Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Looks about right,” said Araki Masako, basketball club coach and supervisor, signing on Tatsuya’s club entrance form. “Welcome to the basketball club, Himuro-kun.”

“Thank you,” said Tatsuya. He looked at the club members: they were trying to not stare at him, and for the first time since moving back to Japan Tatsuya felt average-sized. Shuu had told him that Yousen was a national-level school, and here was the talent to prove it. He smiled at them, and a sigh rippled through the gym like a summer breeze. They seemed nice.

“We’re preparing for the Interhigh - the summer national tournament - right now,” the coach said, Tatsuya quickly switched his attention back to her. “Even if you make the team, you won’t be able to play in that - there’s an eligibility period you’ve missed.”

Tatsuya cocked his head. “Ah,” he said. Shuu had said something like that.

“Anti-ringers,” she explained, flicking through his application. “You can come along to the tournament with us - it’s not required, but if you’re serious about making the team, you’ll do it.”

“Does that happen often?” said Tatsuya. Shuu had said that Yousen was known for recruiting foreign talent to play for their sports teams, but he supposed that a new player transferring in just before a National Tournament would be pretty suspicious.

Her eyebrow quirked up and Tatsuya thought he might like this coach, even if she wasn’t Alex. “You’d be surprised,” she said. “Kuroko! Murasakibara! You’re in charge of him. Show him around. ”

“Ehhhhh~” emitted from the knot of boys. A tall boy stepped out of line - a very, very tall boy. His long hair fell all over his face. “Masako-chin--”

She pointed her bamboo sword at him, and the whine shut up. Tatsuya had been wondering why she carried that thing around, but looking at the size of him - at the rest of the team, as tall as Tatsuya had ever seen basketball players - Tatsuya suspected it was a very effective teaching tool.

“Fall in for now,” she said to Tatsuya. “Later, just ask them whatever you need to know.”

Tatsuya nodded and moved to the court. They did drills, then split up for mini-games. Tatsuya ended up standing next to the very tall boy, playing on the opposite team from him. He smiled and tried to introduce himself.

Murasakibara only returned him a bored look. “Just play,” he said.

“Okay,” said Tatsuya, controlling his irritation - and played. He’d missed being able to play basketball. He had tried to see if anyone would play pickup with him around the neighbourhood, but streetball in Japan seemed non-existent. It didn’t hurt to cut loose now and then either - and by the time the third three-pointer was sinking in, his new teammates were smiling and slapping his back, calling encouraging comments. Tatsuya smiled back and parked himself next to Murasakibara again. “Good game,” he said.

Murasakibara turned his head away, but Tatsuya knew he had been watching. The tilt of the younger boy’s nose, like an offended cat, was adorable.

The ball was back in play, and Tatsuya was just coming up on the outside to see if he could catch the rebound when the ball abruptly shifted direction and speed, whirring past his head to land into Murasakibara’s huge hands, who dunked it. The whole post shook, and Murasakibara landed with a thud.

“Where the hell did that come from?” exclaimed Tatsuya, looking around, and nearly bumped into a fifth player on the other team, someone whom Tatsuya had not seen at all. He was much shorter than the other players, and could easily have been hidden by their bulk, but Tatsuya could not remember that someone like him had even been standing on the court with them.

“Himuro-san, I’ve been here the whole time,” said Kuroko Tetsuya, first-year, and Murasakibara Atsushi slung his elbow onto the shorter boy’s head, pressed down, and laughed.

.0.

Atsushi and Tetsuya turned out to both live in the same dorms where Tatsuya was staying, and after practice they all returned together to eat dinner and do their homework in the common room. Tatsuya must have made even more of an impression than he had thought; neither of the odd couple made any attempt to get away. He did lose Tetsuya a few times, but from their behaviour, this happened a lot to the quiet boy. While Tetsuya set up his books, Atsushi worked on a few crumpled worksheets and a huge pile of snacks, chips, sticks and crackers. Tatsuya smiled at Atsushi; he knew someone else who could put food away like no one else.

Tetsuya, with the air of a conjurer, produced a pack of musubi-flavoured crackers. “If you let me look at your physics homework, Murasakibara-kun, I will give this to you.”

“You’re never going to learn if you keep doing that, Kuro-chin,” remarked Atsushi, but he dug in his bag, produced his worksheet, filled it in in about ten minutes, and then traded it to Tetsuya for the crackers.

“Thank you, Murasakibara-kun,” said Tetsuya gravely. He began to check his answers against the other boy’s worksheet.

Tatsuya smiled at them. “Have you two been friends for a while?” he said.

Atsushi glanced at him. “Since middle school,” he said.

“A while,” said Tetsuya, at the same time. They matched gazes for an instant.

“Himuro-san, how long ago did you transfer in?” asked Tetsuya, changing the subject.

“Oh, just,” Tatsuya said. “That’s why Araki-sensei thought I might need some help finding my way around.”

“Masako-chin just thinks we need to be kept busy,” complained Atsushi. He pouted at Tatsuya. “Can’t you get around by yourself? Or just ask Kurochin for everything.”

“Shouldn’t you be calling her Araki-sensei?” asked Tatsuya, wondering if there was something he was missing here. He smiled sweetly at the overgrown boy, who had put his head on the table and was sulking. “I’m very appreciative of you helping me, Atsushi.”

Atsushi eyed him suspiciously.

“How long have you been on the team?” Tatsuya asked Tetsuya.

“I’m not on the team,” said Tetsuya calmly. “Yet.” He paused. “And Himuro-san is right, Murasakibara-kun. Araki-sensei should be addressed properly and with respect.”

Atsushi blew a raspberry at him. Tetsuya shook his head sadly.

“You know, you don’t need to be so formal with me,” suggested Tatsuya. “What if I called you Tetsuya, and you called me Tatsuya? We’d nearly match.”

“You may call me whatever you wish,” said Tetsuya, leaving the this bastard does prominently unsaid. “But you are my upperclassman and as such it would be improper for me to call you by your first name.”

“Tatsuya-kun?” Tatsuya tried.

Tetsuya gave him a Look. “Himuro-san,” he repeated, firmly.

“Muro-chin,” said Atsushi, and around his busy mouth there was the faintest suggestion of a grin.

“You are no help,” Tetsuya told him, and pointedly returned to his work.

.0.

Playing basketball with Tetsuya and Atsushi was… interesting. The other regulars of the Yousen club were nice, too, but it was Atsushi and Tetsuya whom Tatsuya found himself spending most of his time with: meals, morning practice, afternoon practice, evening practice, and nightly free time, which was usually extra practice. Tatsuya had thought he was intense about basketball: Atsushi and Tetsuya took it to a whole other level. It was funny, how the normally lazy Atsushi seemed to take bone-breaking levels of training and effort for granted, and Tetsuya kept pace with every drill and game, even practicing by himself on the court after Atsushi took off for Yousen’s gymnasium to weight-train. Tetsuya kept to a punishing pace; he always pushed himself harder than he should have been going.

Tatsuya became acquainted with Tetsuya’s passes, and the first time he had to catch an ignite pass it burned the skin off his palms, leaving them red and smarting.

“You have to be a bit faster,” explained Atsushi, watching with interest as Tatsuya examined his hands sadly. “Kuro-chin is aiming for where you should be in two seconds, not three.” Atsushi looked Tatsuya up and down. “You should be able to do that, Muro-chin,” he said.

“He’s stronger than he looks,” said Tatsuya. He flexed his palms, thinking about the spin Tetsuya put on the ball, and trying to catch Tetsuya’s rhythm. “Alright, I’ll dial it up a bit.”

Tetsuya materialised at Tatsuya’s side, or maybe the invisible boy had always been there. It was hard to read his expression, as always, but Tatsuya thought he looked concerned, and patted the younger boy on the shoulder.

“Don’t mind,” he said. “I’ll try harder to catch your passes, Tetsuya.” He was rewarded with the ghost of a smile.

“I thought perhaps you might be able to,” Tetsuya said.

“Maybe after that we’ll move you up to the Cyclone Pass,” said Atsushi.

“That would be nice,” said Tetsuya. He peeped at Tatsuya, hopefully.

Atsushi was smirking. Tatsuya smiled and said, “Sure.” Suddenly his hand was twinging even more.

.0.

It wasn’t lost on Tatsuya that aside from Tetsuya, himself and the other regulars, Atsushi rarely spent time with the rest of the basketball club. They all seemed to regard him warily, particularly the other first-years, who would actively avoid Atsushi if they could.

Atsushi, and, for some reason, Tetsuya.

“Yes,” nodded Liu. “I have noticed it too, aru.”

Tatsuya toyed with his lunch. “Do you know why?” he asked bluntly.

“Murasakibara has a habit of verbally abusing players he considers unworthy to play basketball, aru,” said Liu matter-of-factly. He took a drink of tea.

Tatsuya was still staring at him, mouth open, when Liu put the cup down.

“Shortly afterwards, they tend to quit the club,” said Liu. “In tears. Naturally the first-years are wary of him, aru.”

“I’ve... he’s never like that to me,” said Tatsuya. “Or around me.”

“Well, he wouldn’t, aru,” pointed out Liu. “You’re very talented. And you two also associate with Kuroko, who is...” he hesitated. “He is rather…”

“Ah,” said Tatsuya.

“Precisely,” said Liu. He looked at Tatsuya. “Coach has since forbidden them both to disrupt practice by fighting about it, but they have already made their views abundantly clear.”

“Oh,” said Tatsuya. “I see.”

“That is really all I can tell you,” said Liu. He applied himself to his own meal, going cold. “We’re going to be competing in the Interhigh soon. Are you coming with us, aru?”

“I will,” said Tatsuya. He wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

.0.

As promised, the Interhigh rolled around and Tatsuya packed his overnight bag to spectate with and cheer for the Yousen regulars, which made the captain cry tears of manly sporting joy. Tetsuya was going as well, despite also not being on the team, so it wasn’t as if Tatsuya would have no one to talk to.

He was impressed by the scale of the Interhigh - nearly sixty high schools from all over the country, and not even the biggest high school tournament, Fukui told him - and amused by the way everyone seemed to know everyone else, like the smallest possible pond of gossip-mongering high school boys.

“Oh,” said Atsushi. Even here, he towered above the crowd. “Look, there’s Akachin.”

‘Akachin’ stood at the head of - Tatsuya looked questioningly at Tetsuya - Rakuzan High, arms supporting the trophy which he was about to return to the tournament officials.

“Woah, he’s really the captain,” Fukui muttered. “First-year,” he explained to Tatsuya. “Like these two.”

“It’s not common?” said Tatsuya.

“Unheard of,” said Fukui.

Atsushi and Tetsuya appeared unmoved. “That’s just Akachin,” said Atsushi, shrugging his shoulders.

“They’re the returning champions,” said Okamura. “We’ll face them at some point during this tournament for sure! Be ready, guys!”

“Three Uncrowned to boot,” said someone behind Tatsuya, a comment which made absolutely no sense to him.

“Their manager’s a guy, though,” said Okamura, with the air of producing a trump card. “So! They can't be that popular!”

“Is that supposed to be a consolation, aru?” muttered Liu.

Fukui patted that massive shoulder. “You’re not popular either, man,” he said. He paused. “And we don’t have a girl manager.”

Okamura choked on a sob, but manfully bore up under the strain. “It’s not fair,” he said tragically. “Basketball players are supposed to be popular.”

“Cry on your own time,” commanded Fukui. “You can’t lose to that chibi, captain. Stand tall.”

.0.

Tatsuya got his taste of what the captain had meant by popularity when a stunningly beautiful girl from another school ran towards them after the opening ceremony, crying out Tetsuya’s name.

She bounced up and hit Tetsuya in the chest, driving him backwards. “Tetsu-kun!” she squealed, hugging him tightly. “Tetsu-kun!”

“Oof,” said Tetsuya, staggering back into Atsushi.

“Sacchin,” said Atsushi, and his hand reached out to smooth down her hair, huge on her head.

She looked up at him and smiled, a bit uncertainly but sweet and bright. “Mukkun!” she said. “You’re here!”

“Aa,” he said, looking down at her, his mouth twisted sardonically. “You noticed.”

“Of course I did,” she said, pouting a little. The twist in Atsushi’s mouth widened into something almost like a smile, and he let her hair slip through his fingers, like silk.

Tatsuya watched with interest.

The girl’s attention returned to Tetsuya and she released him, stepping back suddenly shy. She looked at Tatsuya inquiringly and he stepped forward to introduce himself.

“I don’t know you,” she said, blinking at him, when she had heard his name.

“Er,” said Tatsuya.

“No, no,” she hastened to assure him. “I mean - I don’t know you at all! Did you only just join the team?”

“I only returned from America recently,” Tatsuya told her.

“Ooooh,” she said, as though everything had become clear. “Himuro-san, you’re a returnee? What position do you play? How old are you? Are you on the team yet - no,” she corrected herself, “You’re not on the roster to play. When will you be eligible?”

“Um,” said Tatsuya.

“Sacchin knows everything,” said Atsushi.

“Mukkuuun, no I dooon’t,” she protested.

“Momoi-san, did you come over just to scout us?” Tetsuya reproved her. His eyes rested on her face. 

“Tetsu-kun, of course not!” she said, her cheeks flushing delicately. “I am here to scout for my school - we're having a training camp nearby, but - oh.”

They turned their heads to see a boy making his way across the concourse, his red and black jersey standing out against the horizon. Momoi almost raised her hand to wave at him, but stopped and lowered it. Tatsuya looked between them curiously. 

“I-it’s very nice to meet you, Himuro-san,” she said. tearing her gaze away. “I have to go now, but I-I’ll know all about you soon.” She summoned a small smile for Tatsuya. 

“Terrifying,” murmured Atsushi around a handful of chips.

“It’s very nice to meet you too - um,” said Tatsuya.

“I’m Momoi Satsuki,” she said. “I’m - well, I’m Tetsu-kun’s girlfriend!” She delivered this statement with gusto, darting her eyes at Tetsuya and Atsushi as though she expected them to contradict her. 

“Momoi-san, please,” said Tetsuya. But he had let her hug him, and his eyes were still soft on her face.

She smiled at them, looking worried and relieved. “I’ll see you around,” she called, trotting towards the stadium.

“You have such a cute girlfriend, Tetsuya,” said Tatsuya.  

“She is not,” said Tetsuya.

“Sacchin is really cute,” said Atsushi. “What are you saying, Kuro-chin?”

“She’s very cute,” said Tatsuya. 

“That may be so,” said Tetsuya, with awful patience. “But she is not my girlfriend.”

Atsushi snickered. "No, she's his," he said. He raised his hand to wave to the tall boy, who was now looking over at them, his face black as he looked between them and Momoi's retreating back.

“O~i, Mine~chin,” said Atsushi.

Tetsuya went very still, nodded stiffly and said, “Aomine-kun.”

Aomine’s eyebrows had lifted, and he jerked his chin at them in acknowledgement. Tatsuya was not surprised when he turned and walked off without speaking to them, nor when he headed for a completely different entrance than Momoi had taken. 

“You ladykiller you,” said Tatsuya cheerfully to Tetsuya. Was that boy really Momoi's boyfriend? How scandalous. “Making her boyfriend jealous like that. I never suspected you for a ladies man, Tetsuya.”

Atsushi laughed so hard he had to hold onto Tatsuya or fall down. Tetsuya eyed them both, and said, “I’m going ahead to catch up with the team,” leaving them behind.

.0.

The next few days passed in a whirl of matches, their own and others. Tatsuya gamely clapped and cheered for Yousen with the rest of the club, but it was obvious that the teams they were facing were no match for Atsushi. Atsushi further underscored this fact by refusing to go all-out, despite his immense attack power. Nothing could persuade him to go on the attack unless it was absolutely necessary - or, as Tetsuya quietly pointed out, when he got pissed off. Whenever he did attack, the crowd went wild, and more than once they were chased by reporters trying to get an interview out of Atsushi. He always refused. He had better things to do, he said.

On the afternoon of the quarterfinal match, Tetsuya put up his hand and asked to be excused.

“For what?” said Araki-sensei.

“I wish to observe another quarterfinals match,” said Tetsuya.

Araki-sensei’s eyebrows rose, and she tapped her bamboo sword on the ground. “That one, huh?” she said. “Hmm.”

“I will return promptly after the match is finished,” promised Tetsuya.

Araki-sensei still looked dubious. Her gaze lighted on Tatsuya, who was looking around with interest. “Himuro-kun. Go along with him - it won’t hurt you to have a look at that match, either. Come straight back. We’re going back to the hotel right after the match.”

Tetsuya nodded.

“I want a break too,” whined Atsushi, lifting his head.

“You shut up,” said Araki-sensei, pointing the shinai at him. “You’re starting today. Get your head into the game. We’re not going to be facing small fry from now on.”

“Thank you, Coach,” said Tetsuya. “Himuro-san, this way please.”

Tatsuya waved goodbye to a sulking Atsushi, who eyed them both and seemed on the verge of saying something. He refrained, though, and soon Tatsuya and Tetsuya were winding their way through excited groups of spectators and teams, heading for the other stadium. Tatsuya caught the excitement in the air.

“We’re going to see one of the other quarterfinal matches?” he prompted Tetsuya.

“Yes,” said Tetsuya. “Kaijou High vs Touou Gakuen High.”

“Oh,” said Tatsuya, as much became clear. “Will your girlfriend be here?”

“I don't know,” said Tetsuya. They entered the second stadium.

The stands for Yousen’s match had been sparsely filled, and now Tatsuya saw the reason: the stands here were full to overflowing. Crowds buzzed excitedly about the match and the players, names Tatsuya didn’t know spoken in reverent tones. Over and over again he heard the schools’ names, and Kise Ryouta, and Aomine Daiki and Kiseki no Sedai. He had to pause a second to parse the last phrase, he heard it so many times: the Generation of Miracles.

“Tetsuya,” he said, when they finally found seats. “What’s the Generation of Miracles?”

Tetsuya looked at him, then seemed to visibly remind himself that Tatsuya was a newcomer. “It’s a nickname given to a group of very talented and famous first-year basketball players,” he said. “Murasakibara-kun is one of them. Kise-kun and Aomine-kun - you saw him on the first day- are two others. In middle school, they were undefeated. Currently, each of them has gone to a separate high school, and four of those are competing in the Interhigh.”

“You went to the same school as Atsushi, didn’t you?” said Tatsuya. He remembered that, though he couldn’t think who had told him, Atsushi? It certainly hadn’t been Tetsuya, who never talked about his middle school.

“Yes,” said Tetsuya. “I knew all of them quite well.” His tone forestalled further conversation. “It’s starting, Himuro-san.”

As Tatsuya looked back at the court he almost thought he saw Momoi in the stands opposite. He wondered if she had followed through on her threat to find out everything about him. Kise Ryouta was number seven, and the other boy - Aomine Daiki - was five, and Tatsuya instantly saw that they were strong - as strong as Atsushi, if Tetsuya was to be believed.

Then the whistle blew and the ball flew up into the air - tip off.

.0.

At half-time, the whole stadium breathed out as one.

Tetsuya was still staring at the court, his eyes very wide and blank.

Tatsuya touched his arm, and Tetsuya shook himself, as if emerging from deep water. “I’ll get us some drinks,” said Tetsuya abruptly.

“Do you need me to go with you?” asked Tatsuya quietly. There was something a little wild and lost in Tetsuya’s eyes, as though Kise Ryouta and Aomine Daiki had blazed their way across his brain and left him reeling. Tatsuya felt a little like that himself: as though he had been shaken open, and there was still the feeling of more to come.

Tetsuya shook his head. There was no question of leaving. More and more people had crowded into the stadium, and they would instantly lose their seats. "I am more familiar with this stadium,” he said. “I will return shortly."

Tetsuya's shortly lasted almost to the start of the second half. Kise Ryouta was striding back into the court with his beautiful head held high, and Aomine Daiki was stretching on the sidelines as calmly and professionally as any veteran player in preparation to resume the match. One moment, Tatsuya was checking his email for replies from Shuu, and the next, Tetsuya had reappeared in his seat with his jacket wrapped around his palms to protect them from the icy cans.

Tetsuya handed Tatsuya his drink and then failed to open his own, staring down at the teams.

"Can he beat him?" said Tatsuya. Kaijou and Touou stripped off their shirts and walked back onto the court.

Tetsuya was silent for a moment. "Kise-kun thinks he can."

Tatsuya glanced swiftly at his face. He wondered if-- "And the other one?"

"Aomine-kun--" said Tetsuya. His face was set. "He believes that only another player of equal ability and skill would be able to beat him."

Tatsuya was silent.

Tetsuya paused. "He does not believe such a player exists. Only him.”

Tatsuya looked back at the court. Kise Ryouta had been copying plays the whole match, but he had not yet tried Aomine’s style, and Tatsuya almost did not think he could. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask Tetsuya if he thought Kise Ryouta could copy that formless basketball, so different from Tatsuya’s own, so alien to anything either of them could accomplish, but Tatsuya refrained.

Once again, the match was starting; once again the ball was flung so high into the air it looked for a moment like it would not come down.

.0.

After the match, they returned in silence. Yousen had won their match, and would advance to the semifinals tomorrow; Atsushi was noticeably absent from the mob that crowded them asking if Touou or Kaijou had won.

“Touou did,” said Tatsuya. Tetsuya disappeared in the confusion, and it was only later that Tatsuya found him, hours later, sitting on his futon at the hotel as though he’d been nowhere else all evening. But he hadn’t been, Tatsuya had looked.

Tatsuya directed an inquiring look at Tetsuya, but Tetsuya ducked his head and said nothing. His hands fidgeted on his phone and on his wristband.

“Tomorrow’s semi-finals match is with Rakuzan High!” called Araki-sensei, coming in to supervise lights-out. “Sleep early, be prepared!”

Atsushi raised his hand. “Ahh,” he said. “Tomorrow, I won’t be playing...”

Araki stared at him. The whole team stared at him. “What do you mean,” and they all cringed back from the force of that shout, “you won’t be playing?”

“I won’t be playing in the match tomorrow,” said Atsushi, shrugging.

“We don’t have a chance without you,” said Araki-sensei flatly.

Atsushi shrugged again. “Your problem,” he said.

Tetsuya tapped Tatsuya on the shoulder and silently showed him a mail he’d just received. It was from Momoi, and it was very simple. Aomine-kun was injured from today's match.

.0.

In the end, Atsushi got his way, as he always did, and they lost in a crushing defeat to the three Uncrowned Tatsuya had heard about, three second-years with the air of professional players. It seemed as though Akashi Seijuurou had also got the unspoken memo: all through the match he sat on the Rakuzan bench, watching calmly, and seemed neither surprised that Atsushi was not playing nor eager to play himself. Touou Gakuen also played their semi-final without Aomine Daiki, as Momoi had hinted at in her mail to Tetsuya. Tetsuya had not commented on how she would know something like that. Before the match, Tatsuya observed Akashi Seijuurou’s gaze surveying the bench, and then it swept the stands, dissecting each person in turn.

Tetsuya, next to him, shifted in his seat.

At the post-match breakdown, Atsushi raised his hand again. “Seeing as it’s like this, do I have to play tomorrow? I’d really rather not.”

“...Get him the hell out of here,” said Araki. “I should kick you off this team, right now.”

Atsushi opened his mouth. Tatsuya caught Tetsuya’s eye and they immediately lunged forward and began to drag Atsushi away.

“Atsushi, let’s go down to Tokyo, okay? I’ve haven't been since before I left, this would be a great chance for me!’ said Tatsuya, shoving a handful of crackers into Atsushi’s mouth.

“-Mmph!” said Atsushi.

“Coach, I would also like to go with Himuro-san and Murasakibara-kun, I think it would be best,” said Tetsuya.

Araki, nursing a rage headache, waved them off.

“You know we both come from there, right,” said Atsushi, once they were safely installed in the bus, and Tetsuya and Tatsuya had finished agreeing with each other about what a naughty boy he was, and so troublesome. “My family lives there. We’ve been a million times.”

“That’s great,” said Tatsuya. “You can show me around.” He smiled at Atsushi.

Tetsuya was looking out the window of the bus. When Atsushi prodded him, he said only, “It’s been a while since I went back.”

.0.

The rain was still thundering down when Tatsuya and Atsushi fetched up at Atsushi’s family home, and his lovely mother welcomed them in and sent them off to take hot baths. After Tatsuya was done, he sat in Atsushi’s room while Atsushi went for his own bath and checked out Atsushi’s extensive collection of championship medals and trophies. There was not a single silver among Atsushi’s achievements, and Tatsuya ruefully thought about how out of place Yousen’s Interhigh bronze would look.

“Kuroko-kun!” he heard Murasakibara-san call from downstairs. “Look at you! You’re soaked. It’s nice to see you again, but you should take better care of yourself!”

Tetsuya escaped into Atsushi’s room as well, and refused the offer of a dry shirt. His eyebrows said, more eloquently than words, that Himuro-san could afford to wear a shirt that fell well down his thighs and slanted sideways to expose smooth milky collarbones; Tetsuya would just look like he was wearing a tent. He did take his wet shirt off, and flapped it to make it dry faster.

“I thought you had something to do?” said Tatsuya, watching him. That was how Tatsuya had ended up wandering around alone, after all. Tetsuya had been called away, and then Atsushi had left Tatsuya in the park by himself. The streetball tournament had been right there, how could Tatsuya have been expected to resist?

The street ball tournament, and Taiga.

“Momoi-san called me,” said Tetsuya. He looked down at the splotch on his shirt, vaguely girl-shaped. “She was caught in the rain.”

“You player, you,” said Tatsuya, shaking his head. He smiled at Atsushi, who came in with his hair leaving damp drips on his bare shoulders, which seemed to Tatsuya to defeat the purpose of a hot bath to begin with. Atsushi looked at Tetsuya and snorted comprehensively.

Tetsuya refused to rise to the bait, however, and he murmured in an aside to Atsushi, “Aomine-kun found out she was the one who informed his coach about his injury.”

Atsushi rolled his eyes. “Isn’t that his fault for getting injured in the first place?” he said. “Mine-chin should have expected that. Of course Sacchin would notice.” He found a smaller t-shirt in his closet, sky-blue and marked with some school’s name on the back, and tossed it to Tetsuya.

Tetsuya unfolded it and stiffened. He passed it back. “Thank you, but no,” he said.

“It’s the only thing I have that’ll fit,” observed Atsushi.

“I have my own,” said Tetsuya shortly. He stood there, thin and rather pale, staring Atsushi down.

Tatsuya suddenly thought of something. “Tetsuya,” he said. He ran his fingers over the worn-smooth metal of the ring that hung around his neck. “Your girlfriend - what does she know about Seirin High’s basketball team?”

Atsushi sighed heavily. Tatsuya ignored him.

“Quite a lot,” Tetsuya replied. “She goes to Seirin High. I ran into the group who had been at the streetball tournament when we went to the station.”

Atsushi cocked an eyebrow at him, which was an interesting look. Tetsuya shrugged. “They were concerned as to why Momoi-san was soaked. I took her to Seirin together with them.” He paused infinitesimally before adding, “Kiyoshi Teppei-san sends his regards.”

Atsushi made a rude noise at him and picked up some crisps from a drawer in his desk.

“They seemed nice,” said Tatsuya.

“They were,” said Tetsuya. He retrieved his phone from his bag, and Tatsuya thought about how Tetsuya’s slim back never seemed to bow.

He looked at Tatsuya. “Is there anyone in particular you want to ask her about?”

“Taiga,” said Tatsuya. “Kagami Taiga. We used to be brothers. Atsushi met him today, in fact. He’s a first-year, like you.”

“I know,” said Tetsuya. “He was very concerned about Momoi-san.” His eyes rested on Tatsuya. “He has...” Tetsuya trailed off.

“Hmm?” said Tatsuya.

“Stupid eyebrows?” said Atsushi.

“A very cute dog,” said Tetsuya. Tatsuya smiled at Tetsuya. Whatever it was Tetsuya had been about to say about Taiga, Tatsuya was sure he would hear about it in good time.

.0.

As they made their return journey to Yousen on the train, Tetsuya’s phone beeped and he touched Tatsuya’s arm gently to get his attention. “Momoi-san has confirmed it for me,” he said. “Seirin High was knocked out of the Interhigh by Touou Academy.” He paused. “He also faced and won against Kise-kun during a practice match, and during the preliminary matches, he defeated Midorima Shintarou, of Shuutoku.” One of the Generation of Miracles, he did not need to add, and Tatsuya nodded at him in thanks; words could not get past the lump in his throat.

Touou. Taiga had fought that monster, and lost, fought monsters like the Generation of Miracles, and - won. Taiga had done that. He should have known that Taiga would improve as well; it wasn’t as though Tatsuya could improve and Taiga would just stand still. And all throughout this tournament, Tatsuya had just been watching from the stands. What was he doing? He needed to get stronger, to keep getting stronger.

It wasn’t like the world was going to do him any favours.

.0.

The very next ranking test, Tatsuya put himself through with the intention of making the starters. He wasn’t the only one - the whole club threw themselves into it with gusto, and Tetsuya showed off a stronger pass, and was everywhere in that test doing what he did better than ever. Tatsuya gave him a dazzling smile and a thumbs-up - Tetsuya worked hard to improve himself. Of course it would pay off.

The results were read out before the end of practice. Tatsuya made the regulars, and Okamura slapped him on the back, congratulatory. Liu and Fukui smiled at him, too, like everyone had been expecting it.

Tetsuya did not make the team, and he set his jaw as Araki finished reading out her notes without mentioning him.

Tetsuya took Araki-sensei aside after practice, and Tatsuya was close enough to hear, leaning against the wall thinking of Taiga.

“Sensei, please -” said Tetsuya, in a carefully measured voice.

“Look, kid,” she said. “I know you work harder than anyone. You work harder than that one, that’s for sure.” She jabbed her thumb at Atsushi, lacing up his shoes on the bench because he’d been too lazy to do them up in the locker room.

Atsushi yawned and stretched his arms back as they watched, unaware of their scrutiny.

“But if I never have reason to put you in a game, you’re not going into the game. And if you’ve got no place in the game, you’ve got no place on the team.”

Tetsuya nodded. “I understand,” he said.

Araki-sensei’s mouth twisted. “I’m not saying never,” she said. “But - you gotta do more, kid. I know you were a regular before, but - we’re not Teikou. I can’t afford to put you in, just because at any moment in the game I can swap in my five top-tier aces who could win the match all by themselves with everyone else on the court playing against them. We’re here to win.” She studied him, and said, a little helplessly, “I don’t even know how to improve you and not change everything you do.”

Tetsuya’s head bowed further. “I understand, Coach.”

“If you can accept that, then stay on,” she said softly. “But if you can’t, I - well, I won’t tell you again. Think about it, Kuroko. You’re only in your first year.”

.0.

“Was it really like that at Teikou?’ asked Tatsuya. He lay on his bed with his laptop propped against his knees, video-calling Shuu. Atsushi and Tetsuya had skipped extra practice, and Tatsuya hadn’t felt like sitting by himself in the common room at the dorm. “I mean, I know these guys are good, but they would only have been fifteen at most.”

“It… might have been,” said Shuu. Somehow they’d never managed to talk about his middle school, about the Generation of Miracles, even though they’d talked about many other things, sometimes for hours, as day turned into dusk. But then, Shuu did not know about Taiga, either, or at least not very much.

“Sometimes. They got a lot better after I graduated, I think. A lot better.” He scratched his head. “Not that they weren’t good enough already,” he admitted. “The five of them were all starters by the second year. We stepped aside for them.”

“What,” said Tatsuya. His voice was sharp. “Just like that? I mean if Tetsuya was apparently so bad, and he stayed on- why step aside as a starter?” Why didn’t you try harder, he meant, and he knew Shuu heard it in the whip of his voice. You’re not weak. Why did you give it up to them?

“Of course I stepped aside,” said Shuu, flatly. His mouth curled. “They were better than me, even then. They were the best. It wasn’t just my dad. It wasn’t just me. Murasakibara’s over there on full athletic scholarship, gets to sit out matches whenever he wants to without getting kicked off the team. Aomine stopped going to practices entirely in his third year and still got scouted by the school that ended up the second place finisher in the Interhigh without even fielding him. That’s because Yousen and Touou want to win matches. And keep winning them.” He looked furious, as Tatsuya had never seen him. “It doesn’t- do you think just because it’s high school and Japan, it’s not serious? That the teams don’t want to win? Of course we accepted it. Because of their talent. Because it’s not easy, to be the best. He was on there because he contributed to the team for our victory. I stepped aside for the sake of our victory- because the team deserved my best. For Teikou.”

Tatsuya had never heard Shuu talk about his old middle school, let alone in words like that, as though Teikou had been something bigger than all of them. He’d never heard Shuu talk like that at all, the raw edge of frustration in his voice, and his furious eyes burning at Tatsuya from an ocean away.

Shuu started to speak again and visibly stopped himself. “Look,” he said. “It’s late for you, I’ve got to get going. See you some other time.”

He was gone before Tatsuya could respond.

.0.

“Kuroko!” called Araki-sensei, looking around. “No Kuroko?”

“Not present,” called someone, after a lot of uncertain looking around. Liu even put out his hands at around waist level, trying to see if Tetsuya was there.

“Ok,” said Araki. She made no further mention of his absence; the other regulars exchanged meaningful looks but followed her lead. Atsushi didn’t appear to notice Tetsuya was gone.

Tatsuya, feeling uncomfortable, knocked on Tetsuya’s door before lights-out. No one answered, but when Tatsuya tried the door, it opened. Tetsuya was sitting on his bed in the dark, and light from the lamps outside shone into his room through the open curtains.

Tatsuya turned on the lights.

“- Himuro-san,” said Tetsuya. He squeezed his eyes shut against the light, and if they were red, Tatsuya would pretend not to notice it. He was holding something in his hand, and he had been looking at it.

“I came to see how you were doing,” said Tatsuya, gently. “Next time, you can try again and see if you make the team?”

For several seconds, Tetsuya did not speak.

“...Himuro-san,” he said, finally. “That ring around your neck… it’s something very important to you, yes?” He opened his palm. “This wristband is something similar. It’s the symbol of a promise.” He looked at it. “A promise to play basketball against each other, which I was unable to fulfill.

“When I met Kagami-kun that day in Tokyo- he was very interested to know about you, Himuro-san. He asked about your daily life, and what playing basketball with you was like. I could see that you were- you are very important to him. He also treasures the ring you two share.”

He looked at Tatsuya. “Seeing you so eager to give up your bond with Kagami-kun… how can I put this? It makes me angry, Himuro-san.”

Tatsuya narrowed his eyes.

Tetsuya continued. “It makes me angry that you would so easily throw away a bond like that… but do you know what? I understand it. Because one day, Kagami-kun will surpass you. When that happens, he will leave you behind.”

“You...” said Tatsuya.

Tetsuya’s eyes were very dull. “I’ve seen it happen five times, Himuro-san. I know - I know it feels terrible to be left behind. To no longer be needed.”

Why, he’d screamed at Alex, before he left. Why Taiga. Why not me? Why did he have to be the one left behind?

“But Himuro-san. You are more talented than I could ever dream of becoming,” said Tetsuya. “I’m incredibly envious of you. You can continue to stand on the same stage as your brother. You can continue to play basketball with him.

“Why…” he said, and his fist closed on the wristband. “Why are you giving it up so easily? Did your promise to play basketball mean so little to you? I would give anything to be you, Himuro-san. At least then I could have even the shadow of a chance of achieving my dreams.”

Tatsuya stood silently.

“But the way I am now... what can I do?” Tetsuya demanded. “Himuro-san, what do you think can I do?”

.0.

Tetsuya returned to practice - and, as far as Tatsuya was aware, existence - two days later, when Tatsuya walked in on him and Atsushi speaking in the locker room.

“-now, Kuro-chin?” said Atsushi. He looked angry, and off the court Atsushi hardly ever looked angry.

“I must be mishearing you, Murasakibara-kun,” said Tetsuya. He picked up a box, “As I understand it, this is exactly the course of action you would espouse.”

Atsushi was so angry he couldn’t speak, his hands curling and uncurling into fists as he looked at Tetsuya.

“Be well, Murasakibara-kun,” said Tetsuya. He turned to leave, and stopped. “Himuro-san,” he said, bowed, and then walked very quickly out, his box in his arms.

Atsushi lifted his foot, and kicked the low bench in the locker room, sending it crashing into the lockers. He turned and nearly bumped into the cabinet in which they kept files and trophies, and he growled and hit that, too, making the ancient and heavy furniture shake. “Stupid Kurochin,” he snarled. “Stupid!”

Tatsuya walked cautiously into the room, and looked around, hoping to find out what had prompted the fight. Atsushi punched the wall, and put his head down, breathing deeply, and then Tatsuya saw Tetsuya’s locker, swinging empty. He looked out the window, and Tetsuya left the club building, striding steadily towards the back of the school.

Tetsuya had emptied his locker out into a box, and was carrying it out towards the incinerator.

Tatsuya ran.

When he arrived, Tetsuya had already opened the incinerator, and was standing over it with his basketball shoes in his hand. In the darkness, the light and heat of the incinerator formed a visible corona. He let the shoes fall into the fire.

“Tetsuya!” said Tatsuya. Tetsuya jerked to face Tatsuya.

“What are you doing?” Tatsuya demanded.

“I’m quitting the basketball club, Himuro-san,” said Tetsuya. “I - I no longer have any use for those.”

“Just like that?” said Tatsuya. “Is that what you and Atsushi were-”

“No,” said Tetsuya. “Murasakibara-kun and I are in perfect accord on this matter. Those who don’t have talent should quit the team.”

Tatsuya stared at him. “And this is it?” he said. “This is what you’ve decided to do?”

“I was afraid of being left behind- no,” Tetsuya corrected himself. “I have already been left behind. They’ve gone to a place I can’t follow them.” he looked at his shoes, burning already. “I already realised it at the Interhigh, Himuro-san. But now I… truly understand I can’t catch up. I won’t ever be able to catch up to them.”

“I see,” said Tatsuya. He pulled at the chain that held his ring around his neck and yanked it off.

Tetusya’s eyes widened. “Himuro-san,” he said.

Tatsuya closed his fist around the smooth metal, and lifted his arm to fling his ring into the fire.

“Himuro-san, no!” Tetsuya punched Tatsuya, a punch with all the force of the ignite pass behind it. Tatsuya fell backwards onto the ground, sprawling and furious.

“That's something very important to you!” cried Tetsuya. “To Kagami-kun, as well -” He had dropped his box and his hands were still fisted.

“I’ve already decided to throw it away,” said Tatsuya. “Why shouldn’t I throw it away, Tetsuya!”

“Because of his feelings,” said Tetsuya, his calm breaking. His breath was coming faster now and it turned into tiny clouds as it hit the icy air, visible even in the heat from the fire. “Himuro-san, he’s waiting for you. I know that. But you and I are different. There’s no one waiting for me.”

“Isn’t there?” said Tatsuya. He thought about Momoi, who must have held onto Tetsuya so tightly, to leave that stain. He thought about Aomine Daiki and Kise Ryouta, chasing glory. Atsushi, that team shirt from Teikou Middle wadded up in his hand, and his fingers gentle on Tetsuya’s head, and just moments ago the ugly expression on his face, fighting tears. Akashi Seijuurou, who had searched the bench first for Tetsuya before looking for him in the stands. Tetsuya was wrong. “Isn’t there anyone at all?”

Tatsuya got up, and then, deliberately, with the fist he had closed around the ring, hit Tetsuya in the chest so that the younger boy fell back, too.

“If you want to quit, then you quit,” said Tatsuya. “But don’t compare my feelings with yours! I don’t want to walk away from my fight with Taiga. Even if I can’t catch up, I won’t stop trying!” This was the first time he’d ever admitted it, even to himself, that he wanted more than this, more than anyone. He wanted to play at the top of the leagues, he wanted to be top of the leagues. He wanted to be the best. He wanted it so badly his teeth hurt with tasting it in his throat. Tatsuya didn’t have the raw talent to drive himself up there; he’d need to claw his way there by himself, using every advantage he could get his hands on. His love wasn’t going to be enough. His hard work wasn’t going to enough. If love and blood and tears could make no difference, then what did that leave him?

What did that make him?

“There’s no one,” said Tetsuya, but he sounded less sure now. He stood, and stared at the wristband that had landed in his hand. “Murasakibara-kun- he doesn’t need a shadow,” he said. Tatsuya recalled Araki-sensei, building the next three years of Yousen’s strategy around Atsushi. “And I- I don’t want- I don’t want to need him to play my basketball. I don’t want to need any of them. I don’t want to have to need them ever again.”

He stopped. His eyes were very wide, and the incinerator cast light and shadow over his face. “I can't go any further as a shadow,” he said. “What can I do?”

“Me, then,” said Tatsuya. “What if you needed me?”

“You’re already on the regulars,” said Tetsuya. “You don’t need me. The team doesn’t-”

“I’m not going to stop there,” said Tatsuya. “And you don’t need to either. You don’t need to resign yourself to being a shadow forever.” He held out his hand to Tetsuya, his fist, holding the ring.

“...You asked me what you could do, Tetsuya. We can need each other,” he said. “How about that?”

Tetsuya lifted his face, and light from the fire reflected off two wet tracks on his cheeks. “Is it so easy, Himuro-san? Can I be allowed to believe this?”

“It has to be,” replied Tatsuya. If the alternative was to let their dreams - hopes, wishes, bonds - go up in smoke.

Tetsuya put his head into his hands, and then he looked up and was Kuroko Tetsuya again, not the shadow of someone he had been in middle school.

“....I’m going to need new basketball shoes,” said Tetsuya. He knelt down, and began to gather his belongings, putting them back in his box.

Tatsuya examined the broken clasp of his necklace ruefully. “I’m going to need a new chain.”

They looked at each other, and suddenly they were laughing, doubling over with it, and everything was okay, was going to be okay.

There were people waiting for them, at the Winter Cup.

.0.

For skipping practice, Araki hit Tetsuya with the shinai once and then made him do double drills for a week.

Tatsuya had sent a message to Shuu, just one word. Sorry. He hadn’t known what Teikou was like, what Shuu had been like in it. What Tetsuya had been. Who Tetsuya had been. But Tatsuya did know what he wanted to do, who he wanted to be, if not how.

“Tatsuya, I’m not sure how you expect me to take on a student who’s not even on the court,” complained Alex.

“Is there still something wrong with the connection?” said Tatsuya. He frowned. Okamura was holding Tatsuya’s smartphone so that Alex could see the court, and Tetsuya was standing in plain view...

Tetsuya raised his hand. “Um, Alex-san, I’m here-”

“[Where the fuck did he come from?]” exclaimed Alex in English. “[I was looking right at him!]”

“Isn’t he amazing?’ said Tatsuya proudly.

“[He looks weak,]” said Alex, squinting at him. “Hii, kid.”

“I’m very honoured at your taking the time to train me, Miss Alex,” said Tetsuya. He bowed formally at Tatsuya’s phone.

“Can I see her?” Okamura asked, hopefully. Tatsuya felt no guilt whatsoever for taking advantage of his kind nature; he had volunteered his time freely. Someone had to hold up the phone so that Alex could see, and all the chips in the world wouldn’t have gotten Atsushi to do it. “She sounds pretty.”

“I think you had better not, Okamura-san,” said Tetsuya.

“Yes, she might get a shock if you suddenly appear,” said Tatsuya.

The captain wept.

“Well,” said Alex. “Show me what you’ve got, kid. I’m happy to help out my cute students.”

“[He’s taken, Alex,]” Tatsuya murmured wickedly.

Tatsuya and Tetsuya demonstrated some of Tetsuya’s moves for Alex.

“Hmm,” she said. “Interesting. How do you shoot, kid?”

Tetsuya obediently dribbled up the court and tried to make a shot. He missed, as anticipated. Okamura waved his free fist encouragingly.

“.......wow,” said Alex. Her tone, by contrast, was not in the least encouraging.

“I’ve tried to do it as Himuro-san does,” said Tetsuya. He smiled at Tatsuya. “His form is very beautiful, and--”

“No, that wouldn’t work,” said Alex. “Your form is perfectly fine, you’ve obviously practiced it enough. But the way the ball flies… how do you throw it? The normal way?”

“...yes,” said Tetsuya, deflating. “I’ve always done it that way.”

“Okay, then…” said Alex, frowning at him through the screen. “Try throwing it like you do a pass. No, I know it’s not the usual way. Just think about how you throw a pass, and aim for the hoop the same way.”

.0.

Tetsuya made a shot in practice. Then he did it again, and again.

Everyone gathered around and clapped, not all of them sarcastically.

Tatsuya and Tetsuya both looked across to Araki-sensei, who dipped her chin in a fraction of a nod. “If you can keep this up, we’ll see,” it said. Tetsuya smiled, and slipped into line for drills opposite Liu still smiling.

After practice, Atsushi, instead of wandering off to his locker to immediately retrieve more snacks, picked up his towel and wandered over to Tetsuya and Tatsuya, still doing practice shots. Tatsuya was showing Tetsuya the Mirage Shot, over and over again.

“Murasakibara-kun?” said Tetsuya. Tatsuya watched carefully.

Atsushi mumbled.

“I didn’t catch that, sorry,” said Tatsuya, turning away to hide his smile.

“I have nothing better to do,” said Atsushi. He glared fiercely at the hoop.

"I thought you had a moral objection to weaklings," said Tatsuya.

The look Atsushi gave him was irritated and surprised in equal measure. "I don't think you two are weak," he said.

"Just hopeless," said Tetsuya, making another shot for the hell of it.

"Yes," said Atsushi, but he was here, and he was sulking only a little, and Tatsuya thought he could let that pass just this time. Tetsuya was smiling at him, too. “...I guess we could work on some defense, if I’m going to come all the way over here,” he said, speaking of the four-and-a-half strides to the other side of the gym. “Kurochin, just lousy shooting like that isn’t going to help you much, you know.”

Tetsuya picked up another basketball, and threw it at him. It hissed through the air, and Tatsuya winced as Atsushi caught it easily in one hand.

“Okay,” said Tatsuya, trying not to think about having to catch the improved Ignite Pass. He liked the skin on his palms where it was. “You’ll stop us, Atsushi? Tetsuya, let’s--”

“No,” said Atsushi. “Stop me.”

.0.

They had a preliminary match with Shuutoku High in the fall, after the Kings of the East bypassed a (still) Aomine-less Touou Gakuen to be one of the Tokyo entrants to the National Tournament. Tetsuya’s regular jersey was still so new that Atsushi had refused to sit with him on the bus, saying the overwhelming smell of plastic made him feel sick.

Tetsuya had nodded and changed seats, then calmly dumped his sports bag onto Atsushi’s head from the seat behind him. It took four packs of chips and two calpis bottles to get him to start talking to them again, and he was still sullenly munching away as they left the locker room. He had stuffed both his cheeks full, like a hamster.

“Atsushi, you’re getting crumbs on your shirt,” Tatsuya chided him, and used his match towel to wipe Atsushi’s mouth.

“Himuro, seriously,” muttered Fukui.

“He’s just a big baby,” Tatsuya cooed.

Tetsuya deliberately averted his gaze, looking at their opponents instead. He was starting today; he stripped off jacket and bent over to tuck it neatly into his bag. “Midorima-kun is watching,” Tetsuya murmured to Atsushi. Atsushi perked up.

“Mido-chin!” said Atsushi, waving.

Tatsuya turned. A tall, bespectacled boy on the other team was staring across the court with a very frank look of extreme disgust. He had been in the middle of taking sports tape off the fingers of his left hand. His friend next to him was laughing uproariously. Atsushi twiddled his fingers and smirked at the other boy, who just glared harder. He had a very serious face.

Tatsuya instantly decided he would like this one the most, out of Atsushi and Tetsuya’s friends.

Midorima Shintarou took the opportunity to hiss admonishments to Atsushi while they were warming up before the match.

“-would have thought that living at school would do something to improve your reprehensible manners--” he said.

“Midorima-kun,” said Tetsuya.

Midorima jumped. “Kuroko!’ he said, recovering well. “You - “ he examined the smaller boy. “You’re here,” he said, flatly.

“I am,” said Tetsuya agreeably.

The friend marched up behind Midorima and hung on his arm. It looked as though he would have liked to hang on Midorima’s shoulder, but couldn’t reach. “This him?” he said. “He looks perfectly normal, Shin-chan! Not transparent or anything.”

Midorima and Atsushi choked as one, Atsushi turning aside to smirk out the corners of his mouth, and Midorima sputtering protests. Tetsuya calmly ignored them and introduced himself. Okamura was chatting with the other team’s captain; Tatsuya listened to the first-years with half an ear.

“Hi,” said the other boy, his sharp eyes gleaming in his sharp face. “I’m Takao Kazunari- and just to save time, I’m going to be marking you this match.”

Tetsuya returned the look with interest. “You can try,” he promised.

True to his word, Takao Kazunari stuck to Tetsuya like glue. Tetsuya sat out the second quarter and returned in the third to find that Shuutoku’s point guard had learned his patterns and was dogging Yousen’s game-changer every waking step. Twice Tetsuya got past Shuutoku’s captain to launch the ball at the net and made his shot; the first time one landed Tatsuya turned to run back and got an eyeful of Midorima’s face, his mouth gaping open.

“Kuroko made a shot!” he said, astounded.

“Mido-chin, old news,” called Atsushi, and the game roared back around them again.

But even with Atsushi out on the offense, Yousen began to slip in points. Tatsuya and Midorima waged a 3-pointer battle and Tetsuya and Takao were eeling in and out of play, pass after pass being stolen as possession changed from second to second. Shuutoku’s discipline was showing, switching seamlessly from defense to offense as their seniors shut Atsushi down, leveraging their superior teamwork on his and Okamura’s inside play. Misdirection was faltering now, not just for the Hawk Eye, but for the whole opposing team.

It was what they had been waiting for.

They put Atsushi back under the hoop. He’d been jumping for half an hour now; even in his best condition the pressure of matching Midorima jump for jump was beginning to tell on his knees. Liu swapped back in for Fukui, and it was time.

“You’re ready?” Tatsuya murmured to Tetsuya. The younger boy was sweating heavily, but it was the last quarter and now or never.

“Yes,” said Tetsuya. He wiped his forehead with his wristband, running the fabric over his face. They went on the attack, and Midorima, faster than could possibly be fair, blocked them; Tatsuya had the ball and they knew to go for him--

But no, Tetsuya had possession, he was just now turning to deliver an impossibly fast cross-court pass, and Tatsuya had it in his hand--

And while they were looking at, looking for Tetsuya, Tatsuya had the ball, racing forward while Midorima panicked and tried to mark them both at once--

Tetsuya had never sent the ball across at all; the drive was comprised of image after afterimage, feints drilled to such perfection that it was difficult to tell which of them had possession, who was about to break through Shuutoku’s defense and take their shot at the goal. Tetsuya’s Misdirection and Tatsuya’s perfect basketball: between them they made up the Mirage Drive, Yousen’s sure-win play. When Tetsuya disappeared, Tatsuya was drawing attention; when Tetsuya was being marked, Tatsuya was free to move as he wished.

The Mirage Drive: the fruit of all their endeavours. Once Misdirection had run out, the pressure to keep track of Tetsuya heightened the chance of Tatsuya’s feints getting through. It was a play only the two of them could have accomplished.

Shuutoku lost, finally, and Takao grinned and headed for Tetsuya to shake his hand first. “I’ll play you again,” he promised. “Though I might go blind before that.”

Tetsuya was standing, but barely. Playing a member of the Generation of Miracles really was on another level; Tatsuya wondered that he himself was still upright.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Tetsuya said, with a smile.

Tatsuya smiled at them and turned to find Midorima offering him a hand; the taller, younger boy thanked him in a serious voice.

“Thank you,” Tatsuya, smiling warmly at him. Midorima blushed.

“Midorima-kun,” said Tetsuya. Midorima hurriedly let go of Tatsuya’s hand. Tetsuya smiled at him. “I’ll see you at the Winter Cup.”

“Of course,” said Midorima, that proud head inclining just a little, and turned to go.

.0.

The Winter Cup opening ceremony was a lot like the Interhigh’s, except that this time the trophy that Akashi Seijuurou returned to the Winter Cup officials was double the size of the Interhigh’s and there was merchandise everywhere, which Tatsuya perused while he was cruelly abandoned by Atsushi and Tetsuya for a meetup with their middle school friends. Shuu had sent an email complimenting Tatsuya’s brother’s performance in gambling basketball, and wryly asking when he should schedule a visit, if Tatsuya still wanted to see him. Tatsuya had smiled and invited him down any time. The atmosphere in the stadium was heavy and infectious; Tatsuya tasted the promise of this year on his tongue.

All of these friends were in evidence for the first match of the Winter Cup, Touou vs Seirin.

Tatsuya’s heart swelled with pride as Taiga took center stage, and the whole stadium screamed as Seirin fought against the tyrants Touou.

And then Aomine Daiki, eyes blazing, was laughing as he raced up the court, and the look in his eyes was so electric that Tatsuya felt it race straight down his spine like a lightning shock.

“Zone,” said Tetsuya, and he was leaning over the railing, staring and staring at Aomine Daiki, and then the tables were turning and Seirin was faltering and Touou pressed their attack, and then--

And then Taiga roared and raced after him, past animal instinct, into the zone that only natural talent could access, smashing walls without blinking, walls that Tatsuya would never even have known existed.

“Himuro-san,” said Tetsuya, and Tatsuya turned his head just enough to see that Tetsuya, too, was not taking his gaze off the court, and holding out his fist. “Whoever wins this match - we’re going to face them. And we’ll need to win. Who are you cheering for?”

Tatsuya stared at him, then let out his breath. “My brother, of course,” he said, and touched his fist to Tetsuya’s, just a tap, but it felt like earthing himself. “And we’ll beat him, too.”

Even with Tatsuya’s cheering, Seirin didn’t win.

It felt like a delirious and beautiful dream was over, but while Seirin had played Touou, they’d all dreamed the same dream at the same time, and the reality they woke to was a little better for the illusion they’d all shared. Taiga dropped from his last, desperate aerial battle for the ball, and his knees gave way.

Aomine Daiki helped Taiga up, and spoke to him before they lined up to bow.

Later, Tatsuya found out what they had said, but he hadn’t needed to, not really. Good game, from Aomine Daiki, and then he held out his fist, a mirror of Tetsuya’s, for Taiga to tap. Taiga had to be prodded into raising his own fist, still dazed from the fury of the zone. Come and try it again, next year.

Taiga, his face cracking between tears and a grin, Yeah. Next year I’ll beat you.

And in the last fragment of dream, Aomine, smiling, Yeah? Looking forward to it.

As Yousen left the stadium,Tetsuya prodded Tatsuya in his side, making Tatsuya jump. “What? he said, in answer to Tetsuya’s meaningful stare.

“Go after him,” Tetsuya said.

“Who?” said Tatsuya, blank for a moment.

Tetsuya’s fist flashed out until he had hold of Tatsuya’s ring. Even though they were not playing today, Tetsuya was wearing a plain black wristband on his right hand.

“Go after him, Himuro-san,” Tetsuya said. “There’s always next year.”

.0.

Taiga looked glum, outlined in the orange light streaming out the stadium doors, and staring out over the dark cold horizon.

“Tatsuya!” he said, and a welter of emotions passed over his face. “H-hey. I - sorry. I wanted to- I did want to,” he said, and looked down.

“It was a good game,” said Tatsuya, and smiled.

“-Yeah,” said Taiga, and that something like lightning sparked in his eyes at the thought of Aomine Daiki. “Yeah, it was.” He coughed into his hand. “You guys are - you’re going to win, huh?”

Tatsuya thought about the tournament brackets, and the five schools outlined in red marker. If Touou didn’t falter, they would face Yousen in the quarterfinals. And Tatsuya did not intend to lose.

“We are,” said Tatsuya.

Taiga smiled. “You gotta take revenge for me,” he said. Taiga looked out across the grounds again. Touou was long gone, prepared to resume their relentless march to the top. Tatsuya doubted that Aomine Daiki would be so reckless as to injure himself again. There would be no reprieve from the Generation of Miracles at the Winter Cup. Yousen would meet Touou Gakuen at the quarterfinals or die trying.

“Hey,” said Tatsuya, and he jammed his shoulder into Taiga’s, stopping to look into those familiar, trusting eyes. He smiled, and so did Taiga. “Of course, we’re going to win.”