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i
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Akashi saw Midorima before the other boy sees him, which is to be expected because even as a first year in middle school, he was half a head taller than the other children signing up for the acclaimed basketball team. He was skinny and tall in a proud and stately way and he walked up to the sign-in table with his shoulders back and his head held up as if suspended by a chord.
Akashi thought the boy looked slightly pretentious with his school cardigan buttoned pristinely to his neck and the haughty detachment etched on his face.
The look of disinterest stayed even when the boy eased his way through each stage of tryouts, which made Akashi silently fume at him. Being his size, Akashi was used to having to work harder than most in a game ruled by height, but the way that the lanky green-haired boy breezed through each exercise was infuriating. Akashi watched the boy go through each trial with the same look of disdain, as if he was not only aware of his superior skill, but all others should be as well.
At the end of the day, Akashi’s heart was pounding and he knew he looked as sweaty as everyone else in the gym. But the tall, proud boy who had not showed a single emotion throughout the entire day was as pristine in his basketball shorts and t-shirt as he was in his school uniform.
A couple weeks later, Midorima’s head was held high as he stood in a line next to Akashi and three other boys who were moved to the first string in an unprecedented decision by the head coach. Although he was literally in the shadow casted by Murasakibara next to him, Akashi felt dwarfed by Midorima with his icy stare and impeccable rod-straight posture.
The smaller boy let out a huff of frustration when he turned his head and his eyes looked straight at Midorima’s shoulder.
ii
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Midorima turned out to be extremely . . . quirky. His personality clashed horribly with his prim and proper exterior; what with his tedious superstitions and strange speech patterns. His lucky items were cumbersome at best and imposing at worst and Akashi wasn’t really sure how a meter tall penguin plushie could grant someone good luck.
Along with these surprising quirks, Midorima also turned out to be very eager to be Akashi’s friend. Whether that is because he was encouraged by his father to make nice with the son of the prominent Akashi name or because blue-bloods tended to stick with their kind, Akashi didn’t really know. He wasn’t really sure how to describe Midorima; eager being too lenient and overzealous being a bit too harsh. Irritating flitted through Akashi’s mind from time to time, but that didn’t really suit his feelings for the boy either. He didn’t really dwell on it, accepting Midorima’s attempts at friendship.
Friendship wasn’t something that came easily to him, so Akashi just took what was given to him.
The two had matching interests in shogi and politics and the conversations they shared were not as stilted as the conversations that Akashi has overheard Midorima having with other students. The two fell into a semblance of a routine and Midorima became something like a friend to Akashi.
They were walking out of the club room after a rigorous practice that resulted in Kuroko heaving and retching in the corner of the gym. Midorima had watched him with condescension and disdain, doubting that this was the sixth man Akashi wanted on the team, not that he would ever let it slip that he doubted him.
“Are you really sure that’s the sixth man you envisioned? This was just the minimum practice that we go through, you know,” he said in a conversational tone, trying to seem nonchalant in the easy way he talked to Akashi.
“Ah, Kuroko is just getting used to first-string requirements. He will show us soon,” Akashi answered in the same light manner, indulging the other boy.
Midorima just huffed and clutched the stuffed tanuki tighter, subconsciously straightening his back and making himself taller. Akashi noticed that that was something he did a lot when they were together alone. It was as if Midorima were trying to emulate the way Akashi could carry an air of sophistication around him with complete ease. Akashi internally rolled his eyes. It was too obvious that Midorima was putting on a show to impress him.
He kind of wished that Midorima would realize that they were, in fact, equals.
iii
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Spending more than two years together and winning consecutive championships brought the entire team to the top. They had all blossomed into winners. Victors. The world was at their feet and with Akashi as the leader of the esteemed Generation of Miracles, that would never change. The top was a lonely place, but it was the only place Akashi belonged and so he felt a distant fondness in the team that kept him there.
He knew they weren’t friends, but being teammates was good enough for him.
“…Akashi…?”
The boy in question looked up from the shogi board in front of him and fixed a cold smile on his lips to greet Midorima. “Shintarou. Sit down and finish this game with me.” He saw the tall boy’s lips twist in a shrew grimace and his eyebrows bunch up almost defiantly. However, he sat down stiffly on the other side of the table, albeit with an air of uneasiness. It made Akashi narrow his eyes.
“Why are you so stiff, Shintarou? It’s just me.” He was met with a small huff of a dry laugh. Midorima stared dutifully at the board in front of him and moved one of the pieces after a moment of thought.
“Are you angry with me, Shintarou?”
“No.”
“Then what’s with the cold shoulder?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
So stubborn. He was always so stubborn. Akashi knew Shintarou well, at least he knew him better than he knew anyone else. He could tell that something was brewing underneath his detached politeness, and he wanted to know what it was. A team couldn’t function properly without its leader knowing all there was to know.
“Yes you do, Shintarou, stop acting like a child and tell me why you’re upset. Is it because I let Daiki and Atsushi skip practice?”
“I don’t care what those two do.”
“Then why is it you’re upset with me?” Akashi raised his chin up mockingly, “Oh, I see. It’s because of our little kiss isn’t it?”
Akashi could see Midorima clench his jaw shut tightly and don a mask of contrived coolness. He straightened up his shoulders, making himself taller in his chair in that infuriating habit of his. Akashi stood up slowly, coming around the table to stand behind Midorima, looking down at him.
“I’m sorry Shintarou,” he started with a tone of false contrition, “but I did let you know how I felt before I indulged your little request.”
“You’re right. You also got pretty into it if I remember correctly. So maybe ‘our little kiss’ wasn’t as little as you want to make it out to be,” Midorima bit back before clamping his mouth shut.
Akashi smirked. He had finally gotten a reaction from Midorima, and the other boy knew it. “Ah. So that’s what it is.”
Suddenly, fast as a rattlesnake, Akashi swept down and captured Midorima’s lips in a kiss. Their teeth clashed and the sound seemed to reverberate through the otherwise silent room. Akashi moved his lips urgently and Midorima kept up with him, nipping bruising kisses into his mouth. Akashi let out a breath through his nose when he felt Midorima’s tongue brush against his teeth and as quickly as it happened, he pulled back so that he was looking down at Midorima’s flushed face.
“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t—”
“Stop saying you’re sorry,” Midorima cut in before Akashi could finish his sentence. He felt his eyebrows creep up—that was the first time Midorima had ever raised his voice at him, let alone interrupted him, “We both know you’re not.”
Lips curling into a haughty smirk, Akashi looked almost proud of Midorima as he leaned back down for another kiss. However, Midorima stood up quickly to cut off any further advances. “I don’t know what you want from me, Akashi.”
Craning his neck his neck slightly, Akashi looked straight into his eyes, “I just want you.”
“I’m not a possession. You can’t have me.”
“Then I want you to kiss me.”
Midorima’s breath stuttered. His eyes burned with a million questions but they also burned with desire. He looked conflicted so Akashi wrapped his hands around the back of his neck and brought him down for another searing kiss. He licked into the seam of his lips and took absolute control of the kiss, bringing Midorima down so that his knees were awkwardly crouched to meet with Akashi’s height.
He felt an arm wrap around his waist so he brought his hands up to grip Midorima’s hair warningly. Slowly the arm dropped but Akashi’s grip didn’t loosen, bringing Midorima in for a deeper kiss. He ran his teeth against the soft flesh of Midorima’s lips and brushed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, hearing the muffled sigh in response.
The first time, Midorima had come prepared. He was headstrong and straightforward, barging into the room and demanding Akashi’s attention. He told him that he had feelings for him and that he couldn’t hold it back anymore. Akashi could still remember how Midorima straightened up his shoulders and looked him directly in the eye when he asked to kiss him. There was something appealing in the way he was so direct, so demanding, so after Akashi let him know of the lack of feelings, he indulged him.
This time, however, Midorima was obviously caught off guard. His breathing was becoming steadily more erratic and his was clenching the fabric of his trousers with both fists. His technique, which had been almost textbook perfect the last time—as if he studied beforehand, which wouldn’t surprise Akashi in the least—was almost sloppy. But it was fervent. He nipped at Akashi’s lips and thrust his tongue alongside Akashi’s, displaying a passion that Akashi had never seen before.
Akashi felt a surge of pride in himself. He was able to make the cold, pristine Midorima Shintarou come apart under his own two hands. But somewhere buried deep in his conscience, a twang of fear coursed through him. He broke away, leaving Midorima panting and flushed, and walked back to his seat before sitting down in the same position he was in previously.
“You can go, Shintarou,” he heard himself say over the tiny voice of protest in the back of his mind.
He didn’t look up to see his offense or the way he undoubtedly stiffened his posture, head raised and shoulders straight, and replaced whatever expression was on his face with haughty detachment. He didn’t look up when he heard the door slam closed and he didn’t look up to see the way Midorima did not turn back. He didn’t look up to see Midorima walk out of the room as if he were leaving nothing behind.
iv
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It rained the day before graduation and Akashi was in the gym to finally clean out his locker. All his clothes were folded in his bag when he heard a noise behind him. He didn’t turn around to see who it was and they didn’t wait for him to.
“Are you really so eager to become opponents?”
He finished packing up his bag and pulled the zipper closed before turning around to meet Midorima’s eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be, Shintarou?”
“We spent three years together. We won three championships. Why doesn’t that mean anything to you?” Midorima narrowed his eyes at Akashi, walking closer so that he would have to crane his neck to maintain eye contact.
Feeling contempt surge in his chest, Akashi gave him a derisive smile. “It means something to me. It means victory. That is all,” he replied coolly.
“Don’t lie to me.”
“Don’t look down on me.”
The two stared at each other and Akashi could see a war of emotion in Midorima’s eyes, even behind the glasses. What made Midorima so great at basketball was his passion, but that passion meant that he was never able to conceal his feelings. Akashi always could see right through Midorima, so he was able to pick up the glance he threw at Akashi’s mouth. Feeling a smirk crawl up on his face, Akashi licked his lips deliberately. When he heard Midorima’s breath hitch, he took Midorima's face between his hands and brought him down to crash their lips together.
He felt hands grasp onto the back of his shirt, but before he could wordlessly reprimand Midorima for overstepping boundaries, he was pulled away. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a millisecond before he trained his expression into a blank slate. He waited for a moment for Midorima to start talking.
“I won’t let you do that again, Akashi. I’m not here to grant your every whim. Not anymore.”
Midorima looked at Akashi stonily. He didn’t even look that angry, which infuriated Akashi. Midorima looked as if he were looking straight through him, as if Akashi was not even worth his time. Fuming internally, but leaving his face schooled into an expressionless mask, Akashi stepped forward until he was directly in front of Midorima.
“Then why are you here?”
“I came to say goodbye. Because we were teammates, Akashi. And although you want me to believe that it means nothing to you , that you feel nothing for me or even for the team, I know that rising to the top together means something,” Midorima answered evenly.
Looking up at Midorima annoyed Akashi. Craning his neck up at him and seeing Midorima look down his nose at him made him feel small. But seeing those eyes with all those emotions swimming alongside each other in a torrential whirlpool made him feel like he won at something.
“You won’t be able to stay at the top like that, Shintarou. You need less compassion.”
In three years they have been teammates to friends to something a bit more. Now, Akashi figures, they’re enemies. He likes the feeling of the word in his mind, but that doesn’t stop his chest from constricting when he sees that statuesque figure once more walk away from him without turning back to see what he’s leaving behind.
v
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Beating Midorima was as natural as breathing. Seeing the way he fought to the very end and the way he did not waver until the very last second of the game was nothing Akashi didn’t expect. He saw how the entire team walked off of the court with their heads hanging low and their faces painted with dejection. He didn’t expect to see Midorima’s head hanging along with them. The same person who held his head high for as long as Akashi’s known him was looking down at the same floor he was defeated on.
Akashi looked upon him with derision but in the back of his brain, he knew that the sight in front of him was wrong. Where is the determined set to his shoulders and the proud look in his eyes as he looked down his nose through his glasses to those below him? Something wasn’t right, but Akashi was where he belonged, at the top.
Something ached just slightly in his chest when he heard his own voice say that he wants to be Midorima’s enemy.