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They met by complete accident. Shuuzou had just finished at his part-time job and was contemplating running to the nearest convenience store to buy something to eat when he bumped into a familiar person he hadn't expected to see again.
The other boy blinked, clearly just as startled. Shuuzou was not surprised when he was greeted with a polite bow just a moment later. Akashi Seijuurou was always inhumanly quick at composing himself. Not that much unbalanced him in the first place.
“Nijimura-san.”
The last time Shuuzou had seen him wasn't even in person but on a television screen, in his father's hospital room. Curious about the Winter Cup finals even if he had had no doubts about the winner, he had wanted to see it, the grand finale of Akashi's reign as Teikou's captain. And what a finale it had been.
“Akashi.”
He had grown a bit, but his shockingly red hair and fierce all-knowing eyes that saw right through you and flayed you alive were exactly the same. And so was the silky smooth voice.
“Aren't you supposed to be in Kyoto or something?”
He'd heard rumours, of course. The infamous generation of miracles splitting up. Each one of of the little prodigies going to a different strong school, with their captain to the strongest of them all. High school basketball was never going to be the same, or so the magazines said.
“I had some things to take care of in Tokyo and was just about to get dinner. Would you like to join me, Shuuzou?”
If the use of the first name surprised or bothered him, Shuuzou didn't show it. He had long ago gotten used to the fact that some things Akashi did never made sense, but in the end, always proved to be right.
So he settled for a shrug and a nod.
- - -
Despite being ridiculously well off, Akashi had never acted like a wealthy brat and preferred simple but refined things. Shuuzou was not surprised that the place Akashi chose was an ordinary family restaurant, nothing too fancy or expensive. Nor when Akashi ordered miso soup with tofu. Some things, it seemed, never changed.
It was easy, sitting at the same table and just talking to Akashi. It wasn't much different from the Teikou days when they had spent numerous afternoons in comfortable silence, going through club paperwork.
There had been no need for useless small talk and no awkward pauses in conversations. Just a content feeling of mutual respect.
The feeling hadn't changed and neither had Akashi – his prodigious junior was still polite, confident and aloof, emitting nothing but elegance and brilliance and dignity that made Shuuzou feel almost insignificant in comparison.
And behind all that was unyielding, unbreakable titanium.
That was exactly why Shuuzou chose him for a captain, and it looked like he wasn't the only one to think so.
“So, Rakuzan, huh?” He nodded pointedly at the white and blue sports bag with the school logo on it. It was fitting, he thought, for Akashi to lead the strongest school to its yet another victory. It's what Akashi did best.
Nijimura couldn't afford to be judgemental, not even after seeing their match against Meikou. After all, winners got everything and losers were left with nothing.
And yet... and yet he wanted to scrape that layer of detachment off, shake Akashi even a little bit, punch him until the bastard saw how fucked up everything was.
Akashi beat him to it and Shuuzou found himself the one being shaken.
“Do you still play basketball, Shuuzou?”
Akashi was looking at him with that infuriatingly knowing gaze and Shuuzou could feel himself being stripped bare, layer by layer, under that scorching intensity. Akashi already knew the answer to his question. Of course he did.
So Shuuzou didn't reply.
“The Winter Cup will be the battle between you brats.”
“Indeed. But the victory will be mine. After all, I always win.”
“Aren't you an arrogant one.”
“Nothing of the sort. The goal is to win. I have all the components to achieve it. It is a simple matter of assembling the pieces in the way that would get the desired result. It is not that different from a game of shougi.”
He really wanted to punch the kid.
- - -
Shuuzou didn't play basketball anymore. He'd stopped the moment he stepped out of the Teikou gym on his graduation day.
Between his part-time job, the hospital bills, his grieving family, and the constant possibility of yet another relapse of his father's health, Shuuzou didn't have time for games and wins and trophies.
Or so he told himself.
- - -
Shuuzou couldn't get rid of a bitter taste after the unexpected meeting with Akashi.
He had left Teikou with no regrets, having done everything he could. He had led well. He had entrusted the team to a pair of much more capable hands than his could ever be. Akashi was more than competent, his stoic and collected demeanour making people trust him and believe in him with unnatural ease.
Teikou was all about performance and no one performed better than Akashi.
And yet something kept bugging him about the boy now.
Akashi had always put reason over emotion, but there had remained a spark of leniency in him, visible in the way he indulged his eccentric teammates, made sure their quirks didn't get too out of hand, provided them with what they needed in his own way. It showed in his tiny smiles. It seeped through when he talked to Kuroko, played shougi with Midorima, spoiled Murasakibara with limited edition snacks.
Even when leading their team to victory, steadfast and assured, Akashi had still cared.
Now there was nothing but ruthlessness in his slanted eyes, as if Teikou had taken away last bits of compassion, chipped it off bit by bit, filled the remaining emptiness with calculated heartlessness and stark coldness.
Shuuzou didn't know what had happened to Akashi, but he didn't need to. He had a pretty good guess anyway. Only Teikou could have shaped that perfect victory-driven captain into a merciless emperor.
When Shuuzou had saddled Akashi with the burden that was their team, he believed it was the best possible decision. He trusted Akashi to be capable of withstanding the pressure Teikou put on its players.
He was beginning to see that maybe, just maybe, he had been wrong.
- - -
It took two months before they met again. This time not by accident, but neither completely planned. Shuuzou had known he would most likely find Akashi on the bleachers when he decided to attend Winter Cup semi-finals, but he did not come to watch it so he could talk to Akashi.
But he could not deny he was curious about Akashi going against Midorima.
Akashi was beautiful on court; all grace and smoothness and fluidness that contrasted so starkly with his hard, unyielding personality coupled with a terrifying mind.
His basketball wasn't flashy like Kise's or formless like Aomine's or precise like Midorima's. He didn't have special shots or techniques. He didn't even look that remarkable at first sight.
But Shuuzou knew better.
He was the key piece in the game, always in the centre, always in control. He was making the game. His movements were precise, his passes never missed, his eyes saw everything.
Akashi was the only one who could lead the strongest high school team effortlessly, control such prideful individuals as the uncrowned kings, and stop other crazy miracle brats. He was a true captain, that vital piece the team could not do without.
Shuuzou both respected and envied him for it.
- - -
Rakuzan put one of the Veteran Kings of Tokyo to sleep with a frightening ease and Akashi refused to shake his friend's hand.
Rakuzan's Akashi was exactly what Shuuzou expected him to be. He was someone he didn't know.
- - -
It wasn't hard to find Akashi amid other players that had come to watch the second match.
Shuuzou flopped down on the empty seat to Akashi's left – he'd seen one of Akashi's teammates leave it earlier, probably in search of the restroom, and well, that was just too bad for him – and handed Akashi a bottle of his favourite mineral water. Shuuzou had bought enough of those in middle school to still remember the brand.
“Congratulations.”
Akashi took it with a grateful nod, not surprised in the slightest at Shuuzou's sudden appearance. Neither of them paid any attention to the questioning, curious glances from Rakuzan's starters.
“So, Midorima, Aomine, Murasakibara... Think Kise is about to join them?”
The referee blew the whistle and Akashi leaned back, propping his chin on his arm.
“We're about to see.”
- - -
If possible, Kuroko Tetsuya had become an even stranger ball than Shuuzou had remembered.
“You knew it back then, didn't you? That this boy was anything but ordinary.”
“Tetsuya is... unpredictable.”
Shuuzou snorted.
“Must annoy the hell out of you.”
The tiny smile he got in return should not have made his heart race.
“Say, Akashi...”
Did you enjoy being a captain, did you have fun, would you do it again...
Long, slim fingers curled around the bottleneck and uncapped it slowly.
“What is it?”
Did you have any regrets as you bid your farewell to the team?
“Nah, nothing, forget it.”
Akashi took a sip of his water and Shuuzou had to look away.
- - -
Seijuurou observed the battle between Kagami and Kise, their passion, with familiar sense of detachment. Too rushed, too unorganised, too reckless. They were certainly interesting to watch.
Almost subconsciously, Seijuurou glanced to his left. His unusually sharp intake of breath went unnoticed thanks to the deafening cheers as Kagami Taiga did one of his ridiculous dunks.
There, watching the game with unwavering attention and utter captivation, stood his captain.
The focused eyes, the slightly parted lips, the barest twitch of Shuuzou's fingers... Seijuurou knew that look, had seen it countless times – Shuuzou longed to play, would've given everything to stand on that court, to touch the ball, to lose himself in the thrill.
He'd never felt that himself.
For him, basketball wasn't necessarily something fun, at least not in the same sense as it was for other people. Basketball was a battle, a creation of perfect strategy that ensured his win. Like a good satisfying game of shougi. The result was all that mattered and a well played endgame was what decided it, what told apart winners from losers. The beginning and the middle game could never be overlooked, however. Every tiny detail had to be taken into consideration, analysed and acted upon.
Shuuzou wasn't like that. He was pragmatic, realistic and knew how to lead. He made his decisions quickly and possessed determination of pure steel, but he wasn't a strategist in the slightest. He could easily lose himself in a heated game of basketball and forget about captain duties, transforming into a basketball idiot not much different from Tetsuya or Daiki.
That fine balance between practicality with which he led the team and the abandonment with which he played the game was one of the many things that had fascinated Akashi and had made him admire his captain.
Seijuurou didn't know what Shuuzou would've done had he still been captain when Daiki had began to break. He could, however, imagine Shuuzou scoffing at the boy, maybe even punching him. He could imagine him crouching down, looking in Daiki's utterly bored, angry, disappointed eyes and saying “You can wallow in your self pity later, you brat. Do you understand? Get your ass on the court.” in that harsh, no-nonsense tone of his that made their teammates look up to him and follow him without questions.
Seijuurou was different. His teammates were the pieces on his shougi board and when they got out of hand, he had simply made a few adjustments and changed himself to suit their needs. If they didn't deem teamwork necessary, then he simply had to utilise their individual abilities. As long as they won in the end, he could make anything work. That was all there was to it.
Shuuzou wouldn't have necessarily liked it, but he would've accepted it. He would've understood.
After all, their hunger for victory that made them captains was exactly the same, and they both knew the weight of the responsibility.
- - -
During the half-time, Shuuzou asked the question Seijuurou had already been expecting ever since their sudden meeting months ago.
“Do you ever think... like, 'what if'?”
What if he had tried to fix Daiki, what if he had made the team try harder, what if he had stopped their progression, what if he had listened to Tetsuya, what if he hadn't been made captain...
No, Seijuurou didn't think of those things. He didn't dwell on the past. There was no use in thinking of endless possibilities of what ifs. Shuuzou had to see, to understand that.
He sighed and closed his eyes, feeling the first signs on headache that never failed to come after he used his emperor eye.
“You are thinking too much. They wanted a victory machine. We built them one.”
Except the pieces had started to crack, one by one, until the whole construction fell apart leaving behind rumbles no one wanted to touch.
But Seijuurou had made his decisions and he didn't regret a single one of them.
- - -
It was a foolish question and he knew it. Akashi was Akashi. He never doubted, never stayed in the past, always moved forward.
Akashi's eyes opened slowly and Shuuzou shivered involuntarily, a shockwave going from the tips of his fingers to his toes.
“The past cannot be changed, Shuuzou. The future, on the other hand, is in our hands.”
He couldn't help the feeling that much more was being said, not about Teikou or failures or victories at all.
It was ridiculous how Akashi's intensity still affected him.
- - -
Seirin won against Kaijou and proceeded to the finals.
- - -
Shuuzou didn't know why he did it. They were just about to bid their goodbyes and Akashi looked so unusual with that wondering expression, clearly excited about Seirin's performance.
His hand moved on its own accord and touched Akashi's hair, messing the strands.
Akashi's eyes widened a fracture for a tiny moment. There was an unfamiliar glint in the mismatched orbs and a light flush on his pale face, but Shuuzou pretended he didn't notice.
“You did well. But I'm sure there are better ways to motivate your teammates than threats of gouging your eyes out. Then again, you have always been a little too extreme for anyone's comfort.”
Akashi's eyes crinkled in amusement and Shuuzou ruffled his hair some more before retreating his hand.
“It was a good match.”
Akashi didn't deny nor confirm it.
- - -
That night Seijuurou dreamed of Teikou, cool water bottles wet from condensation and scattered shougi pieces on the floor.
- - -
Shuuzou didn't seek Akashi out after the Winter Cup finals which Rakuzan had won, barely. He sent a congratulatory message instead and pretended he wasn't afraid of seeing Akashi – the Akashi that looked at him with barely concealed respect, the Akashi that made him feel like he was and would always be Akashi's only captain, the one he saw a glimpse of in that final match when the unbeatable emperor was about to face defeat – face to face.
- - -
Akashi standing on his doorstep, a basketball tucked under his right arm, was not how Shuuzou had pictured their next meeting to happen.
Yet he didn't utter a single word of protest as Akashi all but ordered him to accompany him.
Shuuzou was not surprised when they ended at the street court not far from Teikou grounds. He could even see the school in the distance.
Somehow, those familiar white walls didn't seem as big and menacing as they used to.
- - -
Shuuzou's suspicions were confirmed the moment they started to play. Something had changed. Akashi had changed.
Not much, definitely not completely, but the spark of empathy was back. It was weak, as it had always been, but there. Akashi himself looked calm, content, peaceful. Just like three years ago when he'd stood beside Shuuzou, watching the team, their team, advance.
The boy that stole the ball with beautiful ease was not Rakuzan's feared emperor. It was Teikou's respected captain.
And that same boy looked at him like, despite losing basketball – maybe not permanently but still fucking losing it – he was still something.
- - -
Maybe Teikou had left its scars on everyone, maybe no one was truly immune to them, maybe neither Akashi nor him had been spared. But scars healed. With time, they were nothing but white lines on the skin, barely visible, just reminders of days long gone.
Days to come, they could be changed regardless of how many marks they had.
- - -
Shuuzou's skills were rusty – he certainly was no match for a genius point guard – but he ended up having fun all the same. He'd forgotten what it felt like. The rubbery feel of the ball in his hands, the squish of shoes against the asphalt, the slight tremble of the hoop after a powerful dunk.
The absolute abandon as he lost himself in the game, forgot about everything and simply strove to win.
Akashi brought those things back to life, if only for a while.
- - -
Akashi didn't act surprised when Shuuzou kissed him. Knowing him, the bastard had probably predicted it long ago, was expecting it even.
And yet he didn't prevent it from happening, didn't resist or push Shuuzou away. Instead, Akashi kissed back, lips moving against Shuuzou's with the same confidence and certainty he displayed on the basketball court.
His lips were cool and dry, and Shuuzou licked them, teased them open, drawing out a soft sight from them.
Akashi's fingers clawed painfully into his biceps and Shuuzou let go of whatever self-restraints and doubts he still had.
Hoisting Akashi up, he pinned the redhead to the metallic fence that rattled dangerously at the impact. It earned Shuuzou a hiss and a set of sharp teeth sinking into his lower lip until almost drawing blood, but he didn't much mind, too busy drowning in the feel of Akashi's lithe body against his own.
Shuuzou had no illusions – Akashi was letting him take control, and didn't that make him almost dizzy with the overwhelming sense of power and limitless possibilities. Akashi, the boy wonder, was willingly, on his own accord, letting someone have power over him.
“Shuuzou, you are thinking too much again.”
He laughed then.
TY (Guest) Tue 03 Dec 2013 05:21AM UTC
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kirinokisu Fri 13 Dec 2013 10:49AM UTC
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