe it did.

"Momoi-kun will referee and score," Kuroko said.

Kagami considered Momoi stalking between their massive heights, whistle and basketball in hand, gleaming with satisfaction and good looks. "Touou's going to have amazing data on us and Yousen next year, aren't they," he said.

"Yes," said Kuroko. "But we need a referee."

“Kuroko-san’s logic is unassailable,” said Tatsuya. “Let’s play some basketball.”

.0.

Aomine had been right that Himuro’s basketball was beautiful. But where she was wrong- or maybe, just not immediately aware- was that hers was beautiful too, or more beautiful, now that she laughed at the apex of a shot, now that she barged up to each of them, to all of them, bright and bold and grinning, because how fun was next year going to be? How great were they going to have it? Even Murasakibara moved and gasped and kept up on the court, Kuroko flaring and fading under their styles, Momoi glowing under the light like he hadn’t been in almost a year, a kid all over again all of a sudden, watching her tear up the court with her amazingness.

And in the midst of it all, Kagami matching her move for move, deliriously, deliciously good, getting better, as though he could keep from getting better against her, with Kuroko. As though he’d ever be anything other than this, slamming past her with everything he had, everything he could muster, and always ready to give more.

.0.

 “Taiga,” said Aomine, sated and smug after the game, bubbling over with basketball. She tucked herself up on the counter, kicking her feet against it, leaning on the cabinet watching him try to figure out plates for seven people.

He looked at her. Tatsuya had taken on the work of keeping Murasakibara from eating the food while Kuroko was engaged keeping Momoi from making the food, and Alex had gone to shower, which meant she would be walking out naked any minute now, but Aomine had jumped at the chance first, and her hair stuck up now at weird angles because Kuroko had gone at her head with a towel before Momoi could get there with a comb.

“Yeah?” he said, absently, before he realized what she’d said.

“Hurry up,” she said, and looked at him under her eyelashes, limp against the wall. “I’m hungry.”

Chapter Text

“Coach,” said Midorima. “I need to miss practice today.”

He frowned. “That’s short notice,” he said. “Reason?”

“Personal reasons,” said Midorima.

The coach said nothing. He continued to stare, as was his practice, at a point somewhere to the left of Midorima’s ear. Sometimes it was hard on the coaches, taking a chance on the Generation of Miracles the way they did. Midorima did not judge.

“I need to convince someone he doesn’t want to go out with me,” said Midorima.

“Mmph,” said the Coach. He went back to grading papers. “Excused.”

 .0.

Midorima refused all school day to be drawn out on the reason she was leaving early, but when the regulars discovered her in the regular’s club room putting on makeup in the tiny mirror she had hanging in her locker, no amount of threats of extra laps could have stopped Takao from racing there. He found her determinedly continuing, in the face of a double handful of boys lounging on the benches pretending they weren’t watching in awe.

“Shin-chan,” said Takao, in tones of greatest betrayal. “You’re skipping practice, and then I come and find you doing this?”

“I have a date,” said Midorima. She didn’t say it like normal girls said, I have a date. She said it somewhat ominously and bad-temperedly instead, the way delinquents in dramas said, I have a score to settle.

“Shin-chan you’re breaking my heart,” said Takao. Midorima took a tiny bottle of perfume- today’s lucky item, and something the girls in her class had gone crazy over- and sprayed it pointedly in their direction. It was clear that only her extreme forbearance stopped her from maceing them all in the eyes. It smelled clean and clear and sweet. Expensive, probably. “Who’s the guy?”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Midorima. “They’re all the same. His parents will be friends with my parents, we will have a nice meal that is nonetheless a waste of my afternoon, and at the end of it we will politely say goodbye to each other and never meet or speak of each other ever again.”

“You’re going on a blind date,” Takao said. “You’re- I should have a comment to make about that, but I actually really don’t.”

“Boys don’t have to worry about this,” she sighed, dusting her cheekbones with shimmer; her eyes already glared at them a little larger and lovelier, her hair taken out of its customary two braids and put into the long loose one which Shin-chan considered quite the height of casual indecency. She had on a dress. A nice dress. It flowed to a demure stop right above her knees and she wore a cardigan over the top for extra coverage. “Shouldn’t you all be getting to practice?”

They made desultory noises. One of them had tied and retied his shoe ten times now. They were fifteen minutes late for practice. If Miyaji-sempai was around to see this, he would have gone on a killing spree. “No changing the subject,” said Takao. “Seriously, your parents make you go on blind dates?”

“It keeps my mother happy,” said Midorima. “They don’t make me. It’s just easier if I go and then get it over with.”

“So you’re going to tell him no,” said Takao, watching her line her lips with colour. It was paler than the lipstick that Kise had put onto Shin-chan at the Winter Cup. Well, that figured, right? Kise was bolder than Midorima, and somehow the thought of her going to meet someone else with that particular shade of rose all over her mouth wasn’t comfortable.

“He’s going to tell me no,” said Midorima, with satisfaction. She pulled out a pair of heels- not the same ones, Takao noted, not that he’d spend a lot of time thinking about the look of them against her ankles or anything- and waved them at the room at large.

“I don’t see how sexy heels are going to make him say no to you,” said Takao. Several much less brave regulars mentally concurred.

 “No one is going to want to date a girl who’s so much taller than him,” she said, looking at them all like they were idiots. “I’ve put in effort to present well, so it doesn’t insult him, but in the end his answer is still going to be no. It’s basic common sense, honestly.”

Several assholes immediately craned their heads around to look at Takao’s face at this statement.

“You’re putting in a lot of effort,” said Takao.

“The formalities must be maintained,” said Midorima.

“I think you should tell me where you’re going,” said Takao.

“No,” said Midorima, with the scorn of long experience. “It’s none of your business and you’ll just turn up and make fun of me.” She thought about it. “Besides, I don’t intend it to have it go so long. In case any of you have forgotten, you still have practice.”

“I could turn up and make fun of him,” said Takao. Several wild plots verged on emerging from his tongue; I could tell him you fell suddenly horribly sick and couldn’t make it, I could turn up and pretend to be your boyfriend to scare him off, I could turn up and collect you after your ordeal and we could have our own date, I bet it would be more fun. We could date.

Would that be fun?

“You could not turn up at all,” said Midorima, stepping into her heels, “And tomorrow when I come in to school we will never speak of this again.” She swept her gaze around the room. “All of you. Go to practice.”

Someone made a worshipful sound. Midorima gathered up her bag and left, leaving a trail of perfume behind her and obviously also a trail of broken hearts, moving too fast to really be fleeing.

.0.

Takao spent practice in an increasingly bad mood, fielding bracing slaps on the back and pitying looks while repeatedly looking at Midorima’s empty spot at the half-court, where on a normal day Shin-chan would be shooting baskets already and not budge until practice was almost over and she had to do her cooldown stretches. This only invited more bracing back-slaps and pity-stares, which Takao felt was basically unfair and also really irritating.

This refused to change when he checked his phone at the end of practice, and Midorima had written absolutely nothing. No save me, no escaped, no his astrological sign was completely incompatible with mine, thank goodness for the close shave.

Not even Nakatani was strict enough to expect extra practices right before their exams, so for once they managed to stumble off home when the sky was barely beginning to darken, instead of relentlessly black. Takao had been amazed that Midorima had condescended at all to give up valuable studying time to go on a date, when obviously her place at the head of the school was in clear jeopardy; the cabal of class 3’s go-home club were literally trading notes by dead drop. He continued to think back and forth about how pissy she’d get if he mailed her over ‘trivial matters’ in this trying time. She’d probably gone straight home and hit the books without bothering to check in with anyone, she’d never be caught…. out…. in the… evening… talking avidly with some guy in the window of a cutesy café.

Wait, what the fuck? What? What?

Takao stopped dead and actually walked back and peered into the window, scaring a group of junior high school girls. The guy was- Touou’s number nine, their shooting guard, a guy who usually looked scared of his own shadow on the court, and was he- was he showing her his shot? Really? In public? Midorima was watching him with her dark intense eyes, leaning over the table to talk to him, she was showing him her taped hand, he was touching her- oh, enough.

“Shin-chan,” said Takao, as Sakurai and Midorima blinked up at him. Sakurai began to cower, gratifyingly. Midorima… blushed.

“Takao?” she said. “Is practice over? That’s ear- oh. It’s gotten this late.”

“I’m sorry!” said Sakurai, bowing profusely. “I’m so sorry! I’ve kept you too long!”

“No, no,” said Midorima, looking mildly alarmed. “We were talking and I lost track of time.”

“I lost track of time,” cried Sakurai- literally crying, was this guy for real? “I’m so so sorry!”

Takao said, “This was your blind date? Seriously?”

“Sakurai-kun, yes,” said Midorima. “He plays for Touou. It’s quite a coincidence.”

“I know he plays for Touou,” said Takao.

“I’m sorry I’m also in Aomine-san’s class,” said Sakurai. Takao threw him his very best Shin-chan Withering Glare™.

Midorima ignored this. “We were just talking about basketball,” she said, smoothing her braid over her shoulder.

Takao almost reeled, how- how diabolical. If there was a better way to draw Midorima in other than chatting her up about basketball, then, well. That was half his own strategy right there.

“I’m so so sorry,” said Sakurai again, staring at her with his huge cow-eyes. He hadn’t expected Shuutoku’s Midorima-san to actually turn up, and then he hadn’t expected her to be so beautiful, and then he hadn’t expected her to so willingly share the secrets of her shot, looking at him as though she was interested. He’d been enthralled. Aomine-san was usually just terrifying. Terrifying all the time.

“Well,” said Midorima. “Meeting you was… unexpected, Sakurai-kun.” She smoothed her hands in her lap, and said delicately, “But you do understand…”

“No, no,” he said. “Of course, practices are- well, the season is- there’s no time- I’m sorry.”

“I’m glad we see this the same way,” said Midorima crisply. Now her ears were red, and she refused to look at Takao. “I look forward to facing off against Touou.” She stood, bowed, and then left as fast as she could. Takao, after casting one last baleful look at Sakurai, followed.

 “Was it a nice date?” said Takao, catching up with her easily. She minced as she walked, like she had a little trouble in those heels. Well, that figured. They really were amazingly tall.

She walked a little faster, or tried to. “I knew you’d make fun of me,” she said. “It wasn’t- unbearable. Now shut up about it.”

“Yeah, you guys had a great time talking about basketball,” he said. “A not-unbearable great time, huh?”

Midorima gritted her teeth at his insistence on the subject. She clutched the perfume bottle in her untaped hand, and considered throwing it at him.

“Practice is more important,” Takao said, a touch desperately. “I mean, this dude chose practice over trying with you, so-“

“I told him that upfront,” Midorima said. “Mother said that this one played basketball. Sakurai-kun understood.”

“Understood,” echoed Takao. “Yeah, I mean, you two… talked about basketball. He was showing you his shot.”

“The Quick Release is technically interesting as a shot,” she said. “He also brought flowers, but I think we left those at the restaurant while trying to find a court.”

“He sounds compatible,” said Takao, even though he knew it was stupid, knew it was childish, knew he didn’t have reason to be acting like this. “You wanted to play with him?”

“He’s a Virgo, though,” she said, looking at him with those lovely eyes, and from that height, and he was gone, wasn’t he? Gone all the damn way. “So he’s not as compatible as you.”

Chapter Text

The ball came spinning at his head out of nowhere, and Kagami jerked his head to see Kise walking towards them with murder in her eyes.

He felt Alex and Tatsuya perk up, but Haizaki beat them to the punch. “Baby,” he said, staring at Kise all over. It made Kagami’s skin crawl just watching it. “Been a while.”

Kise didn’t flinch. “Haizaki,” she said.

“You’re still hot as fuck,” said Haizaki, still looking her over, and Kagami still wanted to punch him, but now he didn’t want actually touch that fucker. “But you know, that Generation of Miracles title you have? That’s a bit of a stretch, isn’t it? I mean, at least for you. I feel like taking it back. You aren't the only ones who are good.”

“Is that what someone who was kicked from the team should be saying?” said Kise, and transfered the sweep of her eyelashes to Kagami. “Kagamichi, will you let this go? I’d like to settle this on the court. I’ll beat him, of course.”

“Just because the rest of the starters were you fucking bitches, you think you can shit on me?” said Haizaki. “You’ve never beaten me, babe. You never even came close.”

.0.

Kagami slid back into his seat neck to Kuroko with worry churning in his gut. Haizaki had stared at Kise like he owned her, and Kise had flicked her lovely eyes over him, ice-cold as Kagami had never seen her, sharp enough to make him quake in his stomach.

Kuroko looked up at him questioningly. Kagami struggled to find words. “Ran into- some guy- Haizaki-“ he said.

Kuroko’s face shut itself up, grave. “Haizaki-kun?” she said, and stared down at the court searchingly; she saw Haizaki immediately, unmistakable, staring across the court to Kise like Haizaki wanted to devour her. They weren’t strangers to such looks, and not just directed at Kise, but Kagami saw Kuroko’s hands clench themselves into fists, looking at the way that asshole was looking at her friend.

“He’s strong,” she said. “He was- he was one of us.”

.0.

He had been one of them, one of the miraculous first-years of Teikou’s regular squad, and he’d regarded them with the wariness of anyone who had ever seen Aomine play like she’d been blessed with basketball at birth, who watched Akashi walk at the head of Teikou’s team because she belonged there, who cast the swift uncertain glance up Murasakibara’s towering height. They’d been… safe, for a given value of safe. They’d been off-limits, and nothing was enticing enough about them that Haizaki felt it worth his time offending any of them, worth it to draw the wrath of all them. Even Kuroko had been safe if her lunch was not, tucked against Aomine's side.

Kise had not been so lucky. Something about being beautiful and trendy and fluttery made her seem like a target to any number of fuckheads, and no one had expected her to stick with the basketball club as long as she had, take it as seriously as she did. Haizaki had decided he was dating her within weeks of her joining the club, and Kise had blinked her mascaraed eyelashes at him and let him think as he wished.

She’d challenged Haizaki for his regular spot, and gotten beaten.

“Just because I showed you a few moves, you think you can take me?” he’d sneered at her. “Don’t get ahead of yourself… cunt.” Then he’d walked off with some other girl, and Kise had ground her teeth, staring at his back.

.0.

“You’re not still sore about me getting some on the side, are you?” he said to her as they lined up. “I mean, you were hot and all, but come on. You weren’t worth that much anyway.”

“Was that what it was?” she said, and wished hard her leg would hold. It would have to. It had to.

Kaijou seethed, but Teikou’s skills were overwhelming even so.  Kise was using everything she had, everything she’d seen and stored, but even then Haizaki was beating her back, and Kaijou wondered if they were seeing the limits of the Generation of Miracles, the ceiling they’d have to hit eventually, past all skill and experience to sheer physical limits, to Kise’s gritted teeth and angry eyes, her bowed shoulders. But that couldn’t be how it was, it wouldn’t be how it was, they were the Generation of Miracles, they were the best, they weren’t ever going to lose to anyone else, Kise wasn’t going to give up, not when their rematch was so close and long-awaited-

Kuroko came to her feet and shouted with the fury of it. “KISE-SAN,” she screamed. “I BELIEVE IN YOU!”

And Kise’s head went up and she stared at Kurokochi, Kuroko who had taught her what it meant to be Teikou, and then what it meant to love basketball, and that the breathless endless uncertainty of competition was also love, in its way. Kurokochi, who could set Kise’s blood on fire.

(Somewhere, Aomine was watching, eyes hot and angry, intent on their game and boiling inside, and soaring inside. Kise couldn't let it end like this.)

Kise got up. “I know you think you’re hot shit,” she said to Haizaki, conversationally. “And yeah, you liked to bother me a lot. I let you talk about making me your girl because you were my senior in Teikou and you wouldn’t ever fucking lay off. I don't know why you thought that made you special.”

And then she was off, and better than ever. Haizaki never stood a chance.

“But if you’re talking the useless limp-dicked assholes who got in the way of my practice and liked to go around pretending that touching the same basketball I’d touched made them my boyfriend,” said Kise, and the ball was falling behind her to the ground, and he was looking up at her now, staring up, like he’d never seen her before. “Then I went through six of you idiots that month.”

.0.

Aomine caught him waiting outside the stadium, but Aomine had seen Kise off with her team before she’d come around looking for Haizaki.

“Give it up,” she said to him.

“Go fuck yourself,” said Haizaki, seething with all his spite and malice, uglier with it than ever. “I don’t give a shit anymore about basketball. I’ll make that cunt remember-“

Her fist cracked into his face, and she turned and left him there.

Chapter Text

Midorima is pleased when Coach Nakatani accepts her without a murmur; or at least a murmur of, “We’ll expect you to work hard,” which is something she can work with. They’re going onto high school as players in the boy’s league, just they always have, and Midorima could get used to Shuutoku’s uniform, which she is wearing in a perfectly correct manner, as she should be. Fate has not let her down. Shuutoku is a good school with fine traditions, and she anticipates she will do well here.

She does not anticipate the boy who comes up to her with her name ready at hand and introduces himself without any seriousness at all.

“How do you know my name?” she says, and looks at him. She’s sure she’s never seen him before in her life.

He stares at her blankly for a moment before he laughs, is something funny? He seems strange. “There’s no way,” he says, “There’s no way someone can play basketball and not know who you are.”

Midorima cannot say the same for him. Perhaps in his junior high he was someone; here, he’s only a little bit more than no one. He sticks close, though, despite Midorima’s preferences otherwise. She doesn’t have time for frivolous people. Shuutoku works them too hard for petty grudges and the seniors are too proud to let such things pass. Midorima is first-string before the first-years finish their first showcase matches, and an unquestioned regular. Takao practices like a regular, like Midorima does. Exactly like. Midorima does. He always stays when she stays (which is always, because there can be no slacking off), even though this means that as a first-year he’s likely to get stuck doing chores and screamed at by Miyaji-sempai, who isn’t quite as tall as her, but makes up for it in fierceness. A few others try this at first too. They think that sucking up to the obvious new ace will get them further, they think she’s weak and can be turned to their cause. They think she has time for their jostling and insinuations, that they can mess around with her lucky items, that she’s that kind of girl. They’re quickly weeded out. Miyaji-sempai is everywhere and hears everything, does not forgive and does not forget. When he shouts, sometimes spit gathers at the corner of his mouth and no one ever dares to point this out, not even Midorima. Not Takao, though. Oh, he jokes. He isn’t dumb enough to let it get in the way of his training or hers, so even though he keeps talking to her, making jokes at her, touching her, brisk shoulder slaps, all very manly, Midorima tries not to push the issue until she can’t- it’s bothering her so much-

(It’s probably because she’s a girl.)

“What are you trying to do?” she says, after another bout of ceaseless familiarity while they’re staying late for practice. He’s even like this in school. He hangs out the windows- or in the windows- and calls for her like they’re friends.

“Do?” he says.

“You’re too aware of me,” she says, and knows it’s true as she says it. She’s used to being stared at, to being the standout here, but none of the rest of them are as focused as Takao is. He looks and he looks and he never stops watching. It’s like no matter what he does, he wants to keep her in the corner of his eye.

“You’re the nicest thing to look at in this place,” tries Takao, but Midorima shoots him a withering glare instead. “Maybe I’m lovestruck,” he tries again, but Midorima has had enough of his jokes.

“You’re competing with me,” she says. “During practice, you keep trying to outdo me.” You won’t, she doesn’t tell him. She always does all she can.

He looks uncomfortable, and Midorima realizes she’s only ever seen that face once before, when he first introduced himself, and she stared at him like she’d never seen him before. “I lost against you in Junior High,” he says, and shrugs, because this doesn’t exactly make him special. Midorima does not remember, and says so blankly.

“Of course you don’t,” he says. “Of course you- you know what? I didn’t say anything. The first time you notice me, it’s going to be because of my amazing basketball, or I’ll throw you a pass and as just as you’re receiving it, you’ll look at me and realize I’m totally a guy cool enough to make you remember me just from that.”

“That makes no sense,” says Midorima. “Of course I remember you. You’re far noisier than anyone else.”

“No, that’s not a good enough reason,” says Takao. “Shin-chan, I’ll work as hard as you. Harder!”

“Don’t call me that,” says Midorima, and goes back to practice.

(For all that he claims to be forgettable, Midorima cannot forget their conversation- hope and disappointment and determination and tenacity, written on Takao’s face. She hadn’t known he could make those kind of expressions. How can she forget?

She does not remember.)

When Coach hands out the jerseys, Takao grips his ten and grins at it. Midorima doesn’t know why he’s so surprised- it’ll remain to be seen, of course, how many games he sits in and how many they let him play, but they don’t have a regular PG yet and Takao might just make the cut if his stamina can hold up against the second and third year first-stringers who are also fairly good PGs. Takao has a good eye and good pass sense, but he is only a first-year. He’ll need to work harder if he wants it.

He’ll need to work harder than anyone else.

.0.

The rickshaw solves so many problems.

“You need the stamina training,” she says to him, and sits back to enjoy the wind on her skin. He’d even found an old beach umbrella from somewhere, and Kimura-sempai has somehow contrived to attach it to the rickshaw (that day’s selfish requests two and three) and the shade is enjoyable.

Takao grumbles, but makes good time; his shoulders move under the heavy black jacket and he settles into the rhythm. Midorima does like the gakuran, she thinks; blazers are smarter, but the clean lines of Shuutoku’s uniform are more forgiving. She doesn’t approve of how Takao wears it, though. Uniforms shouldn’t be altered to suit personal preference. They should be worn correctly.

He stands to cycle faster, and the red of his shirt rides up the curve of his back.

At least when they’re traveling, thinks Midorima, Takao doesn’t have the breath to complain. Or tell her she should wave to the people they’re passing like the Royal family does. Or choke back comments about the load he’s carrying. Or look at her with the pot of jam in her lap for long silent moments, rearranging the long heavy plaits of her hair. She can’t tell what he’s thinking at times like that, except that obviously he’s just being strange.

“I’d make you switch with me,” says Takao, panting. “But I don’t think my manliness could take it.”

“What manliness?” inquires Midorima acidly.

Takao laughs, and his hair falls into his eyes as he curls up with inexplicable hilarity.

.0.

Midorima is unprepared for the wall of silence that descends when she enters the inn’s dining room. She’s a little late, she supposes, but Takao has saved her a seat and there’s tea steaming in a cup in front of the empty seat, which is nice. She hasn’t had time to wrap up her fingers again, and her hair is still a little damp, and she is late, but there’s no reason to stare like this, like the start of term all over again. They're acting like there's something wrong.

Seirin is eating after them, so Midorima runs into Aida Riko in the kitchen, staring at a pot with staggering intensity. Seirin doesn't have Shuutoku's budget. Sometimes, Midorima thinks about the quality of the school Kuroko has gone to, and it makes her very sad.

Kuroko’s expression doesn’t so much as flicker when she comes into the screened-off side that Kuroko is sharing with her coach, but this isn’t much of a change. Kiyoshi Teppei brings in another futon for her, and she thanks him, the both of them looking up at him while he stands and towers. Aida-san has a commendable grasp of efficiency and when she makes a suggestion to Seirin, they snap to immediately without any of the stammering or staring that Midorima had to deal with when she fetched her things from the shared room, when she had such trouble getting served dinner. (When Takao had looked at her, and said, Shin-chan, some incomprehensible note in his voice.)

“Is there anything wrong with Shuutoku’s arrangements?” asks Kuroko, pausing mid-chapter. Another of Kuroko’s trashy detective novels, no doubt. The spine is barely cracked.

“Why should there be anything wrong?” says Midorima, stabbing at her phone. Her nails are getting a little long.

Kuroko looks down at the expanse of pale leg folded under Midorima as she sits primly waiting for the next day’s horoscope to come in, and how her light shirt clings more than the practice shirt Midorima had been wearing earlier today. Midorima-san has grown.  “I can’t imagine,” she says, and goes back to her book.

.0.

 After Rakuzan they go home in the rickshaw, like always, and in silence. The seniors will be retiring now. They’ll be the only two regulars left of their current line-up. He’s about to drop her where she usually drops her, and she gets out-

Presses her head into his back, and cries again, one last time, holding onto his jacket in her hands like her very last lucky item.

Only losing ever hurts quite like this.

.0.

(Midorima is never certain when, exactly- Takao throws his arm around her shoulders, and all she can think about is how much stronger he has gotten since that first time. She hears the girls in her classes squealing about him after he finally leaves her in peace to eat her lunch and can maybe see their point.  He says, Shin-chan, and it sounds like something other than a ridiculously infantilizing and cutesy nickname.

She’s his teammate, and he's her friend, and she doesn’t have time for things like this, dreams like this.)

When Coach names him the new captain of the team, he looks at her like he expects to her to be surprised. She isn’t.

She recognizes this better than anyone: he’s worked hard.

Chapter Text

The fourth auditorium was completely empty when Aomine stuck her head in, and Aomine felt a chill go down her spine. All the lights were on and there were even a few balls scattered on the floor, just like someone had been practicing right up until the moment she opened the door, and Aomine had heard it, heard the distinctive noise of the ball bouncing, and there was one just rolling to a stop at the low post but there was no one here and augh why hadn’t she believed Momoi when he’d said that-

“Good evening.”

Aomine screamed. She regretted this instantly when the voice was revealed to be a small, short girl in practice clothes, and once she had looked down to make sure this apparition had feet.

“You’re- Aomine-san, correct?” said the girl.

Aomine nodded. “You- you’ve been practicing here?” she said. “I didn’t know the girls’ team had taken this place, though.” The much less populous girls’ team tended to practice in the second auditorium, occasionally dealing with overflow from the non-regular first string as practice ended and they fanned out for the essential overtime. The regulars of the girls’ team guarded their space fiercely, though. “Wait- how’d you know my name?”

Kuroko looked rueful. “You’re the girl who’s playing first-string on the boys’ team,” she said, as if that would make anyone famous, and it had. Aomine had gone from practicing with boys to playing with boys to sneaking away for practice matches with boys, and when she had been discovered there had not been so much outrage as there had been awe, and a frantic checking of the rulebooks. Aomine had passed for a boy, easily, but then a few other girls had said, why not us? And some of them had made it, and some of them hadn’t, and Aomine was famous now.

“I’m not on the girls’ team,” said Kuroko. “But I’d like to be.”

“So you’ve been staying back to practice all this time?” said Aomine, and at Kuroko’s nod, threw back her head and laughed, glorious, as if she did not understand that Kuroko wasn’t even good enough to become second-string for the girls and would have been third if there was enough of them to have a third, that just last week a sempai had tried to be kind and suggested Kuroko might like to try managering for the boys instead, that someone like Aomine-san, who dared so immensely and had the talent to back it up, was as far from Kuroko as the fourth auditorium from the first. The gap was as insurmountable.

“If you like basketball you can’t be bad,” said Aomine. “Let’s practice together.”

.0.

“Someday,” Aomine-san said, when they were practicing and Kuroko had stopped to stare at the wonder of Aomine’s basketball, the smooth unending improvement. Aomine-san was growing again, and it did not seem like she would ever stop, even though her joints were cracking and her body was changing and still she did not stop. “Someday, let’s play together.”

“Yes,” said Kuroko.

.0.

No, said the coach, and the sempai shrugged their shoulders at her, they’d lost their three best players to the boys team, and even then Kuroko wasn’t going to be a contender, try again in a year, two years. In high school. Kuroko could have kept trying and trying, and might would dangle in front of her for all her youth.

Maybe she would just go be manager for the boys team. They could always use another one, right? Momoi-kun had moved into helping out from playing in the third-string, and he seemed to like it, whenever Kuroko saw him with Aomine-san. At least there she would be doing all she could do. She could help Aomine-san during games and practice. There was no way she could be worse at refreshments than Momoi-kun, surely, and-

And she would never touch a ball again, never stand on the court with Aomine-san. Never play, never score. No team would ever need her. All this was for naught.

Aomine listened to Kuroko’s explanation of why she was going to quit the girls’ basketball team, and said, “If you want to accept that, it’s your choice.”

Kuroko flinched. “But,” said Aomine. “If you give up,” and what did Aomine-san understand, all that shining genius, all that unceasing talent, the very opposite of Kuroko and all that Kuroko could be, what did she know, “If you give up, then that’s the end. Then definitely, nothing will ever change.”

At that moment a voice cut through their tension, pitched to carry itself across an echoing auditorium, rich with command. “Aomine,” said Akashi-san. With her were the other two who had been so callously poached from the girls team, Murasakibara-san and Midorima-san, tall and incredible and impossible. Akashi-san's level gaze ran over Kuroko, and widened slightly. She inclined her lovely head at Kuroko, as the other two looked bored. 

"Interesting," breathed Akashi. "I've never seen a player like you."

.0.

Kuroko has never been a player like this. Akashi-san gives her basketball from the ground up, changes how she passes, how she moves. For someone who's always practiced alone or with Aomine, it's a series of dedicated revelations, centered around a real game, a good one. The better the opposition, in fact, the better Kuroko will be. Akashi-san is always prepared for battle, came sailing into Teikou's top spot when Midorima-san and Murasakibara-san took their places on Teikou's roster. Akashi-san, of all people, could be doing anything else. Kuroko would probably be better off trying anything else. But Akashi-san talks about a different kind of basketball for Kuroko, and keeps at it with her for the better part of a year. Kuroko does not think that Akashi-san has ever failed at anything before, and she’s not going to fail now- and she doesn’t. The first Ignite Pass, blowing past her hair with millimetres to spare, makes something spark and glow in Akashi-san’s face.

When they put it into practice- with Aomine-san in a match against boys, a real match, the sound of the ball against the court and the squeak of basketball shoes- they win and win and win. Kuroko is here, at last. Standing on the court with Aomine-san. Playing with a team. The roar of the crowd, the whistle of time called, the blare of the scoreboard. Kuroko wants to engrave every bit of it in her heart.

Akashi-san brings Kuroko onto the first string. (When Kuroko first holds her numbered jersey, tears open the wrapping, breathes in the smell of chemicals and brand-new polyester, it smells, like so many things do, of victory.) Kuroko can bring about their victory. The team has brought about the victory. Akashi-san runs the team. Akashi-san's logic remains impeccable, impeachable. 

Aomine-san holds out her fist smiling after each game, and everything she could say chokes and crowds at Kuroko's throat. (We did it we won you're amazing, we're amazing. I've never wanted anything more than this.) But Kuroko doesn't need words to express anything to any of them.

Victory is the only language that Teikou understands. 

Chapter Text

Ootsubo, like many seniors before him, considered the yearly hazing of freshmen during the summer training camp to be a sacred ritual which promoted solidarity, teamwork, tradition and celebrated years of relieving tension towards genius upstart freshmen who made the regulars without even trying. Even Midorima had undergone it, with the sole concession being that at the end, when she was thrown into the ocean to retrieve the basketball before it floated away, she was not stripped to her underwear.

Other than that, though, the training camp left none of them with the time or energy to do anything other than collapse at night cradling their aching joints, which was why Ootsubo was so genuinely surprised to be woken at five am by a grim-faced Miyaji to hear that they needed his input on a matter of inter-team solidarity. Ootsubo knew who it would concern before he was even properly awake, but he asked anyway. 

“Those two,” said Miyaji. “You’d- better come and see this.” This did not take very long. Midorima had claimed a corner for herself, and Takao had predictably set up as near to her as she would allow; half the room was awake and watching in fear.

“Whose idea was this?” he asked, calmly. Everyone pointed at once at the guilty parties, on their knees on the floor prepared to beg for their lives.

The second-year looked stricken. “We just pulled their futons together!” he whisper-cried. “Just for a joke, so that when they woke up it would freak them out! We didn’t think they’d- they’d-“

Curl up together, limbs entwined, as sweetly as children who were sixteen years old. Midorima wore to sleep approximately as many layers as hibernating bears had layers of fat, but somewhere in the twists and turns of the night Takao had wound up with his head dangerously close to Midorima’s chest, and one of her arms was trapped under him, and no one had dared to look to under the blankets to see how their legs had turned out. Quite apart from any other issues, Ootsubo feared for Takao’s life if their ace woke to find him nose-deep in… her. They’d just gotten a new point guard trained up. Where would they find another one prepared to put up with Midorima? Where would they find another one she was prepared to tolerate? 

It was starting to give the third-year a headache, and the sun wasn’t even up yet. The grey light was- wait. Fuck.

No one had been watching the time. Midorima’s phone lit up with her pre-dawn alarm- playing some jaunty piano piece which, over the course of the camp and much like it’s owner, had gradually moved from ear-poppingly annoying to kind of… expected. Restful. Terrifying.

There wasn’t enough time for them to run. They froze, in the vain hope that somehow this meant she would target some else first.

Midorima rolled over- groping for her phone, which during the night’s futon-moving exertions had been shifted out of it’s usual place. Eyes still tightly closed, she frowned. In the few precious seconds of her not waking up fully, Takao rolled over, back onto his own futon, and they held their breaths as Midorima shut off the alarm, sat up, put on her glasses, and screamed.

The noise woke Takao, the rest of the room, and even sent the coach striding in from his adjoining room, somehow intimidating even in a ratty old National Team t-shirt and sweatpants.

“What are you all looking at?” MIdorima demanded, clutching the thin blanket to her chest.

“Er,” said Ootsubo, thinking hard.

Takao, as usual, saved the day. “Oh,” he said, peering at their futons. “Someone pushed us together in the middle of the night, Shin-chan.”

Midorima turned her stare onto him. He didn’t recoil, possibly because he was sitting up and stretching out, and as his shirt rode up he scratched his stomach. “And why,” she asked, voice frozen, “would someone have done this?”

Ootsubo came back to himself, abruptly. “As a prank,” he said. “We- I was alerted to this only a few minutes ago, and as we considered a prank of these nature to be highly disrespectful and improper, we were debating how to- that is-” he trailed off, but MIdorima did not notice this, possibly because she was drawing herself up in incandescent rage-

“The culprits,” said Nakatani, his voice even colder than Midorima’s, “May take a quintpled training menu today and for the rest of the camp. All of you are off the first-string and on notice until it pleases me to reinstate you. The rest of you- prepare for today’s training. Dismissed.” He walked back into his room.

The enormity of this punishment froze even Midorima’s anger in its tracks, and she and Takao looked at each other in slight shock. The second-years trembled a little, but as they were helped back to their futons, they cried only a little, and even then mostly tears of relief.

“…what?” she said, and blinked sleep from her eyes, mildly confused.

“Yeah,” said Takao. “Woah. What a way to wake up, huh?”

“I wouldn’t know,” said Midorima, gathering her things and loosening her night-braids. “I was sleeping perfectly well.”

Chapter Text

“It’s my fault,” said Aomine. She really did look like a boy, thought Nijimura, tall as a third-year and with her hair cut short around her face, dressed in a borrowed Teikou jersey. She ground her teeth fiercely and glared at him. “I made him do it.”

“No, it’s mine,” said Momoi, half on the verge of tears. “I helped her with everything.”

“Well you’re both in a lot of trouble,” said Nijimura. The coach had only stopped screaming when he’d been called out by the other coach, wanting to know why his team was in an uproar, and Nijimura had taken the opportunity to usher the two first-years out the door before they had to see a man die of being angry. “The girls' team captain wants a word with you, by the way. She’s in your club room. She wants it now. Then you come back here when I’m done with your friend.”

Aomine paled a little, but squared her shoulders and walked off. She had spirit, at least. Passing herself off as a boy to play in the practice matches they had with other schools had worked right up until someone had thought to check who the new first-year player actually was… because they’d wanted to put him into the first-string lineup. That had not gone well.

“I’ll go-“ said Momoi, making to follow her.

“No, not you,” said Nijimura, steering him into their own club room with one hand clamped on his shoulder. “You and I aren’t done yet.”

Momoi looked up at Nijimura from under his bangs nervously, once the captain had gotten him alone and was standing in front of him, thinking hard. He clearly expected to get it both barrels, but Nijimura thought the poor kid had had enough of that from the coach. Besides-

“Why’d you do it?” he said.

“What?” said Momoi.

“Why’d you let her play?” said Nijimura. “We’ve got a girl’s team. You said she was on it. Why help her play with the boys? What was in it for you? She your girlfriend?”

“No-“ said Momoi, and looked queasy enough Nijimura believed him. “I just- she’s just- you saw her play.”

“I saw,” said Nijimura.

“Aomine is the best,” said Momoi, and he said it simply enough that Nijimura returned to disbelieving him about the girlfriend thing. But it was what he had thought, too, when the first-year player had rolled under and out between two of his best starters, when Aomine had ducked and turned and thrown a basket without even looking, the wild joyous play of years in every line of her limbs. No real stamina, but she was twelve. And a girl. “She’s better than me. She’s better than- than anyone. She wanted to play the best game she could get.”

His voice got stronger. “She- we weren’t breaking any rules,” he said. “It's not as though there's actually a rule that girls can't compete in boys’ basketball.”

“Are you listening to yourself?” said Nijimura.

Momoi looked up at him and said, as though he believed it, “Aomine would be the best player Teikou ever had. She just wanted a chance to play.”

.0.

Nijimura left Momoi in the club room to await further judgment and found Aomine waiting outside, looking shaken from her interview with the captain. She’d lost some of the nerve which had kept her from crying as Sanada railed at her, but she recovered it as Nijimura led her into the gym used by the first string.

“How bad is it?” she asked.

Nijimura shrugged. “Pretty bad,” he said, possibly the biggest lie he would ever tell in his life. “There doesn’t appear to actually be a rule against it, though, so apparently you two have us there.”

Aomine looked mutinous. “There isn’t,” she said. “He checked. We only-“

“I’ve heard,” he said. “You only played basketball.” He picked up a ball and said, “I heard you played well.”

“I played the best,” said Aomine. Her proud chin lifted, and her clear eyes stared hard at him.

Nijimura bounced the ball and said, “Prove it.” He drove right at her, moving as fast as he would have for any first-string member, faster than any of their current first-year crop could handle-

Aomine moved like lightning. She stole the ball and raced for the opposite basket, and when he dove after her she rolled left and pounded right past him, leaping to lay the ball into the hoop, laughing and free.

She threw him a triumphant look as she landed. “The best,” she said.

“Huh,” he said, then retrieved the ball. “We’ll see about that.”

.0.

"Excuse me," said a voice, approaching his table at break. Nijimura looked up from his rice bowl to see a girl- wearing twin tails, a first-year if he was any judge. Behind her were two monsters of girls, one messy-haired and eating out of a chip packet, one bespectacled. Aomine was huge too- what had they eaten to get that tall that young, and where could he get his hands on it? The bespectacled girl clung to the hand of the one who had addressed him, looking worried, and looking ludicrous, tagging after the first girl like an aircraft carrier tethered to a motorboat.

"Akashi," said the other girl in a strangled whisper, and tugged at her arm, but Akashi- he assumed- didn't turn around. Her eyes were fixed on him; they blazed, though the rest of her remained perfectly poised and still, like a doll.

"Nijimura-sempai?" she inquired, in a soft clear voice. "Vice-captain of the basketball team?"

"Yeah," he said, and then because something about her dragged it out of him, "What can I do for you?"

"I had heard rumors that a girl was allowed to play on the basketball team," she said. She looked behind her at the two very tall girls, and then she looked at him. “I wonder if it would be possible for you to explain those circumstances to me.”

The penny dropped quickly. "Oh," he said. Then he said, "Wait, oh, no."

.0.

No matter how much you asked him afterwards, Nijimura would never be able to adequately describe the sequence of events that led to the formation of what would become known as the Generation of Miracles. Even though he was there through nearly all of it- the fights, the mass club resignations after the girls made the first-string, the shocked silence of the officials and Teikou's opponents as they fielded not one not two not three girls in their starting squad, and the media furor afterwards, he only remembered it in flashes of devastating brilliance and deceptive quiet, Akashi rising through the ranks to stand at his side as vice-captain as though she belonged there, and the girls cutting through Teikou’s enemies like hot knives through butter, the time a quiet little girl joined the team at play with a style of basketball he had never seen before and Akashi flashed them all that triumphant dazzling smile, sharp and sweet and snarling with victory.

“Well, it’s not how I would have pictured our triumphant return to victory,” he finally admitted to her, when they were alone together in the club room on club business, and he was preparing to take on his new position. The tournament had been a success, but he was going to be glad to see the back of the Generation of Miracles. If nothing else, he didn't think his temper could take it.

“I can imagine,” she said, or was in the process of saying, when Haizaki- a giggling girl on his arm- stuck his head in, said “Whoops already occupied be safe sempai,” and ducked out before Nijimura could gather his lungs and shout at him for even thinking about defiling their club room. Akashi’s eyes followed the swing of the door after him coldly.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you kids these days,” he said, from the lofty age of fourteen. “Brats are acting this way? What was that?”

“My birthday was last month,” said Akashi, in her soft voice, and she was not quite looking at her true captain, the best power forward in all the league, the one who had stood up for girls playing in his team for the sake of Teikou’s victory, who was sitting across from her with his hair falling into his eyes and they were alone, all alone.

He tried not to laugh at her from across the table, one of the few she had no choice but to let get away with that. “I know, I know,” he said. “You’re not a kid.” He looked at her carefully not showing her irritation at him, lashes down over those same blazing eyes, and said, “You're doing really great- as vice-captain.”

Akashi blinked at him. She opened her mouth, and then closed it.  “…thank you,” she said, politely.

Nijimura nodded. “Well, I knew you would,” he said.

“Naturally,” she said, less politely.

“Naturally,” he said, and laughed when she pointedly not-glared at him under the eyelashes forming a delicate doll’s circle on her cheek.

Chapter Text

When the girl walked into the gym for Kirisaki Daiichi’s basketball club holding the club application form in her hand, the first thing they thought was, score, we’ve got a cute manager.

She was cute, in a studious kind of way. Rather tall for a girl, with long black hair fastened in a demure side-pony, and a nice body under the uniform. Her large eyes gazed lazily out at the world under thick dark eyelashes. Even the captain snapped to painfully eager attention as she made her way to him.

“Here to join as manager?” he said, unable to keep the notes of hope out of his voice. He is a sad, sad man. “You’ll want the coach for-“

“No,” she said, in a soft sweet voice which- holy fuck talk about false advertising, yet another trademark mindscrew- managed to somehow carry to every corner of the room. “I’m here to join the team.”

A short laugh went around the court. This was before Teikou’s miraculous blooming, and many of them were still inclined to think of the Generation of Miracles as a joke, a stunt, a gimmick, their wins sustained by the best power forward in the middle school league and the efforts of Teikou’s talented first-string, sure to wipe out once they hit a natural physical wall, or in other words high school. Second-time national champs looked better with pretty girls on the cover, was a common bench joke. Plenty of encouragement for the first-string to make the girls look good, if you know what I mean, nudge nudge wink wink, I mean Akashi-chan could tell me what to do anytime, was a locker room one. It was a shame that such celebrated history as Teikou’s turned to cheap stunts to gain fame for the school, but that was political correctness for you.

Besides, this was high school. There was not a freshman among them who hadn’t put on another five or more centimeters of height since graduation, not a regular who wasn’t on the kind of regime more commonly reserved for Olympic athletes. Girls couldn’t compete on that level. Girls would wipe out. Girls wouldn’t last. The sooner they got her disabused of her notions, the better it would be for her, and maybe they’d get their cute manager after all.

But they didn’t have to be cruel about it, of course. Hanamiya Makoto- based on the recommendation of her previous coach, and the earnest, beseeching way she stared at the captain until he agreed- got a trial, and when she proved to be a fairly good basketball player (for a girl), they let her in. Makoto-chan, their mascot.

The future of Kirisaki Daiichi.

.0.

Makoto-chan floats to the head of the first-years on what Kazuya knows the seniors think is a combination of her winning personality and the way her too-big shirt slips sideways on her shoulders, but it’s not that. (It might actually be safer to hit on a shark, the way that first-years who get into Makoto-chan’s way inconspicuously drop out of practices, of the club, of school. Second-years, too. The few girls who think that the freshman should know her place.)

It’s something to do with her personality, anyway.

Makoto-chan has a mouth like a sailor and a mind like a particularly edgy josei manga, an endless inventiveness for amusement. She shows a bit more of her true self during their drills and practices- not that she lets her guard down, but that they’re too cowed or mesmerized to rat her out, and who’d believe them anyway? All she has to do is keep being better than them, which she is without even trying.  

Maybe it’s a cliché, the poor little rich kids with their rotten little hearts, but post-practice conversation turns to how pathetic their practice matches have been, how pathetic their practices have been, all the encouraging words that get thrown about like they’re worth anything, all the good little kids with their tears of pure youthful spirit gold.

“Yeah, but what can you do about it,” says Zaki, who’s always been the one too stupid not be first up against the firing squad.

“Then you twist to the side and hit him in his stupid face, that’s what you fucking do,” replies Makoto, and suits action to the word by smashing some guy in the next match in his stupid face, and probably she breaks his nose and he’s going to need to go and get checked out and the whole other team is pissed beyond imagining, but Makoto runs to the captain and buries her face full of tears into his chest, sobbing about how sorry she is, what a terrible accident, how horrible she feels, she’ll never forgive herself how can they ever forgive her? By the time she’s finished even the referee is looking like he wants to drag the boy back to tell her everything’s going to be okay, and the other team is thoroughly convinced she’s faking it and they’re so pissed and they can’t do anything.

It’s amazingly fun.

.0.

That’s the counterpoint, to rumors leaking up to them about the Generation of Miracles, about the amazing all-girl team, about overwhelming victory and Teikou’s unbeatable geniuses. It’s like some kind of fever overtakes everyone who’s, say, played Teikou’s Aomine, an unbearable desire to win now, win here, before they graduate and advance again on all the hopes and dreams of high school basketball boys.

A magazine article comes out naming five players – because fuck knows, they can only write about the Generation of Miracles almost all of the time- the Uncrowned Generals, the also-rans, the second-bests, people who were, you know, great in junior high, great now, out from under Teikou’s shadow, but never quite able to get out themselves, and Makoto’s on that list, along with some other people Koujirou has never heard of, because when the Generation of Miracles is around, who wants to hear about anything else?

Makoto makes the first person who shows the article to her eat it.

The second person to mention the article to her calls out to her before a match. He has on a red and black jersey, some school Koujirou doesn’t know.

He must have balls of steel. “Makoto-chan!” he calls out, and compliments her on the piece.

“Imayoshi-sempai,” she says, and accepts so prettily that all the first-years know she’s mad.

“Havin’ fun?” he says, and casts his eye over them, smiling in a way that makes them all want to back up behind her well out of the way.

“Of course I am,” says Makoto, smiling as well. It widens and twists until it covers half her face.

“Well, tha’s peachy,” says the creep, and flashes a smile at Makoto as he turns to leave, and Koujirou is astonished to see her looking at his back with absolutely no expression, everything wiped clean off her face. “Watch out for yourselves, though? Makoto-chan’s a bad girl.”

“Oh,” she says later, when someone more unwise asks in front of the seniors, and she can’t make them shut up in time. “That was just my nickname when I was in junior high, that’s all. It was cruel of sempai to remind me of it.”

‘Bad Girl’ is her nickname now, shouted from the overhead seats as she whips around and does a trademark steal, as she smacks someone else's dreams away. Makoto plays basketball as a kind of psychological warfare, and even if you don’t know her, you can know that, so it’s almost a natural thing to start calling her. That senior watches one of their games, two, before one of the Three Kings takes Touou Gakuen out of the tournament.

They don’t find out until later- much, much later, in the wake of Seirin and watching Aomine and Touou slice through them like knives- that Makoto and Touou’s now-captain used to date, and that she started as the team’s manager then, and followed him as captain.

That kind of explains a lot.

.0.

“What the hell was that?” rages the coach, the instant that they get back into the school again and he has every single player from that match lined up in front of him, like they don’t all want to just go the fuck home already. The captain isn't one of them.

 “An accident, of course,” says Makoto-chan, blinking up at him, trying to cover for the whole team, eyes wide, but coach isn’t having any of that, not this time. Kiyoshi Teppei is being advised to go for surgery. You can’t chalk that up to rough play.

“Bullshit,” says the coach. Makoto-chan gasps delicately. “There’s been at least one ‘accident’ in every match we’ve played this season. That ends here, do you understand me? The next person who causes this kind of accident- any kind of accident- can consider themselves off the team. That goes for all of you. Kirisaki doesn’t need such dirty plays.”

Everyone looked at Makoto after he was gone. That was what Zaki remembered most about that, really, if he was going to try and pinpoint the time everything really changed. Everyone had looked at Makoto.

.0.

The next week, he’s gone. There are a lot of rumors about why he goes- Kentarou hasn’t heard these many conflicting stories since that time in junior high when the girl in the back left corner of the class disappeared- but Makoto comes into practice smiling widely, smiling, smiling, and it doesn’t matter how he went.

Makoto wanted him gone, and he’s gone. The captain’s gone, too, though more naturally as the third-years take their leave of the club for entrance exams, and Kentarou wonders if any of the second-years have noticed their ranks thinning over the course of the year, every time Makoto sees a bump in her road.

Well, if they haven’t noticed, he’s not going to tell them. Kentarou likes his internal organs where they are, and, almost, the way Makoto plays basketball, once you cut through the layers of bullshit and boredom. She doesn’t hate basketball, like one of the seniors tries to scream at them when he leaves, like that’ll change anything about this. She just hates everyone who plays it. The way that Makoto plays basketball could steal the breath from anyone’s lungs.

They vote her in as captain at the start of the new school year. Captain and coach, and just in time for the new meat to arrive.

“Everyone,” Makoto says, sounding almost nearly genuinely delighted. “I’ll try to be worthy of your trust.”

Chapter Text

Even though Kuroko’s mother’s face fell and she asked, worried, if her daughter wasn’t sure she wouldn’t like something else, her father came back from work the next day with a basketball, a real one, bigger than his daughter’s head and orange and hard and the way it bounced into her hands was unlike anything.

Kuroko’s grandmother told her daughter-in-law not to make such a fuss.

“It’s as big as she is,” said her mother. “I don’t mind her playing with it but- those boys, the way some of them play. They’re so rough. She’s so small. What if they hurt her?”

“Punch them,” Kuroko’s father suggested, just a touch of gleam in his grave eyes, and Kuroko’s mother narrowed her own at him. Kuroko scuttled by with the ball in her arms and tries not to look fragile.

“I’d just feel so much safer,” said her mother. “If she was playing with girls.”

.0.

It’s not that Kuroko doesn’t want to play with girls, but that no girls want to play with her; the court near her school is always taken up by bigger boys, and there aren’t very many girls her age near her house, or at least none who aren’t already taken up with their own friend groups, their own interests. There aren’t even that many boys near her house, except for Ogiwara-kun, and they play together all the time anyway, trying to get the ball past each other to shoot, shooting hoops that neither of them make, making up incessant, impossible basketball dreams, dreaming of days yet to come.

Ogiwara-kun, in those days, was everything and enough. Kuroko rushed home from school to play with him until it was getting dark and time for dinner, every day, any day, and when they got their first cellphones they exchanged numbers and mails and he said, “Now we’ll always be able to find each other,” and grinned and grinned and grinned until she smiled too, inputting his name into her contacts, O-g-i-w-a-r-a.

That is how she thinks of her start in basketball, really. Playing in the open, one to a side, hopelessly, childishly inept. Throwing, and the ball falling far short of the mark. Running too fast, and falling, so that her mother clucks over her bloodied knee. Throwing, and the ball going in, falling through the hoop with room to spare.

Falling in love.

.0.

“Of course we’ll get better,” he says, and even then, Kuroko believed him. She believes him now. “One day, you know. I’ll be playing on my school’s team, and you’ll be playing on your school’s team, and we’ll meet.”

“We’ll be in different teams,” Kuroko points out, wrestling with her ice pop. “I’ll play with the girls.”

“Oh, yeah,” says Ogiwara-kun, momentarily deflating. “Okay then, when we have the finals, me with my team, yours with your team, we’ll meet in the stadium and just have to look at each other, and we’ll know, you know, that we’ve come so far and done so much. Here, give me that.”

“Were you watching a sports movie last night?” says Kuroko, handing it to him.

Ogiwara-kun made a reply that was unintelligible, seeing as how his teeth were sunk hard into plastic, and Kuroko watched in awe and hoped he didn’t hurt himself. “Ish gonna happen,” he insisted. “U’ll shee, it-“ the plastic ripped free at that moment, and syrup spurted everywhere, all over his face and shirt, and Kuroko gave in and laughed at him, slurping up ice from his hands before it could fall to the ground and be wasted.

“Sorry, Kuroko,” he said. “I’ll get you another one.”

“I’ll finish this first, then,” she said, and he goes off to wash his face in the watercooler before he starts attracting bees.

Kuroko placed her mouth over the place where his had been, though more decorously. Under the cool blue syrup he scrubs off his face, she can see him going red. There’s still enough syrup to drink up, and Kuroko crunches the ice between her teeth.

Later, always, forever: she associated that texture with joy; the crunch of ice between her teeth, the coolness that spread from her head to her toes, the overwhelming, artificial sweetness.  

.0.

Kuroko never deletes a single one of Ogiwara-kun’s emails.

It just kind of seems like the right thing to do.

.0.

“Who was that?” they ask him, ready to tease him for talking to a girl, ready to interrogate him for talking to someone in Teikou’s blue, the majority of the team- and poor Momoi-kun- mobbed by eager swarms who obscure them.

“That’s my friend,” she hears him tell them, proud enough to burst. “My friend, who plays for Teikou.”

Then, Kuroko didn’t believe him. She believes him now. She’ll be playing with her team, and he’ll be playing with his, and they’ll meet.

And they’ll know. They’ve come so far and done, so much.

They'll know after they meet on the court.

Chapter Text

Ogiwara Shigehiro

They are children, and they are friends, and they are companions, running laughing after a ball playing at the sport they are both not good at, and he treats her like a boy, or at least not as a girl, and for that time he is more important to her than anything.

When he presses his new address into her hands, snorting back enormous tears, she folds her hand around his, pressing into the feel of his basketball-roughened hands. They promise to write and call if they're allowed, and to never forget each other, not ever.

(There was never any danger of that.)

Aomine-san

Kuroko thinks she knows what love is until she meets Aomine-san, who burns brighter than anyone Kuroko has ever met, who unlocks Kuroko's dreams as easily as breathing, as basketball. But Kuroko has years in which to admire Aomine-san, to idolise her and idealise her.

(They have a year of glory. Kuroko is only wrong in deciding which year it was going to be.)

Momoi-kun 

Momoi-kun is handsome, and attentive, and her conquest of him wins her no small admiration among her peers. Nevertheless, Kuroko turns him down quietly, and thinks the better of him that he takes no offense at it, and doesn't create any awkwardness afterwards, confirming her suspicions that Momoi-kun may love nothing so much as their camaderie, their laughing, idle days. He would never do anything to jeapordise their friendship.

She doesn't think Momoi-kun is in love with Aomine-san either, but he can probably recognize that.

Nijimura Shuuzou

At first, the third-year captain scares her. Nijimura-san is impressive even for one of Teikou's nationally-famous regulars, tall, fit, and incredible, the strongest junior high power forward, and when he speaks the first-string automatically fall silent, turning their heads to listen.

When he stands behind Akashi-san and inclines his head at her dictates, it's at once assurance and compliance, and Akashi-san assumes command without any but the smallest hiccups. He has absolute confidence in her relentless competence, and Nijimura-san treats Akashi-san like he believes it, like royalty ascended to her rightful throne.

You have to watch closely, very closely, as Kuroko does, to observe how Akashi-san's eyes track her captain's back as he walks away.

Haizaki Shougo

The other girls in her class giggle and chatter over him like he's- Aomine-san's words, hot shit- but Kuroko is never quite able to see past the cruel tilt of his smile, the way Kise-san, who handles boys like well-trained dogs, edges around Haizaki-kun with a barbed smile and calm, consistent hatred.

Even the day he consigned his basketball shoes to the flames, and Kuroko watches him do it, she isn't able to stop feeling glad that he's gone. They don't need someone like this.

Some guy 

Kuroko receives a love letter some time into her tenure as a starting player, and the entire team- girls and boys- go insane over it, divining without apparent grounds that he's a second-stringer who watches Kuroko play, that he's a quiet guy in Akashi-san's class, that he likes books too, and not just ones with shootings, that he hasn't a girlfriend before and that he's definitely, absolutely, without question not good enough for Kurokochi/Kuro-chin/Kuroko. Kuroko slips away while the debate is in full swing, meeting him behind the third gymnasium while they're both still in their practice clothes, feeling the odd pang of memory.

Kuroko turns him down, but gently, citing as her reason that she was occupied with club activities. Thank you for noticing me, she starts to say, before she can consider the incongruity of it.

She never hears of him again.

Hyuuga Junpei

She never mentions to him that she knew him long before he knew her, reading on his student card his name and class and school, watching him direct his team on the court, a first-year captain of a first-year team, and a beautiful, impossible dream in the middle of months that felt like an extended nightmare.

(Kuroko can never express, how good it is to play basketball again. How lucky she is to be able to. How glad she is she's here.)

Kagami Taiga

Kuroko never realises- why on earth would that boy have assumed a girl standing on the court in her uniform played basketball?

Moriyama Yoshitaka

One of the Kaijou seniors sidles up to her and offers a flowery compliment or two before Kuroko blinks at him and Kise-san barrels over to accuse the world at large of stealing Kurokochi's attention away from her, discreetly ushering her away from him with a muttered, "Kurokochi, he's- not very good with girls", as though it's some kind of disease that is catching, as though Kuroko is good with guys. Who don't play basketball.

(When they meet at the Winter Cup, Moriyama-san is too focused on the game, on Seirin's players to give any up to compliments and rehearsed lines and cliches. And that may be the best compliment he'll ever give.)

Kasamatsu Yukio

Kise-san's boyfriends follow a set pattern- they're not always models, and they're not always taller than her, but they are always beautiful, chosen to show her off to advantage, adorned with an effortless cool and they always adore her, speak the language of the social butterflies and rush to fulfill her every whim. Aomine-san, as far as Kuroko is concerned, is the only notable exception to this pattern, but Aomine-san is Kise-san's exception in a lot of ways.

Kasamatsu-san is none of these things, and doesn't appear to able to converse for any length of time whatsoever whenever Kuroko encounters him with a skirt on. He is over an entire head shorter than Kise-san and wears his authority a touch uneasily, except on the court, when he comes alive.

Kuroko is glad that Kise-san is not really any good at all at giving up.

Momoi-kun

Sometimes, Kuroko thinks that Momoi-kun is too used to expecting them to do the impossible- that he believes in her and in them too much for her comfort, for her complacency. But Kuroko keeps her promises.

Takao Kazunari

Midorima-san is very lucky to have encountered Takao-kun, but then, Midorima-san has always been lucky, at least on days on which it has been ordained and her lucky item is in order. Takao-kun's eyes follow Midorima-san across the room at the camp, lingering and longing, and it's such a common occurrence that no one in Shuutoku bats an eye at it.

She'd wish him luck, if she had luck to spare on something that's obviously inevitable.

Imayoshi Shouichi

Kuroko is good at being unexpected too, but the straightforward request for her phone number is boggling in too many different ways for even that.

Furihata Kouki

Furihata-kun is a reserve player and a quiet guy who's never had a girlfriend and likes books and watches how Kuroko plays from the bench with an expression of concentrated intensity. Teikou beat the boys like him out of the ranks of the third-string without mercy. Kuroko watched them drop out in their numbers every year, so many that they didn't even leave an impression.

They sit in the library and discuss formations and patterns. As a group, the first-years do chores and go out together, dreaming little dreams of managing to make the starters, of doing well, of what their three years in Seirin will be like. Kuroko doesn't have to tell them that their time is sure to come.

Kiyoshi Teppei 

Kiyoshi-san, perhaps best of all of Seirin's players, understands its sanctity. No one comes here demanding interviews of the all-stars. Riko-san encourages them to measure themselves against her ambition rather than other players, as high as the sky. Kuroko is never sorry she never got to see him play as Shouei's captain. Kiyoshi-san fits perfectly here as Seirin's ace.

Himuro Tatsuya

When asked to offer her opinon on Kagami-kun's prodigal brother, Kuroko says, "He's very good-looking," and leaves it at that.

No really literally, some guy

Kuroko discreetly reroutes the letter before the poor boy can realise he's put it in the wrong box.

Kagami Taiga

Kagami-kun and Aomine-san circle each other like wary cats, testing territory and finding all the places they would fit, if only they could find their way to doing so. Kuroko sees it long before they do, which is long after everyone else has already noticed.

Sometimes, Kuroko thinks Aomine-san owes her some kind of finders fee. Aomine-san pays this out in increments without knowing she does, though- an offered bottle of pocari, shooting lessons in the dead of winter nights, a fistbump for the last of all fistbumps. A pair of her precious basketball shoes, and the glow in Momoi-kun's eyes when he hands the box over to Kagami-kun, smiling.

Ogiwara Shigehiro

To stand on the same court, at last.

Chapter Text

"What kind of idiot lets his shoes break during tournament season?" said Aomine, and she didn’t want to see him, really, not so soon after they lost and while Seirin is still blazing its way through the Winter Cup, but she hadn’t wanted to see Kuroko right after their loss, either, and look how that had turned out.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Kagami growled.

“His feet are just too big,” Kuroko said, straight-faced. Aomine snorted at her.

“That’s also not something I do on purpose,” said Kagami, who can't actually be this dumb.

“It’s alright,” said Momoi. “I have her shoes. They should fit you, and they’re the type you like, too.”

Aomine almost snatched it out of his arms. "They're mine," she protested. 

Kagami was looking at them, longingly. "The colour's nice," he said, but he doesn't lift them out of the box even though he clearly wants to. Aomine usually picks black for her match shoes, and because it goes with Touou’s uniform. Once you’ve got a theme, you kinda want to stick with it. There’s an entire shelf of the shining whites she wore when she played for Teikou, with their little accents, blue, red, black. This pair did go with the Seirin uniform, now that she looked at it.

"F-fine," huffed Aomine. It was ridiculous for a boy that big to look that dejected, and for Momoi and Kuroko to stare judgementally at her. "If you beat me, you can have them." She would have worn a different top, if she'd known she was going to be playing today. As it is, she tossed the jacket to Momoi and tucked her sleeves up her arms. At least she was wearing sneakers. They’ll do; she doesn’t want to exhaust him.

He’ll do.

.0.

After the Winter Cup, Momoi was the one who passed on the message that Kagami had a person they have to meet, and apparently Murasakibara and Kuroko are going too, so Aomine can’t not go. They’ll play basketball after. They’ll eat dinner there! It’ll be so much fun! Club activities haven’t resumed yet!

“Yeah, fine,” Aomine muttered, though the urge to practice itches in her bones. “You want to spend time with Kuroko, you’re so obvious.”

“…yes,” said Momoi. “Yes, that’s it. I want to spend time with Kuroko-san.” He paused. “At Kagamin’s house.”

Aomine patted his head. “Keep at it,” she told him, loftily. “I’m sure your hard work will pay off.”

“We’ll go after school,” Momoi said too-innocently, accepting this with equanimity. “I’ll have something to pick up, so you might need to go first.”

“Who are you picking it up with?” said Aomine, as if she doesn't know. He hasn't stopped chasing Kuroko since Teikou. Momoi laughed and left, promising to text the directions to her phone if he couldn’t make it.

He obviously doesn’t make it. Aomine considered texting Kuroko to make it clear she knew just what was going on here, but Kuroko would just ignore it. As it stands, it’s not like it’ll be hard to get there, Kagami was apparently on the way. Aomine stepped into the station to restroom to- well, she’s been out all day, generally with her face stuck to her books or her desk. Short hair might have been easy to take care of, but Aomine’s was still near-constantly mussed, and she didn’t have a brush on her. Not that she cared.

And maybe she rolled up her skirt a bit. Just a bit. Kagami’s never seen her in the Touou uniform before, and Aomine wears it as trendily as any other girl her age, but less fussy, because she’s not, and will never be, a girly-girl like Kise is. But it’ll be funny to see the look on his face when it’s driven home that Aomine is, after all, a girl.

Kagami’s look swept her from head to toe, then settled on her hemline and swept down once again before he dragged his gaze back up to her eyes, face a little red. He was clearly the kind of guy who’s awkward around girls. It was kind of funny, but Aomine didn’t laugh at him for it.

She liked the way he looked at her.

.0.

“Oh,” he said, after, when she’s sitting on the counter watching him wash up, with Himuro helping him, both of them wearing aprons and looking, as Alex remarked, like perfect house-husbands. Alex is a scream. “You know those basketball shoes?”

“You’ve used them,” said Aomine primly. “I don’t want them back.”

“Like I would!” he snapped. “I mean- where did you get them? It’s really hard to get my size.” He looked down at her socked feet.

“What’s that supposed to mean,” said Aomine, prodding him in the thigh with her foot. Her skirt shifted as she did it, and Kagami hurriedly turned his gaze back to the sink. “I usually pre-order for the special editions. And there are a couple of shops- they know me, so I get notified as new ones come in.”

“I need some more,” said Kagami. “A spare or two.”

“Match or practice?” said Aomine.

“Match,” said Kagami. “Coach says we’re getting a lot more practice match requests now that we’re the champions.”

She prodded him again for saying it.

“Ow,” he protested, even though it couldn’t possibly have hurt. “Anyway, I just thought you might know. Momoi told me to ask you about it.”

Probably hoping that buying basketball shoes would keep her excited and interested. Momoi, Aomine decided, really needed a girlfriend. Or a hobby, since mangering was clearly not doing enough for him.

On the whole of it, Kagami clearly owed her. Hadn’t she given up her shoes for him?  Hadn’t she lost? He had some nerve, trying to ask her for favours. But on the other hand… he had introduced her to Alex, and she was, in fact, wearing his shirt. A different shirt from the one she’d played in, obviously.

She’d keep his shirt.

“I’m going on the weekend,” she said. “I’ll take you.”

“Really?” said Kagami. He coughed. “I mean, sure.”

“We’re not starting practices yet,” she said. “I might as well. Who knows what idiot thing you’ll do otherwise.”

(Behind Aomine, in the living room area, Himuro watched as Momoi and Kuroko fist-bumped in what he could only assume was raptures of glee. Murasakibara rolled her eyes.)

.0.

Her pants were a little tight to be playing, but that was the price of wearing her favourites, jeans that basically looked painted on. She never failed to get hit on wearing these pants- except today, when Kagami stuck close and loomed over anyone who approached her, even at the sports shop when she was waiting for Kagami to help the owner bring out a selection. As the morning had turned into afternoon they’d obviously had to eat lunch together, and then after that they’d obviously had to test out the shoes they’d just gotten by playing a few rounds.

Aomine dropped from the hoop almost onto Kagami, sliding down his body and he caught at her automatically. “Oi,” he protested, in a strangled voice.

“You shouldn’t stand under the hoop,” she told him. She pulled her shoulders backward, arching her back and stretching. Kagami choked; Aomine’s shirt clung to interesting places and he quickly backed off. “Perv,” she said.

“I’m not,” said Kagami, but not very convincingly.

“You are,” said Aomine, walking over to her bag to dig out her bottle. “I’m hungry.”

Kagami looked at the park clock. “I was going to buy groceries before I headed back,” he said.

“Yeah,” said Aomine, thinking about it. “That’s okay. We’ll eat at your house.”

“What,” said Kagami.

“You’re going to cook, right?” said Aomine. “We can eat at your place.”

“That’s not what I said,” said Kagami. “Aomine, that’s not what I-“

“It’s alright,” said Aomine, and turned to speak slowly, so he would understand, right into his face, so that her breath brushed his face. “We can just buy what I want at the grocery store. Anyway, I spent a lot on those shoes.” She smirked into his face. “You can just make something I like, Taiga.”

Kagami went scarlet, which was funny, and shut up.  

.0.

After that week of downtime, they didn’t get that many chances to see each other, or play basketball with each other, unless they made the time, catching up after practice for supper and hoops, or just mailing each other, beseechingly, about the sadness of exams and not being allowed to play basketball.

Aomine curled on her bed on one of those nights and she was wearing one of Kagami’s shirts, which even on her went down to her elbows. She lay on her side and thought about how it smelled, about wanting to play basketball with him. About how after being caught in the rain, he’d stripped his shirt off to give it to her, and about sitting on his couch with her legs draped over his shoulders watching NBA highlights on his laptop, and the warmth of his skin.

About- oh.

This.

This can’t be happening to her.

Chapter Text

Practice was drawing to a close with Kagami running defense while the rest of the team members took it in their turns to try for the hoop; a particularly hellish training exercise that forced Kagami to jump repeatedly and keep an eye on several attackers at once. Every shot made was another twenty laps for him, but every missed ball was twenty laps for whoever had attempted it.

Play, needless to say, was getting intense. Riko hummed happily to herself, casting an appreciative eye over her well-honed team. Kagami-kun’s defence was improving considerably, and even with Kiyoshi out of the running for next year-

A whirlwind ducked onto the court and smashed the ball out from under Furihata’s fingers. Aomine rolled with the ball and leaped, slamming it right past Kagami, hanging from the hoop with the pleated edge of her skirt fluttering in front of his stupefied face.

“You suck, Taiga,” she said, falling from the hoop onto him.

“O-OI!” said Kagami, as she slid down his body and promptly wrinkled her nose.

“You’re all sweaty,” she said.

“I’m at practice,” he said.

“What,” she said. “Still?”

Kagami gestured wordlessly to the rest of Seirin, watching open-mouthed.

“Aomine-san,” said Kuroko. “Our practice doesn’t end for another forty minutes.”

“So?” said Aomine, running a hand through her hair.

“So stop climbing on Kagami-kun and go sit with coach until we’re done,” said Kuroko.

“I’m not climbing,” said Aomine, but as she stepped back and pointedly dusted herself off all of Seirin looked at her long bare legs in ankle socks and school loafers, and the heavy, confining layers of clothes she had on, cardigan and blazer together, and hated her, just a little. “Sorry for the intrusion,” she said, not sounding sorry at all.

Aomine picked up her discarded bag and a basketball in a net sling, hoisting herself onto the stage and crossing her legs in a way that reminded everyone irresistibly of Kise’s first visit. Practice resumed under the stern blast of Riko’s whistle.

“So,” said Aomine. “Valentine’s day.”

“Yes,” said Riko. “No practice, I see.”

“We had practice,” said Aomine. “-probably. I just had something to do today.” She flushed under the look Riko directed at her, kicking her heels against the stage. Aside from the scale, Aomine in Touou’s winter uniform seemed like any other girl, ribbon hanging loosely around her neck and skirt hiked up so high Riko hoped she had shorts on under there.

“Uh-huh,” said Riko, blowing another blast on her whistle, the signal for cooldowns. She was going to have to talk to Kagami-kun about having Aomine crashing Seirin’s practices- even on Valentine’s Day.

.0.

Aomine, amazingly, was still waiting for Kagami when he came out, having stripped and changed in record time, after dunking his head under the tap outside as well, never mind the freezing temperatures. The clubroom had been a buzzing mass of hysterical speculation about why Touou’s Aomine had come to Seirin, come to Seirin today, on a school day late in the evening. Kagami had unwarily mentioned that he saw her all the time on weekends anyway, and that had started a burst of condescending headshakes while Kagami protested they weren’t going out, not even remotely. Even if he wanted to.

As Kagami pulled his jacket shut and zipped it up, shuddering from his close escape, he could see Kuroko- just about, barely see Kuroko- handing Aomine a little wrapped bag, which Aomine put into her own schoolbag with a snort.

“There you are,” said Aomine, irritated, catching sight of him. “What took so long?”

“That took five minutes,” said Kagami. His hair was still a little wet, but it dried fast. “The last time, you took an hour in-“

“That’s because I took a bath,” said Aomine, virtuously. “Besides,” she added, with an air of delivering a buzzer beater. “It’s different for girls.”

“Whatever,” said Kagami. They started to walk out together, exchanging the comfortable well-worn snipes as Kuroko shadowed them, not even trying to hide the fact that she was rolling her eyes. Aomine ignored her, and eyed the clumps of other Seirin students on the route to the train station, grimacing at the gaudy Valentine’s Day signage set up in store windows. Kagami purposely kept his eyes averted from the signs, since just looking at them made him embarrassed. They were just so... pink. They were so busy with carefully not noticing their surroundings that they nearly missed Kuroko waving goodbye to them and walking off.

“O-oi,” said Kagami. “Kuroko, where are you-“

“I’m going to the hospital,” said Kuroko. “Riko-san is busy with her student council duties, so I’m passing Kiyoshi-san some of the recent training videos to prepare him for his role as manager.”

“I didn’t ask,” said Aomine, shifting her bag. From her other hand, the net bag with the basketball swung idly back and forth.

“But now you know,” said Kuroko. “Aomine-san, please see to it that Momoi-kun receives those chocolates. Good night, Kagami-kun. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, she turned down a side street and walked away, leaving Aomine and Kagami staring at their feet in awkward, awkward silence.

They walked on. Kagami suddenly felt the absence of any buffer between them, even though him and Aomine had been alone together plenty of times before now- in his house, even, Aomine draping herself in layer upon layer of his clothes and curling on his sofa like the most oversized of cats, smelling fresh and clean from the baths she took in his house. You’d think that that would be more awkward than just walking out in public, but Aomine had adopted Alex’s easy familiarity with him- even calling him Taiga, which shouldn’t make his heart pound like it did- with a double helping of the Generation of Miracles’ usual imperious intimacy, speaking as though she’d been waiting half her life for him to do whatever she wanted whenever she wanted it.

And he always did, even when what she demanded of him was ridiculous, impossible, annoying – because what she wanted from him, from everyone, was to better than her, worthy of chasing her light. And that was worth any number of late-night im bored text messages, rushing to meet her for street ball even though he was still aching from that morning’s practice, and the way she expected the world would pick itself up around her, imposing herself on him without a second thought. As good as. Better.

Aomine could have just asked him to meet her, and Kagami would have gone. She hadn’t had to come out all this way.

They were passing the street court. “Do-“ he said, and his voice felt unfamiliar in the air. “Do you want to play?” It was late, and she was in her school uniform, but she’d brought a basketball along, so maybe-

Aomine jumped and looked down at the ball she was carrying. She frowned, and then her brow cleared. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, you know what, we’ll do that thing over again. So you can’t whine about not being prepared. Go stand under the net.”

“You’re not going to change?” he said, as they both pulled off their jackets. He pushed his sleeves up his arms.

Aomine rolled out her shoulders in the cardigan and said, “If you have time to think about seeing my panties you have time to stop me from scoring.”

Kagami choked, and blushed when she laughed at him, smirking. “I’ve got on shorts, you pervert,” she said. “Go stand under the hoop.”

Kagami grumbled, but went. Aomine wasn’t changing her shoes, either, though he knew she probably had at least one pair nestled in her bag, and he would have called out to her to remind her, but Aomine was already coming up the court in a drive, eyes sharp and focused, so he had other things to think about.

Except that Aomine wasn’t dribbling the ball, she was holding it in her hands and jumping, leaping up to make the shot and Kagami was opening his mouth to tell her off for travelling when she slammed the ball on the rim of the hoop, instead of through it, and what the fuck?

For a moment he thought it’d burst, that Aomine had dunked it so hard on the rim that she’d burst a basketball, but what was falling onto him was a shower of chocolates, bars and individually wrapped fancy ones, little packets of fun-size treats which the shops sold this time of year for giri choco, and the skin of the basketball was falling apart in two halves, because it had been cut open and stuffed with chocolate like a piñata.

Kagami stared up at her, open-mouthed. Aomine hung from the hoop and grinned at him, the particular joyous basketball smile, which wiped all the Aomine-attitude from her face, transformed it and transformed her.

“What the hell?” he said, weakly.

“Figure it the fuck out, Taiga,” Aomine said. “Chocolate. Valentine’s Day.” She laughed, at the look on his face. “It’s from me to you.”

Kagami looked down at the mess she had made on the court, and then it dawned on him, and he blushed, feeling heated in the cold winter air.

“That was actually a lot of chocolate,” Aomine said, looking for a place to land. “Probably enough even for your fat mouth.” She looked at him again, and her mouth quirked, a more complicated smile, no less lovely. “Oi,” she said. “Catch me.”

He jerked forward and lifted his hands to catch her, and Aomine fell, letting go, straight into his arms.

Chapter Text

Takao spun the wheels of the bicycle and let the slope carry him down. He’d need his energy soon enough, for the hills that preceded the way to Shin-chan’s house. She ran that both ways every morning at the crack of dawn, and as a natural consequence had lungs like- like- the kind Takao wished he had right now, ever, the kind he was trying to get by doing the rickshaw thing. He yawned.

Here and there were girls trotting to school carrying big paper bags slung over their arms, and guys who stared at the bags and the girls in equal unfocused longing. As Takao skimmed past another intersection he passed a couple in blazers solidly cuddled up against each other, and it reminded him, as many things did, of Shin-chan. Their fingers were interlaced and they walked in time, lost in their own private world. The girl looked up at the guy, adoringly.

But Shin-chan would never do that, not even (ever) with him, and how ridiculous would that look anyway, when she topped him by a head?

There were other things wrong with the photoshop job in Takao’s imagination, not the least Shin-chan's sheer solidity. Takao didn't remember any times that Shin-chan's back had wavered, that she had let go of the core of herself, but two: holding Kise, after their match in the summer, and after Rakuzan at the Winter Cup, pressing her face into his shoulder, and weeping, weeping. It was impossible to think of Shin-chan leaning on someone's arm and cooing into his face, and Takao stifled a laugh at the mere thought. 

He rolled his eyes up to the sky, putting a little extra into the pedals. Valentine's day. Ha. 

Ha. Ha. 

.0.

When Takao rolled up in front of Shin-chan’s house, she wasn’t ready, so he rang the bell incessantly over and over again until Shin-chan poked her head out of the house with one of her pigtails still undone and looked at him as if he was insane. 

Wait.

"What are you doing?" she said, incredulous. "I thought we weren't meeting this week. We were going to school by ourselves."

He'd forgotten. "Oh," he said, gesturing to the wagon. "This isn't for you. This is for all the chocolate I'm going to get today. You're definitely going to have to walk back, but I thought since I was bringing it, I'd help you haul your stuff to school."

Shin-chan snorted at him and went back into the house, her mother's voice floating out to wonder if Takao-kun wanted any breakfast. 

"No thanks!" Takao called. The older lady appeared in the window of the living room and beamed at him. Shin-chan's mom was always really nice to him, even despite the aforementioned incessant bell-ringing. Speaking of Midorima’s family-

"Number one," said Midorima's little sister, an angel in elementary school who was probably going to grow up just like her sister. She handed him a little package covered in more ribbons and glitter than Takao was previously aware existed in the known universe.

"Aw, thanks," said Takao, taking the folded paper bag and putting it in the wagon. “Number one.”

"Nee-chan helped," said Midorima's little sister, still peeking at him. “I have lots to take to school today.”

"Really," said Takao, who had unwisely but enthusiastically been first in the line of fire when Midorima's class exited home economics several times this year.

"She's not old enough to use the stove or oven unsupervised," said Midorima, coming out again, her tape clutched in her hand, a harmonica under her arm, and bread in the other hand. She pressed a slice directly into his mouth, dropping her bag into the cart. 

Takao ate, obediently. 

“She did all the decorating herself,” Midorima continued.

“I’m sure it’ll be beautiful,” Takao said, once he’d choked down the toast.  “Just like the bag is.”

“Nee-chan made some too,” she said, batting her little devil’s eyes at Takao.

“Go back inside and get ready for school before you catch cold,” said Midorima. She dusted crumbs from her fingers. “Now.”

Takao grinned at Midorima. He couldn’t help himself, over the sweet sharp stab, the wild unrestrained roaring of-

“It’s not for you,” she snapped. She was already behind him, shaking out her skirts, but he could hear the flush travelling up her cheeks. That was fine. She couldn’t see the face he was making at himself for being such an idiot. “Why would I give chocolate to you,” she muttered.

Takao could think of a good handful of reasons, chief among them being that he was currently biking their prissy princess to school, and had done so for the better part of the year, through rain and snow and sweltering summer, but these only qualified him for giri choco- even quite good giri choco, store-bought and everything. “I have no idea,” he said, and laughed.

.0.

True to his prediction, the first-year point guard of the third-place finishers at the Winter Cup was mobbed with chocolates, if not confessions, first at his overflowing shoe locker and then at his unsuspecting desk, with a steady flow of more-confident girls strolling up all day to present him theirs, with their compliments. Takao half-suspected that the only thing keeping his less-fortunate classmates from beating him to death was-

“So, which one’s Hers?” said Autograph-kun, once Takao had stacked up all his acquisitions in the locker room and sat back to bask in delicious popularity.

“She didn’t give me one,” said Takao. Sometimes he thought it was weird that the non-regulars all referred to Shin-chan in the singular and with capitals, but then, they thought it was weird he- everything. Everything, down to the faint smell of perfume wafting from her personal locker and the little disgusted noise she’d made when he’d come into the room lugging all those bags, and the icy stare she’d struck him with before leaving, the total lack of-

He turned in the deafening silence. They were staring at him open-mouthed, which seemed to Takao to be a thing they did a lot. “Why are you surprised?” he said. “Why would she give me chocolate?”

“Because-“ one of them managed, then stopped.

“Exactly,” said Takao. “Shin-chan wouldn’t get me chocolate. We’d better get out to practice.”

“But-“ said Autogaph-kun. Takao pinned him with a stare, then walked out, letting the door swing behind him.

The sentiment in the room he left behind was united: one second-year voiced it as, “Man.”

.0.

It turned out that, as Takao carefully explained to Midorima, even though he had in fact been rewarded by karma with chocolate beyond his wildest dreams, by the dint of extreme stacking there would still be space for her in the cart.

“Don’t bother,” she said, nose in the air. “I’ll just walk.” Takao had to coax her back into riding the cart, even though he had lied and there was in fact not quite enough room in the cart, until he solved the issue by unloading his haul onto the less favoured.

Midorima’s phone rang while he was distributing the chocolate which he thought looked less delicious or cute, and Takao listened to the ensuing conversation with interest.

“No… no… Aomine, why would I- OF COURSE I’M NOT- what do you mean you’re with- are you bothering people again- don’t be ridiculous- I am done talking to you, you are so irresponsible- what? Fine. Fine. Yes, goodbye.” She paced up and down, muttering.

“Ooo la la,” said Takao, which as commentary on the Generation of Miracles, he was aware, covered pretty much everything.

“Just go,” Midorima said, sitting down with an expression of great weariness. “Don’t speak. At all.”

“Your wish is my command,” Takao said.

.0.

The ride back was over all too early, which Takao considered more as commentary on the improvement of his physical condition (even post-practice and at the end of a long day) than he did in the joy he took in the weight he was hauling.

Midorima caught him by the jacket sleeve as he prepared to cycle off. “Wait,” she said. “Wait, I- I need to check something.”

Takao sighed. “Shin-chan, can’t your lucky item wait until tomorrow? I have all this chocolate to enjoy.”

“No,” she said. “This can’t.” She ran into the house and came out again fairly quickly with a paper bag the same as her sister had given him, except bigger, and the words died in Takao’s throat.

“You came too early this morning,” she said, twisting her hands in her skirt. “I didn’t have time for it to harden.”

Takao opened the bag and looked down at the moulded square with his name on the top in orange piping; he tried to speak and could not.

“There,” she said, sounding pleased in the curiously grudging way that Shin-chan always sounded pleased, pushing her glasses up her face. “Now don’t say that I didn’t get you anything in return.”

“…return?” said Takao.

“For-“ she said, then impatiently flapped a hand at the cart, the bicycle and all of Takao. “It would have been proper for me to prepare some for the sempai, but they’re all busy, so-“ she peered at him. “Takao?” she said. Her lovely face creased a little in a frown. “Are you not feeling-“

He breathed again, and somehow the air was colder, hurt his chest more. The dry chill felt good. “I’m just wondering if it’s safe to eat,” he said. “I have eaten your cooking before, so you know-“

She glared at him. “If you don’t want-“ she said.

“I do, I do,” he said. Breathed. “I do. It’s going to be my evidence when I’m too sick to go to practice tomorrow.” She drew breath, but he hung his head forward over the handlebars and said, “Shin-chan, thanks.”

“My sister helped,” she said, slightly mollified. “The basketball was her idea.”

“Tell her thanks from me too,” he said. “Twice.”

“Yes,” said Midorima, o god why wouldn’t she go inside go away get away from him, and she backed up to the gate. “Good-night,” she said, like she usually did.

“Bye,” said Takao.

“Tomorrow’s lucky item is lotion,” she said.

“I won’t be in tomorrow, I’ll have indigestion,” said Takao.

She stomped into the house, refusing to dignify that with a response.

He looked at the chocolate. Someone rather clearly not Shin-chan had scattered pink sprinkles all over it, but his name was her unmistakable and painstaking calligraphy.

“Oh, hell,” said Takao, helplessly, and munched down. It tasted, not surprisingly, like chocolate. He pedalled home in the icy evening, and he held the bite in his mouth until it melted away.

Chapter Text

Kagami’s phone rang incessantly. Aomine could hear the tones of some American song through the door. She tapped her foot, a little cold. How dare Taiga not reply her messages? Or her calls? After- she blushed a little, in the cooling air. After yesterday.

Asshole! She pounded on the door, and, unexpectedly, it gave way into an unlit apartment.

She inched into the house. The curtains were half-drawn, but this late- after school and after practice- Taiga should have been home, should have turned on the-

“Aomine-san,” said Kuroko.

Aomine screamed and almost flung her bag at Kuroko.

“Aomine-san,” said Kuroko, disapprovingly.

Aomine leaned on the back of Taiga’s one chair and reminded herself not to give her friend the further satisfaction.

“What are you doing here?” said Kuroko, sweeping past her to put a bag on the counter of the kitchenette.

“What are you?” Aomine retorted.

“Kagami-kun is sick,” said Kuroko, fishing a box of medicine from the shopping bag. “I’ve brought his homework, but he didn’t have any fever medication in the house.”

“Sick?” said Aomine, and throwing down her bag she walked directly into his bedroom.

Taiga was curled in his bed, red-faced with a huge jug of formerly iced water at his bedside, a towel lying crumpled next to it and next to that- Aomine’s face pinked. He’d put the ball she’d given him yesterday there, in pride of place, and stuffed t-shirts in it to keep its shape.

Taiga did not look well. His shirt was soaked with sweat, and when Aomine touched his head, it was burning. His breath was shattered and he looked more unconscious than asleep.  

“Bring out the towel,” called Kuroko, from outside. Aomine hastily snatched her hand back.

“How’d he get sick?” she said to Kuroko, walking out with the towel. “He was fine yesterday.”

Kuroko efficiently wrung out the towel in the sink. “Yesterday,” she said. “He hurried out after changing with his hair wet, and neglected to dry it before leaving school.”

Aomine chewed her cheek. Shit.

“I understand he then passed a sleepless night,” continued Kuroko. She folded the towel, handed it to Aomine, and then walked into Taiga’s room with a cup and the medicine. Aomine followed her. “Kagami-kun is known to be excitable,” she said, pouring water into the cup. “He must have been overset by something.”

“What an idiot,” said Aomine, in subdued tones, and shook Taiga awake.

He blinked up at her and said, “Aomine?”

“Why are you sick?” she demanded of him, slapping the towel on his face.

“Dunno,” he said, with great effort. He tried to sit up, but only succeed in keeling sideways, so that his head was hanging over the side of the bed. He seemed very puzzled by this. Aomine grabbed him by the back of his (ew) damp shirt and hauled him upright.

Kuroko handed the medicine and cup of water to Aomine.  

“You make sure Kagami-kun takes this,” said Kuroko, and hurriedly swept out before Aomine could do more than squawk in protest.

Aomine glared at the door and then turned her attention back to the murmuring Taiga, his forehead slumped against her shoulder.

“Look at you,” she said, then set to forcing them down his throat.

Quite a lot of the water sloshed onto his shirt, but since it was wet anyway and she managed to get him to swallow the pills, she called it a win. She dragged the shirt off his body and dug him out a clean one. Then she tucked him in again and put the towel back on his head, ignoring all his protests.

She sat back, feeling very satisfied. Kuroko was pottering around in the kitchen- Aomine could hear the banging, bubbling noises, and the occasional quiet swear- but Aomine felt no need to join her, instead sitting on one of Taiga’s arms and picking up his phone.

Interspersed with her own messages- not counting today’s increasingly annoyed demands, a melange of ‘oi’s, one-word sentences, and the occasional picture of shoes she coveted- were scattered messages from his teammates and coach. She scrolled absently- did she really message him this much, or did he just not really have many-

“Didn’ know what to say,” Taiga said, peeking at her from under his towel. He looked a bit better, Aomine thought.

“Put that back on,” said Aomine authoritatively, and smoothed it back over his forehead, the back of her hand trailing over his eyebrows. Was he a bit cooler? Stupid of him to go out without drying his hair. Idiot Kagami-

“You said it was,” Taiga slurred. “Imp’t.”

Aomine twitched. “It was,” she murmured, in the same soft voice, barely a murmur.

His mouth quirked up. “It was,” he said.

Aomine put her hand over the towel- to keep it from falling off- and leaned down to kiss Taiga, a quick dry brush of lips. He couldn’t get any hotter, but the arm she hadn’t sat on flailed for an embarrassing moment.

“Go to sleep,” she said, and shifted her weight to stand.

He caught her hand, without looking, and then froze. The towel shifted, and one eye stared at her fearfully.

Aomine sat back down, and he relaxed, closing his eyes again.

She stayed, and petted him until he fell asleep.

The distinctive chch noise of a shutter going off woke Aomine from her reverie.

“Kuroko-“ she snarled, turning to the door.

“Saved,” said her friend, tucking her phone back away in her pocket. “I’ve made the okayu for him.”

“I’m starving,” said Aomine, not entirely because it surprised her, but because it was later than she’d thought it would be, the light gone. The world after yesterday had felt- still felt, with this casual intimacy- entirely new.

Kuroko had unearthed a giant stewpot and filled it to the brim with mush, which Aomine eyed uncertainly but decided that Taiga would be less hungry if he was sick, and anyway that if he was well enough to complain about being hungry he was probably- probably- going to be well enough to cook.

Or she could make something. No biggie. She’d look it up on her phone. Call Ryou.

They filled two bowls and ate in comfortable silence. Aomine wished she’d thought of picking up takeout on her way here, but who’d known that this would happen? She chewed on chunks of hard-boiled egg.

“Kagami-kun will be hungry when he wakes up,” said Kuroko, seemingly as though she’d just thought of it.

“I’ll stay,” said Aomine, who had been thinking about it. Kuroko’s eyes rested on her. “I’ve done it before,” Aomine said, defensively. “I’ve got some stuff here.”

Kuroko’s gaze failed to waver.

Aomine reddened. “He has another bedroom,” she said. “Alex slept in it, too, that was all right.”

Kuroko drank. “Okay,” she said.

“That’s all we did,” said Aomine.

“Fine,” said Kuroko.

“Nothing happened,” said Aomine, setting down her can of soda. Her soda, chilling in Taiga’s fridge. He must have picked up more in the past week. Kuroko didn’t need to know that.

“I believe you,” said Kuroko. “Unfortunately.”

“Oh, shut up,” said Aomine, and unfolded her legs to kick at Kuroko under the table. “Who’d you give your chocolate to yesterday?”

“My team and those to whom I was obliged, as I told you,” said Kuroko.

“Yeah,” said Aomine, stirring her spoon in the empty bowl. “Uh-huh. Suuuure.”

Kuroko’s calm reserve cracked. She sent Aomine a snappy little look through her eyelashes and kicked back at her, scoring a hit to the shins. In just socks, she could hardly expect to make a dent, but it was a decent effort nonetheless, fortified by bitter and hard-won knowledge of the enemy terrain.

“OW,” said Aomine, and they waged war for a full minute below the table. Only the tipping of the mercifully empty plastic cups onto the floor halted their fight, since this noise also brought Taiga out from his bedroom, looking much better for a few hours of unbroken sleep, very ruffled, and torn between asleep and alarmed.

“The medicine is working,” said Kuroko for Aomine’s sake. She left the feeling of Kagami-kun’s forehead to Aomine, who slipped from her seated position to murmur to Taiga in a soft voice. Kuroko instead moved to the counter to pour him a drink of water. Even if Kuroko had stood on tiptoes, she would not have reached, and so she considered the effort moot.

“Better?” said Aomine, pressing the back of her hand to his neck.

“Upright,” said Taiga, smiling at her in a way that made Aomine feel, suddenly, very shy. “Kuroko was-“

“I’m here,” said Kuroko. “Coach sent me, and I collected your assignments. We ate,” she added, unnecessarily.

“I’m not hungry,” said Taiga, barely sparing the pot a glance.

“He’s dying,” croaked Aomine, throat suddenly dry. Kuroko was similarly shocked.

“Not-“ said Taiga. “Not now, I’m still-“ he yawned.

“Back to bed,” Aomine ordered, and pushed him back into his bedroom. “You shouldn’t be up yet, idiot.”

Taiga resisted. He held her wrist again, like he had when she would have gotten up and left him, just as mutely, and it tore at her just the same.

“Yeah,” she said, in answer to his unspoken plea. “I’ll- I’ll call home, I’ll be here when-“ she swallowed. “I’m staying,” she said, and he let her put him back to bed.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

After three months of being thrown frequently into her company, Nijimura still didn’t know any more about Akashi than he had when she’d first marched up to his table at lunch. She was pretty- the most beautiful girl in school, according to interested parties- and she was rich, and she was astoundingly good at basketball, and at getting her own way. 

Akashi was a hard one to figure out. 

As her senior, Nijimura rarely saw Akashi out of practice, so when he called at her classroom he blinked at the sight of Akashi’s long hair up in decidedly feminine pigtails, fastened with light blue ribbons. The entire first-year class fell silent when he knocked, turning their little runty heads- man, had he everbeen that young?- to stare at Akashi, who eventually noticed her classmates behavior and raised her head. 

"Er," said Nijimura. "Akashi? You free?" He stood in the door of the classroom and jerked his head at her. 

Akashi paused for a moment at the door, waiting for Nijimura to move out of the way, and she looked up into his face. Someone sighed longingly, which neither of them chose to take any notice of. 

As they walked together Nijimura thought about how this was probably crazy. 

"They’re tapping me for captain when the sempai retire," he said, abruptly. 

"Congratulations," said Akashi. It clearly did not surprise her; it had not surprised him. 

"I’d like you to be my vice when that happens."

She stopped walking and looked at him. Nijimura continued another two steps before he realised and turned around to look at her, unconsciously, unreservedly lovely. She had grown, he realised, looking at the lines of her face. Akashi looked less like a kid. 

"Why?" she said, bluntly. The air around her changed. She raised her eyes to his face. They were impossible to read. 

"I think you’d do well," said Nijimura. 

"The vice-captain’s position is usually given to a senior," said Akashi. She did not have to complete the thought: that when it was not, the vice-captain was the heir-apparent to the captain’s position. It was a mark of confidence which a lesser captain might not be able to carry off. 

"It’s my choice," said Nijimura. "The coach agreed." Her eyes searched his face: he did not quiver. 

The moment passed. 

"I would be honoured," she said, resuming her slow and stately tread. "When are they announcing it?"

"Soon," said Nijimura, and thought, you will have to be ready soon.

~!~

By mutual agreement Himuro and Murasakibara found themselves hiding out from their seniors in the dorm’s AV room, fortified with snacks, an electric kettle, and a few other things Himuro, but not Murasakibara, considered essential to a winter’s evening. Ryu had shipped home, wishing them an airy farewell at the Tokyo train station. The rest of the boarders didn’t seem too eager to return to their families, a circumstance that puzzled Himuro.

Murasakibara, directing him to heap blankets on her, unwisely chose to ask. 

"Christmas is a time to be with family," Himuro explained, but even as he said it he contemplated tucking his feet under a corner of her blanket pile without his junior noticing, and became wholly absorbed in the process. 

She looked at him. “You’re such a returnee, Muro-chin,” she said. “Christmas is for lovers. Everyone’s out on dates.” She frowned. “Like my sister.”

"Except the captain," said Himuro. That explained his tears, actually. Murasakibara had adroitly removed herself from all appeals from her presence, but since she required at least one person to pass her snacks and dim down the lights when she got sleepy, Himuro had made the cut. 

"Except him," she said. 

"And us," he said. 

"Obviously," she said, refusing to rise to his bait, and wriggled under the pile of blankets again. "Muro-chin, pass the thermos."

"What’s the magic word?" he said, dangling it from his hand. 

She pouted at him. “Merry Christmas?” she said, poking at him with her socked foot. 

"Close enough," conceded Himuro, and handed it over.

Chapter Text

Takao caught up with Midorima’s measured stride as she was waiting for the light to turn. “Shin-chaaaaaan,” he said. “Good morning. Isn’t this a great, special day?”

"Happy Birthday," she said, and handed him a small folded brown bag, which Takao promptly opened.  

"Shin-chan did you get me socks," said Takao. "Are they at least hand-made? Are you going to compete with the captain? Ooh, six-pack. Fancy." He looked up and beamed at her. "You remembered.” He reached up to pat the top of her head. “Good Shin-chan.”

"Of course I remembered," said Midorima, shrugging him off. She kept her gaze fixed ahead, and flicked today’s lucky item open and closed, a silk fan on wooden ribs with a hawk in mid-flight painted on it. 

Takao laughed. “Who told you?” he said, tucking the present away.

"My sister," admitted Midorima. "She has the team’s profiles on a board in her room."

"I’m so touched," said Takao.

"She also wanted me to make a cake for you," said Midorima. 

"Ooo," said Takao. "Do I get a cake?"

"What do I look like," said Midorima, closing the fan with a snap and stomping past him. "Your mother? Final tests are coming up, in case you’ve forgotten. The Winter Cup is in less than a month. Are you prepared? Do you have time to play around? Did you even comb your hair this morning? Hurry up or we’re going to be late."

"I feel your love, Shin-chan," said Takao, putting his hand over his heart. "I really feel your love."

.0.

Shin-chan must have been feeling bad, because when she opened up her bento and surveyed her bounty she let him take three entire dumplings, their crisp shells cracking between his teeth. By the end of school, Takao had collected, besides good-wishes, a heap of useful-but-boring gifts from his classmates and teammates. 

"Let’s see," he said loudly. "Socks, energy drink packets, one almost-full can of deodorant, wristbands, various stationery, and sweets dug out from the bottom of the bag. You guys really broke the bank here. I’m touched."

Kimura grabbed him in a headlock and ruffled his hair. “We know you are,” he said. “Don’t feel you need to equal this for us.”

Takao laughed and stowed his stuff. This was better than he’d expected, really. Extra practice had already been cancelled in favour of extra study time, and even Shin-chan was beginning to look ragged around the edges. The third-years were staring entrance exams in the face right after the Winter Cup. And Shin-chan had gotten him socks. He’d think of her, wearing them. 

He’d been socked in the back today more times than he could count. High School really was the springtime of life, and Mom was making all his favourites this week. 

.0.

Nakatani kicked them all out before it got too dark, and Takao and Midorima were off and had been walking for a good twenty minutes when she stopped and said, “My lucky item.”

"What?" said Takao. 

"I forgot it!" she wailed, and took off back for school.

Takao raced after her. Was it possible? Shin-chan? She stayed just out of his reach, feet flying, and they rounded the gate into the school and around the door back into the gym-

"SURPRISE!" yelled several voices, and Takao almost fell over but for Shin-chan’s arm. Arrayed on the umpire’s table was a cake, an assortment of presents, and a fruit basket. 

"I should have known," said Takao, shaking his head in disgust. Midorima fanned him with her lucky item, smirking.

"You really should have," said Midorima, and taking his arm towed him forward to the seniors and other regulars, who set up a disjointed chorus of Happy Birthday To You. Once this was done, they cut up the cake into small rectangles and shared it out on paper napkins, eating it off their fingers. 

"This is quite good," said Midorima, eating it in small neat bites and going back for another slice.

"My dad brought it over," said Kimura-sempai, looking pleased. "It’s the bakery down the street."

"It’s got my name on it!" said Takao. He was grinning like an idiot, but what the hell, it was his birthday. He’d gotten the whole wafer with the chocolate message on it, and he had a heap of presents waiting for him. Maybe if he looked sad enough Shin-chan would feed him the next slice of cake off her fingers.

"No candles," said Ootsubo-san. "No fire in school."

"You should have seen your face when you came back," said Miyaji-sempai, handing him a box. "You looked like you were going to choke."

"You try sprinting after Shin-chan for ten minutes," said Takao. "Massage oil? Useful. Thank you sempai!"

"It’s the one I use when over-training," said Miyaji-sempai. "Not that you shouldn’t watch yourself."

The captain had knitted Takao handwarmers, green and grey. Takao showed them off to Shin-chan, grinning.

"I already got you socks," said Shin-chan. 

"Six-pack," agreed Takao. "Very fancy."

"But this is from my sister," said Shin-chan, and handed him an envelope.

"Oooo," said Takao, taking out the card. 

"It’s a card," said Shin-chan, unnecessarily. "She made. See, it’s full of hearts and kisses." She looked at it. "And glitter."

"I’m going to frame this," said Takao. "Hearts and kisses? I’m a lucky man.”

Midorima snorted. She was still pleased at having so neatly carried off her acting job of distracting him. Takao looked at his gifts again, and then she struck. 

She pressed her lips to his cheek, so quickly he would have thought he imagined it, but for her hand sweeping her heavy braid of hair back over her shoulder, and the look on her face. “Happy Birthday,” she said, and pressed her piece of cake into his face.

Chapter Text

“She took off her shirt in the gym?” repeated Kiyoshi. His voice was a little scratchy, like it always was after spending time in the examination rooms, where the air was dry. Hyuuga pictured Kiyoshi sitting in the rec room with that dumb look on his face, talking on his phone.

“Riko was doing her thing,” said Hyuuga. He’d promised Riko to update Kiyoshi so that that idiot didn’t bother her, after all his clamouring to come to the first practice of the year and introduce himself to their new freshmen. Hyuuga was pretty sure Kiyoshi would have driven them all away in seconds, to say nothing of what he’d have started doing the second he got his hands on a basketball again. He could imagine the smile spreading across Kiyoshi’s face already.

“Ooo,” said Kiyoshi, not failing to disappoint his captain.

“Don’t ‘ooo’ me, you idiot,” said Hyuuga. “Anyway, the potential joiners look promising and one of them was one of the girl players from Teikou. I’m hanging up. Don’t call me. Don’t message me. Don’t bother Riko.”

“Ok,” said Kiyoshi peacefully. “Anything else?”

“If she’s still around by the time you come back,” said Hyuuga. “Don’t bother Kuroko.”

“Ehhh,” said Kiyoshi, which he was still saying when Hyuuga hung up on him.

.0.

(I am Seirin’s Kuroko, she said to Kagami-kun, and thought about that other boy she had been friends with, before- and besides- anything else.)

.0.

Kuroko met them at school at the beginning of summer with a vague inkling that she could have joined the literature club in high school, and spent all her summers in a nice air-conditioned library all day in lovely crisp-ironed pleated skirts instead of getting up at the crack of dawn to take a train to some godforsaken rundown inn to run until she puked. That was a thing. Kuroko could have done.

“Good-morning,” she said, to screams.

“Oh,” said Kiyoshi-san, and reached out absently.

“I cut my hair,” said Kuroko, as he touched their short tips.

“I think it looks nice,” said Kiyoshi-san. “Did you go to Hyuuga’s place to have it done? He does Riko’s hair all the time.”

“EH?” said several people, at once.

“No,” said Kuroko. “I go to someone near my house.”

“You cut yours just for the summer?” said Kagami.

“It’s hot,” said Koganei. He shook his head, already beaded with liquid. “I should do that too!”

“DON’T even start with me,” said Hyuuga, putting his hand on Izuki’s mouth.

“It looks nice,” said Kiyoshi-san again. His smile looked slanted just at her, but his gaze slipped off to Hyuuga and Izuki grappling as Izuki tried to get out of their captain’s grip to release his pun to the world.

Kiyoshi-san’s huge fingers gently, very gently, played with her hair.

.0.

Kiyoshi-san’s face scrunched. “Do you think I offended her?” he asked Kuroko, in the half-time, while Kuroko gulped down bottle after bottle of tepid sports drink mix and tried very hard not to throw up.

Kuroko lifted her gaze to Midorima-san, stretching pointedly on the other side of the gym. Midorima-san blinked sweat out of her eyes and answered Takao-kun in monosyllables.

“Yes,” Kuroko said, but did not complete the thought: that Midorima-san was offended right now by the fact that Kagami-kun was outside instead of in here, by Seirin’s performance during the practice matches, by sand in her shoes, by her forecast for the week, by the way Kuroko’s hair had come loose while Kiyoshi-san rubbed her back, his big hand almost bigger than the width of her back. Offended was a state of breathing for Midorima-san. Kuroko saw Midorima-san’s eyes narrow one last time across the court from them before she left to run cooldown drills on the outdoor court and knew there was one last reasons Midorima-san was offended: Kiyoshi-san had not been trying very hard at all. The coach had told him to watch himself, of course, and Kiyoshi-san was still taking it easy from his long absence, but Kuroko knew, and Midorima-san knew, and Kiyoshi-san knew they knew. It was interesting to watch the way he played, knowing that.

Kuroko's fingertips still hurt from losing the ball, Midorima-san smacking it out of Kuroko's hands with ease. (Her heart still hurt, seeing the shadow of Seirin’s loss in Midorima-san’s accusing glare.)

But this was not yet their stage.

Two players from Shuutoku were whispering near them. One of them had brought  Kuroko and Kiyoshi-san their drinks from the giant cooler set up for the Shuutoku players. They'd stayed close, stealing glances.

“Yes?” Kiyoshi-san said brightly. He bent down and picked up the empty bottles, the muscles in his arm bunching as he handed them back. He placed himself between them and Kuroko. The two players from Shuutoku hemmed and hawed.

Kuroko looked up.

"We just wanted to say," said the one on the left. He'd been watching Seirin play like his gaze had gotten stuck, staring with his eyes wide. "You, um, you-"

Kuroko waited.

"I'm a big fan!" He burst out. "Iron heart! I clipped out the articles in Basketball Monthly!"

His friend nodded. "We're glad you're back from your injury," he said.

Kiyoshi-san blinked at them. "Oh," he said, in his dazed voice. Kuroko stifled a smile. Aomine-san, too, had once been disturbed by her celebrity. "Thank you?"

"We just wanted to say that," said the first one, and then the pair left them alone, elbowing each other from the thrill of hero-worship.

"Huh," said Kiyoshi-san. He cast a glance down a  Kuroko, then quickly extended his hand to help her up, lifting her body as easily as an empty bag. To Kuroko, used to big friends, the way Kiyoshi-san did not lean over her, casually invasive, was still new and something strange. He kept his space to himself. No sweat dripped onto her. This was almost unprecedented.

"That was nice of them," said Kuroko. Kiyoshi-san’s hands engulfed hers. "Iron heart." She wondered when Kiyoshi Teppei had learned this gentleness.

Kiyoshi-san made a face at her. “I don’t like that name,” he said. “Mysterious sixth man.”

Kuroko dropped her lashes and looked up at him, then smiled.

.0.

While Kuroko was at the training camp her shorter hair went wild from the humidity, standing straight up from her head when she woke up in the mornings.

She stumbled out of the room she shared with Coach- and now Midorima-san- roused by the music of Midorima-san’s cell phone alarm, to stand at the communal sinks and stare at the mass that rose almost vertically from her head.

Kuroko left it. It usually settled by the time the mini-games started, and during training camps, as Kuroko was deeply aware, morning showers were a luxury sacrificed to shoveling down breakfast. She squeezed toothpaste onto her toothbrush and reflected on her life choices as she brushed.

Midorima-san came out with her basket of toiletries, took one look at Kuroko’s hair, and produced a hairbrush.

Kuroko tried to protest and promptly choked.

While she spat minty foam, Kuroko saw out of the corner of her eye someone step out of the room where the rest of Seirin were sleeping. She waved her arms frantically. Midorima-san, accustomed to dealing with a wriggly younger sister, did not even slow her pace.

It was Kagami-kun. He froze to see her being forcibly restrained by Midorima as the bigger girl relentlessly dragged her brush through Kuroko’s hair. She gestured to him wildly. Save me, Kagami-kun. Save me!

Kagami-kun went white and turned to creep down the hall. Kuroko glared at his back and tried to keep her head straight.

“There,” said Midorima-san, emerging victorious from her battle with Kuroko’s hair. “Isn’t that much better? You can be perfectly presentable if you put your mind to it.”

Kuroko put a hand to her stinging roots. Then she grabbed one of Midorima-san’s long braided pigtails, and pulled hard.

.0.

Murasakibara-san ran her hand down Kuroko’s hair and pulled at her tiny tied-back duck tail, sniggering to herself as Kuroko knocked the taller girl’s hand away.

Murasakibara’s hair was still long, still pretty. Her bangs had overgrown her face. The boy holding the ball was the prettiest Kuroko had ever seen, and Kagami-kun was breathing like his heart was breaking.

“Murasakibara-san,” she said.

“I said so-rrrrry,” she said, sing-song. Her eyes cut across of Seirin’s mini-team, and just as quickly dismissed them.

Kiyoshi-san stepped forward. His eyes were set and steady.

Kuroko looked into his face.

.0.

Touou, unlike Seirin, wasn’t staying overnight at the inn, so after Aomine-san and Kagami-kun had been forcibly peeled off each other (spitting childish insults over a lingering smoulder Kagami-kun backed up against the wall and the faint spark in Aomine-san’s eye), they prepared to go. Kuroko followed them to the door of the inn because Kagami-kun was still glaring at Aomine-san, over Momoi-kun’s head as he kept them separated. Riko had retired with a headache and the rest of the team was still drinking off their sauna competition by ransacking every vending machine they could find.

Imayoshi-san, settling the bill at the receptionist’s desk, scribbled onto a pad of paper as he waited for the cashier to count out his change.

“We’ll be seeing ya’,” he said, smirking at Kagami-kun and Kuroko.

Kagami-kun did notice. Very absently, he began to lick his hand of the remains of the juice can he had unwisely crushed. He still stared at Aomine-san, who sneered at him.

Imayoshi-san passed Kuroko the piece of paper, and ushered his team out with a wink to her, saying loudly, “Momoi, this was ah great idea.”

“What was that?” said Kagami-kun, finally tearing his gaze from Aomine-san.

Kuroko unfolded the paper. She gazed at it and was momentarily stupified. Imayoshi-san had awful penmanship.

“He gave me his phone number,” said Kuroko.

“Why did he do that?” said Kagami-kun, looking confused. Kuroko had no answer. She highly doubted the state of her towel-dried hair had inspired in Imayoshi-san a passion that burst to be expressed.

(Kuroko does not call.)

Chapter Text

“Hey,” said Aomine. Her voice was a little stressed over the phone. “You home?”

“Hey,” said Kagami, nonplussed. “Yeah, why?”

“You live at ######, yeah?” said Aomine. “Unlock your door.”

“You’ve been here,” said Kagami. He’d been sitting in the living room not thinking about anything in particular; it had gotten dark, and now he reached for the switch and blinked in the sudden flare. “It’s not locked. Why-”

He heard a click as Aomine hung up. Then someone tried his door, and Aomine walked in. Her arms were weighed down with huge shopping bags, which she thrust at Kagami unceremoniously. "I've been out for hours, she complained. “And it’s freezing, and everything’s so crowded.” She held onto Kagami and yanked off her boots, shedding bits of snow.

Kagami, his arms weighed down with shopping bags and blinking from the blast of cold air, stood perfectly still. Her hand was cold, clamped around his forearm in a vice grip.

Aomine freed herself from the boots and pulled off her coat, dumping it over the arm she’d used to stabilize herself and taking the shopping bags back. “Ahh, warmth,” she said.

Kagami hung up her coat, and then straightened her shoes. She began to pull shoe boxes from the bags and arrange them on the coffee table, but Kagami only had eyes for one thing.

"You're wearing a dress," he said.

"Hmm?" said Aomine, fluffing out her hair in the reflection from his window. The hoodie dress had short sleeves and an even shorter skirt, worn over a long-sleeved white undershirt and black tights. "Yeah, I was visiting most of today- if I wear a dress when I go it's an automatic extra twenty thousand. Jackpot!"

“Twenty thousand what?” said Kagami.

“New Year’s money,” she said.

"Just for a dress?" said Kagami. That seemed a little much.

“Mom’s mom,” said Aomine. “They pay me to dress up for her. Why, don’t like it?” she twirled, the smirk on her face saying that she knew he fucking loved it. The skirt flared.

“I just haven’t seen you in normal clothes before, I guess,” he said. His cheeks heated. “I thought you said you’d tell me when they-”

“Yeah, I kinda forgot,” Aomine said. She thrust her hands into her pockets. “It’s not supposed to be open today, but I had the money so I called this guy I know whom I get the limiteds from and got to pick them up before someone else bought them. But then it was late anyway, so I thought I’d just come over and show them to you, and we could eat and I could stay over, then I won’t have to go back this late.”

“It’s not even ten,” said Kagami. He checked his phone. “It’s not even nine.” That was… later than he’d thought.

“You have a spare bedroom anyway,” said Aomine. “I’m hungry, and everything’s closed.”

“That’s because it’s a holiday,” said Kagami. He wished that maybe he hadn’t worn his rattiest pair of sweats just because he wasn’t going out today.

Aomine threw herself into the chair, then stretched out her legs and sighed. “I’m sooo hungry,” she said, looking at Kagami.

Kagami checked his fridge. Then his cupboards.

“All I’ve got is noodles,” Kagami reported.

“I just had noodles,” Aomine complained. “What kind?”

“The shops weren’t open today,” Kagami said. “Instant.”

Aomine rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine,” she said. “But if there’s not enough, I’m not sharing.”

“There’s enough,” said Kagami, biting his tongue. He heaved the big pot out and set it on the stove.

Today the chair had its back to the kitchen area. Rather than get up or actually expend some energy moving it around, Aomine draped herself over the back to keep watch on Kagami, occasionally commenting if he pulled out an addition she didn’t like.

Kagami dutifully followed orders. Aomine put her head down and watched him work, the glint of her dark eyes the only sign that she hadn’t fallen asleep. As Kagami dumped in soup packets the smell began to rise in the air, and Aomine drowsily remarked on how much warmer she felt now.

She fell back down on the other side- and began to take her tights off. 

Kagami averted his eyes, with great effort. Aomine’s incredibly long legs flashed temptingly in the corner of his vision, but Kagami didn’t look even when a limp black sock flopped over the side of the sofa and Aomine grunted getting it off.

“Do you even realise this is not your house?” Kagami demanded. He stuck his face into the steam to burn away bad thoughts. 

“If this was my house it’d have more than one sofa,” said Aomine. “And my legs wouldn’t stick to the seats.”

Kagami wondered what he’d done to deserve this, other than beat her team out for the Winter Cup. He broke another packet into the pot. Another four packets. He was getting hungry again now too, so he might as well do it. He was considering breaking out the chopping board when Aomine decided to open her mouth again.

“Did you go out today?” she called. “Taiga.”

“Nah,” said Kagami. He wondered if he should correct her. Alex and Tatsuya both called him that, but it sounded- strange, coming from Aomine’s mouth. The sound of his name was softer in her voice.

“No visits?” she said.

“No,” said Kagami.

“No shrine visit?” she said.

Kagami shrugged. “I don’t go to those,” he said. “There’s nothing to do.”

"Wow," said Aomine, gazing at him. "I've finally found him. I thought it was going to be Kuroko or Midorima, but no, it's you. You're the most boring person alive."

Kagami flushed. “I just don’t like going out if I don’t have to,” he said. “‘sides, it’s not like I have anyone to go with-”

Aomine’s gaze had transitioned from awe to pity. “You’re boring and sad,” she said. “I feel so sorry for you! I feel a tear. Don’t look at me.”

“I went with the team to a festival this summer,” said Kagami. “That was near a- I just- I just usually don’t go, okay? It’s not a big deal.”

“I go with Momoi,” said Aomine. “I mean, I wouldn’t if I could avoid it, I just end up going with him. We went this morning. We went in the summer. We dress up and everything.”

“Bully for you,” said Kagami.

Aomine considered him, stirring meat in the pot. It smelled good. She was hungry. “You have to go to the shrine, too,” she said. “It’s New Year’s.”

“I don’t-”

“I’ll take you,” she said, and slumped back down in the chair. “I’ll take you in the morning.” She waved her ankle at him. Kagami wondered if she was watching him in the reflection from the french windows, like he was watching her.

“I want a western breakfast,” said Aomine. “Do you have bread? I like toast.”

“Just go home,” said Kagami. “It’s ready. I’ll bring it to the table. I don’t have bowls big enough, we’ll have to eat out of the pot.”

Aomine watched him lift it and put it on the coffee table.

Kagami broke out what he thought of as the ‘good’ chopsticks- never before used, not even for Seirin- and passed her a ladle to use as a spoon. Aomine raised her eyebrows but didn’t comment. She fished out anything she wanted, and ate it, even when Kagami had obviously been trying to get to it first. 

“Why’s your mom think the dress is such a big deal if you don’t,” said Kagami. Aomine had folded her legs beneath her, and the dress rode up her bare thighs. He’d never thought he’d see the day he wished Touou’s Aomine would be wearing a pleated miniskirt instead. He fished in the pot for another egg.

“It used to be?” said Aomine, contemplating if she could stretch out her legs without flashing Taiga, or if he’d even notice. “Like, I used to be really boyish so I wouldn’t wear skirts or dresses, and all that. And you know, the basketball. So they freak out now if I do anything girly, and I can get a lot of money for it.” She paused. She’d also been really boyish in that up until she graduated Teikou, she’d been more or less shaped like a boy. Fortunately, in the ensuing months the boob fairy had come to visit. That had been pretty life-changing for some faces Aomine knew from the tournament circuit.

“You got a lot,” said Kagami, looking at the stacked boxes. Aomine hadn’t opened them, like she had been waiting for him to be done so they could unbox the shoes together, so that she could show them to him.

She’d taken them out to show them to him. Kagami gulped soup. It was hot and salty, and as the broth was depleted their hands brushed reaching in to get more. 

“Don’t you, rich boy?” said Aomine. She cast a meaningful look around the apartment. “You must clean up around this time.”

“I didn’t get anything,” said Kagami. “I don’t see my relatives.”

“No parents?” said Aomine. She hung her chopsticks from her mouth to fold up her sleeve. “I mean, don’t they… leave something?”

Kagami was puzzled. “They don’t live here,” he said. “I don’t think they’ve been here. Dad’s in LA, and Mom’s- I think Hong Kong, this week. She called me at Christmas. I don’t really know their relatives here. We’re not very close.”

“Oh,” said Aomine. She slurped up some noodles. Her hair fell over her face.

“It’s no big deal,” said Kagami, shifting. “I’m used to fending for myself.”

Aomine stared intensely at him. “So what you are saying is that that bedroom is.. always available,” she said.

“That is not even remotely what I said,” said Kagami.

“You know you’re pretty close to the stadium,” said Aomine. They were almost at the end of the noodles, and she poked around dispiritedly for more meat. “I’ve been there like, every year, it sucks and it would be so convenient to not have to go all the way back home every night.”

“Maybe you’re not even going to get to the Winter Cup this year,” said Kagami. “What about that? We could beat you in the prelims and you’d be out.”

Aomine laughed. Then she tipped sideways, and kept laughing.

Kagami took the opportunity to drain the pot.

Aomine emerged still wheezing, and wiped tears. She looked into the drained pot and raised her eyebrows.

“You still hungry?” Kagami said.

“I’m good,” she said, and did not add, it’s good. Now you look happy. What would you have done, if I hadn’t come? I couldn’t even see the light from outside, I thought you weren’t going to be home. “Put it in the sink and I’ll show you the stuff I got.”

“You said you’d bring me,” Kagami reminded her, taking her cutlery and putting it into the pot.

“Shrine tomorrow,” said Aomine. “Shops won’t be open for a while, I’ll bring you over the weekend or something.”

“Ok,” said Kagami.

“I’m going to need to wear something of yours to sleep,” said Aomine. “I didn’t bring anything- and I’ve still got your shirt from that time.”

“Fine,” said Kagami. He felt absolutely fine.

Chapter Text

The envelope fell out of Akashi’s locker with a soft, crisp sound, floating to a rest a little way away. Akashi was brushing her hair back into pigtails and didn't seem to have seen it, so Nijimura paused in buttoning his shirt to pick it up and say, “Hey, you dropped this.”

Akashi paused. Her eyes evaluated him for an instant in her mirror, but this was enough time- as her hands were full with her hair, which had been misted and brushed and was now being smoothed into submission- for Nijimura to glance down at what he held and identify it instantly as a love letter. 

He wasn’t sure what told him this. Experience, probably. It wasn’t pink (unlike his) and it wasn’t sealed with a heart (unlike his) and it wasn’t scented with overpriced ‘lucky’ perfume (he hoped) but the careful neatness of the calligraphy and the weight of the paper in his hand, and also the way it had been slipped into Akashi’s locker while she was at practice, told Nijimura it was a love letter. 

It sure as heck wasn’t going to be a birthday card. 

"Leave it," said Akashi. "I’ll dispose of it shortly."

Nijimura looked at the letter. It grew heavier in his hand.

Murasakibara looked at it. “Another one?” she said, closing her eyes briefly before opening them again, as though practice had been too, too exhausting, and this was the terrible cherry on an awful day; too too stupid for words. She pulled her hair free and failed to do anything to neaten it up whatsoever.

"Apparently," said Akashi, letting a little bite seep into her otherwise perfectly even tone. Nijimura continued frowning at the envelope. It was pretty much unwritten law at the club that if anyone tried any funny business they would be taken care of, and no one would give a shit- and even then, they’d be lucky it was Nijimura who had gotten to them first. Sometimes Midorima brought blunt instruments to school. Akashi finished tying up her hair, glancing downwards a fraction of a second longer than she usually would have. 

Nijimura crumpled the letter in his fist, then instantly regretted it. Akashi might have meant to respond- or at least read it, for the sole purpose of knowing who to avoid in future. 

"Oops," he said. It was still salvageable. Probably. And no one had uttered a heart-rending sound of irreparable disappointment, so probably the sender was no one in this locker room, none of whom were looking at him, except the girls. The rest of them had buried their heads in their lockers or bags. This irritated Nijimura even more, and he chucked the crumpled paper into the waste bin.

Akashi watched him in her mirror. She brushed one long tail off her shoulder, and turned to Nijimura with a smile. “Made it,” she said. 

"Yeah," said Nijimura, and let his mouth ease out of irritation. He continued doing up his shirt, because he'd been standing there like an idiot for nearly ten minutes. "Fucking locker room.”

"It must have happened while we all busy at practice," Akashi said. She was still mad, Nijimura thought. Maybe. But if the whole letter in her private locker thing wasn’t dealt with by this time tomorrow, Nijimura would eat his wristband. "Nijimura-san, may I?"

"Sur- what?" he said, but Akashi had already stepped closer, and undid the buttons Nijimura had done up wrongly while his mind was elsewhere. 

The air of not paying attention in the locker room intensified. 

He felt a little weird having a gi- Akashi- so close to him while he was still sweaty. Akashi sweated like the rest of them, but once she was back in her uniform she turned back into something cool and untouchable, the kind of girl who was the only person Nijimura would ever have trusted with Teikou. 

Akashi worked quickly and efficiently. She never pulled on his shirt, and not even by accident did her fingers graze his skin through the cloth. She was very close.

"Thanks," he said, when she was done. He stepped away from her, firmly. Something light and green rose from her hair in a cloud, and scented the air between them.

"Of course," she said. Her lips were still curved but her eyes were cold, looking past him. Where she had not touched him, he felt the ghost of her fingers. "It was the least I could do."

Chapter Text

The new transfer student was staring at her. Murasakibara was used to the usual stares, but Himuro Tatsuya, second year, started at the top of her head and watched her all the way to the tips of her fingers, and he didn’t even seem interested in her body, which was a good trick. Murasakibara only took notice of him when he worked his way onto the team, and even then he did not avert his gaze, meeting her curious stare with a smile in his dark dark eyes. She felt them on her all practice, and obliged his rudeness by crushing him effortlessly; once, and again. This effort exhausted her: she decided to subside for the rest of the mini-games, and consider herself well-expressed.

Then Himuro Tatsuya, seventeen, got the ball.

(Murasakibara has seen lovelier, from her position under the hoop. Mine-chin with her basketball wild and free and gorgeous, the perfect arc of Mido-chin’s shots. Kisechin is prettier, and Akachin more beautiful. Murasakibara has even seen basketball she admires more than this; the seamless plays of Teikou in motion.

She stops, and stops, and stares.)

.0.

Himuro Tatsuya, transfer from America, introduced himself to her like he expected her to remember him.

(Which Murasakibara doesn’t, really, except that no one else will let her forget it. Also people have been shouting his name all practice, and hers.)

“Hi,” he said, with a melting smile. Murasakibara closed her eyes against it, opening them again to stare flatly at him.

His smile dimmed. “I’m looking forward to playing with you in future… Murasakibara-san?” he tried.

Murasakibara tipped her head to the side and surveyed him through her bangs.

“You’ll have to make the team first, aru,” said Liu, who’d been appointed some kind of babysitter on the basis of shared foreignness and age. “Don’t mind her. She’s usually like that, aru.”

“Why?” said Himuro, like she wasn’t right in front of him.

“She doesn’t like basketball,” said Liu. “Aru.”

Masako-chin shouted for them to get back to practice, their break over.

“Then why-?” started Himuro.

“We don’t ask,” said Liu. “Aru.”

“Also she’s a girl,” said Fukui, who had been listening in. Everyone, as far as Murasakibara was aware, was listening in.

“I noticed,” said Himuro, gravely.

“We also don’t talk about that, out of respect, you know,” said Fukui, kindly. “If you want to know anything or ask her out, it’s best to ask her directly.”

Himuro’s gaze twitched from Liu to Fukui. The vice-captain’s gaze never wavered. Liu had turned a look of disgust on his senior, and everyone around them was silent, waiting for the needle to drop.

“I’ll do that,” said Himuro.

Please don’t, thought Murasakibara, but couldn’t be bothered to mount any further pre-emptive defence.

.0.

Himuro Tatsuya, streetball veteran, proved himself much smarter than Liu OR Fukui by surveying the terrain before he attempted an assault. Murasakibara suspected the girls in her class of having been subverted to his cause by Himuro’s incredibly long eyelashes and the delicacy of cheekbones that could cut glass. The boys in her class (and otherwise) were too terrified of her to provide decent intelligence, but mysteriously, the girls in her class were convinced of her adorability.

He offered seaweed, spicy and cheese nachos flavour, left on her desk in the morning.

She ate them before she knew they were from him, crunching and making mental notes on flavour profile and textural consistency. Later in practice he walked up to her, and asked, smiling again, how she had liked the snacks.

“…not bad,” she conceded, because she’d never had the spicy before. Nacho cheese she had only found once, and that had been in Tokyo.

“I heard you liked them and I thought I’d get some for you when I saw them in the store,” said Himuro, laughably transparent. “That’s great! I’ll get you more, if you want.”

“Sure,” said Murasakibara, even though her brothers had always warned her against being easy, and let him put his towel in the spot next to hers.

.0.

Himuro Tatsuya, ikemen, joined her for lunch, which was to say that he waltzed into the lunch room during the first-years lunch period while Murasakibara was about eighty percent sure he should have been elsewhere, and presented her with more snacks, taking the seat opposite her before she could think of a way to dissuade him which involved no physical effort whatsoever.

He liked to talk, and Liu was happy to relinquish babysitting duties to Murasakibara, once it became clear Himuro was not going to suddenly wander into the girls locker room or something, and obviously infinitely preferred Murasakibara’s indifferent silences to any of the nice girls who liked tall boys Liu could have introduced him to, and therefore was obviously a glutton for punishment. Even Masako-chin approved, telling Himuro to stick with their genius first-year. She accompanied this with a look at Murasakibara that told the girl that she wasn’t going to escape this one.

Murasakibara yawned. Once Himuro had finished running through his ‘Alex Garcia’ stories, he prodded her for details of the Generation of Miracles, for simple things Murasakibara had thought that everyone would know.

“Muro-chin,” she interrupted him. “Can you get the sweet potato version, next time? I don’t like this corn chip type.”

Himuro looked very excited, which Murasakibara resigned herself to. She obviously was not getting rid of him anytime soon.

“Wouldn’t you like to call me Tatsuya, instead?” Himuro suggested. He leaned across the table towards her and his hair fell across his face, his visible eye focused eager on her expression.

“No,” said Murasakibara.

“Can I call you-“ said Himuro.

“No,” said Murasakibara.

.0.

For every one of Murasakibara’s former teammates he sees, the only ones who matter, the darker his eyes go. Murasakibara returns the favour when Masako-chin shouts at them to get Murasakibara out of her sight for refusing to play the Rakuzan match (as though once against Aka-chin wasn't enough) and the girl takes the opportunity to go snack-hopping, bringing Muro-chin along for responsible purposes. But he takes just as much watching, and when Murasakibara finds him, he’s with Kuro-chin, of all people.

Playing basketball, which is less of a surprise.

Kuro-chin, and the weaklings who lost to Mine-chin at the Interhigh.

After, she’s soaked, but Muro-chin runs a towel through her hair in a way that suggests he’s never done this, ever, unlike her brothers who manage it as easily as they do a ball. He’s all grace, except for this, and even facing Kagami Taiga, who has a too-open face. Muro-chin’s stare is very deep when he looks at her next, as though he’s figured out something about her from Aka-chin and Kuro-chin, or from their absence thereof. "It'll be nice to play seriously against them," he says. "Even that other guy, he was pretty good."

(Kiyoshi Teppei. That’s another person, whose eyes she hates.)

Chapter Text

Being friends with Takao is exhausting, sometimes more than usual. While Midorima disdains the addendum of ‘best’, their partnership probably at least edges on ‘close’, much as Midorima is loath to admit it. It’s different from the friendships Midorima has had until now, possibly because without Kise or Aomine preening in their miniskirts and opened collars or Akashi sweeping perfect through the corridors like a typhoon with perfect hair, the focus is now on her  and her alone as an aberration, easy to single out from the pack. Maybe it is because even though he is someone so different and so… strange, Midorima has no difficulty appreciating Takao’s companionship. 

It has its vagaries. Takao has intermittently wandering eyes, but Midorima has dealt with many former teammates fallen prey to their hormones; at least Takao doesn’t drool, even when his eyes turn warm beneath their lashes and his voice cracks, arrested by the sight of her. It’s nothing personal. Takao is clever or considerate enough to never mention it, and Midorima feels sorry enough for him to ignore his lapses- it’s not really his fault that boys, as Midorima has deduced from long personal experience, are animals. 

It's sustained contact with the rest of her so-called social circle makes Midorima appreciate him all the more. Other than the basketball, this entire gathering is a waste of time, though it's nice that Aida-san has arranged all this and that the Seirin second-years have cooked all this for them. But Kise, Aomine and Kuroko have degenerated in maturity, if anything, and if Kagami has even one thought in his stupid monkey head, Midorima has yet to see any evidence of it. Sakurai-kun, who does not, Midorima concedes, have the strongest personality, has retreated to the twin safe havens of Kaijou’s Kasamatsu and Seirin’s Kiyoshi. There’s another unbearable person, though Kuroko won’t hear a word against him. 

She doesn’t even know whose idea this meet up was, originally. Or why she agreed to come. At least she hadn’t been stuck anyone too annoying on her team- all ‘encouraging’ ‘Megane-combi! Megane-combi!’ chanting from the peanut-brained gallery aside. Hyuuga-san’s flying kick had beautiful. 

Takao, dispatched to rescue Penguin-kun from Kuroko’s ridiculous dog, returns to her side with enough kaarage to choke the puppy, taking it from Sakurai-kun and sending him on his way. Away from their seat. Midorima can't imagine what reason Takao has to be so competitive with Sakurai-kun, so rude.

"It’s good," Takao says, when she stares at him in mute reproach, and passes her another cup of drink. "Shin-chan, you know, this was great. We should do this more often."

Midorima is swept by a wave of cold fear. “No,” she says. “We shouldn’t.”

“I had fun,” says Takao, the pivot on which those two idiots had turned and fought, and enjoying himself all the time, even as Kagami and Aomine had fought each other for possession of the ball harder than their opponents. Midorima only hoped they could get away before a person of authority noticed the hoop coming loose.

Now, however, Aomine has primly tucked her legs under herself, and is stealing food from Kagami’s several dozen plates, and more amazingly, he’s letting her. It's almost fascinating to watch. Midorima has seen Kagami eat before, and it's as revolting as ever. She’s also seen Aomine eat, and the sly gleam in Aomine’s eyes, her widening smirk, is hard to ignore. If Aomine’s decided to torment him, Kagami’s life is only going to get hard. Harder. Good. He deserves it. 

Takao notices her looking. “That’s nice, isn’t it?” he says. “Young love.”

"What," says Midorima. 

"Kise let me in the pool," he said. "Dating by the end of the year latest, my vote is for three kids, hers is for four."

Midorima turns a Look onto him. “WHAT,” she says, too-loudly. 

"Shin-chan," says Takao, amused, and- surprised? "It’s cute."

"We’re in high school!" she spits, and her cheeks flame now, because- because- my goodness. Aomine has such awful taste. Kagami has such awful taste. She can’t decide who’s worse off, and how suited they are for each- ugh.

"Shin-chan," says Takao, and something in his mouth has curled the wrong way. "Shin-chan, it’s not so weird, it’s just- look, even I’m-"

"What," says Midorima. "WHAT."

But Takao thinks the better of whatever he was about to say and stuffs the onigiri into his mouth, and refuses to talk, pointing at the disgusting mass. “ORH, M’M OUHT JUIEH,” he says, and escapes.  Midorima eases her white-knuckled grip on the bench and thinks, no, okay, fine, it's not so weird, nor so unexpected. They ARE in high school, and Aomine and Kagami have looked at each other like this all year, longer. Even if Midorima can't see the appeal she can see the possibility, getting more and more real the longer Aomine bats her eyes at Kagami to distract him from his food.

Midorima is still wondering at what she’s missed and who else has gone insane in this crazy world, when Takao meets Kuroko at the juice cooler and that warmth flashes across his face again, tucked under his eyelids as he gallantly lets Kuroko fill her cup first. The something wrong in the set of his mouth eases, and Kuroko thanks him with that little almost-smile she has, barely there.

Oh. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

No wonder he'd reacted like that. It’s just embarrassing for him, Midorima decides, and he doesn't know how to tell her he has his designs on one of her former teammates as well. She won’t tell him she’s noticed, but she’ll- support him. From the sidelines. How could she not have seen it, the interest in Kuroko as a fellow shadow, now that she has her eyes open. Now that she knows. 

The sports tape shifts and pulls with the pressure she’s putting on it, her fist pulling it tight across her joints. She will have to re-apply the tape sooner than she expected. And find ways to steer him towards Kuroko, who couldn't do better among literally anyone Midorima can think of.

It’s going to be the least she can do for her friend.

It is sweet on occasion to play the fool.

Chapter Text

Takao was bored. He was okay with not having been chosen to participate in today’s practice games- courtesy of a stressed ankle, probably from jumping from the roofs a lot last night on top of racing Sakurai every sprinting practice, oops- but logging training videos taken during the camp wasn’t his idea of fun either, once he’d run through all the ones with Shin-chan in them and had to move onto the rest of the camp. Damn Akashi and her robot face, otherwise Takao would have snuck off to volunteer as water boy for Shin-chan’s group. He’d barely gotten to spend any time with her at all this camp. Every time he saw her, she was only getting more and more frustrated by trying to herd her group into order. The last time he’d spoken to her, she’d actually growled at him before turning back to her clipboard and shouting at Aomine and Naruse to stop fighting. 

Sigh. When she wasn’t busy with that, she was occupied with the Generation of Miracles- babysitting Kise, Aomine or Murasakibara to and from various activities, or playing shogi with Akashi. Meeting new people was fun and all, but not getting his valuable Shin-chan time was beginning to itch at Takao’s good-nature. At least they’d laugh about this afterwards. Or he’d laugh while she unburdened herself to him. He clicked another video clip and sighed as it started up. 

Aomine banged into the room. He figured she was here to get something for Momoi, but then she walked up to him and said, “Takao? Shuutoku, right?” pointing at him.

"Hah? Yes," said Takao, blinking at her finger. 

She crooked it at him. “We need you,” she said. “Get up and come with me.”

"Er," said Takao. Usually in his dreams it was Shin-chan enticing him towards- well, they turned out to be awful things like being attacked by frogs or drowning in pocari, but when the Shin-chan in his dreams beckoned, he could never resist her. Aomine was hot and all, but even if he’d- as he obviously had- passed out from boredom onto the laptop’s keyboard, Takao didn’t have any idea why he’d dream about her. Akashi, maybe. Kuroko, once. But Aomine? 

Aomine looked at him, then grinned, like she could read his mind. Takao thought he saw a flash of fang, and swallowed. She really was smoking hot. No wonder Kagami had spent half of camp arguing with her and the other half in a daze. “Whatever you’re imagining,” she said. “I promise you it’s going to be much worse. Midorima needs you. Get moving, Shuutoku-kun.”

"Well, that’s more like it," said Takao, and went after her. "Shin-chan want me for anything in particular?"

"Why don’t we find out," suggested Aomine, and led him to the other wing. Down the corridor to the girls rooms Takao began to hear… noises. They went past the bedrooms, to a room right at the end of the building. 

Kagami was braced against the door, his legs up against the wall, as someone- or something- inside fought to get out. 

"Wow, she’s still at it?" said Aomine. 

Kagami rolled stark and frustrated eyes towards them. “What took you?” he demanded. 

"It’s a long way to walk," said Aomine. "Don’t be a baby. There’s a whole thick door between you two. She can’t get you through there."

"She?" said Takao. "I thought you said Shin-chan wanted me?" A metallic noise was probably the blinds coming down, ripped from their moorings. 

Aomine’s brow furrowed. “Wow,” she said. “Midorima never told you?”

"She-" said Takao. "Told me what?"

Aomine and Kagami looked silently at each other. 

"Well, no time like the present," said Aomine. 

"She’ll kill him,” said Kagami. 

"She won’t kill him," said Aomine. "She’ll maul him a bit, at most. She needs him to cycle her around and she wants him intact to nuzzle and play ball with her and give her puppies, she won’t kill him."

Kagami and Takao both stared at Aomine. She pounded Takao on the shoulder. “She won’t kill you,” Aomine said, as though repeating it would make it true. “I’m like eighty-four percent sure.”

"What’s happening in there?” Takao said. As though reacting to the sound of their raised voices, it was ominously silent in the room, except for the occasional rustle of window blinds.

"She smells you," said Aomine, as though that was a normal, human thing to say, and she wasn’t about to throw Takao to whatever wild animal was in there. "Move away from the door, Taiga."

Kagami hesitated. 

"If we hear screaming we’ll go in after him," said Aomine, pulling Takao with her as she moved nearer to the door. "Unless you wanna deal with her by yourself, just let him in there, and everything will be fixed before Akashi gets back."

Before either of them could react past the moment of blind panic that attached to ‘Akashi gets back’, Aomine had shoved Kagami aside, opened the door, and thrown Takao in, slamming the door behind him again. 

Takao stumbled into the room. It was- or had once been- the big leisure room on every floor of the dormitory levels, furnished to accommodate teenage athletes with sturdy, practical furniture. Now it was a disaster area. 

The tables had been overturned, the chairs were askew and the blinds were hanging from the windows, one section ripped away entirely. Huge chunks had been ripped out of the sofa cushions, and here and there on the walls were the marks of claws, claws and

And-

Teeth. 

Out from under the table it- she- came, dragging the blinds in her clenched teeth. Narrow yellow eyes stared at Takao as she scented the air and a growl sounded deep in the heaving chest. There was no way Takao could have mistaken her for a dog- that muzzle, the conformation, those eyes, standing as high as his waist, and all solid muscle, fur a rich dark colour that shone in the light. 

"Shin-chan?" said Takao. The red mouth fell open and let the blinds drop. 

"He got it!" he heard Aomine cheer. 

The wolf lunged for Takao. He couldn’t move as she sailed past him and hit the door, scrabbling at it with her paws, adding to the marks already scored deep into the wood. She barked viciously at Aomine.

Greeted with absolute silence, she turned to Takao. He backed up slowly, until his legs hit the sofa and he realised he had nowhere to go. She paced towards him, low on her paws, staring at him with those yellow eyes. 

"Shin-chan," said Takao, raising his hands. She padded closer, tail held low, and sniffed at his hands. Takao breathed. 

She reared up on her hind legs, and planting her huge paws on his chest, pushed him over. 

Takao landed sideways on the sofa and would have immediately started freaking out except that then she climbed on top of him with all her furry bulk, dropping with a sigh and starting to lick the side of his face. 

He lay there and listened to his heart racing as a huge wolf whom he was fairly certain was Shin-chan (whatishappeningwhatishappeninghwhatwhatWHAT) lay on top of him, pinning him down, while licking his neck and occasionally sniffing his hair, warm and heavy. One arm was trapped under her body, but Takao lifted the other one and buried his hand in the thick mane of fur at her neck. 

Shin-chan shook herself and planted one massive paw on his cheek. She shifted, and it changed to an even bigger hand, pressing Takao’s face down into the shredded cushions. His hand was tangled in long dark hair, and mm, yeah- he saw through her fingers- she was naked. And on top of him. Maybe he was still dreaming. 

"Don’t look," she said, her voice rough. "What were you thinking? How could you let her do that? Don’t look!"

Takao closed his eyes. “Not looking,” he said, like that was any help when she was still on top of him. 

"Give me your shirt," she said. "I can’t see- are my clothes anywhere? My glasses?"

"I shouldn’t open my eyes right now," said Takao virtuously. "And I shouldn’t undress in front of a lady."

"I’ll kill you," she said unemotionally, and moved off him. "Take it off, and don’t open your eyes.”

"You’ve been naked all this time and now you go shy on me?” joked Takao. 

She punched him in the back. “Give it to me,” she said, and followed it with a growl that dropped right into the pit of his belly, right into, ooh yeah. He felt warm where she’d touched him. Her hair was still in his hand, long enough for him to hold. Could she smell this on him, the way dogs could smell fear? Midorima, so close without her clothes on, and apparently some kind of werewolf. He hadn’t thought she could get any hotter, but apparently when it came to Shin-chan there was always going to be new and interesting levels of toe-curling attraction to plumb. 

Takao gave her his shirt, which she put on. 

"It’s… not long enough," she said. 

"I’m sorry, Shin-chan," said Takao, dying several deaths as he fought not to turn around. ‘I’d offer my pants but this wouldn’t be good for either of us right now or ever."

"…You should get bigger shirts," said Midorima. 

"Noted," said Takao. 

"So…" said Takao. "Aomine said you needed me."

"I did not," Midorima said. 

"Obviously," said Takao. 

"I may have been," said Midorima. "Fighting with her."

"Fighting?" said Takao. Visions of naked girl wrestling danced in his mind. Mmm. Wait, no. Bad. Bad.

"Trying to kill," said Midorima, which really only made things worse. "Kagami got between us and they threw me in here." She cast a look around the wreckage, despite clearly not seeing anything. "I… is it pretty bad?"

"Poor Shin-chan," said Takao. Bless the Hawk’s Eye. "Yeah, you sorta- tore up the place."

"She was irritating me," said Midorima, defensively. "I haven’t been- this is- I didn’t-"

She put her head into the shredded sofa back. “This is so humiliating,” she said. 

Takao thought about patting her again- hah, petting her- but instead he cleared his throat and said, “so, you turn into a wolf.”

"Oh," Midorima said, muffled. "Yes."

"Is this… new?" said Takao. 

"I gained it in puberty," said Midorima. "It’s. Been a few years."

"And I guess…" he said. "All of you?" 

"Except Akashi," said Midorima. "Akashi is.. full-human."

Takao nodded. He’d just roll with all this. Talking kept his mind off having to think. “And the rest of you are…. wolf-girls!”

"No," said Midorima, that edge of snarl back in her voice. "I’m the only wolf. The rest are- Aomine is a lion and tiger mix, Kise is mountain lion. Kuroko is wild dog, and Murasakibara is a black bear." She paused. "Not just us. Ootsubo-san is a bear too, and Kagami is a bear and tiger mix."

"How does… that… happen…" said Takao. His mind presented him with a striped bear.

"Two human people with the ability to shift into different animals loved each other very very much," said Midorima, in her ‘dead inside’ voice. "It’s getting more common in this day and age, but sometimes there are- cultural difficulties." 

"Yeah, sometimes people are fucking dicks," said Aomine out of nowhere, and Takao jumped and Midorima jumped, and her back collided with his, her hand clamped onto his arm. "I have your clothes, by the way, if you’re interested in them. Taiga, I told you they wouldn’t be making out."

"Anyone could have told they weren’t going to be making out," said Kagami. "Takao? Are you- did she kill you?"

"Yes," said Takao, just for the ridiculousness of it. "Yes, I’m dead. Go away and leave us alone."

"Takao!" said Midorima. 

"Sorry, playboy," said Aomine, and Takao heard it in her voice too, that rich undertone of sandpaper tongue and shining fang. He had absolutely no problem believing that Aomine could shift into an animal. No problem at all. “But you and her need to get your clothes back on and act innocent when we say Kuroko’s dog tore up this room. You can awkwardly not look at each other’s bare heaving flesh another time. Call it that debt you owe to me square.”

"Where are my glasses?" demanded Midorima. "And what do you mean, debt?"

Chapter Text

Kise is growing again, and almost wishes that she won’t. She’s edging on too tall for runway, and, if she keeps up this basketball thing, too bulky, even though she doesn’t do anything but play pickup now and then, jog in the mornings until she breaks a sweat.

But Aominechi is still waiting, at the summer tournament, at the fall one, at the winter cup. They had played one last game after Kurokochi had left but before the team disbanded, and Kise had struggled to feel sadness that they were separating but only succeeded in finding joy. No more awkward practices, no more endless tournament matches, no more twinge of shame as Midorimachi swept past them with her head stiffly held up, as Kurokochi was simply, endlessly absent, no more Teikou, and Kise was already half-considering quitting basketball, for something anything else.

Aominechi looks at Kise like Kise doesn’t know what she’s talking about, which is nothing new but heart-thumpingly familiar.

“You don’t think you can take us?” she says, and throws the basketball up, up, up. Kise looks up and sees the light of the gym shining around it, so bright, and it looks, for an endless moment, as though it’s never coming down.

.0.

Kaijou’s captain is a boring-looking guy, the kind that girls laugh about when they laugh about the jock guys; too-serious, too-sweaty, and he looks at Kise like she’s some kind of alien character, but she feels alien now, emerging from one world to the next. The other members of the basketball club flinch when they see her, but this something Teikou’s Kise is used to, that Kise the famous model is used to. In the break they’ve taken from basketball, Kise has gone back to all the girly things she loves and rolled around deep, down to the jewels that drip from her nails. They’re cute, and Kise had wanted a change after winning nationals the second time, after getting back into modelling part-time. They don’t have to go to practice for real now. That’s swell. They go to other schools and think about futures.

He barely talks as they tour the grounds. They’re nice, though Teikou’s Kise wonders where it is the non-regulars train, and if those backboards are due a replacement.

(Where Kurokochi is going, but this is barely a guilty sting for Kise. It’s not like Kurokochi told them, or it would have changed anything.)

She can always quit later. It doesn’t matter what’s here, as long they’re waiting for her out there.

(Later, not much later, Kise decides that Kaijou isn’t going to be that bad.)

.0.

Kurokochi looks cute in Seirin’s sailor uniform, but something in Kise itches to see her former teammate in among the losers and misfits with one passable player here, if at all. He doesn’t impress her, though he’s big and loud and not bad at basketball, Kurokochi’s type all over again. But he isn’t them, and never will be. Kurokochi should be glad to come with her. Kise smiles her very best and dunks her very hardest, but Kurokochi still looks at her blankly, and refuses without waiting to think about it.

He’ll see, like the rest of them. There’s no one who can stand up to the Generation of Miracles. Kurokochi already knows this, but it won’t hurt to remind her.

“So for that,” says Sempai almost sweetly, “you skipped out on yesterday’s practice?”

“I was scouting,” says Kise virtuously. “Copy works better when I know what’s out there.”

He looks like he doesn’t want to let that pass, but Kise ducks out of reach and goes to warm up before Seirin arrive. They’ll all see. Kise doesn’t want to cede anything to anyone, and she isn’t going to lose this to some half-rate Aominechi replacement, to a school with no name and no history and only a dinky little gym to practice in, before the season even starts.

Kurokochi isn’t going to be enough to pull them through. Any of them.

.0.

After, Kise perches on the stone bench and purses her lips at Kurokochi’s hair, pressed awkwardly to her head by the bandages. Kise needs a manicure. In fact, she wants one. Losing sucks. Kise has fixed the redness in her eyes with makeup, sniffling extra-loud in the changing room so that no one chased her out while they pulled on their shirts and all crammed into the north corner so that she wouldn’t see their shorts while they changed at the speed of light, but she can’t escape that Seirin’s won. For the first time, Kise has lost. Kurokochi is as plain as ever, but it’s good, in its own way, to know that she hasn’t given up. Kise can respect that, and Kise always has.

“I was worried, you know,” Kise says, at last.

“...sorry,” says Kurokochi, and at least Kise has that, if nothing else. She’s still thinking about the match, about how maybe if she’d been faster, if she’d pushed harder and gone all-out...

Even if Kurokochi doesn’t want them, she’s not going to have her new light forever, either. Kagamichi turns up in time to hear the last part of this, and he scowls at her but Kise makes a crying face at him, and he shuts up. Hilarious.

Kise sniffs a little more and he colours. “Anyway, just because you lost, stop crying!” he says. Smooth, he isn’t.

“Enjoy it,” says Kise. Midorimachi’s steady gaze still lingers in her thoughts. That’s someone else they’re both going to have to get through. Kise is excited. “You won’t get a second try.”

“Oh yea- where’s Kuroko?” says Kagamichi. They look around. Kurokochi, barely up to some guy’s armpit, is facing him down and surrounded.

“Kurokochi!” Kise cries, and they charge as one to the rescue.

It’s not anything very impressive, but somehow Kise feels better once it’s over.

“You think you could have taken them, Kurokochi?” Kise scolds, but that’s Kurokochi all over, and Kise feels a warm glow inside. Kurokochi smiles, though not where anyone else could see it.

Kagamichi looks at them, surprised.

Kise widens her eyes. Kurokochi is probably thinking of scuffles with Haizaki, that asshole, and how Kise has just injured her- though not on purpose. Kise can do a lot more, if it’s on purpose.

Kagamichi looks her up and down. Kise has grown again and again and she’ll stack up against him or anyone. He hasn’t seen anything yet. “I believe it,” he says.

Kise smiles.

Chapter Text

Summer was upon them in earnest after the Interhigh, but the Kings did not get a break and did not expect one. They were at the school every day for practice, spending the morning in drills and lectures.

Eventually, even Nakatani got tired of rehashing match videos with them and released the Shuutoku regulars with strict orders to not unduly exert themselves further until practice tomorrow, leaving some of them to desultorily wander off to the air-conditioned school library to do neglected summer homework- or, more likely, sleep- and others to, like Takao, sneak a few more rounds of drills in the empty gym before the Coach came around to lock up the basketballs and frowned and crossed his arms at them meaningfully. The players took the hint, ungracefully, and wiped off in the locker room complaining about how Coach thought they were going to become regulars if he kept cutting off their practice time- they weren’t all like Takao, with his meal ticket. They grinned at him to show they barely meant it, and Takao took the ribbing in good fun.

“If you losers will excuse me, my meal ticket is going to be wondering where I am by now,” he said. Someone snickered behind his hand, which Takao ignored. “Tomorrow, same time, see ya.”

They smiled somewhat indulgently at his exit, which was less easy to take, but by then Takao didn’t need to look at them. If Nakatani had kicked them out, he’d almost certainly kicked Shin-chan out, and she had changing down to a science. (Takao had Midorima’s timelines down to a science, but that didn’t bear much reflecting on.)

Midorima, however, when he went to fetch her, wasn’t at her usual bench, drawing her damp hair back into a tight braid and tapping her feet over his lateness.

Takao pouted a little- he’d thought they were over Shin-chan not telling him where she went- and checked the other spots.

She wasn’t at the drinks machine considering whether to punch it for her change. Takao stuck his head in the library, and she wasn’t there looking over her work or picking out a complicated book from Shuutoku’s esteemed collection. She wasn’t in the staff room talking to Nakatani or any of the teachers, who adored her. She wasn’t back at the court she used for shooting practice. He checked her shoe cubby, and she hadn’t changed out of her school shoes to go home. Takao was in the middle of constructing a lurid scenario where Shin-chan had been forced by a freak accident to climb the gates out of school in a quest for her lucky item when a girl in his class walked by him to change her own shoes, noticed him sitting on the floor staring desolately at nothing, and said, “Takao-kun, are you looking for Midorima-san? She’s in the music room, I just saw her. They’re finishing up now.”

Takao immediately sprang up. He flashed a quick thanks to her and headed hotfoot for the music room, where some students that Takao remembered as part of the choir club were either exiting or packing up. Midorima was sitting at the piano with her spine ramrod straight, looking as cool and perfect as if she’d been sitting pretty in an air-conditioned room all afternoon while Takao had run around the school in a blind panic.

Some of the girls looked thrilled at his arrival, but not Shin-chan.

“You’re still here?” said Midorima, surprised.

Takao collapsed over three chairs and deflated loudly. “Shin-chan, I’ve been looking all over for you!” he complained. “You’ve been here the whole time?”

“I said I was,” she said, and turned her attention back to the girls. “Hmm? Ah, yes. Please leave the key, I’ll lock up and return it to Yamazaki-sensei. I believe we made a great deal of progress today. Yes, I’ll see you next practice.”

Takao eyed her balefully. “And when did you say that?” he demanded.

“Before I left for my shooting practice,” she said. Her left hand was unbound, and she- to prove she wasn’t beholden to him in any way- arranged and rearranged her sheet music, looking over it in a calm and placid way. “It’s not my fault if you weren’t paying attention, as should be perfectly obvious.”

“I was so paying attention,” grumbled Takao. Her fingers looked so long, and so pale. He sighed. “What were you doing, anyway?”

“I was asked to assist with the programme of the school festival,” she said. “One of my classmates recalled me speaking about my piano, and since her request was not too onerous, particularly for my skill level, I agreed.”

“You’re good at this piano thing?” said Takao, as though he didn’t already know the answer.

“I’ve taken my grade eight exams,” Midorima informed him.

“I don’t know what that means,” said Takao.

“Why am I not surprised,” said Shin-chan frostily. “The piano is one of my accomplishments,” she added primly.

Takao stifled a snort. “You’re such a proper young lady sometimes,” he said, and leaned back to admire her curves through the light summer uniform, the arrangement of her face. “Hey, I’m pooped. Play it for me. Is it hard? You’re staying back to practice it, I bet it’s hard.”

Shin-chan rolled her eyes. “It’s not hard,” she said, crossly. “The song is fairly common, and- you have no idea what I’m talking about, do you.”

“Nope,” said Takao. He yawned. After the adrenaline-filled rush up the stairs to the music room, he felt tired, and practice was catching up to him. It was peaceful here, as the school in summertime slowly emptied out and left them alone.

Midorima hummed to herself, a sweet low note deep in her throat. “I’ll run through one or two more times, then we can go,” she said. Her hands were already moving, and she played a bright, cheery song, some cover of an English song Takao felt he should know, at first simply and then with variations Takao did not know but could hear dancing under the melody. Shin-chan’s piano-playing was a little like Shin-chan’s basketball- beautifully precise, not a wasted movement, and total focus. He wished he knew more about it- more about her.

“I’ll come hear you play it at the festival,” he promised, when she was done. “You should tell me when you have practice for this, these chairs are really comfy.”

“If you like,” she said, and looked down at him as he pulled himself upright to leave with her. “Though obviously your time would be better spent in-“

“And I’ll record it and put it on youtube,” said Takao, as though she hadn’t spoken.

“I’ll kill you first,” she replied, and shoved him out the door.

Chapter Text

Himuro heard voices, and he took the stairs two at a time up to Murasakibara’s room, despite the heat. He was staying with her in her family’s house for the holidays, and even though he had said that Tokyo’s summer would be nothing to him, he found himself succumbing to the awful humidity, doing much as Murasakibara did- eating and sleeping all day. His laptop was open on her desk, and she’d turned it so the person on the screen could see her sitting on her bed- Himuro had been logged in on skype, shortly before he went down to get a drink.

“Oh, Muro-chin,” said Murasakibara, in the drawn-out, purring voice that meant that very shortly, even though she hadn’t yet figured out how, she was going to make him pay for something he had done. “You know Nijimura? You never said.”

“That’s -san to you, Murasakibara,” barked Shuu, seemingly on automatic. “Tatsuya- why is she answering your Skype calls?”

Himuro looked at Murasakibara, and she shrugged her shoulders. Under cover for months, they were very white and bare, the thin straps of her tank top slipping sideways. She was wearing her usual tent-like shorts, but as she was reclined on the bed they rode up her thighs, up endlessly long and pale legs, muscled and strong. Though Himuro doubted that at this angle, Shuu could appreciate the full effect. “I saw he was calling, and I thought I recognized the name,” she said. “Muro-chin, you know him?”

“We met in L.A. when he moved there a year ago,” said Himuro, pulling out her desk chair and sitting down. Murasakibara primly tucked her legs up under her. “He used to go to your school, right?”

Murasakibara and Shuu both turned stares on him worthy of scorching a lesser man to the bone. “I’ve told you all about that, Tatsuya,” said Shuu, suspiciously.

Murasakibara tipped her head back against the wall. “Hmm~ I’ve told him a lot about that time as well…” she said. Then she sighed heavily, and stood up. “I’ll go get more of the seaweed,” she said. “You two can… talk…” and she wandered off.

“Isn’t that nice of her,” said Himuro, turning the laptop to face himself.

“That can’t actually be Murasakibara,” said Shuu. “She got up. Willingly. And you’re in her room.” He squinted suspiciously at Himuro.

“She invited me down in the break,” said Himuro. “Her family felt sorry for me all alone in the dorms.”

“And this happens?” demanded Shuu, scarlet-faced. “You sit around in her room while she lolls about in skimpy clothing?”

“Well,” said Himuro, pursing his lips against a smile. “I wouldn’t like to venture a guess, Shuu, but I’m just going to say, she had a t-shirt on when I left the room. She must have changed before you called.” He thought for a moment. “Or before picking up your call,” he said, and laughed at the look on Shuu’s place.

“Man, that’s messed up,” said Shuu, finally.

“I don’t mind the view,” said Himuro angelically.

“I thought that the cute girl you met was going to be an adorable younger sis type who played great basketball with legs out to here and stacked like- you know what, I’m going to stop right there,” said Shuu, pulling his face down.

“That was before I found out she was taking her shirt off for men on the internet,” said Himuro, shaking his head.

“That’s so wrong, man,” said Shuu. “She’s a baby.”

“She’s one year younger than us,” pointed out Himuro.

“She was twelve years old when I met her and as far as I’m fucking concerned it’s going to stay that way,” said Shuu.

“This sounds like it would get weird fast,” remarked Himuro. “Specifically, in about a year, when I’m eighteen and she’s- by your logic- still sixteen.”

“I so cannot deal with this conversation,” said Shuu. “Is this seriously all you wanted to show me? I wondered why you wanted a video call."

“I wanted to show her off,” said Himuro, and he smiled a little, “I also wanted to ask you where you thought I should go in Tokyo, I only had a day here the last time.” His gaze turned sly. “We have so little time together, I’d hate for it to go to waste. I feel it really inconveniences her brothers if I sit around here all day, so...”

“She’s got… two? Three?” said Shuu. “They’re all huge.”

“Yes,” said Himuro. The smile did not drop from his face.

“You are such a ridiculous bastard,” said Shuu, laughing despite himself. “How am I supposed to know about date spots? Is Murasakibara even going to go out with you?”

Himuro started to answer, but a long muscled arm came down past his face to plant itself next to his computer, and Murasakibara was leaning over him, her long ponytail slipping off her bare shoulders, onto his, the strands cool on his skin. Rather deliberately, she propped herself up on him, as though daring him to collapse under her weight. “I don’t want to go anywhere with Muro-chin,” she complained. “It’s too hot.”

Shuu snorted at her, and raised his eyebrows. It was an interesting expression on him, Himuro found. Murasakibara’s face, too, was fascinating: over the petulant pout her eyes were fixed steadily on Shuu’s image, drinking it in. Himuro even suspected it wasn’t entirely for her own benefit that she was lying on his shoulder; it did interesting things to the deep shadow between her- admittedly glorious- breasts.

“We can go out for ices,” said Himuro, smiling at her. “Wouldn’t that be nice? Going outside with me wouldn’t be so hard, would it?”

Murasakibara shifted her gaze to him, and for a moment colour touched her cheeks. Then she abruptly let go of him and threw herself to the side so that she landed on her bed, burrowing into the covers.

“Ahhhh~” she sighed loudly. “Muro-chin, don’t ask me such things when it’s hot, I really hate to move like this.”

“Then, I think I’ll sign off with Shuu, and we can go- oh, he’s gone,” said Himuro, looking at his screen in mild surprise.

Flirt on your own time, Tatsuya, Shuu had written in the instant message box. Good luck.

Chapter Text

The inn was overflowing. Faced with a team of despondent, unresponsive young men, Nakatani had reluctantly allowed them an evening of free time in the middle of their camp, with the strict understanding that lights-out was at ten and that anyone who disobeyed would be running laps until they died.

(“How seriously should we take that?” Takao whispered to the captain.

Ootsubo looked at him. “You didn’t read the consent form before you got it signed?”)

The speed at which they revived had been magical. Now the hotel was suddenly overrun with more people than Seirin had thought was possible, and Riko had given in to the inevitable and let her boys and girl out to relax too.

“Not that you need it,” she said, crossing her arms and pursing her lips at Kiyoshi, who reclined in the inn’s sole massage chair like a throne.

He blinked sleepily at her, vibrating with the chair.

Kuroko materialised. “Coach, Kiyoshi-sempai,” she said.

Riko leaned against the wall until her heart rate calmed. “K-Kuroko-kun,” she said, “I thought you were with Midorima-kun? Have you seen Kagami-kun?”

“Midorima-san and Nakatani-sensei are having a shogi match,” she said. “Kagami-kun is still outside running.”

Riko nodded approvingly.

“Do you want a turn in this?” Kiyoshi inquired, fumbling for the controller.

“No, thank you,” said Kuroko, looking down at him with reserve and concern. He smiled up at her, and her gaze softened.

“Oh, that’s pretty,” said Riko, noticing that part of Kuroko’s hair was braided against her head, and held there with plastic-headed pins.

“Takao-kun did it because he was bored watching Midorima-san consider her moves,” said Kuroko. There was something more than the usual dryness in her tone: she had not missed that as his clever fingers sifted through her short hair, Takao-kun’s attention had been elsewhere.

As, unfortunately for him, had been Midorima-san’s.

“Cute,” said Riko, raising her eyebrows.

“I thought so,” said Kuroko. “I’ll return them to him before we retire,” she added. “Apparently he liberates them from his sister’s collection.” She paused. “Some of them may be Midorima-san’s.”

Kiyoshi tutted. “My grandma really treasures her hairpins,” he said, in his vague way.

“As does mine,” said Kuroko, her tone a mirror of his. “He assured me, however, that these won’t be missed.”

Riko glanced at her watch. “I’d better go call Kagami-kun in,” she said. “See you later- and don’t let him run into Midorima-kun again. We’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime.”

“Of what?” said Kiyoshi, blinking at her.

“I won’t,” said Kuroko.

Kiyoshi turned his gaze to her and caught her eyes. He shared a warm smile with her, and Kuroko turned away to examine herself in the reflection from the dark window. She ran her fingers over haphazard pins.

“It’s very cute,” said Kiyoshi, watching her profile.

Kuroko plucked out a pin at random, and was relieved when it did not catch and tangle on the rest of her hair. “But impractical,” she replied, pulling out more. “He’s not really very good.”

“He wouldn’t really be, would he?” said Kiyoshi.

“Not really,” said Kuroko, “though he does wear his sister’s headbands as well.”

“Is that a new trend?” said Kiyoshi, sounding for all the world as though he was seventy instead of seventeen.

“Apparently,” said Kuroko. She had almost all of them out now, and her fringe was falling loose against her face. She could see Kiyoshi-sempai’s head in the reflection from the window as well, his large hand on the massage chair’s armrest.

He was looking at her again. Kuroko turned to give him her full attention now that her task was done.

“Would it look good on me?” he asked, smiling a little too-widely, opening his eyes against the crease of his smile. They twinkled at her, little dark stars.

“I don’t know,” said Kuroko. Since he seemed to be expecting something, she chose one with a plain green head and tucked it into his fringe.

“Ooh,” he said. “Fancy.”

Kuroko smiled a little back at him, where she was almost sure he could not see. “It’s very cute.”

Chapter Text

 "You're crazy," said Miyaji.

“You’re insane,” said Autograph-sempai.

“You are supposed to be at practice,” said Ootsubo, lowering his photocopied study guide just a tad.

“We’re off because of exams,” said Takao, shrinking himself against the wall. “I’m just waiting for her to finish up her cleaning duty, and come out so we can go home together.” THere was a pause while he stared at them, and they stared at him.

“Oh my god,” said Takao. “Yuuya-sempai ratted me out.”

“He asked our advice,” corrected Miyaji-sempai, a muscle going in his jaw. “Sound carries very well over an empty court, and he can’t help overhearing when someone keeps muttering about his strategy to ask someone else, we’re not saying who, who may or may not be on the basketball team, out for a date.”

“Yeah,” said Takao. “I want to ask Midorima out.”

A chorus of groans.

“Well, apparently everyone knows,” burst out Takao. “So I don’t see why you guys wouldn’t.”

“You guys?” said Miyaji-sempai, a martial light in his eye.

Takao returned it in full. “I can ask out Shin-chan if I like,” he said. “Sempai.”

Miyaji-sempai’s shoulders relaxed fractionally, since he could not argue with this. Adopting a more reasonable tone, he said, “Look, you don’t even known she’ll say yes.”

"She gave me Valentine’s chocolate," volunteered Takao.

"Really?" said Kimura, diverted despite himself. "What was it like?"

"Pretty good," said Takao, shrugging his shoulders.

"What did it look like?"

Takao blinked very slowly at them, like a cat. "I can't remember," he said. "I ate it."

"You ate it?"

"What else was I supposed to do," said Takao, very, in the opinion of his listeners, callously. "Let it spoil? I just ate it. It tasted like chocolate. It wasn’t even all that fancy."

"Were there hearts on it?" said Miyaji.

"No," said Takao. "There was my name on it. I ate that too." Seeing the doubtful looks directed at him, he added, “...and...pink… sprinkles?”

“Dubious,” said Miyaji-sempai.

“Aw come on,” said Takao. “If we’re going to go by decorations like hearts or glitter then her little sister is already married to me.”

“She might be the easier catch,” said Kimura-sempai.

“Midorima kissed me on my birthday," Takao reminded him. She had, though afterwards she'd acted like she'd never done it, as though the brush of lips, feather-light, had just been a waking dream. Or a distraction for smushing cake into his face. Either.

"Yeah, the girls in her class told her to do that," said Kimura, wisely shaking his head. "After they heard she only bought you socks."

"Let's be fair, I would just have gotten myself 100 yen store ones," said Takao. He was beginning to get into the spirit of this. Waiting for Shin-chan to come out was grating his nerves to pieces, his heart beating in his ears. “Those ones that she got me were really soft and don’t hole as easily.”

“You rubbed them on your face, didn’t you,” said Miyaji-sempai.

“Don’t judge,” said Takao. “You rubbed the captain’s scarf he made for you on his face, and there’s no shame in that.”

“That wool was really soft,” agreed Kimura. “No shame.”

Ootsubo rumbled his thanks, but contrived through strategic placement of study guide to convey his continued unwillingness to participate in the interrogation of one of his former teammates.

It was evident that Takao would not be swayed from his resolution. His well-meaning seniors, self-dispatched on an errand of mercy, shook their heads.

"Well, what can she do?" said Miyaji disconsolately. "Reject you, refuse to play with you any more, ruin our team's chance of championships for the next two years and completely tank our school’s reputation for basketball? That's nothing."

"Break up with you, quit the team, take up with bad company and married unhappily to a rebound,” said Autograph-sempai.

“I think he’s the one way more likely to quit the team,” said a senior Takao didn’t know and had never liked. “Midorima’s got a bright future, and he just doesn’t have her potential. It’d be better if he stepped aside with grace.”

“Maybe she says yes,” said Takao. “We never break up, and no one leaves the team or drops out of school, and we date through college and move in together and we get married and have- fine I shouldn’t ask her out.”

“We’re not saying shouldn’t,” said Kimura, patting Takao's collapsed shoulder. “Just… maybe ease into it.”

Takao folded his arms, tucking them in about himself. “I’ve been easing away from it a while,” he mumbled. “I just- if I don’t, then I might as well never. And I won’t do that.”

Ootsubo-san, who, rather blank-faced, very calmly, had been carefully maintaining the appearance of sorting his notes all the time Takao had been talking, put them down and cleared his throat.

Takao looked at him morosely. "If those are your true feelings for her," he said, "then honestly and straightforwardly convey them to her. To do anything less would be disrespectful to her, and to you.”

Takao eyed him, and shifted his feet. “I know Coach told you guys he didn’t want anyone approaching her-” he said.

“He never said that to you,’ said Ootsubo. “After we met her, it was considered unnecessary to forbid any… enthusiastic conduct to the incoming club members.” Ootsubo coughed. “And of course, it would be unfair to forbid her romance when there is no such restriction laid on the boys of the team.”

He paused, looking Takao in the eye. “I am confident that no matter what the outcome, you two would not disrespect the sanctity of the court and act to disrupt the team or the club.”

Takao turned his face a little to the side, smiling a small, wry smile. “Shin-chan’s changing her shoes,” he said, eyes sharp as ever when it came to her.

“Good luck,” said Ootsubo, and walked on towards the school gates.

Takao seized the opportunity to escape through the gap that Ootsubo’s removal left and ran to Midorima’s side, where he greeted her lightly and offered her his arm to steady her as she exchanged her shoes. She took it without thinking to hold herself steady, and Takao grinned at her as she leant over, her movements fastidious and demure.

He was doomed.

“Sempai,” Midorima said, bowing her head slightly as she and Takao passed them. Takao waved as they glared at him, mutely.

Miyaji swore, suddenly, and his friends looked at him with concern.

“Aw, hell,” he said. “Good luck to him. They’re not bad kids.” His mouth twisted. “Yuuya’s just going to have to deal with it on his own. He’s gotta suffer a little, too. That’s just part of being a sempai.”

.0.

“What did they want with you?” said Midorima.

“Nothing much,” Takao said, blowing his fringe out of his eyes, which he knew drove her crazy. “Think the exam stress is making them lose it?”

“Entrance exams are a stressful time,” said Midorima. Her eyes turned away, thoughtful. Her voice did not judge. Takao watched the abstracted line of her profile, his heart in this throat. She was very poised, and very lovely.

Takao swallowed, and thought, be honest.

“Do you want,” said Takao. He was surprised that the words did not steam upon exiting his mouth, for all they burned on his tongue. “To go out sometime. After school, maybe sometime this week?”

“If you can spare the time, I’d be happy to accompany you,” said Midorima, looking at him. She held her rubber ball in her left hand, as high as she always did, and squeezed it absently. “We can study together, since you’ll obviously need it.”

“No,” said Takao. “I mean- go out with me. A date. We can study in it, but...” He reached out and threaded his fingers through hers, just their tape-wrapped tips. He hesitated, and curled his fingers inwards, holding hers tightly. “Like… not friends.”

Her fingers were slack in his. The lucky item fell to the ground, bouncing away. He chanced a look upwards into her face and beheld an expression of surprised horror, her eyes wide and terrified, her mouth curling down, down.

His own mouth fell open. “Shin-chan,” he said, hearing desperation in his voice. “What’s- what’s wrong? I like you, don’t you think we should date? Don’t you like-” me, he almost said, because he’d been so sure.

Or maybe he’d just let himself be sure.

She turned red, then white. “No,” she said, pulling her fingers out of his, and stepping back. “Oh, no!”

“Shin-chan,” said Takao. “Why- I thought-"

"Please don't," said Midorima, her shoulders, usually so indefatigable, starting to shake. "I'm sorry. What you must think- There isn't the slightest need-" she stopped, and Takao saw, to his horror, tears fringing her eyes.

“Please don’t,” she said, again, and backing away, turned on her heel and ran.

Chapter Text

Rookie cups in which the Generation of Miracles participated in, Narumi decided, sucked. Going up against Touou again, only without his seniors running backup and with fucking Aomine back in the lineup cracking her knuckles at him from across the court, sucked.

Running into Seirin’s Kagami outside the stadium and having a light chat only to have Aomine walk past him, throw her arms around Kagami’s neck and purr, “Hey, Taiga,” what the fucking hell?

“Hey,” said Kagami, looking embarrassed, but not embarrassed enough to take his arm off her waist. “Saw your game,” he added. “Nice.”

“What, against these losers?” she said. Josei would have bristled, if they had any collective presence of mind left. “You might as well have taken a nap.”

“Nah, I scouted,” he said. “It was, uh, good,” he said, looking at Narumi.

“What did you learn,” said Aomine. “That I’m still better than you?” She looked back at Josei, still staring at her, and smirked. “And them.”

Kagami stifled a laugh. Narumi gazed at him, wounded. Then his mouth caught up with his eyes. “Woah, woah, you two are going out?” he said.

“No,” said Aomine, her eyes crossing with annoyance. “I fondle every guy who stands here like this. I do this every year. It’s a disease.”

Kagami blushed, biting his lip. Aomine darted her gaze back to him and smirked, patting his cheek, before pulling her weight back from him.

It didn’t give Kagami much escape from her eyes, Narumi saw. She was so tall, her face still right up next to his, and Aomine wasn’t giving Kagami an inch.

“Yeah, we are,” Kagami said finally, and shrugged his shoulders in a no big deal, but kinda huge deal kinda way. “We should go, we’re just standing around here.”

Narumi managed a nod, and Aomine rolled her eyes and sneered at Josei in farewell. Well, at Narumi. Geeze, you comment on a girl’s cup size one time.

They walked away and Aomine reached down to grab Kagami’s hand, saying, “Why didn’t you just say you were cold,” fondly and sternly, threading her fingers through his.

“M’ not,” mumbled Kagami. “I’m more hungry.”

“You’re always hungry,” said Aomine. She pressed in close to his body as though she could give him heat. “Fine, let’s go.”

.0.

“Wow, they look really worked up,” remarked Kise, leaning idly against a pillar checking her mail. Roughly ten meters away, a crowd of boys in the uniforms or jerseys of various schools whiled away their time between matches or watching matches at the Rookie Cup by whispering to each other, glancing at them and generally being, in Murasakibarachi’s words-

“So annoying,” said Murasakibara, which might in someone less comatose been a complaint. She had at least three sports bags stacked up between her and the wall, two jackets wadded up make her a pillow, and a pile of snacks and food, which her weirdly identical teammates continually added to in order to sustain her through three or so hours between her match in the morning and her match in the afternoon.

You had to respect that. A master at work.

“Do you know what that’s about?” said Kise, glancing at the Yousen first-year.

“No,” said the Liu quadruplet. One of the Liu quadruplets. With their jackets zipped up, Kise was completely unable to tell them apart. He smiled brightly at her. Kise didn’t buy it for a second, and neither did Murasakibarachi. “But we do not know most of the people here. Perhaps if you asked them directly?”

“What a good idea,” said Kise. She scanned the crowd and saw a likely uniform. “Sakurai! SAKURAI-KUN! RYOU! TOUOU! OVER HERE!”

“Who?” said Murasakibara, cracking open an eye.

“He’s on Aominechi’s team and he’s Momochi’s friend,” said Kise. When Sakurai pointed at himself, face petrified, she nodded emphatically and gestured for him to come over. “He’s their shooting guard. You’re going to playing against him later today.”

Murasakibara shrugged.

“He’s not very tall,” the Yousen first-year observed.

“Y-yes?” said Sakurai, after fighting his way through the radius and flinching at the barrage of dirty looks being thrown at him.

“Why is everyone staring at us,” said Kise.

“Um,” said Sakurai, trying to think how to explain the entire concept of the Generation of Miracles. “You look very nice today?”

“No, more than usual,” said Kise. “And they’re really worked up about beating us, which I’ve… never seen before.”

Murasakibara snorted.

“Oh,” said Sakurai. “Maybe that’s because of that rumor that-” He paled. “N-nothing, it’s nothing.”

“I have Momochi on speed dial,” said Kise.

Murasakibara stared hard at him. He cracked surprisingly quickly.

“T-t-t-he rumor is g-going around that you girls will go out with them if they b-beat you!” said Sakurai, holding his hands over his head in case he couldn't get away in time. “B-because they’re saying that Aomine-san is going out with Kagami.”

Their mouths dropped open.

“She’s what,” said Murasakibara, startled into sitting up.

“That’s why?” demanded Kise. “But that has nothing to do with him beating her!”

“Well,” said Murasakibara fairly. “Since it’s Mine-chin.”

“Yes, but not a lot,” said Kise. She thought about it. “Um, probably.”

“Is that really what they are so excited about?” said Liu-sibling interestedly. “That Murasakibara-san and her very attractive friends might become romantically available to them if they’re beaten in a basketball game?”

“Yes,” said Sakurai fatalistically.

“That is very interesting,” he said. Murasakibara’s hand snapped out and grabbed his wrist.

“Stop that,” she said.

“I was doing nothing,” he said, indignantly blinking his soft dark eyes at her.

Murasakibara tightened her grip until he squeaked in pain and let go of his phone, which she swiftly caught and tucked away in her own bag.

“Terrible it is when a dutiful younger brother cannot even message his da ge and his upperclassman in peace,” he said sulkily, retreating to a safe distance and massaging his bones back into place.

“Aren’t there four of them?” said Kise, watching with interest. “You can’t stop them all.”

The quadruplet and Murasakibara looked at each other. “I can kill you all,” Murasakibara warned. There was not a particle of lethargy in her body, coiled like a panther to spring. She had already had recourse to demonstrate that three older brothers had left her well-equipped to make them regret trifling with her.

“You can,” he agreed. “But not in time!” He made a break for it, ducking through people with agility and skill.

Murasakibara watched him speed away with a frown on her face. Sakurai watched him speed away and noted the angle of his cutaway.

“You’re not going to go after him?” said Kise.

“Muro-chin is going to learn about that stupid eyebrows too,” said Murasakibara, leaning herself back onto the stack of sports bags to get more sleep. “He’s going to pick up his phone long before I pick up mine. Ever again.”

.0.

“Look at this way,” said Aomine. “I’m going to beat Murasakibara today, you’re going to get creamed by Akashi, we can go out afterwards and tomorrow you’ll watch me beat Midorima.” She kicked her legs, which also helped her foil Kuroko’s vicious aim. “Taiga’s meeting us soon, right?”

“He will have to attend the match, yes,” said Kuroko. “And we are not going to get ‘creamed’ by Akashi-san.”

“They’re going to destroy you,” said Aomine. “Are you going put that poor kid up against her again? That should be good for a laugh.”

“Furihata-kun is standing right there,” Kuroko pointed out coldly.

“I know, his ears are turning red,” said Aomine. She put her head on the side, eyes glinting wickedly. She looked so much engaging than she had when Furihata had first seen her, her eyes dancing and her face alive, so much happier. No wonder Kagami had- well, no wonder so many people seemed to admire her so much. Aomine readied her sports bag as a shield, and said to Kuroko, “Don’t you think you should get on that? I mean you rejected Momoi, sure, but if you don’t want this one, I could probably hook you up with- ow, ow, stop killing me help! Ah!”

Luckily for Furihata, someone else stepped in before he was obliged to.

“What are you two doing,” demanded Midorima, storming up to them. She looked very neat, and very prim, in coat, dress and boots. “Why are you squabbling like children? Why haven’t you gone inside? There’s still matches going on, aren’t there? Aren’t you playing today?”

“Kise came to watch our games,” said Aomine. Kuroko sat primly and tried to look as though she hadn’t been trying to drag Aomine across the bench by her hair. “She’s inside. She’s texted that like eight times.”

Midorima hmmed. “Move over,” she said to Aomine, and sat down. “What were you two fighting over?”

With Midorima safely in the line of fire, Aomine said, “Tetsu needs a boyfriend. Oh, and I have one now.”

“Woo, people owe me money,” said Takao. He put his phone back in his hoodie pocket. “Congrats!”

“Wait, when did you get here,” said Aomine.

“I’ve been standing here this whole time,” said Takao. He looked at Kuroko, and laughed with her small smile. “Yeah, feels weird to be the one saying that.” Noticing that Midorima was still blinking in frozen repulsion, he took the chance to add, “Do you know there’s a rumor going around that if you girls get beaten in a match you’ll accept a love confession?”

“Wow,” said Aomine. “Where does that leave you, hotshot?”

“Back to my middle school vision board,” said Takao promptly.

“How interesting,” said Kuroko. “Where did you hear it from, Takao-kun?”

“Everywhere,” said Takao. “Also, Kise just mailed me asking for confirmation, and basically I have no way to reply to this text without copious emoji.”

“Probably that Josei perv,” said Aomine. “He saw me and Taiga going on a date last night and I think his eyes popped out of their sockets.” She looked sideways at Midorima and nudged her in the ribs. “Like this one here. Loosen up.”

“That’s not a fit topic of conversation,” hissed Midorima. She glanced furtively around. “For public.”

“You know we didn’t invite you to sit with us, right,” said Aomine.

“It’s still not proper,” said Midorima. “How can anyone pass around such a ridiculous rumor? It’s nonsense! It makes no sense.”

“In middle school, there was seriously a rumor that you guys beat up some seniors with a baseball bat to get your regular spots,” said Takao consolingly. “There’s always been crazy rumors about you guys.” He laughed. “I mean, baseball bats. How crazy can you get?”

Kuroko, Midorima and Aomine dissolved into giggles.

“Yes,” said Kuroko, regaining control of herself first. “Crazy.”

Takao and Furihata locked gazes. That was the most disturbing thing either of them had ever seen. Desperately, Furihata wished for Kagami to arrive. Takao adroitly changed the subject.

“Anyway, it’s no big deal. It’s just one of things people like to believe is true,” he said. “Don't let it bother you, Shin-chan.”

“It does because she’s hot for you and this is messing up her fifty-step plan,” said Aomine. “She’s rabidly possessive that way. You’re going to be whipped the rest of your life.”

Midorima, scarlet, snapped, “I don’t! Aomine! How dare you speak that way!”

“What, come on,” said Aomine. “Like we can’t tell? Like he can’t tell?” She pointed to Kuroko. “Even she can tell.”

Kuroko pulled herself further into her jacket and refused to get involved.

“There is Akashi,” said Midorima with dignity. “I will go say hello.” She stood up, arranged the skirts of her coat and looked at Takao.

“I’m kind of afraid of her,” explained Takao. Next to him, almost totally unnoticed, Furihata nodded emphatically.

Midorima narrowed her eyes at him, but apparently found this acceptable. She cast one more glare at Kuroko and Aomine impartially, ordered Takao not to listen to any more of Aomine’s terrible lies, and walked off to speak to Akashi.

“So?” said Aomine. They both stared at Takao with expressions of fake innocence.

“So what?” said Takao.

They continued to stare at him. He shoved his hands into his pockets and grimaced.

“So nothing,” he said. “Nothing’s happened. Nothing’s changed. Don’t you guys have matches to get to today? Matches we’re here to watch you guys lose?”

Aomine laughed.

“Takao-kun,” said Kuroko. “What I think Aomine-san is trying to say, but really should not, is that perhaps you should take a more active role in your courtship of Midorima-san.”

Aomine nodded in agreement, wincing over the fist that had been planted in her stomach.

“No,” said Takao, after pretending to consider it. “Look, it’s not.. happening. It’s just not happening. Mind your business.”

“Okay lemme put it this way,” said Aomine, totally disregarding his words. “For like ten minutes that you were standing there watching her nag us. And you didn’t look at her boobs once.”

“Uh,” said Takao.

“I hit puberty with her in the same class,” said Aomine, managing to convey in her voice the suffering and despair of this experience. “She had all those fancy etiquette and vocal lessons about standing up straight and projecting her voice through her chest. You didn’t even look once! You pass. Go for it.” She turned and looked at Furihata, smirking as he shrunk away. “That one doesn’t pass. I no longer think Tetsu should try for him, she deserves much better. -OW!”

.0.

“Ah, Midorima,” said Akashi as the other girl walked up to her. Stalked up to her. This was obviously going to be one of those long and one-sided conversations which Akashi had thought she had left behind in Teikou. Akashi dismissed the first-year Rakuzan players who had come with her. “You may all change first,” she said. “I will enter when I arrive.”

They hurried off obediently. “You are not here with your teammates?” said Akashi, even though Midorima knew perfectly well that Akashi could see him still there, talking and laughing with the other two.

“I made an excuse to leave him with Kuroko,” said Midorima. “Unfortunately Aomine is also there, but I made sure he knows not to take her seriously.”

“...about what, exactly,” said Akashi.

“She is engaged,” said Midorima heatedly, “in making spurious, disrespectful allegations about me. About us. Not us. The state of our relationship.”

“Interesting,” said Akashi.

“No!” Midorima said. “From the way she talks, you would think that I’m shamelessly throwing myself at him. Constantly!”

“...you’re not?” said Akashi.

Midorima glared at her so-called best friend- an incredibly overhyped label. “I’m not,” she said. She folded her arms angrily. “And of course, there are now some even more ridiculous rumors about us.”

Akashi shrugged the shrug of someone who only ever introduced herself for the sake of politeness. There was obviously no need to discuss the actual subject of the rumor with her. Movement caught her eye, and they watched a depressingly familiar shape get off the bus and start running towards the stadium.

“This is all,” said Midorima passionately, “his fault.”

“That seems reasonable,” said Akashi. They watched Kagami race up to them, and when he would have passed them, Akashi reached out a hand and yanked him back by the strap of his sports bag.

“Oh,” he said, as he awkwardly recovered his balance. “It’s you two. Hi.”

“Why are you running?” said Midorima. “Isn’t it a bit late to be working on your stamina?”

“No, I was supposed to meet Kuroko and Aomine half an hour ago and I’m late,” said Kagami, huffing. “What’s wrong with my stamina?”

The two girls shared a meaningful look and then tactfully changed the subject.

“Do you often make a habit of arriving late to your important matches?” said Akashi.

“That’s very irresponsible,” said Midorima.

“I just- I just had to pick up something before it was gone from the store,” said Kagami, recovering his breath. “I only saw it last night.”

“Then why didn’t you get it last night when you saw it?” said Midorima. Kagami glared at her.

“Midorima, please be sensitive,” said Akashi. She turned her gaze to Kagami. “Well?” she said. “Do explain yourself.”

Kagami groaned, but opened the plastic bag to let them peek in. “Look, it’s not- I was out with Aomine last night, and she kind of spent a long time looking at it. So I thought she might like it. She was bugging me for candy for White Day, but I thought maybe… it’s not weird, right?”

“Oh,” said Akashi, without any noticeable change in vocal inflection. “That is an attractively wrapped jewelry box.”

“It’s our one-month, too,” said Kagami, blushing. “Cause you know, Valentine’s is a month ago, and we-”

“Aomine has a boyfriend she is getting gifts of jewelry from,” said Midorima to Akashi in a dead voice.

“Life is a featureless wasteland,” agreed Akashi. She closed the bag for Kagami and patted him on the arm. “I’m sure you’ve gotten her a lot of a candy as a backup present.”

“Yes,” said Kagami. Even this did not manage to dent his good mood: he was practically glowing. It was very annoying.

“That’s very good,” said Akashi, tone still perfectly level. “Shall we enter the stadium? I believe you are overdue to be painfully defeated by me.”

“Wait, I need to hide it in my bag first, it’s supposed to be a surprise,” said Kagami. “Is she looking this way? And you’re not going to win, we’re going to win. We’ve totally done it before. We’ll, uh, do it again.” He was distracted, trying to put his love-gift into his chaos of a bag.

The two girls looked at each other.

“Make him suffer,” said Midorima darkly.

“Yes,” said Akashi.

Chapter Text

“So,” said Kise, batting her gold-tipped eyelashes at Midorima and Takao. “Which game are you going to watch, Midorimachi?”

“Whichever one you are not,” Midorima replied.

“Smart, divvy up the labour,” said Kise, unfazed. She dropped an arm around Takao’s shoulders. “I’ll just take this one, and you can go watch Akashichi! Come on, the games are starting!”

Takao, faced with an arm like an iron bar around his shoulders, waved helplessly to Shin-chan as he was dragged away. Midorima looked like she would have liked to go after him, but the whistle blew from the Rakuzan-Seirin side for the players warming up to clear the court, and she abandoned him to Kise’s tender mercies.

“Boo Shin-chan,” said Takao, which he felt just about summed it up.

“Midorimachi is so mean,” agreed Kise, tossing her head with a sigh. “Did she blow a gasket when she heard about the rumor?”

“You’ve forgotten to account for that little thing where you Generation of Miracles can’t be beaten by anyone else,” said Takao. “Except for that one time you were, but there was Kuroko there so it doesn’t count anyway.”

“True,” said Kise thoughtfully. She sat down, releasing Takao into the seat next to her. “You probably don’t count for me either, I never played in that game.”

“Curses,” said Takao, rubbing his collarbone. “We could settle it now, if you like. In those shoes I could probably win.”

“But not against Midorimachi,” said Kise smugly. She looked down at her high-heeled boots.

“No, she’s too good on those stilts,” agreed Takao. “Why is that, anyway? I don’t know how girl’s shoes work.”

“It’s the posture,” said Kise, who had learned how to walk like Midorima once, and never again. “Ballet.”

“Serious?” said Takao.

“I’ve been in that house,” said Kise. “I’ve seen the photo albums. She dropped it to focus on piano in elementary school.”

“How would she fit all that hair into a bun,” said Takao, awed.

“How else does she bend that way?” said Kise. She smirked at his deer-in-the-headlights face, laughing. “Wait, they’re starting, they’re starting! Go either of you two!” She raised her arms and whooped.

.0.

On the court, neither Murasakibara nor Aomine were paying attention to the stands.

“Really, Mine-chin,” said Murasakibara, who had taken one look at Kagami snuggling with Aomine as they came in from the cold and felt all her dislike of him return in one fell swoosh. She felt irritated, itchy in her own skin. Muro-chin had left messages, possibly many of them. She blamed Kagami. She blamed Aomine. She blamed everyone. “Really? Him?”

Aomine shrugged. “He’s better than yours.” she said.

“Muro-chin is not mine,” said Murasakibara. She glared at Aomine. The Liu Quads, arrayed behind her, snickered. Sakurai shivered a little and focused on the one he had been told thought he could make three-pointers. Momoi was on the bench muttering to himself as he tried to parse the jersey numbers.

Aomine pointed at Murasakibara and smirked. “I didn’t even say which one! Guess we know who you like.” Though she still wasn't sure she liked Taiga's brother, with his eyes and his smile, how he talked in circles around Taiga and how he sometimes looked at Murasakibara when he thought that only she was watching, like he was going to take his time consuming her.

Murasakibara clenched her fist. “One more word, Mine-chin,” she said. “One more word-”

“You girls break it up ,” said the referee standing between them holding the basketball. They blinked and looked at him. “If I have to throw this thing more than once, I'm not going to like you two."

“Fine,” they answered in unison. Aomine grinned a long sharp slash across her face as she bent to leap, and Murasakibara lifted her lip in a sneer.

.0.

Furihata sat very quietly on the bench and endured the glares of the entire Rakuzan first-year Rookie Cup team. There were only five of Seirin, the bare minimum to compete in the tournament, and Rakzuan's fifteen first-years were all tall and fit, to say nothing of their cheering squad, who had congregated on the benches and were also, unsurprisingly, glaring at Seirin.

Well, maybe a little surprised.

"Why are they all so angry," Fukuda whispered to him.

"I don't know," he whispered back.

"Why are you whispering," said Kagami. They both flinched.

Furihata tried to point at the Rakuzan team without actually pointing at the Rakuzan team. He failed, and their stares of loathing deepened.

"Oh yeah," said Kagami, who predictably had only been looking at Akashi-san as she briefed her team. "They're kind of worked up."

"They must believe that there is some truth to the rumor about the Generation of Miracles and being defeated," said Kuroko.

"What rumor," said Furihata, startled.

In a few succinct sentences, Kuroko filled the rest of the first-years in. They were shocked, shocked and appalled. When Furihata found himself shaking hands with Akashi-san in the line-up, he looked into her serene face (Kagami grimaced as his opponent tried to crush his hand, and Kuroko's hand was delicately shaken in a terrified someone's giant hairy paw) and felt an apology welling out of him.

"I-I-I'm so sorry!" he said. "I definitely don't mean- I mean, it's not like that I think that- not that you're not very- but I would never- I mean if you didn't, I would never- I'm sorry! I'm very sorry," he finished, miserably.

Akashi-san was silent for a few moments. "Please excuse me," she said. It sounded perfectly polite and gracious. She still had a grip on his clammy hand. "What are you referring to?"

Furihata digested this. "Um," he said. "Uh. I don't think I-"

Akashi-san raised an eyebrow.

"The... rumor... about... dating..." he said.

"Oh, that," said Akashi-san. Furihata stared at her. He wouldn't have expected her to oh, that, anything of the kind. "Of course, it is unfounded and ridiculous." She raised her voice just a little, causing her teammates to go pink. "But I do think," she continued, thoughtfully, "that that would be the absolute basic, wouldn't you? The ability to match someone on their own terms."

Furihata stared at her, mouth open. He was reminded irresistibly of someone- who for some reason at this point totally escaped him- saying be the best at something. Become number one.

Akashi-san's eyes glinted at him, her right eye, then her left. "Let's have a good game," she said. She smiled, and Furihata felt his heart sink.

.0.

Midorima sat in the stands and fumed. She touched her compact lucky item, again and again. She had no doubt that every single boy she saw who did a double-take at her was aware of the rumor- she knew that rumors about them always spread like wildfire, the more outlandish the better. As though they'd just been biding their time to turn this into an elaborate mate-seeking Olympic event. As though!

But it was more than that, of course. Kise and Aomine and Akashi had all laughed it off, but they could, they were the ones who could. Murasakibara, as usual, only cared about her snacks and the next game. Kuroko- well, who even knew with Kuroko. Even though Midorima had created an opportunity for her and Takao to talk, he had clearly capitalized poorly on it. She bitterly knew that she had done all she could and yet, not enough to encourage that. If only Midorima did not know that everyone thought that Takao liked her- worse, that they all knew she liked him, and were doing their best to communicate it to him at every possible juncture. It had to be awkward for him. It was so awkward for her.

She flipped open the compact and studied her complexion, trying vainly not to think about what Kise would be saying to him, Kise who modeled part-time, who was so surrounded with fawning admirers that a few more made no impression at all. Kise thought that you could just crook your finger and have men fall panting at your feet. That no one could have any choice but to love you. It wasn't like that for everyone. It wasn't like that for Midorima.

Midorima looked at herself in her compact. She had not put on any makeup but tinted lip balm for the dry air. She had left her hair in its everyday braids. She had dressed practically for the weather. There was nothing about Midorima which was alluring.

That figured, didn't it? She wasn't Kise, with all her immaculate golden loveliness. She wasn't even Aomine, who could drop her eyes and put her lip between her teeth and instantly concentrate the attention of a room. She certainly wasn't Akashi, who managed to combine the appearance of being a delicate fairy among the boys on the Rakuzan bench with the distinct impression that she was dying to punch someone in the face. Somehow many admired that, boys and girls.

Midorima was just an old-fashioned, frumpy, overlarge girl who liked (again) a boy who was only being kind to her. One of the kindest people she knew. She wouldn't mistake it for something else. She wasn't in the basketball club for as frivolous a reason as that.

.0.

“Well,” said Kuroko, lying over two benches in the hallway. “That was disappointing.”

“Yes,” said Kagami, lying on the floor.

“Come on,” said Furihata, who had managed to prop himself up against the wall. “We did... we did sort of good!”

“We shouldn’t’ve let it go into overtime,” said Kagami. “Sorry, guys.”

“You did pretty good,” said Kawahara.

Kagami, exhausted by the effort of speech, put his head back down and looked up into Aomine’s face.

“You’re backwards,” he said.

“Why are you on the floor,” said Aomine, looking down at Kagami. She nudged him with her foot. “Taiga, get up or I’ll step on you.”

With some groaning and muttering, Kuroko and Kagami were both restored to upright positions.

“There, there,” said Aomine, smoothing Kagami’s collar. Then sitting on his lap. “That bad?”

“Pretty bad,” said Kagami.

“Aw, baby,” she said.

Kuroko abruptly stood up. “I see Kise-san over there with Murasakibara-san, excuse me,” she said.

“You’re not going to wait around for Akashi?” said Aomine. “They were all waiting outside for her to change when we got out, it was kind of sweet.” She squinted. Kagami stared besotted at her squint. “If kind of stupid. What, they think she’s never seen boxers?”

“I will not,” said Kuroko with a shudder, and walked away.

.0.

Kise greeted her with a smile and a wink, doing a little dance as she pointed at Aomine and Kagami sitting together talking softly. “So cute!” she said. “So cute!”

Murasakibara pantomimed throwing up.

“They are cute,” said Kuroko, allowing a momentary inward struggle.

“Takao left me to go trotting after Midorimachi,” said Kise, smugly. “Kurokochi, we should get working on that. He looks so lost when he’s not with her.”

Murasakibara’s face twisted even further. “So gross,” she mumbled, digging in her chip bag.

“She likes him too,” Kise protested.

“So?” retorted Murasakibara. She scowled at them, and at the stadium, impartially.

“So don’t you want her to be happy?” said Kise. “She could have gone for that months ago!”

“She thinks he’ll laugh,” said Kuroko quietly. “She’s worked so hard to be one of them, and she won’t destroy what they have.”

“He won’t laugh,” said Kise. “She’d kill him for it.” Even as she said it, Kise seemed to realise that this was not the good end either, and she sucked her lip into her mouth, heedless of her shiny gloss.

“It would be worse,” said Murasakibara. She hated the sound of her voice. She would say this or the words would die in her throat and stick in her forever. “If he didn’t laugh. If he was just sorry.”

.0.

True to Aomine’s vague hint, Akashi had emerged from the bowels of the stadium to wait for her team, and now occupied her time to spare by staring at him and Aomine. The other Seirin first-years scrambled out of her way, but she did not seem to notice them.

“It’s not like we’re slobbering all over each other,” said Aomine indignantly. “This is cuddling. We have clothes on. It’s cute.”

“You’re sitting on his lap,” Akashi pointed out.

“I’m comforting him,” said Aomine. “He just lost terribly. Look at him. It hurts so bad.”

“Hey,” said Kagami, his brows drawing together in a frown, and apparently forgetting his time as a human rug.

“Shhh,” said Aomine. She pulled his head to her shoulder and stroked his hair. “There there. There there.”

His mouth full of jacket, Kagami was unable to protest, instead closing his eyes in resignation and relaxing as she touched him, letting out a sigh. He met Akashi’s eyes over Aomine’s shoulder. They were cold, very cold: cold enough to burn.

Akashi’s eyes transferred to Aomine’s head and lit, ever so slightly. Aomine had complained about not being on the roster for Nationals: they had waited a long time for it to come to this.

Kagami wasn’t going to miss it for anything.

“Stop fondling Kagami Taiga before he explodes,” said Akashi, dry.

Aomine pouted and gathered Kagami closer. Which only made it worse.

“Do you have any idea how times I got called a dyke before my breasts came in,” she said. “And probably after that too, just not to my face. Let me have this. I’ve earned it. This is my time.” She put her chin on top of Kagami’s head and glared at Akashi.

Akashi’s eyes flicked upwards for a single fleeting millisecond. It took Kagami twice that to realise that the ice queen was rolling her eyes at Aomine. That, almost as much as the warm weight of Aomine in his arms, her hand still absently crumpling his hair, made him smile at her. Both of them.

“Next time,” he said, his voice cracking.

Aomine smiled, shifting on his lap. “Next time,” she said. Her voice was soft and warm, a promise and a threat.

Chapter Text

“Shin-chan,” said Takao, hanging off the railing at the top of the seats. “There you are.”

Midorima started. She stood and shook out her hair and clothes, settling them back into place. “Yes,” she said. “Yes.” She began to pick her way out of the empty stands.

Takao stretched out his back, still slung over the railings and watching the empty court absently. His hair fell over his eyes but he ignored it. As she drew even with him he glanced up at her through those too-long bangs, smiling. “How was it?” he said, his voice warm.

A hand clenched on her heart, ice-cold.

“Acceptable,” she said, turning away. “Seirin’s lack of reserve players was always going to be their sticking point. But they’re coming along better than I would have expected.” Even Akashi, who had flicked a look up at Midorima in the stands, almost-laughing.

“Touou creamed Yousen in the end,” reported Takao. “Aomine tied Murasakibara up and then the rest of her team went to town on them. She got really pissed off.” There was no need to clarify which she he meant.

“They prioritized and encourage aggressive talent in their incoming batches,” replied Midorima, glad to think of something other than humiliating daydreams. “And of course, there was Momoi.”

“That stammering kid got into Murasakibara’s face a few times,” said Takao, almost dreamily. “So pissed off.”

“Sakurai-kun is our age,” said Midorima mildly.

“He’s a twitchy little-” started Takao, then looked at her and changed what he had been about to say. “Player. Murasakibara did turn it over on Aomine a few times, that was exciting. You guys are monsters.”

“And yet you went off with Kise?” said Midorima, her voice sharper than she had intended.

“She had me in a chokehold,” Takao pointed out. ‘Which you failed to get me out of, by the way.”

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself,” said Midorima bitingly. “Boys usually do.”

“Nah, come on,” said Takao, looking uncomfortable. “It’s not like that.”

Midorima wished a black hole would swallow her up. The compact was clearly not working. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want to be the one hovering like some kind of shrill harpy, making a too-obvious fool of herself. Kise wasn’t even interested in Takao, or vice versa.

She shrugged her shoulders, not wanting to have to spell out what she would be apologising for. “We know who we’ll be facing, anyway.”

“Yeah,” said Takao. His eyes searched her face. She wondered if he knew: if Kise had thoughtlessly stuck her nose in or Takao had seen it himself, the way he seemed to perceive everything. It did take him somewhat longer than say, Akashi, to put things together, which Midorima could only be grateful for.

She desperately wished that if he did know, he would be tactful for once in his life and say nothing. If he did know, he could at least let her keep her dignity intact. It would pass, and one day he would be as only special to her as an old lucky item, set carefully aside.

“Let’s go back?” said Takao, still watching her.

“Yes,” said Midorima.

.0.

Rakuzan’s first-years eventually filed out of their changing room, and Akashi debriefed them. Momoi turned up about half through, and waited for to finish before approaching her.

Kagami nodded at Momoi. He always felt a little awkward around the other guy- nice enough, but it always felt like Touou’s manager was a totally different species from him.

Which was proved when a Rakuzan first-year stepped into Momoi’s path towards Akashi and, instead of punching him (which Kagami had been struggling with himself not to do since the team that had just beaten Seirin had started smirking at him), Momoi just eyed him up and down, lips moving silently, then dug out a notebook and wrote something down.

The jackass went white and stepped aside.

“Momoi-kun,” said Akashi, as if nothing had happened. Her voice was sweet and almost warm, for Akashi. He smiled at her brightly.

 “I have the information you asked for, Akashi-san!” he said.

“Thank you,” said Akashi, receiving from him an opaque binder which she tucked it away in her bag.

A dozen pairs of eyes watched it disappear.

“We’re looking forward to facing your team in the next match!” said Momoi.

Akashi arched an eyebrow, and they both looked at Aomine, who had wandered off and was leaning on Kuroko as she traded amazingly childish facial expressions with Murasakibara. Kagami thought it was cute.

“Yes, so do I,” Akashi said, smirking a little.

Aomine noticed them watching and all four of the girls came back towards them. Kagami couldn’t help thinking of it as like those slides in science class, with iron filings drifting slowly but inevitably true north. Even Murasakibara, who eschewed actually talking to any of them to leave one bench and come to another one near Kagami, managing to look as though she’d done it for no actual reason at all.

“What’d she want?” said Aomine to Momoi. Aomine just didn’t care.

“Just some information,” said Momoi innocently.

“What kind of information?” said Kise, looking between them and Akashi. Kuroko’s expression gave no indication of how futile an endeavour she considered it that anyone ever asked Akashi to clarify herself.

“Concern is unnecessary,” Akashi told her.

While Kise and Kagami were still trying to work out what the hell that meant, Momoi crossed his arms around his chest and huffily told Aomine that she had to be present at Touou’s own debriefing talk for tomorrow’s game.

“Why?” said Aomine, looking genuinely surprised.

“You’re the one coach left in charge!” Momoi said. Even as he said it he seemed to be amazed the words were coming out of his mouth.

Aomine scratched her head. “Oh, yeah,” she said. She turned to Kagami and dropped her bag on his lap. “I’ll be back. Apparently they can’t do anything without me.” She looked at Momoi. “Let’s get this over with- what the hell are you two doing?”

“Are you kidding me I have to see this,” said Kise, bouncing with excitement.

“It will be very interesting,” said Kuroko.

Akashi looked somewhat torn, but instead signaled her teammates to leave, nodding farewell to her former teammates.

The rest of them walked off, leaving Kagami alone with his really definitely all time least favourite Generation of Miracles member.

.0.

Kagami Taiga was absently scrolling his fancy-looking smartphone while waiting obediently for Mine-chin and Kuro-chin to come back and pick him up, and Murasakibara contemplated her options now that Yousen was out of the rookie tournament and the quads had left to cry and not annoy her by crying, feeling as though she could just slump over and go to sleep here, waking only when the Interhigh rolled around.

How annoying.

Kagami Taiga spoke, frowning at his screen. “Uh, Tatsuya says he really wants you to answer your phone. He heard about the rumor.”

The look Murasakibara threw him should have melted the flesh off his bones. “And why is he telling you?” she said. She should have gone outside to sit.

Kagami shrugged. “Do I ever not end up mixed up with you people?” he said, as though they’d asked for him to arrive, for him to talk to her. As though she’d asked to inflicted with Himuro Tatsuya, returnee.

Murasakibara thought about reaching over, pulling her phone out of her bag and then flinging it at his stupid eyebrows, but that would involve both moving and admitting she knew where her phone was.

“This is all your fault anyway,” she said, closing her eyes.

“It’s just a stupid rumor, don’t let it bother you,” said Kagami, who probably thought he was being helpful. “The rest of them don’t care. Aomine doesn’t.”

Mine-chin is actually dating you, burned in Murasakibara’s throat. It still seemed so stupid and alien that that was actually what they were doing, like girls with mussed hair and crumpled skirts skittering out of her brother’s rooms with smug smiles tucked in their eyes, like adorable matching lovebirds who held hands and billed and cooed and playacted their romances all over the classroom. She wasn’t doing any of that. People could think whatever they wanted of her, but it was particularly infuriating to think of Muro-chin thinking that.

“I don’t care,” she said. “When I want to talk to him, I’ll talk to him. It’s none of your business.”

“Just passed it on,” muttered Kagami. He lapsed back into silence. Murasakibara stared straight ahead and pushed herself off the bench.

“About him,” she muttered. Kagami jumped.

“Tatsuya?” said Kagami.

“Obviously,” said Murasakibara, wondering how much sarcasm she had to load into her tone before it managed to drop through that morass he called a brain. How did Kuro-chin stand this? No wonder he and Mine-chin got on so well, and Akachin had stabbed him. “If you tell him I asked you this, I’ll kill you. He was popular back with you guys, right?”

“Uh,” said Kagami. “Popular how? We weren’t in the same school.”

“Girls,” said Murasakibara, still staring straight ahead. “He got a lot of chocolates on Valentines. Same in America. Right?”

“Oh,” said Kagami. “Yeah. They don’t do chocolates. But he was chased a lot.” A thought must have managed to worm its way into his head: he looked at her and said, “Why?”

“I just find him annoying,” said Murasakibara.

“What?” said Kagami, apparently nonplussed by the sudden change in subject.

“Because he keeps looking at my breasts,” said Murasakibara, and was meanly glad to see Kagami’s gaze flicker and his ears turn red.

“He doesn’t just look at your- there,” said Kagami, and now it was Murasakibara’s turn to flush, because Muro-chin didn’t just look there, and she would have socked him long before now if he did. He looked at her all over, lingering and knowing, as though she was beautiful. Every time she caught his eye, he refused to stammer and look away, instead holding her stare like a dare, until she turned her head away first. Or he’d smile to acknowledge she’d caught him and then turn away, leaving her feeling- feeling-

On edge.

She started to walk away.

“Just-” said Kagami, into her hostile silence, to her retreating back. “Anyway, talk to him. He says he’s been trying to reach you all day.”

Murasakibara only sneered at him, but once she had cleared Kagami’s line of sight, she pulled out her phone. Its notification lights flashed madly at her, all of them at once. It would be worse, if he was sorry for her, worried about her, ha-ha, the monster girl finding a boyfriend, he'd have to kill her to get a kiss first, ha-ha-ha. Perverts, assholes, annoying little kids. She could deal with all that. She could deal with stupid rumors and the endless whispering about a girl two meters tall with muscles like knotted ropes, the stares and the stares. But Muro-chin bothering her, calling his friend to find out if she was all right, to ask about her-

It would be worse, if he was sorry.

Chapter Text

Kise sat on the bar stool and contemplated her life over onion soup.

The Rookie Cup was over, and Kise had smiled through taking hold of and being photographed with the second place trophy and stood through the indeterminable closing ceremony and wondered how, how Akashichi always managed to make it through without yawning, swaying, or, as far as Kise could tell, blinking. Kise had led the other first-years out of the stadium, briefed them one last time- and then wandered off to eat comfort food and brood.

She was getting good at brooding, lately. Watching Aominechi and Kagamichi cuddle and punch each other in the arm didn’t put her into a bad mood like Midorimachi or Murasakibarachi, and she didn’t think the faint, sardonic tilt of Kurokochi’s eyes meant anything but resignation that once again, and inevitably, the winds of fate had swung due Aomine. And stayed that way. But it did make Kise think of- and wish that-

Someone sat down on the stool next to her and said, “What, baby, you sad?” Kise slanted a glance sideways to dismiss this punk and then choked on it: Haizaki Shougo was lounging next to her, as if- as if- as if fucking anything, that was what.

“I’ll get you a drink,” said Haizaki, looking around. Checking if the coast was clear, probably.

“I have a drink,” said Kise.

“A real drink,” said Haizaki, as though serving a girl very clearly wearing a high school sports jersey wasn’t going to be problem.

KIse pointed out the obvious. “We’re underage.” She had been let in because Kise did not get refused entry anywhere, and she hadn’t even tried to order a drink, because seriously, what the hell.

Haizaki had to already be halfway to blotto: he was leaning on the counter and smiling at her as though he had completely forgotten the last time they’d met, every time that she’d told him to go fuck himself back in middle school.

Then again, this was nothing new. Haizaki constantly substituted actual reality with his own reality, in which apparently his dick tasted of mint chocolate milkshakes.

“Please,” Haizaki scoffed. “Brought my own.” Completely unprompted, he produced a flask from his pocket and tipped a good amount into Kise’s drink.

“Wow,” said Kise. “Wow. Thanks.”

Haizaki tucked it back into his pants- his pants, for christssake- and said, “Aw, too hard for you? Try it. It doesn’t burn too bad,” he crooned, “I promise. It’s even got a little extra stuff.”

Kise stared at Haizaki, looked at her ruined drink, and picked it up. Staring Haizaki straight in the eye, she chugged.

It tasted like acid, going down. Trust Haizaki to have gotten his hands on something barely a step above drain cleaner. It belatedly occurred to Kise that it could actually be drain cleaner, and this an improbably clever murder plot. The fire would come later, but Kise was a big girl and had been drinking since she was too young to be handed champagne flutes at launch parties and in nightclubs.

Haizaki grinned as she set the glass back on the counter. He’d ditched those stupid cornrows sometime in the last three months and was dressed like an expensive host, making the most of his admittedly beautiful body; when he was smiling, it was almost hard to remember how ugly his face could be.

Kise eyed him up and down, one long moment.

Then she put out her foot and kicked Haizaki’s chair over.

“You bitch-” he said, surging up and out of the tangle of chair legs to get to her. Kise side-stepped him and kicked him square in the balls with reinforced space-engineered basketball shoes, tested to withstand hundred-kilo boys pounding after a little ball.

He went down, crying.

Heads had turned all over the bar, and now the brawnier waiters were approaching with frowns as the bartender leaned over the counter and said meaningfully, “You’re done, miss?”

“I’ll cover it, yes,” she replied, batting her eyes at him. She thought about it. “And give me a bit of a head start.”

From the way he let his lips reluctantly tug up in a smile, he hadn’t liked the look of Haizaki either. Kise bestowed a dazzling smile back and left the biggest bill she had on the counter. As she sailed out the door, failing to wobble noticeably, she breathed in the clear night air and flicked through her phone for a familiar number.

“Yeah?” said a deliciously familiar voice. Kise closed her eyes and thought of how many people had thrown themselves at her over the years and how little she cared.

“I need a place to sleep,” she said. “Can I come over?”

Utter silence from the speakers.

“I’ve been drinking,” she said baldly. Oh, now she felt it. This wild, heady feeling: vertigo in free fall.

The response nearly blew out her ears. “YOU’VE WHAT?” he roared. Kise held the phone away from her head until it seemed he was running out of breath, then jumped in to say, “I can’t be out all night, can’t I go there? Can’t I?”

Dead silence. “I can come get you,” he said. “I can come get you and bring you home.”

“But sempai,” she said, cooing, wheedling, summoning every ounce of charm at her disposal. “I can’t go home like this.”

.0.

By mutual consensus Aomine and Kagami and Kuroko went to Maji Burger for dinner. No one said anything about the matches or their results, though Aomine was happy enough to demonstrate what would happen to Kuroko if she continued to drink nothing but milkshakes, drowning a french fry in her soda and then eating the sodden remains.

“That doesn’t even make any sense, Aomine-san,” Kuroko pointed out.

“It’s symbolic,” said Aomine, unwrapping her third burger. Kagami would have been concerned about the amount she was eating, but he’d over-ordered a bit, so if she was still hungry she could have one or three of his.

She picked up his phone and started flipping through it, a habit she’d kept since taking care of him after his cold. “That friend of yours still bothering Murasakibara?” she said.

“Wha- they’re on the same team, he can probably bother her himself,” said Kagami.

Aomine and Kuroko Looked at each other.

“Himuro-san seems nice,” said Kuroko.

“Really?” said Aomine incredulously.

“No,” admitted Kuroko. “But he is very attracted to her and she hasn’t maimed him yet.”

“He seems weird,” said Aomine, who was one to talk. “He’d probably like it if she did.”

“Hey,” said Kagami, feeling the need to stand up for Tatsuya’s honour. They had a friend who stabbed people in the face.

“He would,” insisted Aomine. “I mean look at him, he’s got that shift- oh my god.”

Kagami and Kuroko stared at her. “What?” he demanded.

Aomine shoved the phone at Kuroko. “Look!” she squealed, a sound Kagami had never heard her make before. “Look! This is him, right? I’m not crazy? It’s him!”

“It’s who?” demanded Kagami, as Kuroko finally managed to wrest the phone out of Aomine’s hands to take a good look at it.

“It is him,” Kuroko said. She looked, as far as Kuroko ever looked anything, floored. “It really is him. Kagami-kun, how do you have this?”

While Aomine calmed herself down with soda, Kagami finally got his phone back and looked at what they were so excited about.

“Oh,” said Kagami. “Shuuzou. He’s a dude I met this summer playing streetball. I think he knows Tatsuya and that’s how he started going there. He’s cool. Do you guys know him?”

Aomine breathed soda up her nose and gestured to Kuroko to keep talking.

“Is that what you call him?” said Kuroko carefully. “Nijimura Shuuzou-san?”

“It’s weirder to not use first names when you’re talking in English,” said Kagami, handing Aomine more napkins. “But yeah, that could be it.”

“It’s totally him,” said Aomine.

“It’s a very strange coincidence,” said Kuroko.

“It’s amazing,” said Aomine. She took the phone- his phone- back from Kagami and cradled it in her hands. “He’s still so hot.”

Kuroko blinked at her.

“What?” said Aomine. “I mean, we all thought it. Everyone thought it. The managers thought it. My whole class thought it. You think they put him on the Nationals website’s front page three times for nothing?”

“You’ve been on pages of a similar nature four times,” pointed out Kuroko. “More if you count the group shots.”

Aomine flapped her hand at Kuroko, which Kagami correctly interpreted it as ‘pfft, facts’. She was still absorbed in the picture.

“No,” said Aomine, to herself this time. “It’s not even that he’s even hotter than when he was fourteen. He’s even hotter than when I was fourteen.” She considered the picture from another angle. “Wow.”

Kagami stared glumly at his cheeseburger and took a bite, resigning himself to never seeing his phone again. Kuroko poked Aomine and glared meaningfully at Kagami.

Aomine leaned against him and cuddled in. “There there,” she said vaguely. “How do you send pictures on this thing, Taiga?”

“Why?” said Kuroko suspiciously. “What are you going to do?”

“What do you think I’m going to do,” said Aomine. “I’m sending it to Akashi.”

“Why?” said Kagami, now nonplussed.

“Because Nijimura-san belongs to all of us,” said Aomine, in a weird breathy high-pitched voice, widening her eyes in a freaky way. She laughed more normally and resumed tapping at his screen. “Because everyone deserves to see this, and I’m feeling good about keeping Akashi up all night staring at an up to date picture of her one true love.”

“It’s like four months old,” said Kagami. “Wait, really? Really?”

Aomine flapped her free hand at Kagami, again. Pfft, facts.

“No,” said Kuroko, in the interests of evidence. “They were close back in the club and she always admired him, but-”

“Admired his butt is more like it,” said Aomine. “Sent. Beautiful.”

Kuroko’s phone dinged. “You sent it to me?” she said.

“Of course I sent it to you,” Aomine said, widening her eyes. “You’re my best friend. I sent it to all of you.”

Kuroko eyed Aomine, then dropped her gaze and picked up her phone.

“Are you saving the picture,” said Kagami.

“Of course I’m saving the picture,” murmured Kuroko.

“You saved the picture,” said Aomine, smirking up into his face.

“He’s really cool,” said Kagami, little helplessly. And hot. So hot. He thought that Aomine saw right through him, and maybe she did, because she squeezed his arm and stayed tucked up to him. They started in on the giant mound of fries.

“Maybe you’re some kind of weird magnet,” she said thoughtfully. “All this stuff happens to you.”

“Sure,” said Kagami, who had long ago given up trying to figure out the long and tangled backstory of middle school basketball.

Kuroko lifted her eyebrows, but smiled, or something close to it. She finished her milkshake and stood up, saying, “I’ll see you at school tomorrow, Kagami-kun. Don’t keep him out too late, Aomine-san.”

“Okay,” said Kagami.

“I’ll do what I want to him,” said Aomine in mock-outrage. Kuroko rolled her eyes and left.

They companionably ate through the rest of their food and then Kagami insisted she would need to go back and rest because it was a school night.

“It’s March, who even needs to still be going to class,” said Aomine, but she acquiesced and they strolled to the train station together.

Kagami cleared his throat. He dug his hand into his bag and came out with a box. “This is for White Day,” he said, blushing. “I mean, for you. For White Day. Though it’s late.” He hadn’t been able to get up the courage to give it to her.

“I thought that was the game that day,” said Aomine. She took it and ripped off the wrapping. The paper peeled away and Kagami heard her suck in her breath as the logo on the box was revealed.

“I know it’s not,” he said. “It’s not the kind of thing you can wear while playing basketball, but you kept looking at it, and it looked like you wanted to have it. So I went back the next day before the game and I got it for you.”

“You,” said Aomine, “have waaaay too much money.” She extracted the bracelet from a nest of black cushion, all gleaming steel, black and blue. It was a lot less delicate and fancy than a women’s bracelet would have been, but it was light and sleek and graceful, and even though Aomine hadn’t tried it on, the way she’d touched it, she’d wanted to.

She thrust her arm at him, pulling up her jersey sleeve. “Put it on me,” she said. Her voice was thick. “Here.”

Kagami clasped the bracelet on her wrist and she lifted it, watching the light gleam off the steel and get swallowed up by the insets. “Do you-” he said.

“I love it,” she said. She put her arms around his neck, tipping forward to press her forehead to his. “Hey,” she whispered. “Guess what I’m going to say next.”

.0.

The stadium were Kise had said she had been wasn’t even anywhere near his house.

“Why did you drink if you knew you were going to get like this?” he snapped, opening the door. Kise, propped up against the frame, waved her arm, completely failed to come up with a reasonable explanation for dropping in like this at this time of night, and then, while trying to take off her shoes, fell forward into his arms and had to hang on to his shoulders while she popped them off.

Kasamatsu gritted his teeth and tried to not explode from being angry.

‘You don’t get drunk all at once,” Kise said, reasonably, once her laces had been vanquished. “It comes later.” She smothered a yawn on his shirt. “And I’m so tired.”

“You are going to get it in the morning,” said Kasamatsu grimly. He levered her over the step and tried to not actually grope his drunk junior, but when she slipped out of his hands with a whoops! he gritted his teeth and pulled her closer, pulling her over his shoulder so he could get her up the stairs without waking his brothers. Or his mom. The thought waking his mom sent a chill through his spine. Her long arms moved and locked themselves around his neck. It did not actually make Kise’s dead weight any easier to carry, but it did let her pull herself up on his shoulders and keep mumbling to him.

“Are you still working out?” she said. “You should be studying, you know. If you want to go to that place with Moriyama-sempai.” The one with the hordes of pretty girls. Oh, god.

He sighed. “Kise, I’m not going there.” Moriyama had been crazy fired up about it, but seriously, as if. “I took the direct entry interviews for a couple of places with good basketball teams, they’re interested in meeting me. I might even get a scholarship out of it, if I’m lucky.”

“You’re going to keep playing basketball?” said Kise. She tried to crane her neck to look at his face, which almost put them off balance.

“Isn’t that a question for you?” said Kasamatsu, trying not to drop her, then instantly regretted it.

“Ehhhhhhhhhhhh,” said Kise. Now, he could smell the liquor on her breath. “I said I’d play all three years for Kaijou. I know I’m going to do that.”

“Fine,” huffed Kasamatsu, running out of breath. He shouldered through his thankfully open door and dropped her on his bed in lieu of dumping Kise on the floor with his dirty laundry and old school stuff, taking the opportunity to do a bit of quick clean up while she murmured to herself and burrowed into his sheets. They were not clean. He would freak out about that in the morning.

“About you playing later- in the future,” he said, to her drowsing head. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know,” said Kise comfortably. She was certainly making herself comfortable. “I don’t know what I’ll do after this, either.”

She looked at him, one bleary eye. “You know, though. You’re moving forward so fast.”

Kasamatsu sighed again. Was that what this was about? “Kise, I don’t,” he said. “I don’t know what I’m going to major in, or do after that, I barely knew what prefecture I was going to study in. You don’t need to worry about your future just because your seniors are graduating. You have time.”

Kise kept looking at him, though now with a faint edge of disbelief, as though everything he said was meaningless, platitudes.

And maybe they were.

“You can do anything you want,” he said to her, looking into her eyes. Kise so talented, so beautiful, so blessed. So relentless and so unyielding, so brave and so passionate. So annoying. “You can have anything you want.”

Kise screwed up her eyes. “Can I?” she said. Her hand groped forward and clutched the front of his shirt. “Can I, sempai?”

He stared down at her. “Of course,” he said. He gently untangled her hand and self-consciously tucked her in, resolving to give her a thorough scolding in the morning. It felt like a while since he’d had a good long shout. Her long golden hair spread across his pillow, and her eyes had shut more naturally. She looked like an angel. An angel who would start snoring as soon as she rolled onto her back. He couldn’t remember ever looking, really looking, closely at Kise’s face before, but he knew it, every line and curve.

Kasamatsu looked at her a little while longer, and then went down to sleep on the couch in his own damn home.

Chapter Text

With a bang, Nijimura was covered in pink and red confetti. Flashes filled his vision, which was then obscured by a blindfold. Hands- his so-called friends, who had lured him up here- seized his shoulders and propelled him forward. 

“Voted the prince and princess of the school this Valentine’s Day!” screamed a girl from the side. Nijimura couldn’t throw the guys off him without being sure he was hitting her. Wait. Wasn’t. 

“-sempai, congratulations!” cried another girl.

“Akashi-san is waiting, your blushing bride!” cried the first girl again. If they were only using girls because they were sure Nijimura wouldn’t hit one of them, that- that- that was fucking diabolical. Nijimura nevertheless lashed out with an elbow, and was rewarded by a familiar grunt. It was useless: he heard a door scrape open, he was flung through the door, and the door slammed shut and locked. 

Nijimura steadied himself on someone’s arm and had his blindfold plucked off. Outside, he heard excited and high-pitched voices laughing and yelling, too confused to make out. 

Akashi had helped him up; she was also covered in confetti and had something white draped on her head. She looked as though this happened to her every day, which. He didn’t know her life. 

“What the fuck was that,” said Nijimura. 

“I think that this is the broadcast club’s idea of a joke,” said Akashi. Nijimura turned and saw that on the chalkboard was written, CONGRATULATIONS TO OUR VOTED PRINCE AND PRINCESS OF VALENTINE’S DAY, THE NO 1 COUPLE OUR SCHOOL MOST WANTS TO SEE.

“It is not funny,” he said, once he had his breath back. “My phone’s in my locker.” He scowled. “And I’m not sure I can break down the door.”

“It’s a little funny,” said Akashi, removing her rapidly disintegrating crown of paper flowers and brushing confetti from his shoulders with business-like gestures. “As is mine, but I wonder when they’ll realise they left the windows unlocked.”

Nijimura started to say that a girl couldn’t go out the window, then rapidly reconsidered. He yanked the window open and stuck his head out. 

“Not much of a jump,” he reported. “Classrooms below and to the side, but the only open one is two rooms down. Can’t jimmy the closed ones from outside without anything to do it with.”

“I could jump that,” said Akashi, accepting his expert opinion on breaking into a building without turning a hair. “I may need a hand over the balcony, and I’m not wearing shorts.” 

“Right,” said Nijimura. “Let’s go. I’m not putting up with this shit.” 

“They’ll have to clean up this mess before school closes today,” observed Akashi as she pulled herself out of the window. Nijimura modestly averted his eyes. 

“What did they catch you with?” said Nijimura, edging down the roof ridge. 

“Student council business,” said Akashi. “We were considering what would be the most expedient way to relieve exam stress among the student body.” She paused. “In hindsight, I should have been paying more attention to the language of the broadcast club’s proposal.” 

“What did you think it was going to be,” said Nijimura. He turned and offered her his hand, which she held in her extremely strong little grip. 

“Humorous and diverting flash polls with brief interviews with the ‘winners’ of said polls,” said Akashi. “During breaks, of course.” 

“Of course,” said Nijimura. He tested the window, which didn’t open. Next one down it was. 

Akashi knelt on the ridge and helped Nijimura down. Once he was steady, he reached up for her and she climbed down as well. 

“Mind your head,” she said, helping him down another storey. There was a sudden shriek, but Nijimura steadied himself on the next ridge before he looked up. 

“What was that?” he said. 

“I think they were coming back for their interview,” said Akashi. Her skirt fluttered in the wind.

“Quick, come down,” said Nijimura, and Akashi swung herself over and into his arms. He set her down and then forced the window open wider, jumping in. He held out his hand for Akashi to climb in, and saw a head appear at the open window they had just escaped from, two levels up. 

Akashi waved up at them, quite politely, then leapt into the classroom, not a hair out of place. “Thank you, Nijimura-san,” she said. 

“Oh, hell,” said Nijimura. “I just realised we’re probably going to get into more trouble for doing this than if we’d just broken down the door.” He thought about it. “Or waited for them.” Yes, that was... a thing they could have done. 

“Well,” said Akashi. “They wanted to make news.” 

::

::

The charity luncheon was everything that Akashi had promised: elegant, a touch crowded, and full of people Kuroko did not know and Akashi did not want to talk to. While Akashi made polite, abbreviated conversation with adults, they made steady progress across the room; Kuroko wobbled occasionally and Akashi steadied her with her arm. 

Then Kuroko saw someone she did know and did not want to talk to. "Is that-" she said. 

“I did not think he would attend,” said Akashi, as though that excused her throwing Kuroko into this situation without warning or consent. 

“He’s trying to pretend he doesn’t see us,” pointed out Kuroko. 

“Yes,” agreed Akashi mildly. “He’s always been rather bad at that.” But it was too late; they were upon each other, and there was no choice but to pause and exchange greetings. 

“Mayuzumi-san,” said Akashi, sounding, for some reason, pleased. She would be, of course; in her towering heels she was nearly his height, and Kuroko did not think that he could be very acquainted with this Akashi, the Akashi who wore a deep, rich plum-red lip and laced her arms with that of her friends, in whose eyes Kuroko always saw a secret curl of smile, just for the comrades like her. 

“Akashi,” said Mayuzumi-san. “Kuroko,” he added. Kuroko could hear him forcing himself to chop any suffixes off the back of her name, which must have been hard for him while Kuroko was wearing a lovely white dress Akashi had provided for her, her hair held up on one side with a clip of powder blue. Although she could not have gracefully handled shoes of greater height, Kuroko wished for them. Akashi's insistence on dressing Kuroko had seemed over-the-top. 

“It’s nice to see you, Mayuzumi-san,” said Kuroko, striving for politeness. 

“So much of you,” said Mayuzumi-san, surveying what seemed like a vast expanse of pale skin with a vague expression of personal affront. 

Akashi arched an eyebrow; Kuroko counted to ten in her head. “That’s very clever, Mayuzumi-san,” she said. “Did you come up with it yourself?”

The older boy flushed and dragged his gaze up to her face. “No, I-” he coughed into his hand. “I- what are you doing here?”

Akashi was smiling, polished curls framing her face. “Kuroko graciously consented to accompanying me,” she said. “Doesn’t she look nice?”

Mayuzumi-san’s gaze slid to Akashi’s perfectly composed expression. Kuroko didn’t blame him. Akashi’s sweet smile, her honeyed words, made Kuroko uneasy as well. She was almost certainly waiting for something, Kuroko didn't know what.

“Yes,” said Mayuzumi-san, reluctantly, as though the words were being dragged out of him. “You a-re bo-th ver-y… good-looking… today,” he said. 

As compliments went, Kuroko had heard worse. “Thank you,” she said. He flicked a wary glance at her which, paradoxically, made her want to laugh in his face. “You’re also looking very well,” she said, truthfully. His suit was tasteful and hung nicely on his tall, athletic frame. 

The frankly skeptical look he sent Kuroko at that comment made her lips twitch. Kuroko leaned meaningfully on Akashi’s arm. “Don’t let us keep you,” said Akashi, conceding to Kuroko’s death-like clutch. 

“Likewise,” said Mayuzumi-san in a strangled voice, and made good his escape. 

“Where were we,” said Akashi, as though nothing had happened. “Oh, yes, the dessert table. I think you’ll like the souffles.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Murasakibara pulled her dripping hair from her eyes, quite calmly. She looked down at herself.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” said the first year, petrified. The broken-off water tap kept spewing water, still soaking him. He- and Himuro, and most of the rest of the basketball team- were still in his practice clothes from morning practice, cheeks flushed in the chill air, but Murasakibara was already back in her school uniform, every layer of it rapidly getting wetter.

She stuck her head back into the gym. “I need to-” she started.

“No, put on a spare uniform and go to class,” snapped Araki, hands on her hips. “No excuses from any of you.”

There was silence. “But my practice clothes are sweaty,” Murasakibara whined, to no one in particular. “And I don’t have a spare. Masako-chin, can't I-”

“Go. To. Class.”

“I’m so sorry,” said the first-year, again. Himuro finally managed to place him: he was the one from the support group, the one who had confessed to asking Murasakibara out. And then crying when she’d told him to get lost.

She eyed him. “Stand up straight,” she commanded.

He obeyed, and Murasakibara squared up to him. He was only a little shorter than her, built like several brick houses, and shrinking under her gimlet eye. She was beginning to shake a little, either from cold or rage.

“We’re going to the locker rooms,” she said. “Now.”

“-es,” he squeaked out. His eyes were wide and, Himuro privately considered, creepy. He stared yearningly at the girl like she was the embodiment of all his fantasies.

Himuro watched them go with mild foreboding. “Should we-”

Araki walked out of the gym and glared at them. And at the broken-off tap. “Scat,” she ordered. “If any more of you get held back and miss club time, I’m going to hear about it, and you’ll be doing drills outside until you freeze solid.”

.0.

The news that the freakishly tall freshman girl who played on the boys basketball team had come to school today wearing a boys uniform rocketed around the whole school in less time than it took Himuro to actually reach his classroom.

“But she would wear pants or shorts all the time, just by wearing jerseys or when she’s at practice,” Himuro pointed out to some of his classmates.

“Yes, but not to school,” a girl replied, and looked terribly relieved when Himuro explained that an unforeseen accident had soaked her normal uniform, and this was probably not a deliberate flouting of social norms.

He put it down to a slow gossip day and bored students with post-exam time on their hands, but it wasn't until lunch arrived and Himuro could visit her in the cafeteria that he saw why the buzz was refusing to abate.

Murasakibara’s day-to-day wearing of the Yousen school uniform was best summed up as ‘unenthusiastic’. Himuro had seen her friends in their school uniforms, from Kuroko and Midorima’s neat and demure sailor uniforms to Kise’s magazine-featured look to Aomine’s disheveled, devil-may-care style. Murasakibara, by contrast, wore an improbably huge and baggy sweater over an even larger and baggier skirt, with socks that almost always managed to be drooping down her calves. It was only with difficulty that Murasakibara’s mother had managed to convince her daughter to turn over her uniforms for her to mend buttons and snip loose threads. Visiting Murasakibara at her home over the summer had surprised Himuro, confronted with those endless legs in running shorts suited for a Tokyo summer but not an Akita anywhere else.

Grumpy-faced, Murasakibara- and her legs- swayed through the mill of students followed by stares upon stares. Himuro had always considered his junior impressively attractive by any standards, something her sloppy grooming habits had done a lot to detract from but never totally erase.

It was clear to him that their schoolmates were only now coming alive to that fact.

Murasakibara deliberately ignored several people hastily clearing space for her, sitting at an empty table and using her three trays of food to claim the entire surface. Himuro teleported to her side, setting down his own tray neatly in the last available free space on the table.

Murasakibara sighed heavily. She must have only been able to borrow a sleeveless cardigan in her size. It clung closely to her torso, much thinner than the long-sleeved sweater sack she usually wore. Himuro both liked and disliked it extremely.

And someone had done her hair.

“You look nice,” he said.

“No, really?” she said, her tone daring him to say more. Her hair had been combed out, dried, brushed, and then braided and fastened to her head, and the difference from the extremely messy, often tangled, lack of hairstyle she came to school with as many days as she could help it had already been documented in photos which were circulating the school.

“Yes,” said Himuro baldly. “Did someone help you with it?”

She eyed him, breaking apart her chopsticks with a violent snap. “The volleyball girls in my class helped me dry out and did up my hair,” she said. “They enjoyed it.”

Himuro believed it. Murasakibara’s female classmates adored her as much as the non-regulars in the basketball club feared her.

With this hurdle passed, Murasakibara’s shoulders slumped a little and she ate some of Himuro’s lunch. “They pulled my hair,” she said, unhappily. “But they found a hairdryer and used it so I wasn’t walking around wet all day.”

“That was nice of them,” said Himuro. Perhaps the girls in Murasakibara’s class were witches.

“Pants are so much warmer,” said Murasakibara, abruptly changing the subject, stretching out her legs under the table. “Maybe I’ll keep them around.” She looked sideways at a table full of boys, who flinched and pretended they weren’t staring.

“Will he be okay with it?” said Himuro.

“Who?” said Murasakibara.

“The guy you borrowed that from,” said Himuro.

“Mmph,” said Murasakibara, pursing her lips in a way Himuro considered frankly unfair. “He likes me, he’ll just let me have them.” She added, in an offhand manner, “He’s got a cold, they sent him home already.”

“...Poor guy,” said Himuro, quite sincerely.

Murasakibara shrugged. She tipped her head back, then frowned. “It’s so heavy, my neck hurts,” she whined.

“You could take it out,” offered Himuro.

“They’d just do it back up,” said Murasakibara. She looked down at her empty plates. His empty plates. “Go get some more lunch.”

.0.

Himuro walked her back to her class later, since it was either that or sit alone eating his heart out. The staring only intensified when they were on the move. And the constant low buzz of whispering about her. Sometimes they spoke loudly, as though she couldn’t hear anything.

“It was like this when I first started here,” said Murasakibara, tired of him twitching. She inspected her post-lunch big bag of chips for any remains and upended it into her mouth. “They’ll get over it. They stared so much at you, remember?”

“They did?” said Himuro.

She rolled her eyes. “Of course they did,” she said.

“I must have been paying attention to you,” he said.

She tipped her head back again, staring blankly at him. Of course he had been, of course he would be, who couldn’t be looking at her, when he felt, kept feeling, as though if he looked away he would miss everything, miss all of her, vanishing from his view like a wisp of smoke.

“You did say if I missed anything you weren’t repeating it,” he reminded her. It had taken a lot of persistence to get Murasakibara to accept that he was around, and more to convince her that having him around was worth it.

“Also,” he continued, “You used to walk very fast so I had to hurry to keep up.”

Her gaze slid sideways, since this was true. “I’m going now,” she said. “Muro-chin goes up.”

“I’ll see you at practice later,” he called after her.

“Sure, sure,” she said, waving.

A group of third-year boys passed her and Himuro, staring blatantly at Murasakibara.

She ignored them and kept walking.

They passed Himuro, climbing the stairs to the third-years floor.

Himuro listened to their conversation, his face creasing into thoughtfulness. Then, still thoughtful, he turned and climbed lightly up the stairs.

.0.

Some hours later, after dark, Himuro was sitting in his dorm room trying to make a start on his reading homework when Murasakibara, still wearing her borrowed uniform, a jacket with the hood up, and a pissed-off expression, banged on his window.

Himuro stared.

She banged again. Himuro started out of his chair and opened it for her. She hauled herself in with a grunt, pulling her legs through the window.

“How did you get there?” said Himuro, looking out the window. Yes, definitely still the fifth floor.

“I climbed it,” said Murasakibara.

“Why?” said Himuro.

“I don’t have a key to the front,” said Murasakibara, as though it was obvious.

“Why did you come visit me,” said Himuro, patiently. Through the window. “I’ve invited you plenty of times before this. And it's after lock-up.”

“Muro-chin’s never been suspended before,” retorted Murasakibara. “And you won’t answer your phone.”

“Was that you?” said Himuro. “I left it in my bag.” He sat back down at his desk chair, watching her pull off the hood and brush herself off onto his floor.

She glared at him. “Shut up,” she said. “You got in a fight.”

That was true, and since she had told him to shut up, Himuro remained silent.

Her scowl deepened. She held out her hand, expectantly. Himuro looked at it, and said, “I don’t have any snacks.” Since he'd been kept in through dinner, he'd eaten her usual supply.

“Your hand,” she growled.

“No,” said Himuro.

Murasakibara’s eyes narrowed. She sat herself on the edge of his desk- well, this was interesting- and turned his face up in her hands. Himuro winced as she pressed down on his swelling cheek, brushing aside his fringe to see the full extent of his injuries.

“Give,” she said, in a softer voice.

This time, Himuro acquiesced. His knuckles were already bruising, and he could feel parts of his body that were going to be very unhappy for a few days, maybe longer.

Murasakibara examined it. “... at least it’s not broken,” she muttered.

“No, I wouldn’t make a mistake like that,” agreed Himuro.

“Why did you do it at all?” she said.

“His face was ugly,” said Himuro.

Murasakibara closed her eyes and dropped his hand, sighing loudly. “Why,” she said.

“I used to get into fights all the time,” said Himuro. “I got into one just two months ago.”

“You do not get into fights,” said Murasakibara, “you just started one, for no reason, in the middle of school-”

She shoved herself off his table and started to pace the small confines of the room.

“Are you upset,” said Himuro, quite stupidly. Even after the Rookie Cup, with everyone gossiping and speculating on the rumors sparked by Taiga and Aomine, she hadn’t been this upset.

Even after the Winter Cup, when she’d pulled down her hair to soak up tears.

“I’m angry,” said Murasakibara loudly, “because you’re a basketball player and you fucked up your hands for no reason.”

“I wanted to hit him,” said Himuro. “So I did.”

“Don’t lie,” she said. “You fought him over me.”

Himuro opened his mouth, rethought it, and said, “He… wasn’t saying very nice things.”

Murasakibara stared at him. “Fucking really?” she said. “He wasn’t very nice about my breasts? My ass? My height, my weight, whether or not he’d do me, how I’m such a bitch it’s no wonder I look like a freak? DO YOU THINK I’M FUCKING STUPID? IS THAT A REASON TO GET INTO A FIGHT?”

There was no hair now, to cover the look on her face.

“You heard him,” said Himuro. He’d barely heard anything, before the red haze set in and he’d climbed the stairs to get to the third-year.

“I didn’t need to,” she said. “You think I don’t know how you talk? How you think? I know lots of boys. It doesn’t change and it doesn’t matter. What matters is you, getting on your high horse, and smashing him in the face over nothing.”

“It wasn’t-” he started.

“It’s nothing,” she snarled. “It’s nothing to me, and it’s nothing to you, it doesn’t matter to you, it’s not important. Don’t act like you’re some kind of hero because you went after him. I never asked you for it. I’ve never asked for it. Now you’re suspended, and everyone knows, and for what? For WHAT?”

At the volume she was yelling, someone could almost certainly overhear them, her fists clenched and her face flushing, her eyes beginning to well with anger. Her hair was coming down out of the pins and braids, finishing the job that climbing up here had started.

“I was jealous,” said Himuro.

Murasakibara threw herself onto his bed with a heavy thump and buried her face in her hands. Himuro wasn’t quite sure, but he thought that her posture was telling him that was the stupidest thing she’d ever heard.

She raised her head just enough to say, “What?”

“I went for him because I was jealous,” said Himuro, coming over to the bed to sit next to her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I lost my head.”

“Jealous,” said Murasakibara, muffled again. “Jealous over what?”

“Over you,” said Himuro. He’d kept it under wraps for half a year, letting her draw her own conclusions from his behaviour. But he’d known that going too far, getting too comfortable, would get him shoved away. Even now, as she looked at him in disbelief, he wanted to take it back and tell her they could keep going the way they always had.

“I did get angry that he talked that way,” said Himuro. “But not because-” how did he even say it? Not because he thought that Murasakibara needed to care what someone else said about her. Not because he was acting like a girl’s hero. Not because, and this burned at his throat, acid-sour… not because he felt sorry for her, proud, prickly, beautiful, difficult, magnificent.

“I wanted to hit him,” he said, taking her hand. She let him. “He had a very punchable face.”

Murasakibara snorted. Then she snorted her tears back. “He did,” she said, then scrubbed at her face with her sleeve and started pulling at the remains of the braid.

“Masako-chin says you still have to do triple practices even though you’re suspended,” she informed him. “Because you are.” Her hand tightened on his, which hurt a little.

“That’s fair,” said Himuro. He put up his other hand to help her, rising to his knee to run his fingers through her hair. Holding hands with her was awkward in this position, but Himuro didn’t want to let go. “Did you like having it up?”

“It took too much time,” said Murasakibara. “I got bored before they even started. I can just tie it up myself if I want it out of the way.”

“It lasted a long time,” said Himuro. “Did you have it up like that all through practice?”

“I didn’t go to practice,” said Murasakibara meaningfully. She tucked it all into the back of her jacket. “I need to go back out the window,” she said. “I have to go back. And that guy out in front will get me in trouble if he sees me leaving.”

“No, there’s no need,” said Himuro firmly. “You can sleep here, and I’ll sneak you out in the morning. You’re not going back out there in the dark."

She turned to look at him, face suspicious. But wavering. It had obviously been a very exhausting day for her. “You’re injured and if I stay you’re going to sleep on the floor,” said Murasakibara.

“So?” said Himuro, smiling. He still hadn't let go of her hand. “Stay.”

Chapter Text

That’s it, Mayuzumi decides. This is where he draws the line, along with any number of his fellow clubmates: it’s time to face the numbers (twelve regulars, five starting players, three uncrowned generals, one sixteen year old girl) and submit his resignation from the basketball club.

It takes barely any time at all: he puts it on the pile and walks out.

And then Akashi walks onto the roof, and into his life.

It takes him a moment to recognize her, out of training clothes, out of her basketball jersey, with her hair loose around her face and her hands folded demurely before her. She really is beautiful all cleaned up, though not worth all the fuss they make over her every time she drifts into view. She’s not to Mayuzumi’s taste at all, too polished and over-poised.

In a manga, this would be the point in the story where the wind blew harder and upskirted her.

Nothing of the sort happens, of course, though it certainly flutters enough. Instead, she makes him an offer he refuses.

“Oh?” she says. She doesn’t even talk like a girl should, for all her soft voice and serene expression. “May I ask why?”

“Nothing personal,” he says. “I just prefer myself this way.”

He wonders if anyone’s ever told her no before, the way her eyes widen as he explains his position. He’s pleased, if so, to be the first one to do it.

“And another thing,” he says, slowly, deliberately. “Whatever you may think of my abilities, I don’t much appreciate being compared to a girl.”

It’s a slow smile, a teeth-baring snarl, a grimace so cold and unearthly that it makes the wind feel like a furnace. The wind blows her hair off her face. Surely destiny doesn’t feel like this, like fear sparking down his spine. “Excellent,” she says. “I am all the more pleased with you.”

.0.

Akashi is so far above him that no one- if anyone even noticed- thinks that he came back for her. This is a plus.

At her instigation, sure. But that’s a different thing than for a captain with unquestionable authority, for a genius powered by pure fury.

A girl who offers him the world he could never enter before, like something from a story.

Still, sudden elevation into the basketball club’s elite has its perks.

“But seriously, what’s with him,” Hayama whispers to Mibuchi while Mayuzumi sits on the floor with a towel over his head, waiting for the world to come back without black spots. Akashi’s personally designed his new training regime, which besides keeping up with her- not the other regulars, not the uncrowned generals, but a real life perpetual motion machine- also includes hours of weight training after practice and being drilled in the basketball of a rumor. He hasn’t finished a light novel in weeks. He’s now dreaming of pass patterns and man-to-man defense. His bones are beginning to crack like he’s fifty-five and has been run over by a tractor. This is hell.

“She thinks he’ll be a good addition to the team,” says Mibuchi, in the voice of someone who thinks that the sun rises and sets on the arch of Akashi’s eyebrow, and Mayuzumi can just picture his dainty little shrug.

“That’s taking sentiment too far, isn’t it?” Hayama mutters.

“No,” says Mibuchi, voice set to particularly ‘understanding’. “Don’t you think that the Generation of Miracles knew how to win?”

Mayuzumi smirks under the towel. He’s pretty sure the Generation of Miracles don’t understand anything else except winning. They would have to.

“She sees the potential in him, and she-”

“No way,” says Nebuya. “There’s no way Akashi is that soft. When he can’t keep up, she’ll cut him.”

Mayuzumi takes a deep breath and stands up.

Not that he minds overhearing his soon-to-be teammates blowing hot air up their own asses, but Mayuzumi has drills to finish, if he’s going to be ready to meet Akashi for misdirection practice before they close the school.

.0.

Akashi’s opinion of Mayuzumi’s passes is always carefully unsaid, her eyes sliding sideways as she delicately stucks a stray hair behind her ear in a way more telling than any frown. He doesn’t care, at all. It doesn’t matter how he passes as long as the ball gets there.

Akashi’s plays with the other regulars are unforgiving in their own way. She drills him in her patterns until he hits a mark eight, nine, ten times out of ten.

And then in the middle of drill, just having passed to him, racing down the court, she changes course and jumps.

Mayuzumi will never be sure what it is, why it is. The feel of the court under her feet? The way the ball arcs and settles in his hands and screams to him to keep going?

How the light shines on the hoop, stark and harsh and unforgiving.

He throws it to where she’ll be in mid-air, an alley-oop that should be impossible. At any moment, she’ll lose air and drop, falling short of the goal. He’s done this dozens of times to other teammates, and more often than not, they don’t make it. The ball is even in their hands when that happens, so it’s not all him. Dunking is hard, verging on the impossible.

It’s her, all her. Nothing but net and no sound but the hoop protesting her weight, the thud of the ball. She hangs-

And drops, an angel without wings.

Sweat streaks down her face and she’s breathing hard from the effort, her eyes alight with the laughter she can’t spare the breath for.

Mayuzumi looks at her, then at the hoop. He’s got over ten centimetres on her. He’s eighteen and a boy.

He could never do that, not in a thousand years.

He’s said that aloud, and he whips his head back to look at her, flushing guiltily.

The snarl of joy wiped off her face, Akashi is straightening and stretching out her arm and shoulder.

“Whatever you may think of my abilities,” says Akashi, “I don’t much appreciate being compared to you.”

Mayuzumi opens his mouth, and closes it. He does deserve that, as much this monster deserves comeuppance. A small part of him hopes she never gets it. If her star falls, so does his. “Do you want to,” he says, and clears his throat. “Do it again…”

Akashi’s cold eyes sweep over him as she evens out her breathing. She lifts one foot, and then the other, her muscles showing in high relief against her bones and skin. He’s been doing this for four months. She’s been a National player for three years.

“Yes,” she says. “We won’t always be able to pull off a move like that with such leeway on the court. You’ll have to practice the timing until you get it right.”

.0.

The hell of it is that even after all her practising and training and drills, Akashi doesn’t even bother to start, most games. They don’t use Misdirection, either, though she still puts him through his paces just that bit harder than the rest of the regulars.

“You need the game experience,” she tells him calmly. “Reo knows how to not to fumble under pressure, and I won’t always be there to set the pace.”

He doesn’t know what to say: that he doesn’t expect he’ll make any team in the future without her there. No one else might be twisted enough, arrogant enough- or desperate, like Seirin is- to play a card like him. To keep him in reserve for just the right moment to obtain victory.

Match after match and Rakuzan remains undefeated. Even the Generation of Miracles, so vaunted and so feared, don’t appear to challenge Rakuzan’s Empress. Akashi, never losing composure, interviews as though she was born to do it.

Of course it’s not fun. He could have told them that, when playing basketball never makes her smile.

.0.

Mayuzumi never wants to remember anything about the Winter Cup finals, not as long as he lives.

.0.

...is that how it's going to be? Fine.

Mayuzumi will never, ever forget:

The chilling realization that his phantom ability had been nurtured for one reason only; a weapon aimed straight at the heart of Seirin’s Kuroko.

The smaller girl’s eyes as they turned onto him and passed over, staring Akashi’s smirk right in the face.

Even though he'd been prepared for it, had been using them as much as she used him, the ease with which he disappeared from their sight.

Akashi saying, “Don't you know who I am?” And that smile, like the brush of cold air. “I am Akashi.”

As if they didn't know.

.0.

“You’re going to disappoint a lot of people,” he says, when she emerges from out of nowhere after the club leaving ceremony he has carefully not attended.

“They would be disappointed either way,” she replies, as though the eternally poised princess isn’t hiding in a quiet corner around the back of the school from the third-year basketball club members who have been screwing up their courage half the year to confess to her, hoping that she’ll be carried away by today’s copious sentimentality.

Even if her looks aren’t his type, Akashi is particularly lovely today, her hair fastened up around her face and her smile as sweet and kind as though she’s never thrown anyone away for failing her. He can’t really blame his former teammates for their infatuation, he just doesn’t want to see them crying all over themselves and her all day.

There’s no one else he wants to see today.

“We didn’t have time for this before,” Akashi is saying. What with Rakuzan losing the Winter Cup for the first time in years, yes. “But what did you… think of Kuroko?” Akashi says, eyes intent on his face. “When you met her, I mean.”

Mayuzumi looks at her. “Nothing,” he says, and means it. He thought absolutely nothing about Seirin’s Kuroko, and since he doesn’t want to be drawn and quartered, it’ll stay that way.

Akashi’s eyes slide to the side, considering. “I see,” she says, thoughtfully.

Mayuzumi draws himself up. “Is that all you have to say to me?” he says.

Akashi’s eyes flick back to him, and she smiles. It’s a smile full of secrets and promises and the wavering edge of a laugh, as though Akashi thinks she’s totally in control. It chills him to the bone.

“Yes, I think so,” she says. “I’ll see you around, Mayuzumi-san.”

Chapter Text

“Right,” said Takao. “Right. This is not the help I was looking for.”

Aomine slurped on her soda until the straw rattled. “Too bad,” she said.

“Isn’t Kise available?” said Takao. He looked at Kuroko imploringly. “She’s almost human. She knows where Midorima lives.”

“We all know where she lives,” said Aomine. “We’ve known her for years.” She continued to eye Takao speculatively as she ate giant handfuls of Kagami’s fries. And drank Kagami’s soda.

“Kise-san sends her regrets, but she’s busy,” said Kuroko. “Don’t you know where Midorima-san lives?”

Takao tipped his head up to stare at the ceiling. He sucked on his teeth. “Shin-chan- Midorima and I aren’t getting along so well right now,” he admitted.

“Did you put your hand up her skirt before she was ready?” said Aomine.

Kagami’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked between Takao and the girls with interest. A bit of manly sympathy. Not too much.

“...I was going to say,” said Kuroko, in a much more delicate tone. “Have you two fallen out?”

Kise wouldn’t have asked such questions. Kise would have taken one look and telepathically known what the problem was.

“I…” said Takao. He dragged his hand over his face. “Look, can we not talk about this? I just need someone to drop some stuff off at her place and tell her to come back to school.”

“She’s skipping school to avoid you?” said Kuroko.

Aomine said nothing, only looked at Takao with cool dark consideration in her eyes.

“I confessed,” said Takao, giving up miserably. “I said I liked her, it was a disaster, she cried. It’s been three days since she’s come to school.”

“And people are still making you bring stuff to her?” said Aomine. “Harsh.”

“They don’t know, she hasn’t spoken to anyone either. She hasn’t spoken to me,” said Takao.

“Can’t you just say you don’t want to see her and send someone else?” said Kagami.

“Yeah, I don’t think I want to relive that too many times for people,” said Takao. He took a deep breath. “And it’s not- she’s not-” Too many people knew, or thought they knew, were already beginning to eye him sideways and mutter. Knowing that she’d fled because of him was bad, the gaping hole where she should have been every day was awful, knowing that she was probably just as miserable because he hadn’t been able to keep his fat mouth shut was the worst. There wasn’t any way to brush this off or play it up as a joke, a mistake, a stupid, stupid oversight. The only way out was through. The only way he was going to get through this was if someone lit him on fire first so that he stopped thinking about how she’d said sorry, like her heart was breaking.

When he looked back up at them, Aomine was looking into space, and Kuroko was looking at Aomine.

“We’ll go,” said Aomine. She nudged Kagami with her elbow. “Finish it up,” she commanded him.

There was that, at least. “Great,” said Takao. “It’s uh, just this pack-”

“You’re coming with us,” said Aomine.

Takao gaped. “No,” he said. “I just said, she doesn’t want to-”

“You’ve tried?” said Aomine.

“No,” said Takao. He hadn’t even been brave enough to shove it through the mail slot. “But she doesn’t-”

“Oh, doesn’t she,” said Aomine grimly. “This sounds a lot-” she put up a finger. “A lot- like Midorima being stupid again. But on the off-chance she’s not being stupid, just relax your jaw and take it when she slugs you. Then she’ll feel sorry enough for you that she’ll come back to school again. That solves your problem.”

It really didn’t, but Kuroko was looking steadily at Takao, which meant… something? And at least he’d feel better going there with other people at his back.

Takao looked at Kagami for moral support.

Kagami seemed to understand what Takao was mentally screaming. “What about her problem?” he said to Aomine, quietly.

Aomine stood up, and slung her bag over her shoulder, shoving the table out of her way with a sharp squeal. “I’ll take care of that,” she said.

.0.

Kuroko stuck to Takao all the way to the Midorima’s place, a blessedly silent, comforting presence standing next to him thinking in a focused but not particularly panicked way about what to do about Midorima. As far as Takao could judge, Kuroko was placing total faith in Aomine’s judgement, which seemed crazy to him. Aomine leaned casually on Kagami the whole time but now and then Takao caught Aomine looking at him with that same cool consideration and faint air of irritation.

It was easy for them, wasn’t it? Kagami and Aomine seemed like they’d been put into life on a crash-course trajectory to be together. Even now, Kagami was following her without a word of complaint, drawn in by pure proximity. But Midorima didn’t work like that. She didn’t make anything easy; she wouldn’t accept it if it was.

Kuroko touched Takao’s elbow lightly; they were here. Aomine undid the gate and walked in like she owned the place.

She rolled back her shoulders and sighed, handing off her bag to Kagami. “Yell you’re here to see her,” she said. “After that, follow my lead.”

The door opened, Midorima’s mom, attracted by the sound of the gate. “Excus- oh, Aomine-chan! Takao-kun? Long time no see!”

“Hi Auntie,” said Aomine nonchalantly, strolling around to the side of the house and staring down the garden running along the side.

“Hello, Midorima-san,” said Kuroko.

She started. “Kuroko-chan! I didn’t see you there! Have you all come to visit-”

Kuroko poked Takao hard in the back. “Yeah!” he said, startled. He raised his voice. “WE CAME TO SEE IF SHIN-CHAN IS-”

“Come on!” yelled Aomine, and took off.

Takao darted around the side of the house beheld Aomine sprinting towards a tall, long-haired- Shin-chan!

“Kagami-kun, stay here,” said Kuroko authoritatively. “Midorima-san, it’s very nice to see you-”

Takao raced towards the backyard of the giant house. Midorima was making for the back fence, which he had seen her hop before, easily. There was no way he could make it back there in time… but Aomine could.

Aomine yelled to catch Midorima’s attention and Midorima swerved direction, but that had been a feint. Aomine had already adjusted her trajectory, and as Midorima skidded and tried to stop Aomine crashed into her and tackled them both into the blue flower bushes.

“Sorry Auntie,” he heard Aomine say as she sat on Midorima.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” demanded Midorima, surprisingly coherent for a person lying on a plant.

“What do you think you’re doing?” said Aomine, callously. “We visit and the first thing you do is run out the back door? After skipping school? You disgust me.”

“You- you-” sputtered Midorima. “You bi- you terrible, mean- how dare you!”

“Wasn’t my idea,” said Aomine grandly. She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder, entirely in the wrong direction. “Your ‘not’ boyfriend there needed some help.”

Midorima went still, her face freezing, and Aomine sat back on her heels. “Good,” she said. “Now you two are going to talk or slap or kiss it out or whatever, and if you run away again I will go into your room and touch all your stuff. Work it out.”

So saying, she stood, walked to the open patio door, toed off her shoes, and walked in.

“Auntie, hiiii,” Takao heard Aomine calling.

He looked at Midorima.

She looked back at him.

“That was- all her idea,” said Takao lamely.

“C-clearly,” said Midorima. She sat up, but seemed to take Aomine’s threat seriously. She hunched in on herself.

“I brought,” said Takao. “I brought your homework, and notes, and stuff.”

“Thank you,” said Midorima. She lifted her chin. There were leaves in her hair.

“I’m sorry,” said Takao, suddenly, all in a rush. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it, please come back.”

Midorima turned a shade greyer. “I see,” she said. “I- it’s not your fault, I didn’t mean to-”

Takao soldiered on, because he had the awful feeling that if he didn’t, he’d never in his life get another chance. “I won’t bother you with it again,” he said. “I didn’t think it would upset you so much. I get that you don’t think about me that way. I’ll make sure I’ll get over it.” There. He could do that, right? Smile and stop sneaking moments of searing intimacy into his daily life. Smile and give up wanting to play with her hair.

Midorima’s forehead crinkled, she stared at him with anguished eyes and said, “Get over what?”

The truth, in a wild, dizzying, astonishing, extraordinary, impossible way, began to dawn on Takao. Aomine couldn’t have known this. Could she? He dropped his bag and went on his knees next to Midorima. “Get over…” he said, “the fact that I’m in love with you.”

Midorima blinked at him, the enormity of the thought failing to sink into her giant, superefficient, gifted, completely uncomprehending brain.

“Head over heels,” tried Takao. “Panting. Embarassingly, obviously, constantly… in love with you.”

Midorima stared. “You’re not,” she said. “You only joke that you are.”

“I am,” said Takao. “I was actually telling the truth a few times- and I wasn’t joking about us dating, I wasn’t, at all, I promise-”

“You were saying it to be sorry for me,” said Midorima, and the world fell beautifully, perfectly back into place. “Because I know, I know they all make jokes about it and you don’t like it when they do, they all say that you only got close to me because you had to, that you put up with it because I put out or because I have these boobs or I bribe you, and it was okay, it was okay when I knew they were telling lies but then I realised that they weren’t saying- they weren’t saying what was really happening. Even the nice jokes, the ones they don’t think mean anything- they knew I liked you,” she said. “Everyone knew. That’s why they keep talking about it.”

“No,” said Takao. “No, no, no, I-” He felt like crying, had he run enough to say it was sweat from his eyes?

“Everyone makes fun of us because they know I like you,” he said. “They know because it’s so obvious. I’m the obvious one! I follow you around like a stalker and I don’t know when to give up.”

“You were-” said Midorima. Her breath shattered, and her throat was gulping up and down with emotion. “Doing it to be nice to me.”

“I’m not nice,” said Takao.

“You’re very nice,” said Midorima. She looked like she was going to cry again, her face upset. “You’re kind, and you’re thoughtful, and you always try your best. You care about what people think and you go out of your way to make them happy.”

“Making sure nobody wants to push me into traffic isn’t being nice, Shin-chan,” said Takao, bemused. “And I’m not-” he hesitated, and took her hand. Really took it, this time, holding firmly onto her palm. “I’m only that nice to you. Because they were right. Not- about all that gross stuff. But they were right, I like you, I’ve loved you since.... since. Everyone knows.”

“You asked me out because you knew I liked you,” said Midorima. She was blushing furiously now, but she hadn’t shaken him off.

“I did say it because I thought you liked me,” said Takao. “Because I’m a coward. Because I didn’t dare to say anything if I thought I would have to give any of this up.”

“But you don’t,” said Midorima. Her eyes dripped over with tears. “You can’t!”

“Why can’t I?” said Takao.

“I’m too tall,” she sobbed. “And I’m not sexy, and I’m not cute, and I don’t do cute things! I’m not anyone’s type! I would be a terrible girlfriend!”

“Not if you were mine,” said Takao, and he pulled her into his arms, delighted when she came without a protest and laid her head on his shoulder, even though they were both lying on the cold grass. This was the most romantic thing he was ever going to do in his life. It had to count. “I should have told you sooner,” he said.

“Yes,” said Midorima matter-of-factly, which made Takao laugh. She burrowed her head into his jacket. “Are you really-” she said.

“More than anything in the world,” he assured her. “Trust me, Shin-chan.”

She turned her head to look at him. Those eyes, so clear, so steadfast. “I do,” she said.

Aomine came to the back door and said, “Are you two still on the grass?”

Midorima stiffed. “I’m going to kill her,” she muttered.

“I wouldn’t have been brave enough to come without her,” said Takao, since this whole radical honesty thing seemed to be working for him.

“I knew you were just being stupid!” yelled Aomine to Midorima.

“Go away!” Midorima shouted back.

“Fine, all the cookies for me,” said Aomine, and went back inside. Kuroko, who had been peering around her side the whole time, smiled at Takao and Midorima. He gave her a thumbs up.

.0.

“You’re my girlfriend now,” said Takao to Midorima, just to make absolutely sure they were on the same page. He brushed the leaves and sticks from her person, taking his time.

“That is acceptable,” said Midorima. “I- I’ll come back to school. I- I’ve missed... so much... class.” The slowly dawning horror in her voice signaled the return of the Shin-chan Takao knew.

He rubbed her back soothingly. “It was my fault,” he said.

“We… will tell people,” said Midorima. “Not that I want to. I just think we should be clear so that no more stupid rumors will be spread.”

“I hate to tell you this, but that will not stop people talking about us,” said Takao.

“I know,” said Midorima in a small, completely unregretful voice. “I’ve been very self-indulgent.”

“We’re going to have to hold hands,” Takao warned her, and was rewarded by the rich chuckle of a laugh, surprised out of her.

“I think,” she said, sitting up, pulling him towards her. “We can do more than that.”

Chapter Text

Alex was in bed with him again. Kagami felt her limbs shift against him and the change in her breathing Her leg pressed against his and Kagami’s brain registered powerful muscles, much stronger than Alex… she was taller than Alex, too, and Alex didn’t cuddle against him like this, inviting his body into the curve of hers… warmer than Alex, a furnace in her own right...

Kagami levitated out of bed and dumped himself onto the floor, bypassing dozing and waking up to go straight to what the fuck.

The girl in his bed rolled to the edge to peer at him. “Taiga?” she sighed. “Why did you do that?”

Kagami stuttered. She stretched, tall enough that her head lay back on his pillow and her toes came poking out the other side of his bed as she arched her powerful back. She sat up to look at him, her short hair sticking to her cheek. Unlike Alex would have been, she was fully clothed. Also unlike Alex, Kagami had no idea who she was.

“Uh,” she said. “It’s Aomine. I stayed over last night, remember?”

.0.

“This is the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me,” she said, draped over his one couch with her long bare legs going every which way and his clothes swapped out for hers, flipping distractedly through Kagami’s copies of Basketball Monthly with one hand and swiping through his phone with the other. She’d known his passcode. She had looked at him, sleep-rumpled and warm, and called him Taiga. She had changed out of her clothes into his, and Kagami didn’t quite dare to ask what she’d done for underwear.

“Those were yours anyway,” she said in response to this. “We’re pretty much the same height, you know.” She stuck out her foot at him. “I even passed you a pair of my shoes once, they fit you just fine.”

Horror stuttered across Kagami’s mind. “That happened,” he said. “That happened to me. Aomine gave me a pair of jordans after-”

“After yours broke, the morning of the Winter Cup Semi-finals against Kaijou,” she said. “Tetsu got Momoi to drag me out of bed and I came even though I was tired and you took my brand new shoes.”

Kagami looked at her feet. “They fit?” he said.

Aomine drew back one leg. “Come here and say that,” she said. “Come on.”

“No thanks,” said Kagami, hastily retreating.

“Make breakfast,” Aomine commanded. “I’m hungry.”

Kagami considered any number of responses, but since he was also hungry and the girl-Aomine definitely had no money, he started making breakfast instead while she muttered things to herself like ‘what a humorless bastard’ and ‘ugh, is that what I look like?’.

When she found the pictures of the Generation of Miracles that Momoi had sent him, she laughed until she cried. A little. Not a lot. Just a little. 

“You don’t have my number in here,” called Aomine, once that was over. “Why’s that?”

“We’re not friends,” said Kagami. “You people are the worse jerks I’ve ever met.”

Aomine laughed and put his phone to her ear. It was disturbingly, distressingly appealing. “Yeah,” she said. “But why don’t you put our numbers on your phone?”

.0.

Aomine groaned at the feeling of anonymous buzzing coming from somewhere under his armpit, and waited for it to go away, which it inevitably did as the call dropped due to no answer.

Then it buzzed again.

And again.

And ag-

“What the fuck do you want?” growled Aomine into the phone.

“This is so weird,” said a girl’s voice. Aomine didn’t get calls from girls, and not from girls with voices like this, a low, ruffled-velvet purr. She talked roughly and bluntly, like a boy. “Get up, lazy. Do you know what time it is?”

“Who the hell are you?” said Aomine.

“Go check if there’s a boy in Momoi’s bed,” she said.

Aomine came awake all in an instant. “What,” he said.

“Go check,” said the girl, “if there’s a boy in Momoi’s bed. I mean, there should be. I’m gonna call Tetsu next and check.”

“Who are you?” demanded Aomine, rolling out of bed and kicking apart the piles of clothes on the floor looking for something he could get on one-handed.

“Come to Taiga’s after- I mean, Kagami’s. I’m gonna tell them too,” said the girl, ignoring the question. Then she hung up.

Aomine swore, threw his phone down on the bed and started dressing. Then he cursed himself again, dug in his sheets for his phone and sat down with his jeans half on his legs.

“Pick up, pick up…” he muttered.

“Dai-chan?” said a voice, a sleepy voice. Aomine felt a rush of relief and anger, and then he froze.

“Satsuki?” he said.

“What?” said the voice, clearer this time. That wasn’t Satsuki’s voice, which at the best of times sounded like a stuck whistle being blown by a hamster. “Dai-chan, did you roll over onto the phone again? Are you asleep? Where’s Kagami-kun?”

Incomprehensible, but audible, Aomine heard the actual Satsuki’s voice. It sounded very close to the voice of the boy speaking to Aomine on Satsuki's phone, as though, for instance, they were lying in bed together.

Then, almost simultaneously, the boy and the girl on the other side of the line screamed.

.0.

Kuroko carefully scooted to the edge of the giant bed and considered her options. Akashi-san had not said that she had a cousin who might turn up in the middle of the night, and- Kuroko looked around the room- that he quite clearly lived in what Akashi-san had assured her was a guest room. When Kuroko had arrived at Akashi-san’s house in Kyoto, it had been quite late, and Kuroko had wanted to do nothing but rest.

And he had certainly not been there when Kuroko went to sleep.

Kuroko couldn’t see any of her things. Perhaps he had knocked them off the bedside table when he returned.

How had the noise not woken her?

Kuroko reached out and grasped the edge of the pillow which the boy was sleeping on. She shook it, jostling him awake.

She waited as he came awake, careful not to startle him. Thankfully, they were both reasonably dressed. He was surprised to see her, but, as Kuroko would have expected from one of Akashi’s relatives, he maintained his composure.

She saw him look her over, lingering on her face and her hair, which Kuroko knew resembled tangled grass. Kuroko resisted the urge to put her hand up and smooth it down. The brow of his handsome face furrowed.

“Kuroko…?” he said.

“Yes,” she said, surprised that he knew her. “Um. Akashi-san invited me over, I did not know this was your room. I was told this was a guest room.”

“This is my bedroom,” said the boy, with the air of slowly working out an immensely complicated problem. “I am Akashi Seijuurou.”

“I see the resemblance,” said Kuroko politely.

“Did… my father invite you over?” he said, without conviction.

“Your… cousin?” said Kuroko.

“My cousins live in Europe,” he said blankly. He was still staring at her. “Pardon,” he said, reaching his muscled arm over to pull the edge of her shirt taut.

Over her chest.

“Oh,” he said, releasing it hastily. “You are a girl.”

Kuroko took a deep breath. She drew back her fist in preparation.

“I can explain,” he said, inching backwards away from her.

“Get out,” said Kuroko.

“Please let me explain,” he said. 

The door opened.

“Oh, good,” said Akashi-san. This was entirely the Akashi-san Kuroko knew: beautiful, long-haired, self-possessed, female. The boy looked at her with exactly the same expression of fascinated astonishment. “You’re both awake.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Kuroko explained to her.

“Really?” said Akashi-san. “What did I do?”

Kuroko was trying to think of a way to explain it when she noticed Akashi-san’s strange phrasing. “You?” Kuroko said.

“Interesting,” said the boy. “I must admit that I did not think this possibility was at all likely.”

Akashi-san nodded. “I sleep in the north-facing room on the second floor,” she said. “I woke a little earlier, and came to this room to confirm my suspicions.”

“That’s Mother’s room,” said the boy.

“Yes,” said Akashi-san. She picked up the boy’s phone from the table, putting her finger over the home button. It responded instantly, unlocking the phone and showing a number of messages and missed calls. “Interesting,” she said.

“What is interesting,” said Kuroko, quelling the rising edge of hysteria. “What are you two talking about.”

“We appear to have been transported to an alternate dimension,” said Akashi-san calmly. She sat down on the edge of the bed next to Kuroko and showed her the saved pictures on the boy’s phone. Faces she almost knew, faces disturbingly unfamiliar, jumped out at her from pictures and in poses Kuroko found achingly familiar. “One in which our middle school basketball team was born entirely male.”

.0.

“You even know Akashi’s number?” said Kagami, once Aomine was done with his phone. It was getting easier and easier to think of the girl as Aomine. This was how a horror movie started.

“It was the team emergency contact for three years,” Aomine pointed out. “Didn’t pick up, though. Probably doesn’t like you.”

On the scale of Generation of Miracles dislike for him, Akashi’s only registered as middle of the line because at the other end were Midorima, Murasakibara and Aomine.

“You’re okay,” said Aomine. “I mean, I like you enough. I’m dating you, after all. You can be really cute.”

Kagami retreated to the kitchen counter and said, “Really?”

“Yes,” she said, almost defiantly. “And you’re Tetsu’s friend, so I knew you couldn’t be too weird from the start.”

“I don’t like any of Kuroko’s friends,” said Kagami.

“Momoi looks like a really cute girl here,” said Aomine.

“She’s okay,” said Kagami. “Kind of pushy. I think that you and her have a thing going on.”

“Huh,” said Aomine. “I guess that makes sense. Doesn’t Momoi like Tetsu?”

“She says so,” said Kagami. “You two still have a thing.”

Aomine looked at him over the top of the chair, her eyes thoughtful. “You are a little different,” she said. “It’s weird.”

“It’s weird for everyone,” Kagami pointed out. “Why does this other me even like you?”

Aomine raised her eyebrows at him, and Kagami flushed. It wasn’t like- he didn’t mean that she wasn’t good-looking, attractive even, and if she played ball anything like the Aomine he knew did-

She laughed at his panic, once again that disturbingly appealing sound. “You’re kind of a mess sometimes,” she said, but fondly. “I’m always nice to you.”

.0.

Takao leapt off the rickshaw while the wheels were still spinning, letting himself in through Midorima’s front door and throwing himself up the stairs.

“Shin-chan!” called Takao. “Shin-chan, the most amazing thing in the world has happened!”

He burst into Midorima’s room, where there was a girl with long loose hair sitting stiffly at the desk while Midorima himself, red-faced, sat on his bed attending to his phone. They were both wearing different versions of Midorima’s ridiculous long-sleeved patterned pajamas.

Takao dropped to his knees and put his hands up in worship. “It’s true,” he said, looking at the ceiling. “This is the most beautiful day of my life.”

The girl cast him a look in which loathing and terror were evenly distributed. “Who told him?” she demanded of her male counterpart.

“Kise,” said Takao, shamelessly sacrificing him.

Midorima adjusted his glasses. Takao glanced to the side and saw that the girl was wearing Midorima’s usual glasses, though they drooped a little on her face. Midorima must be wearing his old ones, no longer perfectly molded to his face. “Kise,” Midorima said, voice dead.

“Which one?” said the girl, her eyes narrowing.

Takao turned his gaze to her and drank in every detail of her face. “I was too excited to remember,” he lied. “Shin-chan-chan, you’re really pretty!”

She stared at him in disgust. “What did you call me?”

While Takao embarked on the long- and, he was aware, insane- explanation of his designation for her, boy Midorima sighed, and said to Shin-chan-chan, “Have we come to an agreement over the lucky item?”

“No,” she said. “We have not.”

“If you’re the same person, then technically you could share,” suggested Takao.

Girl Midorima looked at him in a way that suggested this was the stupidest thing she’d ever heard. Possibly the stupidest thing that had ever been said, by anyone. Small hairs crisped entirely off Takao’s face from the pure heat of the venom from her eyes.

Boy Midorima, who by now looked thoroughly cowed, said, clearing his throat, “I believe that the obvious course of action is to dress, then to obtain a duplicate.”

“You are free,” she said.

Midorima looked hunted and grabbed his laid-out clothes from the hanger. “I will… change in the bathroom,” he said.

“Go ahead.”

“Please make yourself free of my own clothes,” said Midorima, rallying manfully. “Takao, come.”

“Leave the lucky item,” she said. She lifted her mass of hair, draping it over her shoulder. Her glasses fell a little way down her nose and she shoved them back up, nibbling at her pink lip. This was almost certainly a hallucination coma dream Takao was having, and he never wanted to wake up. “Bring me a hairbrush.”

.0.

It had started out such a good day. Such a calm, restful, potentially rewarding day. There was an author Mayuzumi admired doing a signing in Kyoto today, and the now-university student looked forward to an acquisitive day out.

He looked for the start of the line for the book signing, but was distracted by someone calling his name.

“Mayuzumi-san,” sparkled the unknown, very pretty girl. She was dressed in tomboy fashion, in men’s capris and a large sports hoodie. “So nice to see you.”

Mayuzumi froze. He recognised that hoodie. He recognised those eyes, set in that face, and the very amused curve of that annoying smile.

He looked up, and saw, a little way behind the mysterious girl, his former team captain, Akashi Seijuurou. As they locked eyes, Akashi smiled, looking absolutely delighted. “Mayuzumi-san,” he said. “So nice to see-”

Mayuzumi ran for it. He dropped the book and ducked out past the new arrival shelves. He could always come back for it later. Right now, safety was of the utmost-

Mayuzumi tripped, crashing to the floor.

Akashi- Akashis- caught up to him at their leisure, loudly asking if he was alright.

Mayuzumi looked up into the dead staring eyes of the person who had tripped him.

“Mayuzumi-san,” said a female Kuroko Tetsuya, hair tucked up into one of Akashi’s Rakuzan-branded baseball caps. That was who she was, Mayuzumi was sure of it. "So necessary to see you." 

Chapter Text

With dignity, Mayuzumi stood up, retrieved his book, purchased it, and then went to stand in line for the book signing. Kuroko, accompanied by both Akashis, did the same, a handful of places behind him.

Mayuzumi could quite clearly hear their conversation from where he stood. He couldn’t believe they would be so inconsiderate, speaking that loudly in a public place.

“I can’t really describe what Aomine looks like- I mean, I can see there’s a resemblance in these photos… oh, I remember this, this is Kuroko’s birthday… we went to Kagami Taiga’s house…”

“-boyfriend? Really?” Akashi’s voice, low and sure of itself, compared to the alto of the girl. “Midorima- referring to Shintarou… That’s so interesting...”

The softer, lighter tones in less ostentatious speech was Kuroko’s. Mayuzumi couldn’t overhear anything she said from here, and he completely lost the thread of their conversation.

He couldn’t believe she would be so inconsiderate.

After the signing, Mayuzumi waited by the door for them to come out, rather than be hunted through the streets of Kyoto like a dog. He flipped through the book he had just bought as he waited, though he couldn’t read a word of it.

All of three of them trooped out, and seemed unsurprised that he had not left. Both Akashis smiled winsomely at him.

“Fine,” Mayuzumi said, tucking the book away in his bag. “What do you want?”

.0.

Kagami’s doorbell rang frantically. “Kagamichi!” cried Kise. “KAGAMICHI!!”

“You’re going to get in trouble with the neighbour aunties,” Aomine observed, her eyes serenely closed.

“Stop that,” Kagami said to her over his shoulder.

“KAGAMI- oooh, hi,” said Kise, craning his head over Kagami’s shoulder. He beamed at Aomine. “HIIIIIIIIII!”

“Kise,” said Aomine with certainty, though this was hard. They looked each other over in mutual evaluation. “Not bad,” Aomine conceded. “You’re a little skinny, though.”

“I look better with my clothes off,” said Kise innocently. He pushed past Kagami.

“Wanna show?” said Aomine, smiling wickedly.

“NO, NO,” Kagami forbid them. “CLOTHES STAY ON.”

“Boo,” said Kise.

“Jealous,” said Aomine. “Where’s… other Kise? Our Kise?”

“She said she had something to do and took off,” said Kise. “She’s also really good-looking. We thought about making out, you know, just to try, but we decided it was weird and we didn’t do it.”

“You had to think about it?” said Aomine.

“You thought about it?” demanded Kagami.

“Of course we thought about it,” said Kise, injured. “Wouldn’t you?”

“NO,” said Kagami.
“Would think about it,” decided Aomine. “I guess I’ll probably be hot.”

Kise sat down next to the chair and put his head on the armrest, smiling up at her. “Would you think about me?” he said, batting his eyelashes up at her.

Aomine burst out laughing.

Kise pouted.

“I’m dating Taiga,” she said, putting her head on the armrest next to Kise’s. “Sorry.”

“No!” said Kise. Kagami sourly noticed that he didn’t actually seem all that surprised. “She didn’t tell me anything! She just took my phone and said she had something else to do.”

“Huh,” said Aomine. She rapidly moved on from this topic, losing interest at light speed. “Wanna know who Midorima’s boyfriend is?”

“Oh, yes,” said Kise, his eyes opening wide, his entire body arching eagerly towards Aomine.

“It’s that new friend he has at school, it’s fucking obviously him,” said Aomine. He had come in through the open door of Kagami’s apartment while Kagami had been focused on two attractive idiots. In mental self-defense, Kagami returned to his previous mode of addressing Aomine, which had been simply to think of him as ‘that jerk’. “Where’s Satsuki.”

Aomine looked at that jerk contemplatively. “Would think about it,” she said.

Kise nodded enthusiastically. “I thought so!”

That jerk glared at them. “Where’s Satsuki? I thought she’d be here by now.” He shot an especially sour look at his counterpart. “With your Momoi.”

“If she's with him, they’re going to be fine,” Aomine pointed out. “I taught mine to fight ages ago, he’s gotten pretty good at it.”

“You taught him to fight?” said Kise, wide-eyed.

“I can’t be taking care of him all the time,” said Aomine reasonably. “I have a life. I taught Tetsu to fight too.” She thought about it. “Actually, that’s probably where they went.”

That jerk grumbled and threw himself down on the floor at the opposite corner. “So?” he said. “Tetsu’s a girl too?”

“Akashi said they’re in Kyoto,” said Aomine. She was still primly curled up in Kagami’s chair, her legs tucked beneath her; she had not let go of his phone all morning except to take a short nap on top of it and then woken to discover that it had slipped between her thighs.

Kagami had started cooking lunch for the circus just to have something else to look at.

“There’s some author or something Tetsu likes visiting and Akashi invited her up to get a signing.”

Kise put his head on the side. “Girls are so close,” he said, as though he was impressed by this.

Aomine shrugged her shoulders. “I can’t get hold of Murasakibara,” she said. “Not even the boy one. I tried that smarmy friend of Taiga’s, but he’s not picking up either.”

That jerk’s shoulders flinched at Aomine’s casual use of Kagami’s first name, but he kept his mouth shut.

“Tatsuya’s not smarmy,” said Kagami weakly.

“Is there another word for it when he looks like all he wants is to put his hands up her skirt?” said Aomine.

“That’s what he looks like now,” said that jerk. “All the time.”

“You’ve met him once,” said Kagami.

“Doesn’t change that that’s what he looks like,” said that jerk.

“I want to see what Kurokochi looks like as a girl,” said Kise sotto voce to Aomine.

“She looks like a girl,” said Aomine back at him, not taking her eyes off that jerk mouthing off to Kagami.

“Yeah, but hot like you or a normal girl?” said Kise.

When Aomine blinked slowly down at him, Kise blinked up at her innocently. There was a hint of playful proposition in his smile, curving slowly across his flawless face.

Aomine moved her legs and weight away from him, all the way from one armrest of Kagami’s single-seater sofa to the other one.

“I change my answer, there’s also this guy,” said Aomine, once she was safely rearranged on the other armrest. She looked to Kagami, but Kagami didn’t know what she wanted from him.

Kise slumped down dejectedly. He looked at both Kagami and that jerk, staring angrily at him, and increased the wattage of his smile. “Can’t blame me for trying,” he said cheerfully.

“I blame you for breathing,” said that jerk. He scrubbed his hand on his jeans, scowling. “Where the hell is Satsuki?” he burst out.

.0.

The door to Himuro’s dorm room opened, and Atsushi came in with both hands full of food.

“Look,” said Atsushi, with an air of great sacrifice. “I brought some snacks. You can have some.”

The lump of blanket on Himuro’s bed moved and Murasakibara’s face poked out. She eyed him suspiciously. Himuro held himself very still and thought misdirectionly thoughts.

She pulled herself free. “Fine,” she said, pouting. “But I’m still not sorry.”

“Okay,” said Himuro. It barely hurt anymore where she’d shoved him out of his bed in her initial shock, anyway.

“It’s Muro-chin’s bed,” said Atsushi pettishly, who had once made Himuro cry on national television.

“I thought he was sleeping on the floor,” said Murasakibara. “The bed is too small.”

“Fine,” Atsushi said, even though it clearly was not fine. “But what were you doing in his bed in the first place?”

Murasakibara turned an opaque gaze onto him. Her hair was all messed up, and her face was red from lying down all morning. It was unreasonably adorable. “None of your business,” she said. She opened a packet and stuffed her mouth stubbornly at the two boys.

Himuro continued to drink her in.

“Don’t eat in Muro-chin’s bed,” said Atsushi, a statement of astounding hypocrisy.

“I’ll do what I want in Muro-chin’s bed,” said Murasakibara defiantly.

“Oh my,” said Himuro placidly.

The two Murasakibaras both went red and crunched sullenly.

“Why are you wearing a boy’s uniform?” said Atsushi next.

“Can’t I wear what I want?” retorted Murasakibara.

“This is a sports school so I didn’t have to special-order,” said Atsushi, making a truly heroic effort to retain his temper. “Didn’t you do that?”

Murasakibara, licking her fingers (Himuro watched), said, “I did. I just got this one from someone else because I wanted one, that’s all.”

“What someone else?” asked Atsushi suspiciously.

“Someone who liked me,” said Murasakibara. “So he just gave it to me because I asked.”

Atsushi was scandalised. “Are you a flirt,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“Are you an idiot?” said Murasakibara.

“Kisechin’s a flirt,” said Atsushi. “He had a lot of girls around him all the time and he got them to do things for him.”

“That’s Kisechin, not me,” said Murasakibara. “Muro-chin’s the only one I can’t get rid of.”

They both looked at Himuro. He blinked back at them as innocently as he could.

“If he’s so bad then why were you in his bed?” said Atsushi, returning to the attack.

“It’s too much trouble to sneak out again,” said Murasakibara. “Anyway, it’s not like I took off any of my clothes.”

“Don’t take off any of your clothes!” said Atsushi.

“I wouldn’t,” said Murasakibara. “We’re not even going out. Not like Mine-chin and Mido-chin are.”

Atsushi drew in a shocked breath. “They are?” he said, horrified.

“Not with each other,” clarified Murasakibara. “With Kagami and that guy on her team, the short one. Kise-chin told me.”

“With Taiga?” said Himuro, surprised.

“Yes,” said Murasakibara baldly. “You don’t really like it too much.”

“Hmm,” said Himuro. “Why?”

“He’s one who liked her first,” said Murasakibara. “And he’s pretty stupid. You worry.”

Himuro smiled at her. “Do you worry about your friend?” he said.

“Not about Mine-chin,” said Murasakibara, in the same too-bored tone of voice. “They’re all there if something happens to Mido-chin. Akachin would get angry too.”

“Does Akachin have a boyfriend?” asked Atsushi, closing his eyes in fear of the answer.

“No,” said Murasakibara. “You know who she liked, though. Back then.”

Atsushi’s eyes slammed back open. “Him?” he demanded.

“Who else,” said Murasakibara, rolling her eyes.

Atsushi grumbled to himself while eating two flavours at once. “I guess that makes sense,” he said.

“Don’t any of you have girlfriends,” said Murasakibara. “Shouldn’t you?”

“No,” said Atsushi.

“I meant Muro-chin,” said Murasakibara, turning up her nose at him. “You’re too much of a baby to date anyone.”

Atsushi looked outraged. “You’re a baby! You sleep in Muro-chin’s bed!”

“You are! You came in here looking for snacks in the first place!”

“You!”

“You!

“You!”

“I’m not really looking for anything right now,” said Himuro, inserting himself into the middle of their argument. “I don’t know about the rest of Atsushi’s friends.”

“Akachin’s always got lots of girls chasing him,” Atsushi informed this irritating girl.

“So does mine!” she said, fired up. “Kise-chin has lots, and plenty of people like Mido-chin and Mine-chin! Momoi even liked Kurochin!”

“Sacchin’s really cute here and everyone liked her,” Atsushi said.

“So?” half-yelled Murasakibara. “I don’t care! I don’t care about your dumb boy-friends and their dumb lives!”

“You’re the one who asked!” snapped Atsushi.

“You were!” Murasakibara drew herself up to her knees. “I don’t care about your lives and how you’re boys and even if that’s not fair I don’t care that you care about it! I don’t care that everyone liked your cute little pink manager and you think that I’m a playgirl just because some people liked me! I don’t care that you didn’t have to special-order and you can just come into Muro-chin’s room and act like a baby whenever you want just because you’re a boy and I’m a girl! I don’t care about you!”

They stared at each other in the ringing silence that followed.

“Right,” said Himuro. “I’m going to clean this up, then we’ll all go out for a bit, okay? I think we’re getting cranky all cooped up in here like this.” He gathered the snack wrappers in a plastic bag, and stepped outside.

Atsushi muttered, “I don't think you’re a playgirl. I just think it’s weird that you’re me as a girl.”

“Why can’t it be weird that you’re me as a boy?” demanded Murasakibara.

“That’s weird too,” said Atsushi. “Does Muro-chin really-”

“...I think he does,” said Murasakibara, sinking back onto Himuro’s bed. “I don’t know, it’s complicated.”

“It’s complicated…” said Atsushi. “With… us, too. With boys.”

She turned huge eyes on him. “Muro-chin?” she said.

“Just boys,” said Atsushi. “Not just me.” He coughed. “Anyway you’re here now,” he said. “Let’s just go out and get more snacks.”

“He’s going to want to play basketball,” she said.

“Fine then,” said Atsushi. She looked so tired, as she collapsed on the sheets: so tired, so furiously bitter. “We’ll do that.”

.0.

Mayuzumi glared at the girl Kuroko Tetsuya. “You people wanted me to hang around for this?” he said.

“I suffer,” said the girl, “you suffer.”

Both Akashis looked wide-eyed and innocent. It worked no better on the girl one than it did the boy, though, if tortured at the stake, Mayuzumi would admit that it looked better on her.

Akashi, by contrast, wasn’t even bothering to fake a believable expression of regret. He was clearly enjoying himself hugely, and kept turning his head to smile at both the girls and even at Mayuzumi, drinking the sight of them in.

Kuroko ignored the guy Akashi, except when she turned her head to face him fully and stare his grin right in the face. It was amusing how she seemed to think that judging Akashi would quell him.

Mayuzumi had initially picked the seat next to her at their square table because he couldn’t bear the thought of being sandwiched by two Akashis. He was rapidly reconsidering this choice.

“Don’t you want to discuss the book?” suggested Akashi. She rested her head on her hands. “You both admire this author, don’t you? Kuroko, what was it you were saying about your-”

“Is that why you invited me to stay with you?” said Kuroko. Evenly, but also irritated. “Akashi-san, I’ve already told you, I have no interest in Mayuzumi-san, romantic, platonic, or otherwise.”

Mayuzumi looked across the table to the guy Akashi, who looked back at him with what appeared to be genuine blankness.

“He’s really not so bad once you know him,” said the other Akashi. “I really think you could give him a chance, Kuroko. He’s handsome, he’s clever, you both like to read-”

“If you like him so much, you go out with him,” Kuroko said, deliberately.

“He doesn’t like me,” Akashi pointed out. Her lips pressed together for a pouting moment. “He finds me very annoying.”

“He does find you very annoying,” said Kuroko, which in its frankness and accuracy was the most terrifying thing Mayuzumi had heard all day. “Nevertheless, he likes you. I am not interested in Mayuzumi-san, Akashi-san. I came up to spend the day with my friend, not a person I find unpleasant at best and repulsive at worst.”

“Repulsive seems a bit strong,” said Akashi, her eyelashes fluttering down. This was possibly the closest that Mayuzumi had ever seen any Akashi come to admitting defeat.

Except that one time, the one he never ever thought about.

“Fine,” Akashi said, letting her lips pout out like the spoiled princess she was. “I won’t pursue it any further.”

“Thank you,” said Kuroko, sarcastically.

Akashi stirred her straw in her drink. “I only thought that you two would get along,” she said. “You’re so alike.”

Mayuzumi shuddered.

Kuroko rolled her eyes.

“I am enjoying spending time with you,” said Akashi, turning his head to smile at Kuroko.

“Of course you are,” said Kuroko drily. “Thank you for purchasing the book for me, Akashi-kun.”

“It was the least I could do,” he said gallantly.

Mayuzumi looked at the moderately disconsolate girl Akashi. She peeped her lovely eyes at him, and even though he was, as Kuroko had said, very annoyed by her, he couldn’t help but admit that she was beautiful and Akashi-like enough to be extremely attractive.

She reached out and patted his hand. “You’re not repulsive, Mayuzumi-san,” she reassured him. “Only occasionally unpleasant.”

“Occasionally?” repeated Mayuzumi blankly, staring down at her hand patting his so… so… not at all comfortingly.

“You’ve gotten better,” said Akashi. “And you’re always amusing.”

“Maybe date no one,” said Mayuzumi. “No one at all. No person. Don’t date.”

Akashi smiled, so familiar that Mayuzumi felt a chill. “Maybe,” she said. “Unless it’s fun.”

.0.

“I don’t approve of you constantly staying over at Kagami Taiga’s house,” Midorima sniffed, her nose stuck in the air. “It’s hardly appropriate at our age.”

“Give it a rest,” Aomine said to her. “You’re here now too.”

“Out of necessity,” said Midorima. “Since we appear to making a habit of gathering in his apartment.”

“I was already here,” said Aomine. They were wedged into the chair together, both spilling out over the edges but apparently that was just a thing girls did? Sit in the same chair, shoulders tightly together and leaning on each other with casual, invasive intimacy? Girls were so weird.

“You shouldn’t have been in the first place,” said Midorima.

“Then I’d just have woken in bed with grumpy over there,” said Aomine. “Same diff.”

The two girls both looked at that jerk. That jerk glared at them. Midorima, sitting stiffly beside him, as far away from the girls as he could manage, focused his gaze on the floor.

Takao had joined Kise in sitting at the foot of the couch smiling avidly up at the two girls. Kagami thought it was creepy. And that his place getting crowded. And that everyone had eaten up all the food in the house, and now he had nothing for dinner.

“I don’t see why you need to worry about Momoi,” said Midorima, pushing her glasses up her face. “He’ll be fine.”

“Satsuki isn’t the same person as yours,” said that jerk. “She gets into the crazy stuff all the time.”

“Look, same, really,” said Aomine. “I get it. The number of times this idiot, that idiot, that one, this person right here-” Kise, Midorima (x2) and Kagami all looked offended. “-get themselves into the most moronic problems, I get it. But you gotta go with the flow. They have to solve their own problems.”

Kise, Midorima (x2) and Kagami all looked astounded at the idea of Aomine, ever, solving problems for any of them.

“Name one,” said the Midorima tucked up to Aomine’s side.

Aomine pointed at Takao.

“He doesn’t count,” said Midorima.

“Like hell he doesn’t count,” said Aomine. “You were skipping school.”

“I was taking a mental health day,” hissed Midorima.

“Woah,” said Takao. “Shin-chan-chan, I think I really need to hear the full story of this, our love, just to get the big picture on this. You skipped school?”

“You are not my boyfriend,” Midorima said to him, looking down her nose.

“Well,” said Takao. He gave her the most piteous, puppy-dog look he could manage.

“Stop that,” said Midorima. “You’re just not.”

“Midorin, don’t be mean to Takao-kun!” said Satsuki, coming in through Kagami’s door. “Dai-chan, I brought what you wanted! Sorry I took so long!”

“Look at you, look at you!” said Momoi, bouncing with excitement, blazing from every line of his face. “Kichan, Midorin! Tetsu-kun’s a really cool guy too!”

“Hello,” said Kuroko.

Aomine shot off the couch and grabbed the shoebag from Satsuki. “Is it gonna fit?” she said.

“Dai-chan,” said Satsuki, smiling at her.

Aomine smiled, a laughing, quirked-up smile, and rubbed Satsuki’s hair. “Yeah, I know you,” she said fondly. “Back in a sec.”

She ran into Kagami’s bedroom and closed the door.

“What are you doing,” yelled Midorima after her. She sat up, adjusting her long-sleeved shirt.

“Oh,” said Satsuki. “She didn’t have one, so I brought her a-” Satsuki gestured around her chest.

Everyone else in the room stared at her in horror.

“Has she been without one all day?” said Midorima, her eyes wide with horror.

“Yes!” yelled Aomine from Kagami’s room.

Midorima, face scarlet, stomped down the hallway to scold her friend.

All of the boys in the room avoided looking at each other.

“Why didn’t you just keep one on while sleeping?” they heard Midorima hiss in what she clearly thought was a discreet whisper.

“You know you’re the one person I know uptight enough to wear bras to bed,” said Aomine, quite clearly from down the hall. “This is better now anyway.”

“I’m in a coma and this is hell,” said Kagami.

“Didn’t you notice while you were in bed with her?” asked the guy Momoi, looking at Kagami with his huge, weird creepy eyes.

“No,” said Kagami.

“Girls are animals,” said that jerk. “And where the hell have you been?”

“I went with me to go get Tetsu-kun!” said Satsuki.

“I have sisters,” said Kise. “I mean, this is just how girls are.”

“Not my sister,” said Midorima with certainty. His voice was faint with the trials and tribulations of today.

“Shin-chan-chan seems like a really proper young lady,” said Takao dreamily.

“Kuroko-san is also really well-mannered,” said Momoi. “I wish you guys could meet her. And Akashi-san.”

“What about Mukkun?” said Satsuki.

“She’s really cute,” said Momoi. “Sometimes she has a bad temper and sometimes she doesn’t get along with Kuroko-san and that time with Akashi-san, but she’s actually really nice and-”

“I’m going to vomit,” said that jerk flatly.

“Dai-chan is actually very nice too,” said the boy Momoi, defiantly. “Or he wouldn’t be so worried about us today!”

Satsuki turned a beautiful sparkling look of understanding on him. “That’s so right,” she said, and hugged him.

“Momochi is an angel,” said Kise, awed.

“Alright, break it up,” said Aomine. Returning, she had yet again changed out her clothes for an entirely new set of Kagami’s clothes, and she dangled a pair of black and red shoes from her hand.

“Hey!” said that jerk. “Those are my shoes!”

Aomine snorted at him. “Look, two choices,” she said.

“We could stay in here and stare at each other’s faces some more,” she put down one finger. “Or we could go out and play ball.”

“That’s a good idea, Aomine-san,” said Kuroko.

“Bags Tetsu,” she said, slinging an arm around his neck, smiling at him.

“My glasses don’t fit correctly,” said Midorima crossly, once again shoving them up her nose. “How are we supposed to play?”

“Tape them on your face, do I have to think of everything? What’s all that sports tape even for?”

.0.

Dragged along in Aomine’s wake (This is so typical of you, I hope you realise, Kagami heard Midorima grumbling to that jerk, his low voice carrying) they finally let Kagami’s apartment and went to a streetball court.

It was amazing how much better Kagami felt after a game, and especially after watching the girls team up with Takao and Kuroko to smoke their male counterparts, the way they (as they switched teams) set Kagami himself up to sink shot after shot, ruthless, unyielding.

“We still want to win,” said Midorima, her crisp tones audible to the entire court. “But we always remember who the opponent is.”

“Shin-chan, learn from your alternate self,” said Takao to the sweating shooter. “That’s fighting spirit.” Midorima went for him; it was only by hiding behind Momois that Takao managed to escape his wrath.

Kise turned up half-way, a vision in floating white lace and apparently the only one of the girls who had managed to find girls clothes that whole day.

“I borrowed it from my sisters,” she said, shrugging a smooth cream shoulder. The guys, that jerk and Kuroko included, stared. They’d expected a beautiful girl, but something in this one transcended mere perfection of feature; she looked at her friends and her face lit like the sun. “I can still play.”

“How am I supposed to put it back,” guy Kise demanded.

“Tell them you wanted to be pretty today,” she said, and laughed.

They played again.

.0.

It turned out that Akashi believed the best thing for everyone to do was to return to their initial starting positions and wait for tomorrow to come, which at least as a plan of action in case they were going to be stuck with irritating girls forever possessed an elegant logic.

Takao insisted on accompanying them home, using the excuse that he’d left the rickshaw there.

“-And, if it comes down to it, I will be happy to offer myself as your boyfriend, Shin-chan-chan,” he said. “You can stay here with us forever and always make Shin-chan’s life an exciting mystery.”

“I don’t want that,” she said, as brutally honest as ever. “I miss my one.”

Takao closed his laughing mouth and looked a little ashamed of himself; he reached out and took her hand, squeezing it.

“You’ll be okay,” he said. “You’ll wake up and this will have been a weird dream, that's all. You’ll tell the real me about it when we meet again and I’ll laugh at it for you.”

Her hand tightened on his, a white knuckled-moment.

“It might,” she allowed. She lifted her other hand and brushed Takao’s fringe off his face. While he was looking up at her, she bent and kissed him on the cheek. “Good-night,” she said. “Thank you for all your help today.” Then she shoved him outside and closed the door on his face.

Midorima watched her sigh as she pushed the latch shut.

“You really are romantically involved with Takao,” he said, as though it still surprised him. It actually did not.

“Is there any reason for me to be ashamed of him?” she said.

“No,” he admitted. “While I feel his tendency to use levity as a crutch is sometimes irritating, I believe Takao to be an upstanding, talented and principled person who would do anything in his power to safeguard your health and happiness.”

“Exactly,” said Midorima. She held her chin upright and her shoulders straight, and all the stern lines of her looked to be aiming forward, relentless. “I’ll scissors-paper-stone you for the bed.”

“That is acceptable,” said Midorima. “Since our luck is equal, our lucky items are identical and we are purportedly the same person, the outcome should come out correct to random chance and thus be a fair contest.”

“The most annoying thing,” said Midorima levelly. Her braids swayed as she advanced the stairs ahead of him. “This whole day.”

“Yes?” said Midorima.

“Aomine is right. I do talk too much.”

.0.

“Seriously though, Kagami,” said that jerk.

“Seriously,” said Aomine. “I might marry him.”

.0.

“I hope you’re not suggesting that I rejoin you in bed,” said Kuroko, when Akashi-kun put down the phone and smiled at the photo Momoi-kun had sent them of the mixed crew who had wound up being foisted on Kagami-kun. Akashi-kun, with aplomb, had summoned some of his teammates to a private court and introduced Akashi-san and Kuroko as his cousin and her friend. That had been relaxing, for a given value that involved two Akashis on the same court.

“The mansion is well-supplied with guest beds,” said Akashi-kun. The car wound its way down the streets, sleek and silent. “I will take one for myself."

“And you definitely think we will be back to normal tomorrow?” Kuroko said.

“I have quite a strong impression,” said Akashi-kun.

“As do I,” said Akashi-san serenely.

Akashi-kun gave each of them his arm to walk up the pebbled driveway into the house, obviously still quite enjoying himself.

“I will retire to Mother’s room,” said Akashi-san. “See you in the morning, Kuroko.”

“Why did you choose that one?” asked Akashi-kun. “The downstairs bedroom is connected to the study and is on the quieter side of the house.”

“It has the large vanity,” explained Akashi-san. “And the bathroom is attached through a private door.”

Akashi-kun looked at her.

“I wanted it,” said Akashi-san.

Akashi-kun smiled at her, a touch sadly. Akashi-san smiled back.

“I’ll escort Kuroko, if she doesn’t mind,” said Akashi-kun adroitly.

“Please do,” said Akashi-san, and left them.

“I’m sorry for kicking you out of your own room, Akashi-kun,” said Kuroko.

“It’s the least I can do,” said Akashi-kun. “Again, I apologize for this morning. And when I was the one to invite you, as well.”

“Yes,” said Kuroko. “Akashi-kun... this book.”

“Yes?” he said.

“Why don’t you visit next weekend?” she said. “Bring that copy to Kuroko Tetsuya. Ask Momoi-san if she’ll help you set up a game.”

Akashi-kun was silent a moment, and then he said, “Do you think it’s true, Kuroko? That things are different for girls.”

“I don’t think it has to be that different,” she said. “Not if we can do anything about it.”

“Did you enjoy the book?” he said, just as Kuroko would have closed the door on him.

“I haven’t at all had time to start reading,” she told him, which really should have been obvious. “I was having too much fun.”

-OMAKE-

To: KASAMATSU

From: MORIYAMA

Re: The angel

My dear friend, I must tell you, a wondrous occurrence took place yesterday after you lost consciousness in the angel’s arms. She dabbed your brow and patted your cheeks, and told me that she been sent here to prophesy happiness for us all- a great love destiny which would only be fulfilled when MESSAGE DELETED.

To: MORIYAMA

From: KASAMATSU

Re: re: the angel

That was Kise in a dress, you moron.

Chapter Text

Alex was in bed with him again. Kagami felt her limbs shift against him and the change in her breathing Her leg pressed against his and Kagami’s brain registered powerful muscles, much stronger than Alex… she was taller than Alex, too, and Alex didn’t cuddle against him like this, inviting his body into the curve of hers… warmer than Alex, a furnace in her own right...

Kagami levitated out of bed and dumped himself onto the floor, bypassing dozing and waking up to go straight to what the fuck .

The girl in his bed rolled to the edge to peer at him. “Taiga?” she sighed. “Why did you do that?”

Kagami stuttered. She stretched, tall enough that her head lay back on his pillow and her toes came poking out the other side of his bed as she arched her powerful back. She sat up to look at him, her short hair sticking to her cheek. Unlike Alex would have been, she fully clothed. Also unlike Alex, Kagami had no idea who she was.

“Uh,” she said. “It’s Aomine. I stayed over last night, remember?”

I'd been craving to do one of these (super self-indulgent, fanservicey) x-overs since practically the day I started Miracles. I think it's one of Those Things as to why I made it so that the girls went into the guys world, but isn't Miracles basically 800% THAT THING YOU GUYS, THAT THING. I also got really embarrassed by my typos as I was going through this. Why dis. 

Also, Aomine is totally the big spoon to Kagami. This was important to me. 

.0.

“This is the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me,” she said, draped over his one couch with her long bare legs going every which way and his clothes swapped out for hers, flipping distractedly through Kagami’s copies of Basketball Monthly with one hand and swiping through his phone with the other. She’d known his passcode. She had looked at him, sleep-rumpled and warm, and called him Taiga. She had changed out of her clothes into his , and Kagami didn’t quite dare to ask what she’d done for underwear.

“Those were yours anyway,” she said in response to this. “We’re pretty much the same height, you know.” She stuck out her foot at him. “I even passed you a pair of my shoes once, they fit you just fine.”

Horror stuttered across Kagami’s mind. “That happened,” he said. “That happened to me. Aomine gave me a pair of jordans after-”

“After yours broke, the morning of the Winter Cup Semi-finals against Kaijou,” she said. “Tetsu got Momoi to drag me out of bed and I came even though I was tired and you took my brand new shoes.”

Kagami is slowly coming to terms with the fact that this is a delusional fever dream. Aomine is basically curled up on the sofa kind of embarrassed bc she has no bra on, this is a spoiler from the second part. Also why she changed clothes, but from Kagami's pov we were not going to see that she'd picked out one of his thicker black t-shirts. At the same time that Kagami is getting verification that her story is true, Aomine is looking through the magazine and matching up events and people to what she remembers, another reason she seems so much quicker on the uptake than Kagami does in this part. 

Kagami looked at her feet. “They fit?” he said.

Aomine drew back one leg. “Come here and say that,” she said. “Come on.”

“No thanks,” said Kagami, hastily retreating.

“Make breakfast,” Aomine commanded. “I’m hungry.”

Kagami considered any number of responses, but since he was also hungry and the girl-Aomine definitely had no money, he started making breakfast instead while she muttered things to herself like ‘what a humorless bastard’ and ‘ugh, is that what I look like?’.

When she found the pictures of the Generation of Miracles that Momoi had sent him, she laughed until she cried. A little. Not a lot. Just a little. 

This is all chippo's fault; Aomine gets overwhelmed momentarily with how unfair, how fucking unfair, it would be if she was a guy, if she'd done all the things she did as a guy and still wound up like that, grumpy-faced, scowling, unhappy. And part of the answer is, I don't want to be a guy, I don't want to be this guy. There's stuff I love and stuff I've done that I never would have if I was him. I'm not him. I hate the part of me that wanted to be. 

“You don’t have my number in here,” called Aomine, once that was over. “Why’s that?”

“We’re not friends,” said Kagami. “You people are the worse jerks I’ve ever met.”

Aomine laughed and put his phone to her ear. It was disturbingly, distressingly appealing. “Yeah,” she said. “But why don’t you put our numbers on your phone?”

Aomine recognises Kuroko's number in his phone and takes a gamble on calling 'herself'. It's been a running theme in my late-period KnB that Aomine at (his) best is charismatic, attractive and very capable. I still think this is true of canon Aomine, he just has to... grow up a lot before he gets there. He might always be a little surly. Miracles Aomine is basically missing Aomine's surliness; she's more social, more forward-focused, and in love. She can still get moody though. 

.0.

Aomine groaned at the feeling of anonymous buzzing coming from somewhere under his armpit, and waited for it to go away, which it inevitably did as the call dropped due to no answer.

Then it buzzed again.

And again.

And ag-

“What the fuck do you want?” growled Aomine into the phone.

“This is so weird,” said a girl’s voice. Aomine didn’t get calls from girls, and not from girls with voices like this, a low, ruffled-velvet purr. She talked roughly and bluntly, like a boy. “Get up, lazy. Do you know what time it is?”

Aomine is 800% the type to fall asleep on top of his phone. It's a little hard to translate cultural things that I do think make a big difference to characterisation even as I have no idea how to convey them; Miracles Aomine talks more smoothly and sweetly as compared to canon Aomine but she still talks really rough and blunt for a girl, which, how do you even convey that?? 

“Who the hell are you?” said Aomine.

“Go check if there’s a boy in Momoi’s bed,” she said.

Aomine came awake all in an instant. “ What ,” he said.

“Go check,” said the girl, “if there’s a boy in Momoi’s bed. I mean, there should be. I’m gonna call Tetsu next and check.”

“Who are you?” demanded Aomine, rolling out of bed and kicking apart the piles of clothes on the floor looking for something he could get on one-handed.

“Come to Taiga’s after- I mean, Kagami’s. I’m gonna tell them too,” said the girl, ignoring the question. Then she hung up.

Aomine swore, threw his phone down on the bed and started dressing. Then he cursed himself again, dug in his sheets for his phone and sat down with his jeans half on his legs.

“Pick up, pick up…” he muttered.

“Dai-chan?” said a voice, a sleepy voice. Aomine felt a rush of relief and anger, and then he froze.

“Satsuki?” he said.

“What?” said the voice, clearer this time. That wasn’t Satsuki’s voice, which at the best of times sounded like a stuck whistle being blown by a hamster. “Dai-chan, did you roll over onto the phone again? Are you asleep? Where’s Kagami-kun?”

Incomprehensible, but audible, Aomine heard the actual Satsuki’s voice. It sounded very close to the voice of the boy speaking to Aomine on Satsuki's phone, as though, for instance, they were lying in bed together.

Then, almost simultaneously, the boy and the girl on the other side of the line screamed.

Stuck whistle blown by a hamster is one of my favourite phrases from this ch. Boy and girl Momoi are in their bed together, which I'm not actually sure how neither of them noticed until right now. Aomine kind of hm. Focuses on Momoi as a blow-up point for all his irritation this chapter. I've used this characterisation in Burning Bright before: being forced to think even a little bit outside his comfort zone makes him simultaneously angry and overprotective and furious that The World Is Like This. 'I'm angry, I don't want to think about why, I'm going to snap at everything and everyone and WHAT DO YOU MEAN, CALM DOWN.' 

.0.

Kuroko carefully scooted to the edge of the giant bed and considered her options. Akashi-san had not said that she had a cousin who might turn up in the middle of the night, and- Kuroko looked around the room- that he quite clearly lived in what Akashi-san had assured her was a guest room. When Kuroko had arrived at Akashi-san’s house in Kyoto, it had been quite late, and Kuroko had wanted to do nothing but rest.

And he had certainly not been there when Kuroko went to sleep.

Kuroko couldn’t see any of her things. Perhaps he had knocked them off the bedside table when he returned.

How had the noise not woken her?

I decided that Kuroko wasn't going to wake up in Akashi's arms because I'd already used it up there. You're welcome. 

Kuroko reached out and grasped the edge of the pillow which the boy was sleeping on. She shook it, jostling him awake.

She waited as he came awake, careful not to startle him. Thankfully, they were both reasonably dressed. He was surprised to see her, but, as Kuroko would have expected from one of Akashi’s relatives, he maintained his composure.

She saw him look her over, lingering on her face and her hair, which Kuroko knew resembled tangled grass. Kuroko resisted the urge to put her hand up and smooth it down. The brow of his handsome face furrowed.

“Kuroko…?” he said.

Akashi basically goes from asleep to 75 in zero seconds. Also, he totally recognizes Kuroko by her bedhead. 

“Yes,” she said, surprised that he knew her. “Um. Akashi-san invited me over, I did not know this was your room. I was told this was a guest room.”

“This is my bedroom,” said the boy, with the air of slowly working out an immensely complicated problem. “I am Akashi Seijuurou.”

“I see the resemblance,” said Kuroko politely.

“Did… my father invite you over?” he said, without conviction.

“Your… cousin?” said Kuroko.

“My cousins live in Europe,” he said blankly. He was still staring at her. “Pardon,” he said, reaching his muscled arm over to pull the edge of her shirt taut.

Over her chest.

“Oh,” he said, releasing it hastily. “You are a girl.”

I feel a bit of shame for this, but no one just reaches out and gropes someone! He just... pulled her shirt tight over her chest to check if those really were boobs there. He blames the increasingly surreal nature of their conversation. 

Kuroko took a deep breath. She drew back her fist in preparation.

“I can explain,” he said, inching backwards away from her.

“Get out,” said Kuroko.

“Please let me explain,” he said.  

>_> It's very satisfying to have someone threaten to punch boy Akashi?? It just is??

The door opened.

“Oh, good,” said Akashi-san. This was entirely the Akashi-san Kuroko knew: beautiful, long-haired, self-possessed, female. The boy looked at her with exactly the same expression of fascinated astonishment. “You’re both awake.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Kuroko explained to her.

“Really?” said Akashi-san. “What did I do?”

Kuroko was trying to think of a way to explain it when she noticed Akashi-san’s strange phrasing. “You?” Kuroko said.

“Interesting,” said the boy. “I must admit that I did not think this possibility was at all likely.”

Akashi to the rescue! Also, only Akashi would think 'this must be a trans-dimensional event' on the evidence of bedhead. 

Akashi-san nodded. “I sleep in the north-facing room on the second floor,” she said. “I woke a little earlier, and came to this room to confirm my suspicions.”

“That’s Mother’s room,” said the boy.

“Yes,” said Akashi-san. She picked up the boy’s phone from the table, putting her finger over the home button. It responded instantly, unlocking the phone and showing a number of messages and missed calls. “Interesting,” she said.

“What is interesting,” said Kuroko, quelling the rising edge of hysteria. “What are you two talking about.”

“We appear to have been transported to an alternate dimension,” said Akashi-san calmly. She sat down on the edge of the bed next to Kuroko and showed her the saved pictures on the boy’s phone. Faces she almost knew, faces disturbingly unfamiliar, jumped out at her from pictures and in poses Kuroko found achingly familiar. “One in which our middle school basketball team was born entirely male.”

Akashi and Akashi have the same fingerprints. Small things like that, but it's Important to me that Miracles isn't Girls are the Miragen, it's the Miragen Are Girls. Most of the missed calls are Midorima or Murasakibara. Also, Akashi totally has pictures of the whole team on his phone! He even still has their Teikou-days photos saved; those are the ones Kuroko finds familiar because they're the ones they took together.  

.0.

“You even know Akashi’s number?” said Kagami, once Aomine was done with his phone. It was getting easier and easier to think of the girl as Aomine. This was how a horror movie started.

“It was the team emergency contact for three years,” Aomine pointed out. “Didn’t pick up, though. Probably doesn’t like you.”

On the scale of Generation of Miracles dislike for him, Akashi’s only registered as middle of the line because at the other end were Midorima, Murasakibara and Aomine.

“You’re okay,” said Aomine. “I mean, I like you enough. I’m dating you, after all. You can be really cute.”

I do this a few times, here and elsewhere; rather than try to piece out how Kagami would actually say something, I have him think the essence of it, then have the other person respond to the bluntness of his thought as though it's what he actually said. Because it kind of is? Like right here, the line of thought is 'there are three of you who are even worse jerks than the guy who stabbed my face' but what probably came out of Kagami's mouth was 'you don't like me either'. Which is. It's the right comment, but not the full thought. Kagami's not totally socially inept or unobservant, he just skips all those in-between steps and goes right to the end. 

Also Aomine totally thinks Kagami is cute. 

Kagami retreated to the kitchen counter and said, “Really?”

“Yes,” she said, almost defiantly. “And you’re Tetsu’s friend, so I knew you couldn’t be too weird from the start.”

“I don’t like any of Kuroko’s friends,” said Kagami.

“Momoi looks like a really cute girl here,” said Aomine.

“She’s okay,” said Kagami. “Kind of pushy. I think that you and her have a thing going on.”

“Huh,” said Aomine. “I guess that makes sense. Doesn’t Momoi like Tetsu?”

“She says so,” said Kagami. “You two still have a thing.”

Aomine does place a lot of faith in Kuroko. All of them. Miracles Aomine does in fact know that Kagami isn't a jackass from the start bc Miracles Kuroko has what Aomine imagines to be a much lower tolerance for assholes. For certain kinds of asshole? She jumps to that Kagami would like Tetsu's friends if they were girls, which is pretty much untrue. It kind of trucks around in her head a little that the guy her and the girl Momoi have a Thing, which she can see but which also informs how she deals with herself later. 

Aomine looked at him over the top of the chair, her eyes thoughtful. “You are a little different,” she said. “It’s weird.”

“It’s weird for everyone,” Kagami pointed out. “Why does this other me even like you?”

Aomine raised her eyebrows at him, and Kagami flushed. It wasn’t like- he didn’t mean that she wasn’t good-looking, attractive even, and if she played ball anything like the Aomine he knew did-

She laughed at his panic, once again that disturbingly appealing sound. “You’re kind of a mess sometimes,” she said, but fondly. “I’m always nice to you.”

Aomine forgives him because he blushes. She's editorialising a little, but it's mostly true. Miracles Aomine is always nice to Kagami. 

.0.

Takao leapt off the rickshaw while the wheels were still spinning, letting himself in through Midorima’s front door and throwing himself up the stairs.

“Shin-chan!” called Takao. “Shin-chan, the most amazing thing in the world has happened!”

He burst into Midorima’s room, where there was a girl with long loose hair sitting stiffly at the desk while Midorima himself, red-faced, sat on his bed attending to his phone. They were both wearing different versions of Midorima’s ridiculous long-sleeved patterned pajamas.

Takao dropped to his knees and put his hands up in worship. “It’s true,” he said, looking at the ceiling. “This is the most beautiful day of my life.”

The girl cast him a look in which loathing and terror were evenly distributed. “Who told him?” she demanded of her male counterpart.

I invite you to consider the beautiful imagery of both Midorimas waking up in bed together, which my skills were unworthy to commit to text. 

“Kise,” said Takao, shamelessly sacrificing him.

Midorima adjusted his glasses. Takao glanced to the side and saw that the girl was wearing Midorima’s usual glasses, though they drooped a little on her face. Midorima must be wearing his old ones, no longer perfectly molded to his face. “Kise,” Midorima said, voice dead.

Of course Midorima lost the battle for his own glasses. Of course he did. 

“Which one?” said the girl, her eyes narrowing.

Takao turned his gaze to her and drank in every detail of her face. “I was too excited to remember,” he lied. “Shin-chan-chan, you’re really pretty!”

She stared at him in disgust. “What did you call me?”

While Takao embarked on the long- and, he was aware, insane- explanation of his designation for her, boy Midorima sighed, and said to Shin-chan-chan, “Have we come to an agreement over the lucky item?”

“No,” she said. “We have not.”

“If you’re the same person, then technically you could share,” suggested Takao.

Girl Midorima looked at him in a way that suggested this was the stupidest thing she’d ever heard. Possibly the stupidest thing that had ever been said, by anyone. Small hairs crisped entirely off Takao’s face from the pure heat of the venom from her eyes.

Yes, that is how Miracles Midorima is like from the outside, all the time. She's considerably scarier than her guy counterpart, which contributes to her social isolation. She benefited a lot from having Takao around to humanize her socially in their year as well in the basketball club. She doesn't know right now is if Kise has told Takao that she's dating her one, which is a bit worrying for her. 

Boy Midorima, who by now looked thoroughly cowed, said, clearing his throat, “I believe that the obvious course of action is to dress, then to obtain a duplicate.”

“You are free,” she said.

Midorima looked hunted and grabbed his laid-out clothes from the hanger. “I will… change in the bathroom,” he said.

“Go ahead.”

“Please make yourself free of my own clothes,” said Midorima, rallying manfully. “Takao, come.”

“Leave the lucky item,” she said. She lifted her mass of hair, draping it over her shoulder. Her glasses fell a little way down her nose and she shoved them back up, nibbling at her pink lip. This was almost certainly a hallucination coma dream Takao was having, and he never wanted to wake up. “Bring me a hairbrush.”

I think I just wanted this really feminine image to come out here, plus all that hair, all that hair, I don't know how she manages it. 

.0.

It had started out such a good day. Such a calm, restful, potentially rewarding day. There was an author Mayuzumi admired doing a signing in Kyoto today, and the now-university student looked forward to an acquisitive day out.

He looked for the start of the line for the book signing, but was distracted by someone calling his name.

“Mayuzumi-san,” sparkled the unknown, very pretty girl. She was dressed in tomboy fashion, in men’s capris and a large sports hoodie. “So nice to see you.”

Mayuzumi froze. He recognised that hoodie. He recognised those eyes, set in that face, and the very amused curve of that annoying smile.

He looked up, and saw, a little way behind the mysterious girl, his former team captain, Akashi Seijuurou. As they locked eyes, Akashi smiled, looking absolutely delighted. “Mayuzumi-san,” he said. “So nice to see-”

A missing scene here is when Akashi and Kuroko pawed through Akashi's closet for clothes and also them deciding that they could get away with wearing a couple of extra layers instead of going bra shopping. At least, Akashi could. They're being creepy on purpose, they think this whole thing is hilarious. 

Mayuzumi ran for it. He dropped the book and ducked out past the new arrival shelves. He could always come back for it later. Right now, safety was of the utmost-

Mayuzumi tripped, crashing to the floor.

Akashi- Akashis- caught up to him at their leisure, loudly asking if he was alright.

Mayuzumi looked up into the dead staring eyes of the person who had tripped him.

“Mayuzumi-san,” said a female Kuroko Tetsuya, hair tucked up into one of Akashi’s Rakuzan-branded baseball caps. That was who she was, Mayuzumi was sure of it. "So necessary to see you." 

This is one of the key images that sparked this whole ch. Mayuzumi, faced with Akashis on either side, runs for it and almost gets away. I regret many things, but not this. 

 .0.

With dignity, Mayuzumi stood up, retrieved his book, purchased it, and then went to stand in line for the book signing. Kuroko, accompanied by both Akashis, did the same, a handful of places behind him.

Mayuzumi could quite clearly hear their conversation from where he stood. He couldn’t believe they would be so inconsiderate, speaking like that in a public place.

“I can’t really describe what Aomine looks like- I mean, I can see there’s a resemblance in these photos… oh, I remember this, this is Kuroko’s birthday… we went to Kagami Taiga’s house…”

“-boyfriend? Really?” Akashi’s voice, low and sure of itself, compared to the alto of the girl. “Midorima- referring to Shintarou… That’s so interesting...”

The softer, lighter tones in less ostentatious speech was Kuroko’s. Mayuzumi couldn’t overhear anything she said from here, and he completely lost the thread of their conversation.

He couldn’t believe she would be so inconsiderate.

After the signing, Mayuzumi waited by the door for them to come out, rather than be hunted through the streets of Kyoto like a dog. He flipped through the book he had just bought as he waited, though he couldn’t read a word of it.

All of three of them trooped out, and seemed unsurprised that he had not left. Both Akashis smiled winsomely at him.

“Fine,” Mayuzumi said, tucking the book away in his bag. “What do you want?”

In all fairness to Mayuzumi, I would also just give up if I was vs Akashi. He'll get bored and go away. 

.0.

Kagami’s doorbell rang frantically. “Kagamichi!” cried Kise. “KAGAMICHI!!”

“You’re going to get in trouble with the neighbour aunties,” Aomine observed, her eyes serenely closed.

“Stop that,” Kagami said to her over his shoulder.

Surmise: Kagami has gotten into trouble with the neighbour aunties for noise complaints before. n_n

“KAGAMI- oooh, hi,” said Kise, craning his head over Kagami’s shoulder. He beamed at Aomine. “HIIIIIIIIII!”

“Kise,” said Aomine with certainty, though this was hard. They looked each other over in mutual evaluation. “Not bad,” Aomine conceded. “You’re a little skinny, though.”

“I look better with my clothes off,” said Kise innocently. He pushed past Kagami.

“Wanna show?” said Aomine, smiling wickedly.

“NO, NO,” Kagami forbid them. “CLOTHES STAY ON.”

“Boo,” said Kise.

“Jealous,” said Aomine. “Where’s… other Kise? Our Kise?”

“She said she had something to do and took off,” said Kise. “She’s also really good-looking. We thought about making out, you know, just to try, but we decided it was weird and we didn’t do it.”

“You had to think about it?” said Aomine.

“You thought about it?” demanded Kagami.

“Of course we thought about it,” said Kise, injured. “Wouldn’t you?”

“NO,” said Kagami.

“Would think about it,” decided Aomine. “I guess I’ll probably be hot.”

Kise sat down next to the chair and put his head on the armrest, smiling up at her. “Would you think about me ?” he said, batting his eyelashes up at her.

Aomine burst out laughing.

Of course they did. I think that the experience gap... the 3D gap?... between Kise and the Miragen is a lot more pronounced in Miracles, partially because KnB is a sports series and Miracles is shoujou blither, hence the immediate lolol flirting. Aomine laughs not necessarily because she wouldn't, but because Kise is literally standing right next to her boyfriend. There are lot of spot comparisons being made. 

Kise pouted.

“I’m dating Taiga,” she said, putting her head on the armrest next to Kise’s. “Sorry.”

“No!” said Kise. Kagami sourly noticed that he didn’t actually seem all that surprised. “She didn’t tell me anything! She just took my phone and said she had something else to do.”

“Huh,” said Aomine. She rapidly moved on from this topic, losing interest at light speed. “Wanna know who Midorima’s boyfriend is?”

“Oh, yes ,” said Kise, his eyes opening wide, his entire body arching eagerly towards Aomine.

“It’s that new friend he has at school, it’s fucking obviously him,” said Aomine. He had come in through the open door of Kagami’s apartment while Kagami had been focused on two attractive idiots. In mental self-defense, Kagami returned to his previous mode of addressing Aomine, which had been simply to think of him as ‘that jerk’. “Where’s Satsuki.”

In Kagami's defense, I bet a lot of people just think 'that jerk' when they see Aomine. Anyway I needed a quick pronoun for him, and also I really wanted to avoid a situation where I was constantly addressing (sex) (Miragen) or using she/he. It was a balancing between comprehensibility and impact, and there are some places where I let it blur a little together to better highlight the shifts between. It also changes depending on POV of scene. 

Aomine looked at that jerk contemplatively. “Would think about it,” she said.

Kise nodded enthusiastically. “I thought so!”

That jerk glared at them. “Where’s Satsuki? I thought she’d be here by now.” He shot an especially sour look at his counterpart. “With your Momoi.”

“If she's with him, they’re going to be fine,” Aomine pointed out. “I taught mine to fight ages ago, he’s gotten pretty good at it.”

“You taught him to fight?” said Kise, wide-eyed.

“I can’t be taking care of him all the time,” said Aomine reasonably. “I have a life. I taught Tetsu to fight too.” She thought about it. “Actually, that’s probably where they went.”

That jerk grumbled and threw himself down on the floor at the opposite corner. “So?” he said. “Tetsu’s a girl too?”

Aomine hears 'they went to see Tetsu' and instantly calms down. Well. 'Calms down enough that now it's too annoying to chase out the door after them'. Miracles Aomine and Momoi are pretty close, and rather more equal, open friends. 

“Akashi said they’re in Kyoto,” said Aomine. She was still primly curled up in Kagami’s chair, her legs tucked beneath her; she had not let go of his phone all morning except to take a short nap on top of it and then woken to discover that it had slipped between her thighs.

Kagami had started cooking lunch for the circus just to have something else to look at.

“There’s some author or something Tetsu likes visiting and Akashi invited her up to get a signing.”

Kise put his head on the side. “Girls are so close,” he said, as though he was impressed by this.

Kise has tried for years to get the Miragen to all go out together with him, it's never worked. Not once. Aomine's discomfort is a lot more obvious when you think that all these boys are coming in and she still! has! no! bra! 

Aomine shrugged her shoulders. “I can’t get hold of Murasakibara,” she said. “Not even the boy one. I tried that smarmy friend of Taiga’s, but he’s not picking up either.”

That jerk’s shoulders flinched at Aomine’s casual use of Kagami’s first name, but he kept his mouth shut.

“Tatsuya’s not smarmy,” said Kagami weakly.

“Is there another word for it when he looks like all he wants is to put his hands up her skirt?” said Aomine.

“That’s what he looks like now ,” said that jerk. “All the time.”

“You’ve met him once,” said Kagami.

“Doesn’t change that that’s what he looks like,” said that jerk.

Everyone and their mother can tell that Himuro is hot for Purple, everyone. Guy Aomine is really weirded out by himself dating Kagami, they're not even friends, he does not accept this. 

“I want to see what Kurokochi looks like as a girl,” said Kise sotto voce to Aomine.

“She looks like a girl,” said Aomine back at him, not taking her eyes off that jerk mouthing off to Kagami.

“Yeah, but hot like you or a normal girl?” said Kise.

When Aomine blinked slowly down at him, Kise blinked up at her innocently. There was a hint of playful proposition in his smile, curving slowly across his flawless face.

Aomine moved her legs and weight away from him, all the way from one armrest of Kagami’s single-seater sofa to the other one.

“I change my answer, there’s also this guy,” said Aomine, once she was safely rearranged on the other armrest. She looked to Kagami, but Kagami didn’t know what she wanted from him.

Kise slumped down dejectedly. He looked at both Kagami and that jerk, staring angrily at him, and increased the wattage of his smile. “Can’t blame me for trying,” he said cheerfully.

“I blame you for breathing,” said that jerk. He scrubbed his hand on his jeans, scowling. “Where the hell is Satsuki?” he burst out.

Kise ups the ante on the flirting and Aomine pretty clearly signals to him to cut it out by shifting armrests. It's the uh, bouncing that keeps her in the seat at all; she usually just walks away from stuff like this. 

.0.

The door to Himuro’s dorm room opened, and Atsushi came in with both hands full of food.

“Look,” said Atsushi, with an air of great sacrifice. “I brought some snacks. You can have some.”

Purple is trying so hard. A theme with the meeting-counterparts is to role-swap the usual Miragen dynamics, so we had the boys (usually the ones with the most power and bearing) being unsure and awkward around the girls. Here, Purple is being... slightly less of the baby. 

The lump of blanket on Himuro’s bed moved and Murasakibara’s face poked out. She eyed him suspiciously. Himuro held himself very still and thought misdirectionly thoughts.

She pulled herself free. “Fine,” she said, pouting. “But I’m still not sorry.”

“Okay,” said Himuro. It barely hurt anymore where she’d shoved him out of his bed in her initial shock, anyway.

“It’s Muro-chin’s bed,” said Atsushi pettishly, who had once made Himuro cry on national television.

“I thought he was sleeping on the floor,” said Murasakibara. “The bed is too small.”

“Fine,” Atsushi said, even though it clearly was not fine. “But what were you doing in his bed in the first place?”

Murasakibara turned an opaque gaze onto him. Her hair was all messed up, and her face was red from lying down all morning. It was unreasonably adorable. “None of your business,” she said. She opened a packet and stuffed her mouth stubbornly at the two boys.

Himuro continued to drink her in.

Purple does what I would actually do if suddenly sent to an alternate dimension: stay in bed all day, eating snacks. This is set after the last time we checked in with them in Miracles; this is not the first time that she's slept over in Himuro's room. 

“Don’t eat in Muro-chin’s bed,” said Atsushi, a statement of astounding hypocrisy.

“I’ll do what I want in Muro-chin’s bed,” said Murasakibara defiantly.

“Oh my,” said Himuro placidly.

The two Murasakibaras both went red and crunched sullenly.

“Why are you wearing a boy’s uniform?” said Atsushi next.

“Can’t I wear what I want?” retorted Murasakibara.

Sekrit Miracles trivia: I was originally planning to have Purple come on the scene already wearing a boy's uniform on and off, both to emphasize (his) don't-care nature and because wearing skirts in winter is really really cold. But it turned out to be a whole event-storyline around her deciding that she would wear one, deciding she didn't care if she stood out, deciding she didn't care about standing out, addressing, however briefly, the inevitable social backlash, and the back-backlash from that. Himuro going after a senior for making gross comments about her (and believe me, everyone knows) was ultimately beneficial because Himuro is so good-looking, but she would never have chanced doing it for herself. The dynamic here is that she just isn't interested in being the standout hero girl, not the way that Aomine is, nor in being the 'soooo amazing, let's all just bow down' person the way that Akashi or Kise is, in being completely oblivious to her surroundings/self the way Midorima is, in being invisible like Kuroko. She doesn't want to be any of those things! But what else is there left for her to be? 

“This is a sports school so I didn’t have to special-order,” said Atsushi, making a truly heroic effort to retain his temper. “Didn’t you do that?”

Murasakibara, licking her fingers (Himuro watched), said, “I did. I just got this one from someone else because I wanted one, that’s all.”

“What someone else?” asked Atsushi suspiciously.

“Someone who liked me,” said Murasakibara. “So he just gave it to me because I asked.”

Atsushi was scandalised. “Are you a flirt ,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“Are you an idiot?” said Murasakibara.

“Kisechin’s a flirt,” said Atsushi. “He had a lot of girls around him all the time and he got them to do things for him.”

“That’s Kisechin, not me,” said Murasakibara. “Muro-chin’s the only one I can’t get rid of.”

They both looked at Himuro. He blinked back at them as innocently as he could.

I don't think that canon Purple was aware that Muro-chin could look at 'him' like that. His innocence is being taken away before our eyes. Miracles Purple is getting annoyed that he's such a baby. 

“If he’s so bad then why were you in his bed?” said Atsushi, returning to the attack.

“It’s too much trouble to sneak out again,” said Murasakibara. “Anyway, it’s not like I took off any of my clothes.”

“Don’t take off any of your clothes!” said Atsushi.

“I wouldn’t ,” said Murasakibara. “We’re not even going out. Not like Mine-chin and Mido-chin are.”

Atsushi drew in a shocked breath. “They are ?” he said, horrified.

“Not with each other,” clarified Murasakibara. “With Kagami and that guy on her team, the short one. Kise-chin told me.”

“With Taiga?” said Himuro, surprised.

“Yes,” said Murasakibara baldly. “You don’t really like it too much.”

“Hmm,” said Himuro. “Why?”

“He’s one who liked her first,” said Murasakibara. “And he’s pretty stupid. You worry.”

Himuro smiled at her. “Do you worry about your friend?” he said.

“Not about Mine-chin,” said Murasakibara, in the same too-bored tone of voice. “They’re all there if something happens to Mido-chin. Akachin would get angry too.”

They are gossiping. This is gossip. Below is also gossip, but I cut here to add in that what Murasakibara is referring to is that the Miragen would mobilize in a body if something happened to Midorima, to Kuroko. She kind of vacillates between wanting that group protection and resenting it. But it is reason no 1 that the Miracles Miragen are paying attention to Himuro. 

“Does Akachin have a boyfriend?” asked Atsushi, closing his eyes in fear of the answer.

“No,” said Murasakibara. “You know who she liked, though. Back then.”

Atsushi’s eyes slammed back open. “Him?” he demanded.

“Who else,” said Murasakibara, rolling her eyes.

Atsushi grumbled to himself while eating two flavours at once. “I guess that makes sense,” he said.

“Don’t any of you have girlfriends,” said Murasakibara. “Shouldn’t you?”

“ No ,” said Atsushi.

“I meant Muro-chin,” said Murasakibara. “You’re too much of a baby to date anyone.”

“You’re a baby! You sleep in Muro-chin’s bed!”

“You are! You came in here looking for snacks in the first place!”

“You!”

“ You!

“ You! ”

Where is the lie.

“I’m not really looking for anything right now,” said Himuro, inserting himself into the middle of their argument. “I don’t know about the rest of Atsushi’s friends.”

“Akachin’s always got lots of girls chasing him,” Atsushi informed this irritating girl.

“So does mine!” she said, fired up. “Kise-chin has lots, and plenty of people like Mido-chin and Mine-chin! Momoi even liked Kurochin!”

“Sacchin’s really cute here and everyone liked her,” Atsushi said.

“So?” half-yelled Murasakibara. “I don’t care! I don’t care about your dumb boy-friends and their dumb lives!”

“You’re the one who asked!” snapped Atsushi.

“You were!” Murasakibara drew herself up to her knees. “I don’t care about your lives and how you’re boys and even if that’s not fair I don’t care that you care about it! I don’t care that everyone liked your cute little pink manager and you think that I’m a playgirl just because some people liked me! I don’t care that you didn’t have to special-order and you can just come into Muro-chin’s room and act like a baby whenever you want just because you’re a boy and I’m a girl! I don’t care about you !”

They stared at each other in the ringing silence that followed.

“Right,” said Himuro. “I’m going to clean this up, then we’ll all go out for a bit, okay? I think we’re getting cranky all cooped up in here like this.” He gathered the snack wrappers in a plastic bag, and stepped outside.

Purple's scenes get harder and harder for me to write because she's the most unhappy one. Not necessarily the angriest one. But the most unhappy one. It did her good to yell these things out into the real world, even in a crack surrealist aside, to people who shouldn't exist to her. 

Atsushi muttered, “I don't think you’re a playgirl. I just think it’s weird that you’re me as a girl.”

“Why can’t it be weird that you’re me as a boy?” demanded Murasakibara.

“That’s weird too,” said Atsushi. “Does Muro-chin really-”

“...I think he does,” said Murasakibara, sinking back onto Himuro’s bed. “I don’t know, it’s complicated.”

“It’s complicated…” said Atsushi. “With… us, too. With boys.”

She turned huge eyes on him. “Muro-chin?” she said.

“Just boys,” said Atsushi. “Not just me.” He coughed. “Anyway you’re here now,” he said. “Let’s just go out and get more snacks.”

“He’s going to want to play basketball,” she said.

“Fine then,” said Atsushi. She looked so tired, as she collapsed on the sheets: so tired, so furiously bitter. “We’ll do that.”

I also do not think it occurred to her that Muro-chin would look at a guy her like that. The whole thing here about seeing the boys is Aomine's thing from earlier, but Murasakibara isn't... as forward in her life? There's nothing she particularly has or wants that wouldn't be easier if she was a boy, except that she doesn't want to be one. But it's unfair that someone else gets to so easily. 

.0.

Mayuzumi glared at the girl Kuroko Tetsuya. “You people wanted me to hang around for this?” he said.

“I suffer,” said the girl, “you suffer.”

Both Akashis looked wide-eyed and innocent. It worked no better on the girl one than it did the boy, though, if tortured at the stake, Mayuzumi would admit that it looked better on her.

Akashi, by contrast, wasn’t even bothering to fake a believable expression of regret. He was clearly enjoying himself hugely, and kept turning his head to smile at both the girls and even at Mayuzumi, drinking the sight of them in.

Kuroko ignored the guy Akashi, except when she turned her head to face him fully and stare his grin right in the face. It was amusing how she seemed to think that judging Akashi would quell him.

Akashi has totally told Akashi about her plan to make MayuKuro happen. (MayuKuro is not going to happen.) He think it's hilarious. He's enjoying himself so much. Oreshi is so annoying. 

Mayuzumi had initially picked the seat next to her at their square table because he couldn’t bear the thought of being sandwiched by two Akashis. He was rapidly reconsidering this choice.

“Don’t you want to discuss the book?” suggested Akashi. She rested her head on her hands. “You both admire this author, don’t you? Kuroko, what was it you were saying about your-”

“Is that why you invited me to stay with you?” said Kuroko. Evenly, but also irritated. “Akashi-san, I’ve already told you, I have no interest in Mayuzumi-san, romantic, platonic, or otherwise.”

Mayuzumi looked across the table to the guy Akashi, who looked back at him with what appeared to be genuine blankness.

Akashi thinks this level of vehemence is a little much. Throughout this whole thing, I don't qualify which Akashi says what, but, after each speech tag is a he/her pronoun sentence. It worked because this section is so short. 

“He’s really not so bad once you know him,” said the other Akashi. “I really think you could give him a chance, Kuroko. He’s handsome, he’s clever, you both like to read-”

“If you like him so much, you go out with him,” Kuroko said, deliberately.

“He doesn’t like me,” Akashi pointed out. Her lips pressed together for a pouting moment. “He finds me very annoying.”

“He does find you very annoying,” said Kuroko, which in its frankness and accuracy was the most terrifying thing Mayuzumi had heard all day. “Nevertheless, he likes you. I am not interested in Mayuzumi-san, Akashi-san. I came up to spend the day with my friend, not a person I find unpleasant at best and repulsive at worst.”

“Repulsive seems a bit strong,” said Akashi, her eyelashes fluttering down. This was possibly the closest that Mayuzumi had ever seen any Akashi come to admitting defeat.

Except that one time, the one he never ever thought about.

“Fine,” Akashi said, letting her lips pout out like the spoiled princess she was. “I won’t pursue it any further.”

“ Thank you,” said Kuroko, sarcastically.

Akashi stirred her straw in her drink. “I only thought that you two would get along,” she said. “You’re so alike.”

Mayuzumi shuddered.

Kuroko rolled her eyes.

Akashi is pout-sulking now. Mayuzumi has never seen an Akashi like this, and it's something I think Akashi only does to the miragen, and only Miracles Akashi. Canon Akashi has never acted childish in his life, but would like to. She's playing up to Kuroko to show how sad and disappointed she is by this thwarting of her plans. Kuroko is buying zero of it. 

“ I am enjoying spending time with you,” said Akashi, turning his head to smile at Kuroko.

“Of course you are,” said Kuroko drily. “Thank you for purchasing the book for me, Akashi-kun.”

“It was the least I could do,” he said gallantly.

Mayuzumi looked at the moderately disconsolate girl Akashi. She peeped her lovely eyes at him, and even though he was, as Kuroko had said, very annoyed by her, he couldn’t help but admit that she was beautiful and Akashi-like enough to be extremely attractive.

She reached out and patted his hand. “You’re not repulsive, Mayuzumi-san,” she reassured him. “Only occasionally unpleasant.”

“Occasionally?” repeated Mayuzumi blankly, staring down at her hand patting his so… so… not at all comfortingly.

“You’ve gotten better,” said Akashi. “And you’re always amusing.”

“Maybe date no one,” said Mayuzumi. “No one at all. No person. Don’t date.”

Akashi smiled, so familiar that Mayuzumi felt a chill. “Maybe,” she said. “Unless it’s fun.”

A chill is how Miracles Mayuyu feels the pull of his extremely strong attraction to Akashi. 

.0.

“I don’t approve of you constantly staying over at Kagami Taiga’s house,” Midorima sniffed, her nose stuck in the air. “It’s hardly appropriate at our age.”

“Give it a rest,” Aomine said to her. “You’re here now too.”

“Out of necessity,” said Midorima. “Since we appear to making a habit of gathering in his apartment.”

“I was already here,” said Aomine. They were wedged into the chair together, both spilling out over the edges but apparently that was just a thing girls did? Sit in the same chair, shoulders tightly together and leaning on each other with casual, invasive intimacy? Girls were so weird.

It's weirdly upsetting to Kagami to see the Miragen getting along with each other. I don't know how Midorima knew that Aomine wanted her to join her on the seat. Sign language maybe. 

“You shouldn’t have been in the first place,” said Midorima.

“Then I’d just have woken in bed with grumpy over there,” said Aomine. “Same diff.”

The two girls both looked at that jerk. That jerk glared at them. Midorima, sitting stiffly beside him, as far away from the girls as he could manage, focused his gaze on the floor.

Takao had joined Kise in sitting at the foot of the couch smiling avidly up at the two girls. Kagami thought it was creepy. And that his place getting crowded. And that everyone had eaten up all the food in the house, and now he had nothing for dinner.

“I don’t see why you need to worry about Momoi,” said Midorima, pushing her glasses up her face. “He’ll be fine.”

“Satsuki isn’t the same person as yours,” said that jerk. “She gets into the crazy stuff all the time.”

“Look, same, really,” said Aomine. “I get it. The number of times this idiot, that idiot, that one, this person right here-” Kise, Midorima (x2) and Kagami all looked offended. “-get themselves into the most moronic problems, I get it . But you gotta go with the flow. They have to solve their own problems.”

Kise, Midorima (x2) and Kagami all looked astounded at the idea of Aomine, ever, solving problems for any of them.

I would also be astounded. Anyway you can see here that I decided the natural outcome of a guy who thinks he's always right about everything is a girl who's bossy and gets shit done, because we all know that other than punching out Haizaki, Aomine Daiki has never gotten anything done in his damn life. 

“Name one,” said the Midorima tucked up to Aomine’s side.

Aomine pointed at Takao.

“He doesn’t count,” said Midorima.

“Like hell he doesn’t count,” said Aomine. “You were skipping school.”

“I was taking a mental health day,” hissed Midorima.

“Woah,” said Takao. “Shin-chan-chan, I think I really need to hear the full story of this, our love, just to get the big picture on this. You skipped school?”

“ You are not my boyfriend,” Midorima said to him, looking down her nose.

“Well,” said Takao. He gave her the most piteous, puppy-dog look he could manage.

“Stop that,” said Midorima. “You’re just not.”

I cut a whole scene where Takao found out that Miracles Midorima is dating him because it was just him whooping for five straight minutes while both Midorimas rubbed their temples to get rid of headaches. 

“Midorin, don’t be mean to Takao-kun!” said Satsuki, coming in through Kagami’s door. “Dai-chan, I brought what you wanted! Sorry I took so long!”

“Look at you, look at you!” said Momoi, bouncing with excitement, blazing from every line of his face. “Kichan, Midorin! Tetsu-kun’s a really cool guy too!”

“Hello,” said Kuroko.

I never made a scene where the Momois went to pick up Kuroko because these three lines tell you everything you need to know about it. 

Aomine shot off the couch and grabbed the shoebag from Satsuki. “Is it gonna fit?” she said.

“Dai-chan,” said Satsuki, smiling at her.

Aomine smiled, a laughing, quirked-up smile, and rubbed Satsuki’s hair. “Yeah, I know you,” she said fondly. “Back in a sec.”

She ran into Kagami’s bedroom and closed the door.

“What are you doing ,” yelled Midorima after her. She sat up, adjusting her long-sleeved shirt.

“Oh,” said Satsuki. “She didn’t have one, so I brought her a-” Satsuki gestured around her chest.

Everyone else in the room stared at her in horror.

“Has she been without one all day ?” said Midorima, her eyes wide with horror.

“Yes!” yelled Aomine from Kagami’s room.

Midorima, face scarlet, stomped down the hallway to scold her friend.

All of the boys in the room avoided looking at each other.

“Why didn’t you just keep one on while sleeping ?” they heard Midorima hiss in what she clearly thought was a discreet whisper.

“You know you’re the one person I know uptight enough to wear bras to bed,” said Aomine, quite clearly from down the hall. “This is better now anyway.”

“I’m in a coma and this is hell,” said Kagami.

The weirdest thing to come out of this section is that there are people who wear bras to bed. Why do this??? BE FREE. 

“Didn’t you notice while you were in bed with her?” asked the guy Momoi, looking at Kagami with his huge, weird creepy eyes.

“No,” said Kagami.

“Girls are animals,” said that jerk. “And where the hell have you been?”

“I went with me to go get Tetsu-kun!” said Satsuki.

“I have sisters,” said Kise. “I mean, this is just how girls are.”

“Not my sister,” said Midorima with certainty. His voice was faint with the trials and tribulations of today.

“Shin-chan-chan seems like a really proper young lady,” said Takao dreamily.

“Kuroko-san is also really well-mannered,” said Momoi. “I wish you guys could meet her. And Akashi-san.”

“What about Mukkun?” said Satsuki.

“She’s really cute,” said Momoi. “Sometimes she has a bad temper and sometimes she doesn’t get along with Kuroko-san and that time with Akashi-san, but she’s actually really nice and-”

“I’m going to vomit,” said that jerk flatly.

There are ten people in this scene. Ten people. Three duplicates. Why did I do this to myself. 

“Dai-chan is actually very nice too,” said the boy Momoi, defiantly. “Or he wouldn’t be so worried about us today!”

Satsuki turned a beautiful sparkling look of understanding on him. “That’s so right,” she said, and hugged him.

“Momochi is an angel ,” said Kise, awed.

“Alright, break it up,” said Aomine. Returning, she had yet again changed out her clothes for an entirely new set of Kagami’s clothes, and she dangled a pair of black and red shoes from her hand.

“Hey!” said that jerk. “Those are my shoes !”

Aomine snorted at him. “Look, two choices,” she said.

“We could stay in here and stare at each other’s faces some more,” she put down one finger. “Or we could go out and play ball.”

The hell of it, of course, is that Aomine actually does have good ideas. She's pretty stir-crazy at this point, she wants to go out and do some moving around. 

“That’s a good idea, Aomine-san,” said Kuroko.

“Bags Tetsu,” she said, slinging an arm around his neck, smiling at him.

As above, we didn't need a long section on how Kuroko would react to the girls because this basically summed it up. 

“My glasses don’t fit correctly,” said Midorima crossly, once again shoving them up her nose. “How are we supposed to play?”

“Tape them on your face, do I have to think of everything ? What’s all that sports tape even for?”

She did tape them onto her face. It worked, okay?

.0.

Dragged along in Aomine’s wake (This is so typical of you, I hope you realise, Kagami heard Midorima grumbling to that jerk, his low voice carrying) they finally left Kagami’s apartment and went to a streetball court.

It was amazing how much better Kagami felt after a game, and especially after watching the girls team up with Takao and Kuroko to smoke their male counterparts, the way they (as they switched teams) set Kagami himself up to sink shot after shot, ruthless, unyielding.

“We still want to win,” said Midorima, her crisp tones audible to the entire court. “But we always remember who the opponent is.”

“Shin-chan, learn from your alternate self,” said Takao to the sweating shooter. “ That’s fighting spirit.” Midorima went for him; it was only by hiding behind Momois that Takao managed to escape his wrath.

You can see me slowly perishing here. I answered an ask about how the girls managed to win vs the boys, go there for the more in-depth look. It amuses me that even as a girl, Midorima manages to get the last word on victory. 

Kise turned up half-way, a vision in floating white lace and apparently the only one of the girls who had managed to find girls clothes that whole day.

“I borrowed it from my sisters,” she said, shrugging a smooth cream shoulder. The guys, that jerk and Kuroko included, stared. They’d expected a beautiful girl, but something in this one transcended mere perfection of feature; she looked at her friends and her face lit like the sun. “I can still play.”

It was more like Kise raided her sisters closets for their clothes? I don't know if she managed to find a bra in her size, but she definitely put on a dress to go out and torture her sempais. 'I can see dudes at... any... time??' 

“How am I supposed to put it back,” guy Kise demanded.

“Tell them you wanted to be pretty today,” she said, and laughed.

They played again.

I bookended all three 'groups' with them playing basketball. 

.0.

It turned out that Akashi believed the best thing for everyone to do was to return to their initial starting positions and wait for tomorrow to come, which at least as a plan of action in case they were going to be stuck with irritating girls forever possessed an elegant logic.

Takao insisted on accompanying them home, using the excuse that he’d left the rickshaw there.

“-And, if it comes down to it, I will be happy to offer myself as your boyfriend, Shin-chan-chan,” he said. “You can stay here with us forever and always make Shin-chan’s life an exciting mystery.”

“I don’t want that,” she said, as brutally honest as ever. “I miss my one.”

Takao closed his laughing mouth and looked a little ashamed of himself; he reached out and took her hand, squeezing it.

“You’ll be okay,” he said. “You’ll wake up and this will have been a weird dream, that's all. You’ll tell the real me about it when we meet again and I’ll laugh at it for you.”

Her hand tightened on his, a white knuckled-moment.

“It might,” she allowed. She lifted her other hand and brushed Takao’s fringe off his face. While he was looking up at her, she bent and kissed him on the cheek. “Good-night,” she said. “Thank you for all your help today.” Then she shoved him outside and closed the door on his face.

Midorima actually really wanted to reach out and hold hands with or lean on Takao the whole day. Instead she was stuck with Aomine. Aomine! There were no winners there. 

Midorima watched her sigh as she pushed the latch shut.

“You really are romantically involved with Takao,” he said, as though it still surprised him. It actually did not.

“Is there any reason for me to be ashamed of him?” she said.

“No,” he admitted. “While I feel his tendency to use levity as a crutch is sometimes irritating, I believe Takao to be an upstanding, talented and principled person who would do anything in his power to safeguard your health and happiness.”

“Exactly,” said Midorima. She held her chin upright and her shoulders straight, and all the stern lines of her looked to be aiming forward, relentless. “I’ll scissors-paper-stone you for the bed.”

“That is acceptable,” said Midorima. “Since our luck is equal, our lucky items are identical and we are purportedly the same person, the outcome should come out correct to random chance and thus be a fair contest.”

“The most annoying thing,” said Midorima levelly. Her braids swayed as she advanced the stairs ahead of him. “This whole day.”

“Yes?” said Midorima.

“Aomine is right. I do talk too much.”

Please join me in the beauty of a Midorima too dorky and pedantic and awkward for even his girl self. 

.0.

“Seriously though, Kagami,” said that jerk.

“Seriously,” said Aomine. “I might marry him.”

I uh. I actually died, but this was going to be a scene about how Aomine wanted to be cuddling her boyfriend and didn't have anyone to do it to, and how she thought that That Jerk should lighten up a little and stop being such a drama queen baby. Probably some other things. 

.0.

“I hope you’re not suggesting that I rejoin you in bed,” said Kuroko, when Akashi-kun put down the phone and smiled at the photo Momoi-kun had sent them of the mixed crew who had wound up being foisted on Kagami-kun. Akashi-kun, with aplomb, had summoned some of his teammates to a private court and introduced Akashi-san and Kuroko as his cousin and her friend. That had been relaxing, for a given value that involved two Akashis on the same court.

“The mansion is well-supplied with guest beds,” said Akashi-kun. The car wound its way down the streets, sleek and silent. “I will take one for myself."

“And you definitely think we will be back to normal tomorrow?” Kuroko said.

“I have quite a strong impression,” said Akashi-kun.

“As do I,” said Akashi-san.

Akashi-kun gave each of them his arm to walk up the pebbled driveway into the house, obviously still quite enjoying himself.

Akashi barely stopped himself from saying how happy he was to have a beautiful girl on each arm. He's really enjoying himself. 

“I will retire to Mother’s room,” said Akashi-san. “See you in the morning, Kuroko.”

“Why did you choose that one?” asked Akashi-kun. “The downstairs bedroom is connected to the study and is on the quieter side of the house.”

“It has the large vanity,” explained Akashi-san. “And the bathroom is attached through a private door.”

Akashi-kun looked at her.

“I wanted it,” said Akashi-san.

Akashi-kun smiled at her, a touch sadly. Akashi-san smiled back.

Other things cut for time: Akashi was going to see her dad on the way up, and he was going to be like 'you don't look like your mother' and she was going to be like 'no i resemble you more' and then I had no idea how to end it so goodbye. Akashi knows her father loves her, though. That there was no need for another child, as long as there was her. Akashi prime didn't even think about intruding on the sacred space, but she took possession of it because it was her due. 

“I’ll escort Kuroko, if she doesn’t mind,” said Akashi-kun adroitly.

“Please do,” said Akashi-san, and left them.

“I’m sorry for kicking you out of your own room, Akashi-kun,” said Kuroko.

“It’s the least I can do,” said Akashi-kun. “Again, I apologize for this morning. And when I was the one to invite you, as well.”

“Yes,” said Kuroko. “Akashi-kun... this book.”

“Yes?” he said.

“Why don’t you visit next weekend?” she said. “Bring that copy to Kuroko Tetsuya. Ask Momoi-san if she’ll help you set up a game.”

Akashi-kun was silent a moment, and then he said, “Do you think it’s true, Kuroko? That things are different for girls.”

This was my extremely awkward way of having Akashi whine about wanting to have the Miragen back as close friends. Mind you, what I think he wants is the ability to snidely text Midorima and Purple and Kuroko about things that happen in his life, not to actually go through the effort of setting up meetups and trucking back and forth to Tokyo every weekend, and then Kuroko is like, NOPE you have to go yourself and try not to be an asshole for maybe five hours. THINK YOU CAN HANDLE THAT?

“I don’t think it has to be that different,” she said. “Not if we can do anything about it.”

“Did you enjoy the book?” he said, just as Kuroko would have closed the door on him.

“I haven’t at all had time to start reading,” she told him, which really should have been obvious. “I was having too much fun.”

-OMAKE-

To: KASAMATSU

From: MORIYAMA

Re: The angel

My dear friend, I must tell you, a wondrous occurrence took place yesterday after you lost consciousness in the angel’s arms. She dabbed your brow and patted your cheeks, and told me that she been sent here to prophesy happiness for us all- a great love destiny which would only be fulfilled when MESSAGE DELETED.

 

To: MORIYAMA

From: KASAMATSU

Re: re: the angel

That was Kise in a dress, you moron.

Having to add more to this part would really just spoil it. Thanks for reading through this idiotically long screed, I pass out. 

Chapter Text

“Are you stalking me?” said Mayuzumi, stopping short.

“I was here first,” replied Akashi. “Hello, Mayuzumi-san.”

“Are you here for a wedding?” said Mayuzumi. He took in Akashi’s long-sleeved kimono, the elaborated upturned sweep of her hair and the diamonds winking from her ears. “Your wedding?”

“What a lovely sentiment,” said Akashi. She looked him over in return, lingering on the suit jacket his mother had just bought for him and the thankfully well-polished black leather of his shoes. “I’m meeting my father for an event here. I won’t bore you with the details.”

Mayuzumi felt like saying, same, except that they were not the same and he was here only to have dinner with his parents and some relatives and he was not dressed in the proceeds of a small company and Akashi’s makeup this time around was so different and her lips were very pink and they were not the same.

Akashi batted her eyelashes at him, almost certainly as a joke.

“You look very nice,” countered Mayuzumi. He straightened his shoulders against the heavy cloth.

“Thank you,” said Akashi. She smiled at him.

His mother was calling from the elevator lobby, with that edge in her voice that suggested at the thirtieth time she had to call his name, the wifi router was going straight out the window. He had to go and make conversation and eat properly and answer the same four questions fifteen times.

He couldn’t quite decide if he would rather be bored by that, or her.

“Enjoy your dinner,” said Akashi, still doing that thing where it looked like all the makeup on her lashes were weighing her eyelids down, eyes glinting at him for no earthly reason he could imagine. “Perhaps we’ll see each other later.”

And now he had to find some way to crash her fancy party, just because she said so. Great.

“I don’t think you’re dressed for hiding from your admirers,” said Mayuzumi. This time.

“I can only hope,” said Akashi.

.0.

Mayuzumi managed to fend off his mother by telling her that Akashi was one of his juniors (true), that they had met her totally by accident (probably true), that she was insanely popular and well-regarded in the school (incredibly, true)  and then his great-aunt had stood up to be greeted and, thankfully, spared him his mother’s mad smile of triumph that her boy had met at least one of the well-heeled little ladies they had sent him to Rakuzan High to meet in the first place.

“May I be excused?” he asked the air. “I need to stretch my legs.”

His father excused him, more interested in his after-dinner biscotti. His mother was absorbed in her fourth cousin’s first daughter’s baby pictures, and Mayuzumi carefully skirted the wine wall, staying out of her field of vision.

Not that he planned on obeying Akashi’s ord- suggestion, anyway. He just needed to walk off eight courses, and escape a family gathering, and it wasn’t as though he’d spent half the dinner looking out the glass windows onto the garden outside, and the faint lights of the event being held on the other side of it.

Akashi was visible inside the private area, holding court, looking gracious, animated, interested, lovely.

It looked incredibly boring. Mayuzumi was about to turn and walk away when Akashi tilted her head towards him, caught his gaze, and-

Mayuzumi shivered. How many of them ever saw Akashi, this Akashi? The flash of her cold and merciless eyes, a look that proclaimed total ownership of all your actions.

“Mayuzumi-sempai,” said Akashi when he approached her, tipping up her head to display a melting smile. Mayuzumi wasn’t fooled for a moment. “Did you have a nice dinner?”

“Yes,” he said. He was taller than everyone else here. “What do you want?”

“Do you know, a walk sounds perfect,” said Akashi, still smiling into his face, mincing forward to stand in his space. Mayuzumi automatically retreated, and Akashi followed him, directing his movements as smoothly and easily as she would have on the court. “What a lovely idea.”

They detached from the group, Akashi puppeting him out to the rock garden. It was lowly lit with by stone lanterns and discreet path lighting, very romantic, very tasteful. No wonder the restaurant looked out on it.

He stepped down onto the gravel and waited for Akashi to follow him. She put her hand on his shoulder to step down- the woman had a grip to crush granite- then, safely on both feet, slid it down his arm and tucked it into his elbow.

Mayuzumi went cold.

Akashi hesitated.

Akashi, hesitated.

“If you’re uncomfortable...” she said, and uncurled her fingers from his arm.

“No,” said Mayuzumi, possibly hallucinating. “I was just… amazed that girls wear such impractical shoes. You should know better.”

Her grip returned. She could probably feel every inch of muscle tone that Mayuzumi had lost since he stopped playing daily basketball. He needed to hit the gym. Find a gym, and hit it.

“How careless of me,” she murmured. Her voice was velvet and her fingers were agonising steel. “I’m going to have to rely on you to help me get around, Mayuzumi-sempai. I couldn’t possibly do it by myself.”

He was so dead.

“I suppose I must,” said Mayuzumi, staring straight ahead. “Don’t worry your-”

“Don’t spoil this,” said Akashi.

.0.

They talked about, boringly, basketball club matters and where Mayuzumi was planning to go university, and then just when Mayuzumi thought they were safe because they had completed one circuit of the garden and were about to return inside, Akashi said, “So I take it Kuroko’s antipathy is mutually felt.”

“Is that what it was,” said Mayuzumi. “I thought she just hated me.”

“Perhaps that as well,” said Akashi. Each tiny, mincing step she took was an eternity. She sighed. “I had some hopes.”

“You could matchmake your other friends,” said Mayuzumi. “You have other friends.”

“If only circumstances permitted,” said Akashi. She studied his face, still holding onto him.

“What?” said Mayuzumi.

“I’m sorry Kuroko doesn’t like you,” she said, in all apparent sincerity.

“I don’t care to comment further,” said Mayuzumi.

“If you’re disappointed…” said Akashi.

“I really don’t care to comment further,” said Mayuzumi. “I’m bringing you back in now. Then I’m going back to my actual family. To spend time with them.”

“Perhaps a poor choice of words,” murmured Akashi. Mayuzumi was about to ask her what she meant when he registered the man standing on the edge of the platform, watching them emerge from romantic semi-darkness.

It was impossible not to know who he was. Akashi resembled her father closely, and he had her air of knowing that they were the most important thing in any immediate vicinity, the calm, collected aura of power.

Mayuzumi had almost managed to forget that Akashi had been on his arm all this time. They hadn’t even talked about anything at all interesting, but he was starting to flush.

“Good-evening,” said Akashi’s father.

Mayuzumi managed a strangled response.

Akashi introduced Mayuzumi to her father as her senior in the basketball club, her voice sweet. Mayuzumi was taller than Akashi’s father, and with the platform, they were at similar eye levels. “Thank you for escorting me, Mayuzumi-sempai,” she said. “That walk was such a relief.”

“Of course,” said Mayuzumi, like an idiot. “Whatever…” he realised with horror he was about to say, whatever you want, which was an obvious trap. Politeness was a crapshoot. He coughed. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

In full view of her father, Akashi raised her face to his and smiled her insane smile at Mayuzumi. The world spun a little around him. Not a muscle moved on the older Akashi's face.

“Do you know, I really did,” she said.

Akashi’s father raised his hand to grasp hers and help her up back into the room, dismissing Mayuzumi from existence. She looked over her shoulder at Mayuzumi, smiling more decorously now.

“I hope to see you again, Mayuzumi-sempai,” she said, as though she didn’t have him microchipped or something, the way she always managed to find him when she had something to say. “When circumstances permit.”

Chapter Text

Kasamatsu woke at five am, the same time as the past three years of his life, and stared at the light fixtures on the ceiling until he remembered that he was the living room because Kise had gotten drunk and insisted on coming over.

He put his hand over his eyes. Ugh, he didn't know what to do about Kise's life crises, apparently triggered by coming in second place at the Rookie Cup. He barely had his own university worked out. If he had to deal with keeping Kise on the straight and narrow until she left Kaijou, he didn't think he could handle it.

He needed to clear his head. Kasamatsu climbed the stairs to his room and looked down on the sleeping angel. It was incredibly weird to see Kise in his bed, all wrapped around his sheets and pillow like a croissant, so he grabbed his blanket and yanked until Kise slid off the bed and onto the floor.

"Mah," said Kise, burying her face in the blanket.

"Wake up," said Kasamatsu grimly. "I'm going to do my run. You are going to wash up, then get out and go home. I should be gone forty minutes." Kise blinked pathetically up at him, looking young and vulnerable and not like a dissolute alcoholic, but Kasamatsu hardened his heart.

"You're only going to run for forty minutes?" said Kise, sleepily.

"I'm cutting back in the off-season," said Kasamatsu. "Wash, text me, go."

"What do I do if I meet your parents," said Kise.

"Don't meet them," said Kasamatsu. "Say nothing. Pretend you're a burglar and dive out the window."

Kise put her head back down and murmured a complaint.

Kasamatsu put his hand on the back of her head, frowning. "How bad is it?" he said. He moved his hand to between her shoulder blades. She didn't seem to be heaving, or breathing heavily. "If you're going to be sick-"

Kise mumbled incoherently and curled up a little tighter. At a loss for action, Kasamatsu rubbed her back in extremely tiny circles, trying hard not to go near the- near the- he couldn't even think it. For someone who looked like such a party girl, Kise was taking her night of drinking hard. "This is your own fault," he said. "No more underage drinking. Ever."

"I'm sorry," said Kise penitently, peeking out at him. "I feel a little better, but I think you should rub harder."

"Stop acting like a baby," Kasamatsu said severely, but he dug in on her muscles and Kise squeaked as she was driven into the blanket.

"There," he said, standing up. "Now go wash up. Don't do this again."

"Okay," said Kise, in an obedient little-girl voice, still buried face-first in his blanket on the floor.

That really should have tipped him off.

.0.

Kasamatsu came back into the house to the smell of something burning. For fuck's sake.

"KISE, YOU-" he started, then he stopped.

Kise, leaning on the kitchen counter wearing one of his bigger shirts, said, "Good-morning, sempai," as though butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. She was braiding her hair over her shoulder and Kasamatsu steadfastly refused to look down at her legs.

His brother, wrestling at the stove with the frying pan, said, "I'm making eggs!"

"I thought you two ate cereal in the morning," said Kasamatsu. The other one was obviously still asleep.

"Mommy said if Kise was here I could use the stove," said Yukito. "She went to work."

"Kasamatsu-san is so nice," said Kise.

"I told you to leave," Kasamatsu said to her. He put his head under the sink.

"She said if I wasn't feeling well, I could stay for breakfast until you returned," said Kise. "Though I missed your dad, I think he went for work before we woke up."

Yukito formed his lips into an O of delight, but Kasamatsu cut him off with a snapped, "Take that thing off the heat, it's burning."

"You had a girl over," Yukito said, dumping a mass of char onto a plate. He presented Kise with it, beaming proudly.

Kise took it and began to eat with every sign of enjoyment.

"Sit down," said Kasamatsu, taking the pan from him and fetching a new carton of eggs. "I'll make yours and mine." He looked at Kise's pile. "And second helpings for you."

"Thank you sempai," said Kise.

"Don't think I didn't notice the shirt," said Kasamatsu.

"Thank you sempai," said Kise.

"If you went through my closet you are in deep shit," said Kasamatsu.

"Your clothes are a lot more stylish than I would have imagined," said Kise. "How else was I going to get something to fit me?" She sketched a midriff top around her torso with her fork, which was a lie, a filthy lie, he didn't have shirts that much smaller than her. "It would have been indecent."

"You are," retorted Kasamatsu, taking refuge in stirring eggs while he blushed heavily.

"Is Kise your girlfriend?" said Yukito, staring avidly between them.

Having been asked this question approximately five million times over the course of the year, he was prepared for this. "No," said Kasamatsu.

"But she's so pretty," said Yukito. "Does she have another boyfriend?"

It occurred to Kasamatsu that he didn't know if Kise had a boyfriend, and in fact, wasn't likely to, now that he had nearly graduated and there would no longer be a gossip hotline which operated at the speed of light to inform him of stuff like 'Kise's curled her hair' or 'Kise's brought a new bag to school!' or 'that's the third failed love confession this week!'.

"No," said Kise sweetly.

"When are you getting married," said Yukito.

Kise drew breath to answer.

"WE ARE NOT GOING OUT," said Kasamatsu loudly. He pointed the spatula at Kise's face. "Don't play along with him."

"But I was just thinking, we're way too young to get married right now," said Kise, laughing.

He sort of saw her as the type to pick out an adoring harem member right after university, but he wasn't about to tell her that. "That's not funny," he said. "Although the way you're going..."

"What if I promise to reform my wicked ways," said Kise.

"I thought you were already reformed," said Kasamatsu. "Now, you go to practices."

"I go to all the practices," said Kise brightly. "I didn't really drink that much last night, anyway. It was a one-off."

Kasamatsu stared at her. "Then what the hell was that about this morning?"

"Because... it makes me sick like that," said Kise. "That's why I didn't drink so much. Because... I knew it would make me sick."

"Then why were you drinking at all?" said Kasamatsu.

"It's a long story," said Kise, glancing at Yukito. Oh, now she came over shy. Now this wasn't an appropriate topic of conversation.

He let Kise change the topic to the guitar in his room, and used up the entire carton of eggs.

.0.

He finally succeeded in kicking her out after breakfast, telling her to keep the shirt.

"But," said Kise.

"Keep. It."

"Okay," said Kise. She sat on the floor and laced up her sports shoes. Kasamatsu hadn't even showered, but it wasn't like he could care about that when Kise had been right there beside him during seven and eight hour practices. He scratched his head.

"Look," said Kasamatsu. "If you do have. Worries. Thoughts. Thinking too much about stuff, and what's going on, and what you're going to do."

"Yes?" said Kise, blinking innocently at him.

"Go to one of your girlfriends or your sisters or something and talk it out," he said. "Then you can call me, and we can shoot some hoops, get some food or something, get your mind off it. No more this." He indicated her entire person. "But you can call me. Okay?"

Kise stood up and hugged him before he could get away. He froze but shouted internally at himself not to push her away, this was support, he was being supportive, it was only Kise, who was vain, self-centered, spoilt, beautiful, and had come to him when she wanted help. Only Kise.

He patted her back awkwardly. "You're not getting a free pass on today, though," he said.

Kise pulled away but still held him at arm's length. "But it wasn't even my fault," she protested. "Haizaki was the one who spiked my drink!"

"What?"

Chapter Text

The first email came just after the the interhigh ended and read, Kagami, please send me Miss Alex’s email.

“Oh,” said Kuroko when he showed her the text. “Yes, I told Akashi-san that if she wished to get into contact with Miss Alex, it would be best to apply directly to you.”

“And how did Akashi get my details,” said Kagami.

“Momoi…” said Aomine. “Midorima… Murasakibara’s boytoy… the alien computer implanted in the back of her brain…”

Kise nodded. “Could be any of those.”

“Could be her,” said Aomine, jabbing a thumb at Kise. Kise looked hurt.

Midorima’s reply, texted furiously to Kuroko, demanded her to inform those vulgar busybodies to mind their own business, and that Takao would certainly pay for having unearthed their middle school yearbook from Momoi.

“Man, I don’t even know where mine is,” said Aomine. “I think maybe I burned it.”

“But I signed yours!” said Kise.

“How’d Akashi even meet Alex?” said Kagami.

Aomine shrugged. “Not me,” she said. “I never talk to Akashi.”

“Akashi-san suggested to me that it was right after the Winter Cup,” said Kuroko.

Oh yes, Tatsuya replied to Kagami. Alex kissed her. Murasakibara was very upset with me for not preventing it. But Alex’s reflexes when it comes to kissing are top-shelf, Taiga.

“So that was what Murasakibarachi was so angry about,” said Kise, suffused with laughter.

“Wow,” said Aomine, her eyes dreamy. “I would’ve paid to see that happen.”

Kagami went cold.

“Will she… kill Alex?” he said to Aomine.

“Not now,” said Aomine, putting a comforting hand on top of his. “It’s been like, months. Akashi’s either angry at once or angry forever. She would have been doing something before now. And Alex was pretty cool. I mean, legitly cool. She wanted us to get together even then..”

Kagami blushed and roughed his hand through his hair. He squinted at his screen and laboriously typed out a question.

Why do you want it? he asked Akashi. He could almost picture the cool serenity of Akashi’s eyes as she tapped out a thoughtful response, her face curving into a smile.

Do you really want to know? Akashi replied. “Typical,” muttered Aomine, reading over his shoulder.

Uh, yes, Kagami typed.

We’re going to L. A. for a short trip in the summer, Akashi said. You, too.

“We’re what,” said Aomine, snatching the phone from Kagami. “What?”

.0.

“We’re not really going to do this,” said Kagami to Kuroko, four email attachments, two phone calls, and one day later.

Kuroko looked resigned, exchanging one subject notebook for another. “We are,” she said. “Akashi-san has already made all the arrangements and had Momoi-kun present Coach with the training schedule she means to keep us on while we are in her care.” She ruminated on this and added, “He and Himuro-san and Takao-kun are to join us, so you will not be the only boy, and Himuro-san is your friend.”

This was not helpful. Tatsuya coming along would make the trip more bearable, but it also seriously raised their chances of going-to-get-into-trouble. Real trouble. Even on a four-day trip.

“And we will be meeting Miss Alex as well, I understand,” said Kuroko, reading the look on Kagami’s face.

“That’s not comforting,” said Kagami. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to bring Aomine to the US, didn’t have things to show her, but-

“I’m looking forward to it,” said Kuroko, adding, “Kiyoshi-san will want to meet us there, too.”

.0.

Kagami got to the airport bright and early with a sleepwalking Kuroko and Aomine grumbling behind him to meet an obscenely awake Momoi, who took them into the check-in lounge and extracted their passports.

“Just wait over there with Mukkun!” he said. “Almost everyone is already here! Isn’t this exciting! Kagamin! Kuroko! Dai-chan!”

“Make him stop,” groaned Aomine, bent over almost double to use Kuroko as a walking cane.

Murasakibara lay face-down on an entire row of seats, jacket pulled up and over to cover her head. Tatsuya sat opposite her, his legs propped up on an ottoman, looking sleek and pleased.

“Taiga,” said Tatsuya, smiling at him. “Did you sleep at all?”

“What do you think,” said Aomine. She threw herself down on another sofa. Mercifully, the lounge was empty except for them. She sighed. “Tetsu, come here, I need a pillow.”

“Ask Kagami-kun,” said Kuroko, stretching her back back out. She wandered off in the direction of the food spread, and some vanilla yogurt drink.

“Taigaaaa,” said Aomine.

“Not lying down, you’re gonna have jetlag if you go back to sleep,” he said. He sat down next to her, and she curled until she was using his back as a rest.

Tatsuya smirked at them.

Kagami blushed.

“Murasakibara, what are you doing? Sit up this instant! Aren’t you ashamed to behave like this in public?”

Kagami and Aomine sighed together.

Murasakibara heaved herself upright to glare at the other girl, who unlike nearly all of them was wearing a long skirt, leggings, blouse, cardigan and scarf.

“You look like our fifty year old kindergarten teacher,” said Murasakibara.

“That would be appropriate, because the rest of you always act like children,” said Midorima.

Murasakibara sat up and put up the hood of her jacket. It had bear ears on it. She folded her arms and stared at Midorima, daring her to comment.

“So cute,” said Kise, popping up behind Murasakibara, fondling the bear ears and rubbing them down on Murasakibara’s head.

Murasakibara yelped, threw Kise’s hands off her and slid off the sofa into a grumpy heap.

“See!” said Midorima. “Get off the floor!” She stared at Kise. “And what are you wearing?”

“It’s L. A.!” protested Kise, wincing as she rubbed her hands.

Kagami looked at her tiny shorts, her crop top, her strappy heels. Not too long. But he did look.

“You are literally going to stick to everything,” said Aomine.

Midorima swelled with indignation. “Kise, cover up this-”

“So you’re sure you want to come,” said Kagami to Takao.

“I would have come if I had to pack myself into luggage,” said Takao, settling down. “Shin-chan would never have left me behind.”

“You would have exceeded my weight limit,” Midorima said to him severely.

“You’re rich, you can afford it,” said Takao. She said nothing, but reached out to smooth down his hair, fussing, fussing.

“Ugh, stop flirting,” said Murasakibara in a loud voice.

Aomine fake-barfed into her hand and then leapt sideways out of Midorima’s reach.

Takao grinned around at the group. “Is this everyone?” he said. “Where’s- oh, there she is.”

“I’m glad to see you’re looking forward to it, Takao-kun,” said Kuroko.

“This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” said Takao with conviction.

“Oh, is it?” murmured Midorima.

He took her hand and squeezed it. “Sure,” he said, beaming at her.

Midorima blushed and then recoiled as Kise hauled herself over to stare sulkily at their happiness.

“So unfair,” she said. She threw her arm around Kuroko. “SO UNFAIR!” Kuroko patted her shoulder.

“So Kasamatsu-san isn’t coming,” said Takao. “Too bad. Would’ve been fun to have him along.”

“Isn’t he afraid of girls,” said Aomine.

“I asked sempai to come!” wailed Kise. “I told him Akashi would pay, I told him I’d pay, I told him how he could let me go alone all by myself to America and it’s his holiday soon anyway, I tried everything but he said he’d rather eat worms and swim the Arctic.”

“But you wouldn’t be all by yourself,” pointed out Kagami. “There’s like ten of us. There’s Akashi.”

Kise glared at him. “I’m all alone while the rest of you are going to be snuggling and having a couples vacation and look, you’re doing it right now, that’s so unfair, I want sempai!” her voice broke on a whine.

Aomine tucked herself even tighter into Kagami’s side. “You two wouldn’t be snuggling anyway,” she said. “You’re still ‘not dating’.”

Kise muttered dark threats. “I’m working on it,” she said.

Akashi and Momoi finished talking to the ladies at the counter and returned with their passports and boarding passes.

Midorima sat stiffly upright in her seat and said, “Akashi, you booked us into first class? That’s so extravagant! It’s such a waste of money!”

Murasakibara rolled her eyes.

“You’re almost two metres tall,” said Akashi.

“I’m just as outraged as you are, Shin-chan,” said Takao. “No private jet? What kind of sugar mama are you?”

Midorima elbowed him in the side.

“I decided it was too much hassle to find an adult chaperone if we were going to fly privately,” said Akashi mildly. “My father can be overprotective.”

Midorima subsided, overcome with horror at the thought of the luxury they had so narrowly escaped. Takao patted her back supportively.

“Thanks,” said Kagami.

“Taiga, we’re sitting together,” said Aomine, pleased. “What’d’we owe you?” she said to Akashi.

“Couldn’t you have asked her this question anytime before today,” said Kagami.

“If any of you take so much as one eyelash out of line while we’re in Los Angeles, I’ll leave you there,” said Akashi, ignoring him.

“Done,” said Aomine.

.0.

The invisible hand of Akashi’s influence ushered them through security, customs and into a mini-bus, which brought them to Kagami’s house before he even had the chance to tell them his address, which Kagami kind of wished he hadn’t noticed.

“Kagamin, your house is so big!” said Momoi. 

“Told you we didn’t need to book a place,” said Kagami. “There’s lots of space.”

“Your dad doesn’t mind?” said Takao.

“Nah, we’ll stay out of his way,” said Kagami. “It’s just a few days.”

“Did you remember to ask him?” said Midorima sharply.

“Yeah, I called,” said Kagami. He dug in his bag for his keys and they walked in.

It was simply furnished, spick-and-span clean, and very, very empty.

“You checked that your dad still lives here, right,” said Aomine.

“He does,” said Kagami. “I think the last girlfriend moved out three months ago. He’s got a cleaning service.”

The rest of the girls, desperate to avoid an awkward conversation which probed into Kagami’s family situation, put down their bags and started exploring.

“There’s no food,” yelled Murasakibara.

“The vehicle will remain at our disposal for our stay,” said Akashi. “We might purchase groceries shortly.”

“We can unpack your snacks,” Tatsuya said to her. “Is that okay?”

“Did you seriously carry over snacks for her,” said Kagami.

“Some are for you,” said Tatsuya.

Murasakibara sighed. “If I have to,” she said.

“We should shower and change too,” said Kise, flapping a hand around her neck. “Doesn’t anyone else feel gross?”

“Didn’t you touch up your makeup enough times?” said Midorima acidly. “Nearly poking out your own eye, I might add.”

Kise looked at Midorima with what could only be called a speculative look in her eye. “I can do you later, Midorimachi,” she said. “Just like camps back in Teikou! Makeovers all night.”

Kuroko vanished up the stairs, possibly scouting for escape routes.

“I want to come,” said Takao.

“Maybe later,” said Akashi, a thoughtful promise. “We’re meeting Miss Alex for dinner.”

“We gonna play some ball?” demanded Aomine, stretching up onto her toes. “I need to get moving, I sat for way too long.”

“There’s a street court a couple of blocks over,” said Kagami. “I used to go to it all the time back when-” He looked at Tatsuya.

“It’s still there,” said Tatsuya. “Or it was when I left.”

“Will we at least get something to eat,” said Murasakibara.

“You could have had my cake on the plane,” said Tatsuya.

“I didn’t want it then,” said Murasakibara.

Somehow, with totally uncoordinated yet devastating efficiency, they split up into two rooms, unpacked, tumbled in and out of the three bathrooms (“You are so rich, you asshole,” said Takao cheerfully, and no one at all took Kagami’s side), and poured themselves back into the-

“I thought cars would be less conspicuous,” said Akashi, then divided them among party lines and they were off.

“Is this just what you had to put up, all the time, back then?” said Kagami, who was reaching new and amazingly annoying levels of Miragen saturation. “All the damn time?”

“I was so mad when I went to Touou and no one brought me lunch or carried my bag everyday, man,” said Aomine. “Only Momoi. And then Ryou.”

“Akashi-san has always handled management issues like this for her clubs,” said Kuroko. “With Momoi-kun to help her, she can accomplish more.”

“Akachin just likes to boss people around,” said Murasakibara, accurately. “Look how she’s dragged all of us across the ocean just to… do whatever it is she’s doing.”

Aomine snorted. “What, you don’t know either?” she said.

“You don’t,” retorted Murasakibara.

“Yeah, but I’ve never known what she’s thinking,” said Aomine. “Isn’t that your job?”

Murasakibara rolled her eyes to the side, communicating that Aomine was too stupid even to fight with.

Aomine narrowed her eyes at the larger girl, and then they both looked at Kuroko.

“I don’t know either,” said Kuroko. “Akashi-san will reveal her purpose when she is ready.”

“What are you guys talking about?” said Kise, staring distracted at her phone. “Which do you think is the better picture? Should I be taking it together with you guys so he doesn’t think I’m going off by myself? How’s the lighting?”

The other girls stared at her.

“One time the guy in the next class carpeted your entire desk in rose petals,” said Murasakibara. “They got everywhere. They got in my snacks.”

“He hasn’t responded to any of the texts I sent before I got on the plane at all!” wailed Kise. She collapsed limply in her seat.

“<We’re here,>” said their driver.

“Finally,” said Aomine, ignoring Kise’s mumble of protest. “I’m starving. We drove for so long!”

“That’s just how it is here,” said Kagami, straining a little to get out of the car- of course Akashi had gone in the other one- so Aomine grabbed his arm and pulled him until he popped free. He leant over the driver’s side. “<Thanks,>” he said. “<Do you, uh,>”

“<It’s taken care of,>” the driver assured him. “<The whole trip.>”

Kagami nodded, relieved. Akashi really had to be dropping a packet on getting them up here, and even if she had cash to burn, Kagami couldn’t figure out what her goal was in all of this. Was it just Alex? Was she really planning to leave them all here, and ensure Rakuzan had an uninterrupted sweep to the Winter Cup? Was she going to kill them all?

Kagami was still cranking through these possibilities while they walked through the doors of the restaurant and saw Alex, beer bottle already in hand, waving to them with a big smile on her face. Akashi was weaving through the tables towards Alex, her hair tied up in her match-ready pigtails, focus and straight-backed and sure.

And at the table, talking quietly with Kiyoshi and laughing under his breath, was Nijimura Shuuzou.

.0.

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” said Momoi, his eyes gleaming with happy tears as he passed the girls more potato skins.

“No wonder Shuu was being so mysterious about meeting up,” said Tatsuya. He waved to Nijimura, who, surrounded by women, raised a suspicious eyebrow at him.

Akashi had claimed immediate pride of place at his free side, and the rest of the girls had arrayed themselves around him and were alternating between being passionately interested in him and passionately interested in their food.

“He’s a nice boy,” said Alex. “He helps out at the club with the younger kids, too. Kiyoshi goes to school with him. Small world, huh?”

“I met him at gambling basketball last year,” said Kagami.

“I saw,” murmured Tatsuya wickedly.

“Shin-chan never showed me,” said Takao. He sucked a shrimp out of its tail, watching the show along with everyone else. “This is weird to everyone else, right?”

“So weird,” said Kagami.

“I like Shuu,” said Tatsuya.

“Nijimura’s been really good to me while I was in the hospital,” said Kiyoshi. “It was nice to see a familiar face.”

“I mean, he was good-looking, but I didn’t think they were all that into him,” said Kise, her lovely brow furrowed.

The boys looked at her.

“I only joined in my second year,” she reminded them. “And I guess, he’d already stepped down from captain by then.” She sipped her iced tea. “And,” she lowered her voice, “his dad, you know?”

“I really don’t,” said Kagami.

Akashi Looked at them across the table, and Kise shut up, hurriedly putting her burger into her mouth. The rest of the girls didn’t even bother looking around at them, having magically and inexplicably transformed into polite, docile, well-behaved children with their elbows off the table and their legs tucked away under their seats, all of them watching Nijimura congratulate them on their choices of and progress in high school with attentive, enlarged eyes.

Kagami thought the guy was attractive too, and it made sense that they would be happy to see him again, but this was so weird.

The spell lasted all the way until it was time for dessert, and the awed waitstaff brought out ice cream and cookies and brownies and once again fourteen teenagers set to and demolished the lot like ants stripping a carcass.

While Midorima explained to Kuroko and Murasakibara in lengthy detail about cavities and diabetes, Nijimura turned his head to where Aomine was spoon-feeding Kagami some of her sundae and said, “Kagami Taiga, huh?”

Kagami twitched. “Uh, yeah?” he said. “Uh. Sorry about the photo.”

Nijimura shrugged, like passing around photos of someone was a normal, human thing that just happened to anyone, but narrowed his eyes.

“This him?” he said to Aomine.

Aomine put her other arm around Kagami’s shoulders and pulled him to her, saying, “Yes.” with a smug smile.

Nijimura grunted. He gave Aomine a nod, then turned away.

“Did I just pass some kind of test,” Kagami whispered to Aomine.

“Yeah, he’s cool with you,” said Aomine. Her arm slipped up around his neck to ruffle his hair. “This is cool.”

Kagami blushed and looked down the table in embarrassment. At the head of the table, opposite Alex, Akashi glowed with satisfaction. When she noticed that he was looking at her, she met his gaze, and smiled.

.0.

Alex rubbed her hands together as she looked at them all. “This is going to be so fun,” she said. “I’m glad Akashi had this idea of bringing all of those girls here.”

“And us,” prompted Tatsuya.

“Well, also you,” said Alex, smiling at him. “Not that I’m not happy to have you boys back here together with me, just like old times!”

“You’re not planning on kissing any of the girls, are you,” said Kagami.

“My reflexes aren’t too good right now,” Alex mourned.

“Alex,” said Tatsuya. “I don’t suppose you know why we’re here? All Murasakibara would tell me was that you must have said something to Akashi.”

“Aren’t you here on vacation?” said Alex. “And it seems to me that she brought you boys along so that girls wouldn’t get bored.”

“That sounds right,” said Kiyoshi, pleased. “It looks like it’s been a lot of fun so far!”

“Kiyoshi-sempai,” murmured Kuroko dampingly.

“Are you not having fun?” said Kiyoshi with concern.

“I am,” said Kuroko, looking up at him under her eyelashes. “How have you been?”

Kagami tuned out and tuned back into Tatsuya talking to Nijimura.

“-all staying in one guy’s house?” said Nijimura.

“Yes, but can you imagine what Akashi would have done otherwise?” said Tatsuya. “Overflowing the Sheraton with sixteen-year-old Japanese schoolgirls.” He paused. “We could have cleaned up on room charges,” he added.

“Akashi made the right call,” said Nijimura, after staring suspiciously at Tatsuya and his suggestion of fraud. “She’s got years of experience keeping these monkeys in line.”

“Are they all still twelve years old, then?” murmured Tatsuya. “Even Akashi?”

“Yes,” said Nijimura frankly. “Giant, noisy, overgrown twelve year olds on sugar highs with boyfriends.”

“Nice boyfriends?” said Tatsuya.

“I guess?” said Nijimura. “That’s their business, though.”

Up ahead, Kise was forcing Aomine and Momoi to take selfies with her, tilting her head and pursing her lips while Aomine put her in a headlock and Momoi flashed the peace sign.

“Has Kise taken five thousand photos today yet, or just four?” said Midorima waspishly.

“Kise is enjoying herself in her own way,” said Akashi. “Photographs are her way of remembering her time with us.”

“It’s just that Kise-chin’s brain is so small she’ll forget what she looks like,” said Murasakibara. “Like a goldfish.”

“I’d say it’s more that Kise doesn’t really care how she looks,” said Akashi, spoiling a perfectly good burn round.

“Yeah,” Nijimura said. “My girlfriend’s the same way.”

.0.

Despite Takao’s dire theories shared freely after lights-out, they didn’t have to wake up the next day and run two hundred laps around the block just to warm up for ball-handling drills.

(“Morning Dad.” “How’s school, son.” “Fine Dad.” “Good.”)

Kagami did have to cook breakfast for ten people, but once Kise had gently ushered Momoi out of the kitchen and Murasakibara sat on him to keep him from coming back in, between Kuroko and Tatsuya, they got it done.

“Time is of the essence, so you may do as you wish until the afternoon,” said Akashi, apparently because thirty-six hours was her limit for spending close personal time with her dearest and most precious friends.

“Guess we’ll walk around, play some ball?” said Kagami to Aomine.

“Oh,” said Aomine. “I’m going to- I’m going with Akashi today. You’ll be okay, right?”

“This is my house,” said Kagami.

“Yeah,” she said, distracted. She stepped up to him and kissed him on the cheek, holding him close a moment. “Yeah. I’ll see you later.”

“Why did she just kiss you like you’re going off on the Titanic?” said Takao. “And what do I have to do to get Midorima to do that?”

“No idea,” said Kagami shortly.

They ended up going to streetball, where they met with Kiyoshi and Nijimura again and alternated between lying in the shade listening to Midorima and Kise practice their english and playing pickup themselves, though not, since Midorima vociferously insisted, for money.

Tatsuya appeared sometime after lunch, waving to old friends and sitting down next to Kagami with a sigh.

“I thought you were with Murasakibara,” said Kagami stupidly.

“No, she went with Akashi and Aomine too,” said Tatsuya.

“Then where have you been?” said Kagami.

Tatsuya smiled.

“Never mind,” said Kagami.

“She said she was on her way,” said Tatsuya. “There they are.”

Akashi, Murasakibara and Aomine trudged towards them, following a very attractive girl who was talking with Akashi while the other two stared at them, owl-eyed.

“<Thank you for the ride,>” said Akashi.

“<No problem,>” said the girl, who greeted Nijimura with a kiss. Miragen heads turned from all directions, then quickly looked away. Nijimura introduced them to his girlfriend, who smiled and nodded because she didn’t speak Japanese and they seemed content to stare like goldfish at her and smile and nod in return. 

“She seems nice,” Kuroko murmured.

“She is, she volunteered to drive us over rather than have us wait for our car,” said Akashi. “She’s also given me some recommendations for dining or sightseeing, if anyone is interested in that.”

“Now I’m really confused,” said Kise, crossing her (long, bare) legs to stare at Nijimura’s girlfriend. “You knew about her?”

“I follow him on facebook, Kise,” said Akashi. “She’s all over his profile. We’ve exchanged comments many times.”

“You are on facebook?” said Kise. “Why haven’t you friended me?”

“Yes,” said Akashi. She stretched her neck backwards and said, “We’ll play the next round. Call teams, Kuroko.”

.0.

Kagami’s feeling of vague unease persisted until the night, when true to her promise, Akashi ran them all through their paces at the empty streetcourt near Kagami’s house, until Kuroko was lying face down on the concrete and all of them had sweated straight through their practice clothes. Kagami almost immediately felt better. Tired and in pain, but better.

Akashi pushed a sweaty lock of hair off her face and stood. They all looked at her.

“No practice breakdown,” said Murasakibara. “Unless you can keep it under five minutes each.”

“That will come later,” said Akashi. She took in a deep breath, and let it out.

“I understand there has been some confusion about the purpose of this visit,” Akashi said to them. “I wish to clarify my reasons now, so that we can get on with enjoying our vacation.”

“Point of order, I’ve been enjoying myself very much,” said Takao. Midorima put her head into her hands.

“Thank you for your input,” said Akashi. She looked around at all their faces, as though memorising them.

“I wished to consult with Miss Alex,” said Akashi. “Next year… after our third year of high school… I plan to study overseas and continue playing basketball for as long as I can, and I wanted her help and to speak with people she could put me in contact with. I wanted to do this face-to-face, and I wanted my friends here for moral support.”

“Akashichi,” said Kise tearfully.

“Will it really-” said Midorima. “I mean, I want to become a doctor. But will your family-”

“Thank you for your support, Midorima,” said Akashi.

She looked to her side. Aomine sighed. “Yeah, I,” she said. “I got to talking with Alex’s contacts too. It’s… it’s happening, I guess.”

Momoi buried his face in his hands and started to cry.

“Why are you crying?” Aomine said.

“You’re thinking about your future,” Momoi wept. “I’m so happy, Dai-chan, you’re going to be in the WNBA! You’ll definitely go pro, I know you will!”

“Uh, I mean maybe, it might- oh quit crying,” said Aomine, and hugged him. “It’s in the cards, that’s all I’m saying.”

She looked at Murasakibara, who was staring at the treeline as though she wasn’t involved in any of this. “You’ve got an offer too, you know. If you want it.”

“I know,” said Murasakibara. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But you are thinking about it?” prodded Akashi.

“Yes,” said Murasakibara. “Congrats us. Woo.”

“Why did nobody ask me,” said Kise plaintively.

“Haven’t you already spoken to university scouts back in Japan?” said Akashi, raising an eyebrow. “Together with some endorsement deals, as well.”

“Yes,” said Kise. “But you could have asked.”

“You can ask Miss Alex about it tomorrow,” said Akashi, with a shrug.

“Then why did you invite the boys along as well?” said Midorima, her brow furrowed in bewilderment.

“I thought it would be nice for everyone to have a vacation at the same time,” said Akashi. “I think having them along has made things more enjoyable,” she added, with all apparent sincerity.

“I think that it would be very enjoyable to not have Kurochin puke her guts out the rest of our training,” said Murasakibara.

“Unkind,” murmured Tatsuya, who also looked a little green.

Everyone looked at Kuroko, who, still lying face-down, raised her fist off the ground.

“Thank you for the encouragement, Kuroko,” said Akashi.

Kuroko waved it a little in the air, then reached out and punched Murasakibara as hard as she could in the leg.

.0.

“That’s nice to hear,” said Kiyoshi the next day. “It’s great that she’s got her future planned out.” He peered at Kuroko. “Do you?” he said.

“No,” admitted Kuroko. “But as you do, I admire their commitment and wish them all the best.”

Kiyoshi patted her on the head, which Kuroko allowed.

Kagami looked at Kuroko. “You really are enjoying yourself,” he said.

“At first I thought I might not,” said Kuroko, which Kagami was pretty sure was a massive understatement. “But yes, it’s been quite fun.” Her perceptive eyes searched his face. “Do you know what you want to do, Kagami-kun?”

Kagami looked down and shuffled his feet in their basketball shoes. “Follow her, I guess,” he said. “I mean. I want to.”

“That would be interesting,” said Kiyoshi.

“And easier for you than to enter university in Japan,” said Kuroko.

“Wow, thanks,” said Kagami.

“They’re finishing up,” said Kiyoshi. He rocked back and forth with excitement. “Think I can get in on the next one?”

“Did Coach say you can?” said Kagami. Kiyoshi looked at him sadly.

“I will ask Akashi-san,” said Kuroko.

Akashi was once again in conversation with Nijimura, though why they were talking in english about time-travelling apples, Kagami couldn’t even begin to guess.

“Kiyoshi-sempai wants be to included in our game,” said Kuroko.

“It’s not too much trouble,” said Kiyoshi, giving Akashi his most pathetic look. “Riko said I’d have to ask you.”

“I have Aida-san’s permission to push you a little if your recovery permits, yes,” said Akashi. Nijimura snorted. Akashi smiled up at him. “Would you like to participate as well?” she said. “It’s been a long time.”

“I think I’m up to it,” he said, tapping her lightly on the forehead with his closed fist.

“Certainly,” said Akashi. She raised her voice, getting the attention of the rest of the Generation of Miracles. “Gather up,” she said. “We’re having another match.”

“Us as well?” said Tatsuya.

“Yes,” said Akashi.

“Aomine.

“Midorima.

“Murasakibara.

“Kise.

“Kuroko.

“You’re all on my team,” said Akashi.

“Wow, we are going to get creamed,” said Takao.

“What a poor attitude,” called Midorima.

“Bring it on,” said Kagami, grinning at Aomine, who stuck her tongue out at him and laughed.

“This feels like cheating,” said Kise.

“Will it be cheating when I slap you guys into the next week for disrespecting your seniors?” said Nijimura.

"At least one of us should probably go on the other team," said Kuroko to Akashi, quietly.

“Certainly,” said Akashi, smiling, smiling. “But at least one more time, I want to play basketball with my friends again.”

::END::

Chapter Text

It was a good thing that their trip ended in two days, decided Himuro, because if he had to follow Akashi’s training scheme for even one more session, he was going to vomit out his lungs.

“I told you I slacked off,” murmured Murasakibara, or four of her.

“You what?” said Akashi, a small smile on her lips.

“Nothing,” said Murasakibara. “I’m tired.”

Akashi smiled much wider at Murasakibara, then walked off to poke her foot under Taiga’s knee and tell him he wasn’t lowering himself enough per pushup.

“Is she actually doing it with us,” murmured Himuro. “Is she really?”

“She’s doing it faster than us,” said Murasakibara, just under her breath. “She does it faster than us then she strides around yelling we’re going too slowly. That’s her secret. It gives her strength.”

“I have not missed this,” said Kise. Her sweat-soaked hair was coming loose out of her ponytail and it plastered itself to her delicately flushed yet creamy complexion.

“No,” said Midorima, who at least looked tired, sitting back on her heels and blissfully pulling her arms into a stretch. Her boyfriend had given up entirely and was just lying face-down where he had collapsed after his last push-up.

Aomine, amazingly, was still going, pacing Taiga with a grim intensity, talking to him in a low, urgent voice to keep going with her. The sight of her controlled movements seemed to give him strength.

“I thought this was going to be a vacation ,” wailed Kise.

“No one thought this,” said Murasakibara.

“I did,” said Takao, muffled.

“Foolish,” said Midorima. “You have fifty left, by the way.”

“Shin-chan, why,” cried Takao.

“Cold,” said Himuro, shifting his weight to sit closer to Murasakibara. He shook his head.

“Every one we don’t do today is another hundred we do the next time,” said Murasakibara.

Himuro looked at her. “Ten,” he said.

“Hundred,” said Murasakibara. “You didn’t know our middle school coach.”

Kise raised her head. “Oh, god, are we all going to have to do them? Is that happening again ?”

“I’m going to die,” said Takao.

“I will be here for you until you finish,” said Midorima, going down to his eye level to speak to him. “And if you do not finish so we all have to do five thousand pushups tomorrow... I will push you out of the plane on our way home.”

“...okay,” said Takao.

“Fifty,” said Midorima, in a voice that neared gentleness. “Look, even Kuroko’s still going.”

“All for one, Kuro-chin,” said Murasakibara.

Perhaps fortunately for all concerned, Kuroko was too far gone to hear Murasakibara. Momoi was helping Kuroko count off with his fingers laid out in front of her fixed gaze.

Taiga collapsed, finally, and Aomine reached out to pat his cheeks and tell him he’d done a good job. Akashi walked back over and Takao grimly hoisted himself up again into position.

“Murochin finished his,” said Murasakibara pre-emptively.

“It won’t be tomorrow,” said Akashi, ignoring this. “The punishment ones don’t stack, so you don’t have to miss tomorrow’s events.”

“And what are tomorrow’s events,” said Midorima, her eyes not leaving Takao’s figure as she counted down.

“We’re going to the beach,” said Akashi, turning to the side. “Kuroko, keep it up. You’re doing great.”

“What?” said five people at once. Taiga was now face down on Aomine’s lap, and Kuroko was still beyond speech.

“This is a vacation,” said Akashi. “We’re going to the beach.”

“I did not pack a swimsuit,” said Midorima.

“I did!” said Kise, who was shining with excitement.

“I packed for you,” said Akashi, confirming Himuro’s long-held suspicion that no one had let Akashi play with dolls when she was little. “Actually I prepared backups for all of you, except Kise.”

Takao had gone completely still, and his whole body trembled with effort. “Akashi,” he said urgently. “Akashi, what kind of swimsuit.”

“No,” said Midorima, going pale. “No!”

“Midorima, you know perfectly well how hard you are to fit clothes-wise,” said Akashi. “I bought a bikini.”

“If I do another hundred, will you show it to me,” said Takao.

“No,” said Akashi, arms crossed, shoulders loose, victory in every line of her limbs. “But if you finish within the next twenty minutes we can get dinner and go back to Kagami’s house and rest up for tomorrow.”

“Uggggggh,” said Murasakibara, burying her head in her hands.

.0.

Himuro was beginning to get used to sitting peacefully on the floor of the living room with the other boys propped up against the wall listening to the noise of the girls rushing around Taiga’s house in the evening. It was restful, and Murasakibara would curl up on the chair nearest to Himuro’s wall-spot, crunching her way through industrial-sized bags of chips.

She was not there today. “If I scale the wall,” said Takao. “I scale it, right, and I just look in through the window, I can look at the bikini even if she never wears it and I can just have that memory with me for the rest of my life.”

“Your arms aren’t sore?” said Himuro.

“This is too important for sore arms,” said Takao. “Also, after I see it, it won’t matter if I slip and fall to my death because I will have ascended to heaven .”

“You won’t die from the second floor,” said Taiga.

“I’ll die when Shin-chan realises I was peeping on her,” said Takao. His face contorted into an agony of yearning. “But wouldn’t it be worth it ?”

“Won’t you see it tomorrow?” said Himuro. “You can just wait until then.”

Takao hmm ed. “You think Akashi will win?” he said. “That one would have to go to the judges.”

“I thought that Midorima’s never beaten Akashi,” said Taiga.

“Do you know what I have never seen?” said Takao. “Below her collarbones, above mid-thigh. Nothing. Ever. And her legs was once only before she decided we weren’t worthy at the training camp. If we didn’t have basketball jerseys I wouldn’t be sure she had shoulders.”

“You’re a very intense little man, aren’t you?” said Aomine, standing above them with her arms folded.

“I burn,” said Takao, lifting his face to the ceiling. “Or that’s every muscle fibre in my body unravelling.”

“You’re all such babies,” said Aomine, looking down at them lying bonelessly against the wall. She sat down next to Taiga and cuddled in, saying, “I finished my fitting, then I decided to get out of the crazy house. Kise’s suddenly got so much energy now that we’re talking about clothes.”

A thought suddenly occurred to Himuro. “Are we chasing your father out?” he said to Taiga, who was settling Aomine against him like he was a human memory foam mattress.

“No he pretty much always works this late,” said Taiga. “I think.” He turned back to Aomine. “Fitting?”

“We’re comparing outfits at a sleepover,” said Aomine. “It’s like we were saving up all our girl for this moment. They’re having fun.”

“Is it really such a big deal that Akashi bought... swimsuits… for you?” said Himuro curiously. “Wouldn’t you already have some?”

“You think I just walk into stores and buy shit?” said Aomine, six foot four of woman.

“Yeah but you… have clothes,” said Himuro.

“I don’t have sexy ones,” said Aomine. She thought about it. “Well. I have one sexy one. Momoi packed it for me. I should do something nice for him.”

“How sexy,” said Taiga.

“You’ll find out,” said Aomine, hooding her eyes to smile at him.

“How sexy is Midorima’s,” said Takao. Himuro admired his focus and persistence.

“You’ll find out,” said Aomine smugly. Takao slumped back and stared into the distance with a beatific smile on his face.

Himuro hesitated. “Is… Murasakibara going to wear one?” he said, as though the angry glare Murasakibara had sent him just before stomping upstairs was hadn’t been ringing through his mind; challenging him to disappoint her.

Aomine looked at him, a little of the same cynicism in her eyes. She had always looked at him like she thought Himuro watched her friend like he was a wolf.

Well, that was fine. Himuro thought that she talked to her boyfriend like Taiga was a dog.

“Why don’t you ask her?” she said.

Himuro looked back at her, gaze utterly bland. “I guess I’ll find out,” he said.

.0.

“I’m going to kill you,” said Midochin, hair drying from the shower and hanging straight and heavy, the calligraphy brush lucky item loosely clutched in her bare hands, and staring, staring, staring at herself in the mirror. Murasakibara could barely stand to watch the look on her face.

“Maybe,” said Akachin. “But don’t you want him to see you in this?”

“I hate you,” said Midochin, but her voice was going weak.

Kisechin flapped her hands and jumped and down, speechless with glee.

“How long were you plotting this?” said Murasakibara.

“The essence of obtaining success and satisfaction in life is to seize opportunities,” said Akachin.

“Which means,” murmured Kurochin.

“A while,” said Akachin. “How do you like yours?”

“It fits very well,” said Kurochin.

“You look GREAT, Kurokochi,” said Kisechin.

“Why are you just letting her do whatever she wants,” said Murasakibara.

“No one will be looking at me,” pointed out Kurochin. “And I didn’t pack a swimsuit. Momoi-kun unaccountably forgot to put that onto my packing list.”

“You got a list?” said Midochin, twisting to stare at Akachin. She was slowly returning to the land of the living.

“A while,” repeated Akachin, smug.

“Why are we just letting you do whatever you want?” inquired Midochin, her tone sharp with outrage.

“I could never fill out a top like that,” said Akachin, fixing Midochin with an admiring gaze. “It would just be a waste.”

Midochin crossed her arms, which anyone could have told her was a mistake. “That is not an answer.”

Akachin smiled vaguely and turned to Murasakibara. “You’re not going to try it on for me?” she said.

“Knowing you, it fits perfectly,” said Murasakibara. “So I don’t see why I’d have to.”

“Are you going to wear it tomorrow?” said Akachin.

“Get stuffed,” said Murasakibara.

“I think you’ll look very nice,” said Kurochin.

“I bet Himuro-san will like it,” said Kisechin, in what she clearly thought was a persuasive tone.

“So you want me to take off my clothes for a boy?” said Murasakibara, fixing Kisechin with a stare of disgust.

“Nooooooo,” said Kisechin. “You should wear it if you want to. I just thought… you might want to more… if you think about that.”

Thinking about Murochin made Murasakibara want to lie down under a blanket and sleep until they had to actually climb onto the plane. She glared at Akachin, Kisechin and Kurochin impartially.

Akachin just looked back, as implacable as ever. It was impossible to argue with her, and there was something about the light in her eyes that warned Murasakibara that their rebuilt friendship, this almost-peace, would not break as bloodlessly as it had before, when they’d walked away nursing their pride and nothing else at all. Akachin would tolerate anything else, any defiance; but she would not let Murasakibara run away.

“Where is this stupid beach, anyway?” said Murasakibara.

“It’s a resort beach,” said Akachin. “It won’t be too crowded, and there will be the opportunity for some recreation.”

“You really have been planning this,” said Murasakibara.

“Of course,” said Akachin. “I wanted us to enjoy this trip.”

Murasakibara had to look away from Akachin’s face, before those eyes watched Murasakibara’s mouth twitch at how embarrassingly transparent Akachin was being.

“I guess I might,” said Murasakibara, taking the high road. Someone had to be the mature one here, not the one squealing over clothes and playing dress-up. “Since you want it so much.”

Akachin smiled. So did Kurochin and Kisechin, as though this involved them in any way whatsoever. Midochin had gone back to staring at herself in the mirror, packing back and forth and trying to see what she looked like from all angles.

“Next, hairstyles!” crowed Kisechin.

“Goodnight,” said Murasakibara, and buried herself on the floor.

.0.

“I’ve very disappointed, for reasons that I know are completely wrong,” said Takao.

“I’ve just woken up after a very long night, as should be perfectly clear,” said Midorima, grimly squeezing out her packet of instant miso soup for breakfast. “I’m sorry I’m not prancing around in gauzy silks like an Arabian Nights dancing girl.”

“You said it, you can’t ever make me unthink that now,” said Takao. Since they were relatively alone in the kitchen (the noise coming from the upstairs was unholy and Momoi was out in the living room counting out bottles of sunscreen) he reached up to kiss her, and she let him. “No toast for you?”

“I am sick of toast,” she said. “But we seem to be completely out of rice, so I’ll just have my soup.”

“Um,” said Takao.

“Not this ,” said Midorima, snatching the medium-sized bag of uncooked rice off the table. “This is my lucky item for today! Yesterday. Most of today, anyway. And when I took it, there was still plenty of rice left.” She sniffed. “I’m going to need it, with what they’re planning today.”

Takao scratched his neck. “We can go off on our own if you want,” he offered. “Get a taxi, see what you want, eat rice for lunch. We don’t need to go to the beach.”

Midorima leaned on him, which Takao took to mean she was touched. “Tempting as it would be to leave them behind for some respite from relentless stupidity,” she said. “I didn’t wake up at five am to Kise braiding my hair to not go to the beach today.” She stroked the intricate arrangement with pleasure. “And so much hairspray. No regard for the environment or my physical health.”

“You’ll let her put lipstick on you, but hair needs a REM sleep ambush?” said Takao.

“It’s infinitely quicker to wipe off lipstick than it is to get my hair untangled, as should be perfectly obvious,” Midorima told him. She curled her lip at him. “She’s also prepared those. I don’t know why Kise packed thirty shades of lip colours and not a single page of her summer homework.”

“I also did not bring my homework,” confessed Takao.

“Colour me surprised,” said Midorima.

.0.

“Kurokochi, see, you could have hair like this every day ,” said Kise-san, running her hand through it. Contrary to every single expectation Kuroko had ever had of her hair, it slipped smoothly though Kise-san’s fingers like a short waterfall. “It’s so easy!”

“It’s not easy,” said Kuroko. It was less painful than Midorima-san’s method of dealing with Kuroko’s hair, but this was not saying much.

“It’s easy, once you get started,” said Kise-san. She continued to stroke and smooth Kuroko’s head, humming to herself.

Akashi-san, who had woken up, shaken out her hair once into a cloud and was now braiding a crown around her head without looking into a mirror, smirked in her corner.

Kuroko glared hard at the back of her head.

“I’ll do you like I did mine,” said Kise-san. “Then we’ll match! That’ll be amazing.”

Since escape was improbable, Kuroko stared straight ahead and wondered if Kise-san’s Copy extended to hairstyles.

It probably did.

“There won’t be anyone looking at me,” Kuroko reminded them. “There will be a half-dozen extremely attractive half-naked people surrounding me. I think I can get away with a bun.”

“ I will be looking at you,” said Kise-san, putting her arms around Kuroko and her head on Kuroko’s shoulder, batting her eyes. Kuroko looked at her then at Akashi-san, meeting her gaze squarely.

Akashi-san smiled.

“Are you going to include me in your selfies to Kasamatsu-san,” said Kuroko to Kise-san.

“Maybe,” said Kise-san, staring meditatively off to the side. “Position you in front of me or something. I won’t look as good, but I don’t want him to faint in public.”

.0.

“This is a nice spot,” said Momoi, and directed the rest of the guys to set up. Once again, Himuro was impressed by the amount of planning and infrastructure that magically appeared out of nowhere whenever Momoi was charge of something.

“Sunblock?” he said, handing a bottle to Himuro.

“Thank you,” said Himuro. “And thanks for… all your hard work this trip, it must have been hard.”

“I like it!” said Momoi. “It’s the kind of work I’ve always done.” He smiled brightly at Himuro, who reflected that Momoi and Kise combined explained a lot about why Murasakibara had so comprehensively dismissed him at first look.

“You… do a lot of it,” said Himuro. He relaxed on the sand next to Momoi. “You’re a really good friend to them.”

Momoi looked down at his knees. “I admire them so much,” he said, “They… they do what they want… and if anyone tries to stop them, they fight back. I really admire that. They’re not afraid.”

“I wasn’t-” said Himuro.

“Only a little,” said Momoi, and flashed the older boy a smile. “I like that they think they can be selfish, you know. Mukkun wouldn’t let you spoil her if she didn’t like you.”

Himuro smiled awkwardly. When watching, take care that you are not watched in return. “You’re all good friends,” he said.

“Yes,” said Momoi candidly. “I want us to stay that way. I want to be able to think back to this time and remember how happy we were. I had… I had so many of my own regrets about us. I’m happy we had this second chance.”

They both stared out into the ocean.

“It’s nice,” said Himuro.

“It is,” said Momoi.

“It’s good weather,” said Taiga, looking up from the previously all-absorbing task of stacking rice balls.

“Kagamin, they look really good!” said Momoi, clapping his hands.

“When did you make all those,” said Himuro.

“Couldn’t sleep,” said Taiga. “Uh, spam, tuna mayo, fried chicken. Light snacks.”

“Lunch,” said Himuro.

Taiga looked worried. “I don’t think I made enough,” he said.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” said Himuro.

Taiga blushed.

Momoi looked at him fondly. “Dai-chan got really excited too,” he said.

.0.

Speaking of...

“We got the drinks and ice,” said Aomine, slinging a cooler onto the sand with no apparent effort.

“I’m still disappointed,” Takao said to no one in particular.

“We were in a store ,” said Midorima. All the girls were in shirts and shorts, though Kise’s halter knot could be seen dangling down the back of her shirt.

There was a moment as they all stared at each other.

Murasakibara groan-sighed, “ Fine ,” and took off her shirt, kicked off her shorts, and crawled under the umbrella to grab a bottle of sunscreen.

“Happy?” she said over her shoulder to Himuro.

“Very,” he said, carefully schooling his expression.

She rolled her eyes. “Put that on my arms,” she ordered him. “I don’t want my hands to get sticky.”

“Who’s going to do…” said Himuro, encompassing the entirety of wonderful, untouchable territory.

“Kurochin,” said Murasakibara, daring him to elaborate.

Kuroko sighed infinitesimally.

“I volunteer,” said Akashi, sweetly. “And you can help me put mine on my back.”

“I put mine on already,” said Kise. She lifted one impossibly thin string to illustrate, “You have to go under as well, you know!”

“I knew she’d crack first,” remarked Aomine, catching a bottle that Momoi tossed to her with one hand. “Taiga, come here.”

“Don’t even look at me,” said Midorima to Takao.

“But the Hawk Eye-” started Takao.

“I will tell you when you can look,” said Midorima primly. “And I will help you put on sunscreen.”

“You think you can bribe me with stroking my back and checking all my intimate places for nice smelling lotion with your fingers wait no I hear it, I’m covering my eyes.”

Midorima huffed. “You’re shameless,” she said. She put her clothes away quickly and neatly, pulling out a thin jacket and hurriedly putting it on over her swimsuit. No matter what Akashi said, she was not comfortable with exhibiting herself for everyone to see.

“Alright,” she said. Her voice seemed to come from far away, and she couldn’t help worriedly looking down at herself, at every part that did not look anything like, say, Kise. “You can look.”

“...wow,” said Takao. He looked straight up her body, fastening on her face, and smiled at her, a little foolishly.

Midorima blushed.

.0.

“Sexy, right?” said Aomine, sitting back on her heels and doing a mock-gravure pose.

“Uh,” said Kagami. “You look good.”

“I know,” she said. She’d tousled her hair back with gel and touched her lips with colour, and spent a damn fortune on the bikini, purely on impulse.

“Want a rice ball?” he said.

“You really are the perfect boyfriend,” said Aomine.

Kagami looked pleased. He looked away across the sand at the water and said, “Let’s get the body boards. It’s just today, so that’ll be more fun.”

“You said you’d show me how to surf,” complained Aomine. She bit into her snack.

“I’ll teach you next time,” said Kagami. “We’ll go someplace with good waves.” He blinked once. “And not with…”

“No,” said Aomine, but her rosy lips curled into a smile as she said it. “They’re both more and less annoying than I remember, and I didn’t think that was possible.”

Kagami was still watching the waves wistfully. “It’s been not that bad,” he said. “I’ve missed proper burgers. But I can’t wait to go home.”

Aomine settled herself by his side. “Yeah,” she said, as though Taiga’s dad wasn’t right up there with the limpest fish she’d ever met, and she’d met those weirdos in Kirisaki. “We’ve got a lot to do before Nationals.” Her hand found his, and held it reassuringly.

.0.

Kise struggled back up the sand to their blankets, dripping with seawater, and holding her similarly dripping phone.

“Anyone could have told you not to try taking selfies in the water,” said Midorima.

“But the colour of the ocean looked so good against my skin!” wailed Kise.

“I took out your memory card for you,” said Midorima, taking the bag of rice out of her hoodie pocket but keeping it in her hand. “And your phone may be alright. You’ll have to handle it yourself once you get back. There’s no point in worrying about it until then, since you won’t have time to go off on your own.”

Kuroko, recovering under a cool towel from too much bodyboarding, peeked out from under it and sat up. Momoi had gone for more ice.

“I can’t send any more photos to Kasamatsu-sempai!” cried Kise. “What if he forgets what I look like? He just wipes it from his brain? I had so many photos I wanted to send to him tonight! Akashichi, you have unlimited data roaming- let me use yours and I’ll just send some new ones straight to him right now!”

“No,” said Akashi.

“Why not?” said Kise.

“Because you’ve just reminded me I also have selfies to take,” said Akashi, drawing up her legs and pursing her lips and posing for a shot.

Kise whistled in appreciation of Akashi’s technique.

“Who are you sending that to?” she said, peering excitedly at Akashi’s screen.
“A very important man in my life,” said Akashi.

“Your father?” said Kuroko.

Akashi paused, clearly robbed of her fun. “Yes,” she said. “I said I’d keep him informed of my status during our trip.”

“And you’re going to send him a picture of yourself dressed like that ?” said Midorima.

“Won’t he have a heart attack?” said Kise. “I mean, that suit is really tasteful, I like it, but he’s your dad.”

“Yes,” said Akashi. “Maybe a few group shots after. It’s important for him to see me socialising with my peers.”

“We should thank him,” said Kuroko. “He and you have contributed greatly to our trip.”

“And this is how I’m thanking him,” said Akashi, smiling brilliantly into the lens.

“But how-” started Kise.

“Why don’t you just complain to Kasamatsu-san about it,” said Akashi, “and cry, and rip your hair, and all those things you usually do,” Kuroko winced at the brutal accuracy, “and then tell him that the only way it can possibly be made up to you is for you to give him a private show of how you look in your bikini.”

Midorima and Kuroko Looked at each other. For possibly everyone involved, this restful beach interlude had clearly not come too soon.

“Akashichi,” breathed Kise. “You’re a genius .”

.0.

Much to Himuro’s disappointment, Murasakibara pulled her t-shirt back on to scout for more snacks, their group having demolished a stack of riceballs roughly the height of a toddler in record time.

“I’m only bringing you along because you have pockets,” said Murasakibara.

“I’m perfectly fine with that,” said Himuro. He tried to think of things other than pulling her into a nice shaded nook and running his hands over every line on her exposed skin. He failed, because Murasakibara tugged her bottoms down juuuuust under the edge of her shirt and said, “I’m never wearing this stupid thing again.”

Himuro sucked his teeth in agreement.

“Not that I can wear it at home anyway,” said Murasakibara. “It’d be too weird.”

“If you end up going to Alex’s suggestion for college, you’ll have plenty more chances to try out other kinds,” suggested Himuro.

“Oh?” said Murasakibara. “You’ve been talking with Alex about my colleges?”

“Only a little,” said Himuro. “I was asking for her contact’s help as well, since I'm graduating this year too.”

Murasakibara didn’t want to think about it. “You want to come here to study too?” she said. Was he that much of a stalker? She was having complicated feelings about this.

She hated complicated feelings.

“Honestly, that’ll depend,” said Himuro.

“On?” Murasakibara threw at him.

“On where I have a better chance of advancing my career,” said Himuro. “There’ll be no point in going pro in Japan if I can only stay in Japan.”

“So that’s what you want?” said Murasakibara. “That’s what you’re aiming for?”

“I can have more than one thing I want,” said Himuro. He smiled at her. “If I’m honest about it.”

“I am not a thing,” said Murasakibara.

“No,” said Himuro, blithely going on before Murasakibara could retract her statement. “You’ll only have me if you decide you want me… but I think that you get what you want.”

“Sometimes I think that Murochin might even be more vain than Kise-chin is,” remarked Murasakibara sadly.

“I think I might be more persistent,” said Himuro, increasing in daring.

“Mmm,” said Murasakibara. “Don’t count on it. She’s been trying to put eyeliner on me for years.”

“I can put on eyeliner,” said Himuro.

“That was not a challenge,” said Murasakibara, who hunched her shoulders to hide her sudden blush. “Anyway, I might end up going somewhere totally different. It does depend.”

“If you invited me to, I could visit no matter where either of us went,” suggested Himuro smoothly. “It’ll be your turn to let me sleep on your bed.”

“Murochin would sleep on the floor,” said Murasakibara primly.

“Is that a yes?” he said, smiling up at her.

“If you want,” she said.

They were walking up wood steps to a refreshment area, and just nearby were the shaded, semi-private shower stalls for rinsing off after coming from the beach, and Himuro hooked his hand into the crook of her elbow and pulled her aside, smiling as she let him do it.

.0.

“Picture!” squealed Kise. “Picture picture picture picture!”

“Man, I thought I was done with the short row back in middle school,” said Takao.

“Quiet,” said Midorima. “The faster it happens, the faster we get it over with.” She slid her arms around his neck from behind.

Kagami was explaining to their helper how Momoi’s camera worked.

“Are you sure you want to be in the picture like that?” murmured Akashi.

“I would love to remember today forever,” said Himuro, smiling so much that his face hurt. Even more. The swelling was almost down, anyway.

“I don’t want Murochin anywhere near me,” huffed Murasakibara.

“There there,” said Kuroko.

“It’s happening!” said Momoi. “Ki-chan, come in!”

“Taiga!” yelled Aomine. She pulled him close to her.

The flash went off once, twice, three times, then they broke apart and swarmed the cameraman.

“<That ok>?” he said politely.

“<Yeah>,” said Kagami. The camera was being passed from hand to hand by the Generation of Miracles, who laughed and scolded and cooed over it, but hell if Kagami was going to go through all that again. “<That’s great>.”