Chapter Text
After the All-Middle, Summer, First Year of Middle School
Akashi grabbed his bag from the locker room floor and headed for the door, Midorima and Murasakibara at his heels. They had finished practice a while ago, but both of them had agreed to wait for Akashi before heading home. Akashi’s father had become less strict about arriving home on time after Akashi had (recently) become the Vice-Captain of Teiko’s team. Akashi wanted to take advantage of that opportunity for as long as he could.
Murasakibara seemed to have grabbed a box of pocky from his seemingly unending supply while they had been waiting and was greedily eating it even as he walked. Akashi tuned back into the conversation around him. “ . . . can’t wait to try the new flavor!” Murasakibara enthused, his voice muffled by the pocky but sounding more excited now that he had been during the entire team practice.
Midorima scoffed, but Akashi sent him a quelling look and Midorima glanced away. “That sounds wonderful, Murasakibara,” Akashi told him. They were walking on the path between the various gyms now, a path that should be dark at this time of night but—
That was strange. The third string’s gym was lit up like there were people still practicing there. Akashi never usually stayed this late, nor did he keep up with the third string’s practice times. But surely they didn’t go this late? Even the first string’s practice was long over by now. Stranger still, he could only hear a loud voice shouting and none of the sounds of someone practicing.
As they got closer to the lit-up gym, Akashi began to be able to make out the words they were saying. “ . . . play in games, there’s no way someone who stays later than everyone else, even the first string guys is useless! At the very least, I respected you, and it pushed me to try harder.”
As they walked, the words grew clearer and clearer. Akashi realized, somewhat surprised, that the person giving this impassioned speech seemed to be Aomine. He wasn’t usually the person providing emotional support to others. Akashi veered off the path, heading towards the illuminated gym, pleased by the fact that Midorima and Murasakibara followed without complaints—though that could have just been their curiosity motivating them.
“I won’t promise you’ll make it if you don’t give up,” Aomine’s voice continued. “But if you do give up, you’ll have nothing. I . . . don’t want you to quit playing basketball.”
Interesting, Akashi thought.
The person Aomine was talking to seemed to be on their team, but on the verge of quitting. He stepped into the bright gym to interrupt the silence that had fallen. He looked around the space, but couldn’t see anyone else there. He almost frowned, but stopped the expression before it could occur. Perhaps Aomine was simply practicing this speech of his? But he’d been so vehement . . .“Aomine.”
“Akashi?” Aomine turned towards him, startled.
“I haven't seen you around lately. You’ve been practicing here?”
“Yeah. The other gym gets too crowded.” Aomine approached the three of them, putting a hand on his hip.
“You’re practicing all alone?” Murasakibara wondered aloud, his voice still muffled by the pocky.
Aomine grinned. “Not alone. We always practice here together.”
“Together?” Akashi asked. He looked towards an empty space—
No. It wasn’t empty. Akashi suppressed the surprise that threatened to appear on his face, but he did make a slight sound he couldn’t stop. There was a boy standing there, his hair and eyes as blue as the clear sunny sky. His presence was thin, but he was definitely there. He was—strange. He was nothing.
He was everything.
The boy blinked back at him, unfazed by Akashi’s assessing gaze. Akashi had always been able to see potential, but he had never seen anything like this boy. Amidst a sea of the strong and the weak, he almost seemed like a void.
Next to Akashi, Murasakibara couldn’t seem to muffle his surprise, even taking the pocky out of his mouth for a rare moment. “Whoa, seriously? How long has he been there?”
Akashi couldn’t take his eyes away from this enigma. He had a more pressing question on his mind. “Who is he?”
“Tetsu.” Aomine said with that same proud grin.
“Is this guy on the team?” Murasakibara seemed confused, probably put off by his small size.
“Not the first string,” Aomine explained. “He’s still on the third.” Not surprising. He seemed to be quite weak—and yet. If he was used in the right way, he could be something new—something strong. Perhaps even the sixth man Akashi had been looking for.
“Oh, whatever.” Murasakibara yawned, becoming bored after the momentary surprise had faded. “Let’s go.”
Murasakibara’s usual boredom seemed more foreign than ever before. Akashi hadn’t noticed the other boy at first, of course, but now that he had, it was like he couldn’t look away.
“No,” Akashi interjected firmly. He didn’t look to see if Murasakibara left. He knew he wouldn’t. “I’m interested in him.” Midorima seemed taken aback by Akashi’s sudden declaration. Akashi could feel Midorima’s confused but intense gaze on his back. He stepped closer to the other boy, fascinated. “Interesting. I’ve never seen his type before.” He moved until he was only one step away from this “Tetsu,” who now turned to face him completely. “It’s possible that he possesses talents totally unlike our own.”
The boy seemed shocked by such a pronouncement, as if disbelieving that anyone other than Aomine could see potential in him. Akashi scanned him. He was obviously scrawny and he seemed unskilled. No one else seeing his potential didn’t seem to be far from the truth if Aomine’s speech about not quitting told Akashi anything. However, the late hour, and what he’d heard of Aomine’s speech, also told him that this boy was a hard worker. And that he was weak.
He had nothing to show for all that hard work.
It would take hard work indeed to unlock the strength lurking in his slight frame. And Akashi had no plan to hold his hand throughout the process. Strength that needed constant support to grow wasn’t strength at all.
“Sorry, but could you talk with me? The rest of you . . . Go back without me,” Akashi ordered. “I’d like to speak with him.”
When the others had finished complaining and filed out of the gym, Akashi dropped his bag to the floor. “May I ask you a few questions?” he questioned politely to the other boy’s surprise. He quickly learned the boy’s actual name (Kuroko Tetsuya) and talked to him while observing his subpar skills, especially his shooting, for himself.
“I see . . . Intriguing indeed. I’ve never met someone so devoted to basketball who has so little to show for it,” Akashi mused aloud. Kuroko seemed to freeze, violently, upon hearing those words and quickly became rather depressed.
“Sorry, but I’m not in the right emotional state to hear criticism like that,” he murmured.
“Oh, I apologize” Akashi offered quickly, trying to stop those thoughts in their tracks. “That’s not what I meant. I’m impressed, truly.”
Kuroko seemed just as startled now as he was by Akashi’s earlier words.
“You’re not unathletic and you have decent reflexes. It’s nothing to do with intelligence either. In fact, your sports IQ is rather high. Based on your history and practice habits, you’re an experienced player. Yet, despite all that, I feel nothing when I look at you.” Akashi’s gaze sharpened. “This is truly unique—even exceptional. Normally, you can sense an experienced sports player. They can’t help it—the difference between those with and without skill becomes apparent. It’s something that just emerges. But you’re hardly even there. Put simply, in both your everyday life and as an athlete, you have no presence. However, that isn’t your weakness, it’s your strength. It makes you unique. Make use of it and you will become a powerful force for the team.”
Kuroko seemed confused but contemplative, turning the idea over in his mind. That was promising, Akashi thought. Kuroko would need to be analytical and a thinker to succeed. “Use my lack of presence?” He straightened up, looking more intent. “Is that possible?”
“My apologies, but that’s all I can say. What I’ve explained has nothing to do with teaching you basketball techniques. You would have to create a new style altogether. This would require trial and error on your part, as well as faith that creating this new style is even possible. Even if I could teach you, any doubt on your part would bring about failure. Besides, I have my own practice and duties as Vice-Captain.”
Kuroko was observing him with a much cooler expression now. He likely saw this for the hard truth that Akashi knew it to be. He didn’t seem to be weak enough to demand help, which was good. Independence was important for Teiko—but it was also important for any serious basketball player and especially the style Kuroko would be trying to develop.
Akashi leaned down, gathering his things together. “I hardly have the spare time to teach you anything.” Kuroko looked down, seeming somewhat discouraged. Akashi turned back to face him, hoisting his bag onto his shoulder. “Still, I do have high hopes for you . . .” he met Kuroko’s eyes. He could see that they were shadowed with weariness and yet still bright with eagerness, “so I’ll give you some hints.” Kuroko seemed to be frozen in place as Akashi walked past him. “First. To create something new, one must first discard all preconceived notions. Second. Even with this strength, you are inherently weak. You would be using this not for yourself, but for the team’s sake.”
Akashi reached the door just as Kuroko started to move again. Kuroko turned around to face his back, clearly confused. He could feel Kuroko’s gaze on his back just as sharply as he could Midorima’s earlier.
“Oh, one more thing—though this isn’t a hint—even once you find your answer . . . it won’t be apparent via the traditional testing we do.” He turned to look Kuroko in the eyes once more. “So come find me when you have your answer. We’ll come up with a different test.”
Akashi calmly exited the gym, feeling just the slightest tinge of anticipation for what he hoped Kuroko could do.
And Midorima was waiting, as expected, just outside the entrance of the gym.
“Midorima,” he greeted.
“Is he the sixth man you mentioned?” he asked abruptly.
“Were you eavesdropping?” Akashi said instead of answering as they both started to finally leave campus.
“I’m curious what sort of person earns your admiration, naturally.” Midorima was quiet until he finally spoke up, “Yet I still have a hard time believing it. Do you really expect some major transformation from a guy like him?”
“Who knows?” Akashi smiled pleasantly, feeling his other self rise towards the surface of their shared mind. “I feel the potential in him, but he’s still a perfect stranger. We’re not friends. I’m not obligated to help him.” Midorima seemed almost shocked by such a pronouncement, but Akashi didn’t believe it required such a dramatic response from Midorima. Akashi stared ahead at the future that stretched out before him with dark eyes. “I simply dangled a thread in front of him. Whether or not he starts to climb it . . . depends on him.”
Akashi felt quite certain that quiet boy would follow the trail of breadcrumbs he’d left for him into the shadows where he belonged. Though, thinking back to the boy he had left behind in that gym, something would clearly have to be done about how expressive Kuroko was. After all, you could read volumes in his eyes.
Akashi Seijuurou had never met anyone as brilliant and warm as Kuroko Tetsuya.