Chapter Text
The first time Daiki sees them again after high school is actually only a few days after the school year ends. Satsuki somehow manages to drag him to Seirin’s graduation—just a bit before their own.
It’s weird seeing Tetsu and Kagami in something so formal. He’s seen them in their school uniforms, yeah, but it’s different from seeing them all dressed up, complete with a nice little black bowtie (Tetsu) and a deep red tie neatly done around his neck (Kagami). Well, maybe he’s seen Tetsu dressed up nicely when they graduated from middle school, but the memory of that is all hazy for obvious reasons. So he takes his time studying the pair, committing the image of them in that formalwear to memory. He wonders if they’ll think it’s weird to see him dressed up for his graduation—if they even come to that.
Daiki drags his gaze over Kagami’s figure, noting the way that his tie is just a little looser than Tetsu’s and that his blazer is unbuttoned. Clearly not his choice of attire.
“You look nice,” Daiki drawls, bringing his eyes up to meet Kagami’s as he sticks his hands in his pockets.
Kagami snorts. “Thanks,” he says, but Daiki’s already turning his attention to Tetsu.
His face softens a little when he meets Tetsu’s gaze, because it’s Tetsu and three years later Daiki is still trying to right his wrongs. He gives Tetsu a nod, half a smile, and says, “Looking good. The bowtie suits you.”
Tetsu smiles back at him, and Daiki lets the grin stretching over his lips grow too. “Thank you, Aomine-kun,” Tetsu replies, but that’s all he could manage before Satsuki shoves a bouquet into his arms—it’s a wonder she managed to wait at all before doing that, really.
With his best friend fussing over his other best friend, his attention is drawn back to Kagami. And maybe he has good timing, because he finds Kagami already staring at him. Why, Daiki can’t understand, —Kagami’s the one in a suit, not him—but it looks like the other boy wants to say something and is struggling to find the words.
He does the opposite of what a good friend would do. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he says. His lazy drawl is laced with a hint of smugness, but before Kagami can yell at him for it, Daiki adds, “What’s up?”
Kagami’s brows furrow. “Heard you got into Osaka. Kuroko told me.”
“Yeah. On half scholarship.” Was Kagami trying to work up the nerve to congratulate him?
What comes out of the other boy’s mouth isn’t a congratulations. Instead, it’s a, “Yeah? Me too. Apparently the basketball helped.”
Daiki’s jaw almost drops. The revelation leaves him speechless for a beat. Kagami got accepted into Osaka University? Why hasn’t Satsuki told him anything? Heck, why hasn’t Tetsu? The little bastard knows that Daiki accepted the scholarship offer.
“Huh,” is what Daiki settles for. Then, because curiosity just has to get the best of him, “So, are you going? You accepting the offer?”
Kagami scowls at that. “Nobody’s stupid enough to turn down that offer, Aomine.”
He smirks. “Not even you?” Daiki can’t help but let out.
Kagami’s scowl turns into a glare, but maybe it’s because it’s graduation day, or maybe he’s in a good mood thinking about Osaka University, but he doesn’t return Daiki’s insult.
Well, looks like they’d be going to university together. Which will probably mean playing on the same basketball team and all. That’s going to be a ride.
At least Daiki now has one familiar face in university.
Kagami’s call comes just as Daiki pushes himself off the couch to start getting ready. His heart sinks a little, praying to whatever God is out there that Kagami’s not going to pull a last minute rain check on him. He hasn’t seen the redhead since Seirin’s graduation, but that’s not why he’s hoping that Kagami won’t bail today. He hasn’t played any one-on-one with anyone since then either, and he’s raring to go—especially now that school is out and they don’t really have practice anymore. And while Daiki still denies it, they both know that Kagami makes the most interesting opponent on the court for him.
Daiki picks up his phone and tucks it between his ear and his shoulder as he stands.
Over on the other line, he hears the sound of someone rummaging through something, followed by Kagami muttering, “Fuck—Hey, Aomine. Hold on one sec.” He waits, and a couple of beats later Kagami triumphantly goes, “Ah! Found my shoes. Hey.”
“Hey,” Daiki replies. “You’re not bailing, are you?”
“Nah,” Kagami says, and Daiki can’t lie, it feels like he can breathe again. It’s kind of pathetic, but he’s actually been looking forward to this. Kagami goes on, “So, I was gonna ask later whenever we meet, but I was scared I’ll forget.”
“Idiot,” Daiki manages to get in.
Kagami makes a noise of protest, but he plunges on. “I’ve got some apartment inspections this weekend. In Osaka. Y’know, for my new place when university starts.” He pauses, and Daiki’s just about to ask what the hell does that have to do with him—just because they’re going to the same university doesn’t mean they’re suddenly best friends who need to know each other’s schedules at all times—when Kagami goes, “Wanna come?”
He supposes it won’t be a bad idea. It’s not like he has a place to live yet, —hasn’t even thought about it—and a trip to Osaka with Kagami is honestly better than going alone. He’d prefer Satsuki or even Tetsu’s company, but since Kagami’s headed to the same school as him anyways, why not? He could get used to the redhead’s company anyways, considering that they’d most likely end up on the same basketball team without Tetsu or Akashi supervising like they did in Vorpal Swords.
“Yeah, sure,” Daiki says.
“Cool,” Kagami replies. “See you at the court, then. I’ll give you details later.”
True to Kagami’s words, Daiki finds himself sitting on a shinkansen to Osaka next to Kagami the next Saturday. It’s a little weird. Sure, the two of them have hung out before, but that’s mostly at streetball courts and whatever Maji Burger was nearby. They’ve never exactly taken a trip to another region together. But Kagami doesn’t bring it up, so Daiki doesn’t either.
They spend the first fifteen minutes or so of the train ride in silence. Kagami has one of his earphone buds plugged into his ear, tapping his foot to some music Daiki can’t hear.
Then Kagami finally turns to look at him, pulling his earphones away. “So, why Osaka?”
He shrugs. “The scholarship. What was it you said the other day? Nobody’s stupid enough to turn down that offer.”
Kagami rolls his eyes. “That’s not what I meant. Aren’t you interested in the NBA? Much harder to get drafted from Japan, you know,” he says.
Daiki snorts at that. If he were to answer that honestly, what he says is going to be much more loaded than what he’d like to be discussing with Kagami. But even if he doesn’t— Well, he can give Kagami half the truth. “You think my English is good enough for me to survive in America?” he retorts.
“I could’ve taught you,” Kagami says. That’s not the response Daiki’s expecting. The idea of Kagami teaching him English is laughable.
But he guesses that Kagami does owe him a thing or two for giving him basketball pointers over the years, so that would’ve been a fair trade. Maybe once or twice Daiki himself has entertained the thought, too. But that was before it hit him, like a punch in the face, what the NBA could—would—mean.
It’s too much pressure. The insane pull towards winning, the need to surpass everyone else and become the best—the only one who could reach those lengths.
It’ll be Teikou all over again.
And Daiki doesn’t know if he could survive that a second time.
What if the NBA makes him lose passion for basketball? What if it starts feeling like a chore again? What then?
So somewhere during the summer of his third year, Daiki scratched the NBA out of his future, and then nine months later the letter from Osaka University came and he decided that this is going to be his future instead.
“—mine? Hey, Aomine.”
It’s only when Kagami knocks his knee against Daiki’s that he realises that he hasn’t said anything to Kagami’s—belated—offer to teach him English. He turns his head to look at the redhead, only to be met with a questioning look. He waves his hand, ignores the obvious question in Kagami’s eyes, and says, “Aren’t your English grades bad or something?”
“Huh?” Kagami’s eyes widen, then narrow, and he shoots Daiki a glare. “That’s not the same as talking in English.”
“Yeah, but you probably would’ve been a bad teacher,” Daiki points out.
“Like you are at basketball?” Kagami counters. “I can’t be worse than you at explaining shit.”
“I could just show you how to play with basketball.” He knows he’s terrible at coaching basketball, —most of his techniques aren't traditional in the first place—but if Kagami wants to argue with him, then he’s not going down without a fight.
“Yeah, well, I could just show you how to speak English,” Kagami says, challenging Daiki to come up with a retort for that one.
And dammit, Kagami’s right. But he’s not about to admit defeat, so he says, “What about you? Don’t you wanna go to the NBA?”
He voices the question half to throw Kagami off, but also half because he’s actually curious. Out of everyone else, he figures that it’d be Kagami who would be most into the NBA. He did grow up in America, after all. Was even trained by a retired WNBA player, too. It’s hard to imagine why Kagami wouldn’t want to go back to America and fight tooth and nail to get drafted. Come to think of it, it’s a wonder that he wasn’t the first one to ask Kagami that question instead of the other way around.
Surprisingly, Kagami’s response is as noncommittal as his own. “Japan’s comfortable,” Kagami answers.
It’s obviously not the full story, but Daiki doesn’t push. Neither of them do.
By the time Daiki purchases his next bullet train tickets to Osaka, he’s signed a lease to live in one of those apartments where eighty percent of its residences are students. It’s a studio, and he and Kagami are going to be next door neighbours.
In a week, he’ll be back in Osaka, but this time with his parents seeing him off so they could help him settle before orientation week rolls around.
The weekend before basketball tryouts, Satsuki visits.
She lugs her small suitcase through his door, never mind the fact that his studio apartment is barely big enough for one. He knows how it’ll play out if he doesn’t say yes to her staying overnight; she’ll pout at him and threaten to call his mother and whine about how Daiki isn’t being a good friend and he’ll have no choice but to sigh and let her have his bed while he drags a spare futon out.
He doesn’t even really know why she’s here in Osaka, much less in his apartment. She says it’s to make sure that he’s still in shape and ready for the tryouts, but Daiki isn’t really sure why she’d do that. He already knows he’s making the team; that’s what the scholarship is for. Daiki tells her that.
She huffs. “Can’t I be excited for my best friend’s varsity tryouts?”
Daiki’s heart warms a little when Satsuki calls him her best friend.
He rolls his eyes, but offers her a hint of a smile all the same. “What’s that thing people say? ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder?’ I knew you’d miss me.” He says it smugly, like he can tell she’s visiting just because she wants to and it’s been three weeks too long since they last saw each other.
Satsuki flicks his forehead for it. Then huffs again, and tells him, “Just because you’re guaranteed a spot in the team doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be trying your best, Dai-chan. You want to be in first string, don’t you?”
Of course he does. But that’s probably a given, considering who he is. Sure, he’s only a first year, which means that normally his chances might not be all that high, but he’s also Aomine Daiki, the Ace of Miracles. The thought of not making first string is unthinkable.
“I’ll make first string,” he tells Satsuki confidently. “Starter, too.”
“Then you better start practicing! Tryouts are in four days, right?” she says. Her hands are on her hips and she’s staring up at him like that’d somehow make him rush out the door to start jogging or something.
All he does is laugh. “You’re not my personal trainer, Satsuki,” Daiki replies. “And besides, what’s the point of you visiting if I’m too busy training? I thought you missed me.”
“I never said that,” she counters, but there’s no bite to it and with the way her smile softens, he can tell she’ll let training slide.
He takes her on a campus tour instead, because she won’t shut up about it. It also makes the both of them feel better about not going to the same school, he thinks.
If anyone had told him in the first year of high school that he’d end up considering Akashi Seijuurou as one of his friends, Daiki would’ve laughed at them. Yet when his phone rings and displays Akashi’s caller ID, he doesn’t make a face like he would’ve back before everything happened—back when talking to his former middle school teammates still felt like a chore.
Daiki swipes to accept his call, greeting him with, “What’s up?”
“Daiki,” Akashi says. The way he calls Daiki by his first name doesn’t escape Daiki’s notice. Akashi still has that air to him that says that he’s superior to not just the average person, but to every single person he’s ever come across. But the way he says Daiki’s name doesn’t feel as condescending as it did in their younger years, so Daiki lets it slide. Akashi wouldn’t maintain contact with him if he doesn’t think Daiki is worth it.
“Sei,” he returns, just because he’s a little shit and he knows Akashi will roll his eyes at the nickname. Daiki grins at the thought. “Miss me?”
He gets a derisive snort—or what would’ve been the Akashi Seijuurou equivalent of a snort—in response, and Akashi ignores Daiki’s question, instead going, “How is Osaka University?”
He’s tempted to tease Akashi, to ask him if he’s going soft with the way he’s checking up on his former teammate. But the first few weeks of university has been rough enough that Daiki finds that he appreciates that someone’s asking—even if that someone is Akashi.
“Hard,” he responds. A shrug follows, before he realises that Akashi can’t see it. “Still trying to get the hang of it, I guess. Not the worst thing in the world,” Daiki elaborates. It’s really not, but Daiki knows that he’s also downplaying it. It’s just that he isn’t entirely sure how to explain to Akashi how sometimes he feels so wound up and other times he wants nothing more than to stay in all day and say fuck it to all his classes. It’s hard enough to tell Satsuki how he’s feeling, let alone Akashi.
“Ah,” comes Akashi’s response. Then, “Not exactly the life you expected, Daiki?” And maybe it’s the tone of his voice, the way Akashi doesn’t sound like he’s judging him, but that feels more sympathetic than anything Akashi has ever said to him.
He’s not sure how he feels about it.
“Something like that,” Daiki mutters. “Who would’ve thought that university isn’t all fun and games and parties?” It’s probably not the answer his former teammate was looking for.
Akashi scoffs at that, but he doesn’t give Daiki a retort.
He takes that as an opportunity to lighten the mood. “So,” he begins, drawling. “Do you ask everyone how they’re doing in university and make sure that they’re settling in okay, or am I just special?”
Akashi doesn’t miss a beat. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he says. He doesn’t elaborate, but Daiki’s no stranger to Kise complaining about how Akashicchi sometimes acts like a mother hen, you know?
Leave it to Akashi to regularly call his old teammates that supposedly means nothing to him just because.
It’s just such an Akashi thing to do, to call his teammates by their first names because that somehow establishes superiority, to keep tabs on them because it makes him feel like he’s in control. Daiki doesn’t question it. Not anymore.
It’s not like it bothers him anyways. Akashi’s obviously outgrown whatever issue he had, too. He’s become a better version of the Akashi that Daiki knew at the end of middle school. If there are still parts of him that need to feel like he’s in control, then so be it. He wouldn’t be Akashi Seijuurou without it.
Besides, Daiki has a feeling that Akashi enjoys having childhood friends. Or childhood teammates. Whatever they were.
Daiki flops down on his bed. “Hey, Akashi?” he finally says. “Thanks.”
Akashi hums in response. “Until next time, Aomine.”
And just like that, the line is dead.
Daiki exhales, somehow feeling a little lighter than he did before the call. He figures Akashi still has that weird effect on people.
Over the years, Vorpal Swords training has slowly mended whatever was broken in the Generation of Miracles’ relationship. They didn’t see each other all that often, —hard to do so when they’re all in different parts of the country—but Daiki thinks that all those time they spent during school breaks has made him understand his old teammates better.
Akashi included.
It’s after four weeks of classes that he finally decides he’s had enough.
His track record with schools and classes hasn’t been that bad since first year of high school, but the brunt of university makes him wonder what it’ll be like if he just gives up again. Maybe he’s just burnt out from juggling lectures and assignments and basketball practice, or maybe it’s the fact that Satsuki isn’t here to keep him in check anymore.
Blearily, he wonders when was the last time he’s held up on his own for this long without Satsuki.
Fuck, Daiki thinks. He knows he’s ignored her advice many, many times before, —brushed her aside when all she wanted was to make sure that he’s doing okay—but it’s times like these that it really hits him that he really is reliant on her. Before university, she’s always been there. He can’t remember any important moment of his life without Satsuki in the picture.
Still, he refuses to pick up his phone and give Satsuki a call. Out of pride, determination, stubbornness—he isn’t really sure himself.
But he tells himself that he doesn’t need to pester Satsuki.
Not yet.
He’s been skipping classes for three days in a row now, which probably really isn’t good for him. But he keeps on telling himself that he’ll make it to the next one, and he’ll just… Well, he’ll find a way to catch up on the ones he missed.
It’s not so bad. It’s not.
It’s when Daiki’s in this process of talking himself up and justifying his lazy past few days that he hears a knock on his door. Kagami.
He picks himself up from his bed, because the knocks don’t stop and Daiki knows better than anyone—except maybe Tetsu—that they won’t until Daiki opens up. Or until Kagami decides to bust down the door, whichever is faster.
Lucky for him, he reaches the door before Kagami does any damage. He turns the knob, pushes the door open, and peers out to look at Kagami.
“What?” Daiki asks, as a greeting.
It takes Kagami a moment to reply. His gaze drags over Daiki’s body, from his feet up to his face. “What?” Daiki asks again.
“Basketball practice,” Kagami says. “You haven’t gotten ready.”
Shit.
Understanding dawns on Kagami’s face. “Don’t tell me you forgot, Aomine.”
He wants to deny it, wants to tell Kagami that he didn’t forget, he was just preoccupied, but the truth is he did. The days have been blurring together, and Daiki has refused to think about anything at all, actually. It’s easier to get through the weird feeling of not wanting to be out there when he doesn’t think about his responsibilities.
But this is basketball practice, and it’s not one that he can skip without an excuse—especially not this early into the year. He wonders if he could convince Kagami that he’s sick. Maybe it’ll be believable if he shares about how he hasn’t been in class for the past few days. Or maybe that’ll just make Kagami think he’s lazy. Besides, he knows he doesn’t look or sound sick.
And he doesn’t really want to particularly explain that yeah, maybe he’s kind of sick, —forgetting about practice is a symptom, he thinks—but not in the way Kagami would imagine.
So he settles for another half truth. “I’m not feeling well,” he says.
He’s not lying, but he also knows that it’s a vague answer and he’s not surprised that Kagami stands his ground and narrows his eyes. Daiki holds his gaze. Kagami doesn’t immediately berate Daiki and call him lazy, so at least that’s a start.
They’re locked in a staring contest for a few seconds. It slips Daiki’s mind that he could let Kagami into his apartment instead of just staring at him standing in his doorway. Kagami breaks first. “I’ll tell Coach,” he says, sighing. “He’s not gonna like it, though. Doesn’t matter that you’re the Ace of Miracles.”
“I know,” Daiki says. He does. But there’s a pit in his stomach still, and somehow he thinks that practice won’t make him feel better about it. Not yet. Not today. So he repeats himself. “But I don’t feel well.”
“I know,” Kagami responds. There’s an unreadable look in the redhead’s eyes. Maybe if he squints it could be sympathy. Whatever it is, Daiki’s glad that he’s backing off. For now, the half truth will have to do.
What happens later he’ll deal with later.
Kagami sighs again, hoisting his sports bag higher on his shoulder. “I’ll see you after practice.” With that, he lifts a hand as a goodbye and turns to leave.
Daiki closes the door behind him and breathes a sigh of relief. He knows that eventually he’ll have to face the music and get back into the rhythm of university, but he can afford one more day. Just one more day. Tomorrow it’ll be back to business. He swears to himself that it will.
It doesn’t occur to him until later that night when Kagami knocks again on his door that the other boy had said that he’ll see Daiki after practice.
This time, Daiki lets him in.
It’s a weird friendship that he starts developing with Kagami. If anyone is to force the truth out of him, Daiki would probably eventually admit that they’ve been kind of friends since after the Winter Cup during their first year of high school. Their rivalry is somewhat friendly off the court, at least.
But even then, whatever relationship they had in high school isn’t the same as Daiki’s friendship with like, Satsuki or Tetsu. Kagami’s more than just a teammate and a rival, sure, but he doesn’t know if they were really friends. He guesses that if he has to put it in words, maybe it’s the same kind of feeling Daiki has towards his Teikou teammates, except maybe he’s a bit more comfortable hanging out one on one with Kagami than say, Murasakibara or Midorima.
Either way, Daiki has never really thought to dwell on it. Not before university, before it became just him and Kagami in Osaka.
Here in university, where they live next door to each other, it’s hard not to get closer to Kagami.
Even harder when Kagami’s such a good cook, but that’s not something that Daiki would ever admit out loud.
Tonight he sits on the floor in Kagami’s apartment, back leaning against the wall as he casually munches on the chicken teriyaki onigiri that Kagami somehow had the time and energy to whip up after practice. They’re delicious.
Kagami turns around from where he’s seated at his desk, his own meal almost finished. “Good?” he asks.
Daiki’s mouth is full of rice, but he gives Kagami a shrug, then a nod. Anything more than that would probably be too generous anyways. They both know that Daiki likes Kagami’s cooking—he wouldn’t be here otherwise. There’s no need for him to say it, other than to inflate the redhead’s ego.
But they’re kind of friends now, so when he swallows the last of his food, Daiki says, “Thanks.”
Kagami offers him a nod of acknowledgement. “Eh, it’s not a problem. Wouldn’t want to have to call Momoi and let her know that her best friend’s dead next door. Someone’s gotta make sure that you’re alive.”
Daiki snorts. They both know that Kagami’s not doing any of this because of Satsuki. He’s seen the way Daiki’s fridge was empty when he came into the apartment that first time. He’s also realised that Daiki skipping classes has nothing to do with laziness. He’s— Well, right now, here in Osaka, he’s probably Daiki’s closest friend. But Daiki says none of that.
“She’d kill you if I died under your watch,” he says, lips curving upwards.
They fall into an easy banter after that.
The basketball team’s first match is in Tokyo. Daiki’s excited to be home, but he’s even more excited about the fact that true to his words, he’s made a starter for their first game.
He made sure to give Satsuki a call when he heard the news, smugly telling her, “Told you I’d be just fine. You’re watching, right?”
She told him that of course she would watch. She wouldn’t miss it for the world, in fact.
When he and Kagami—who’s not a starter, but of course he’s in first string and Daiki’s sure that Coach will throw him into the game at some point—and the rest of the team walk onto the court, he spots Satsuki’s pink hair and bright grin up on the bleachers. Next to her is Tetsu, and next to Tetsu is Kise. And next to Kise is Midorima, and— God, Satsuki’s brought the whole gang here. All six of the Generation of Miracles.
He laughs. Kagami gives him a puzzled look.
He’s not sure how Satsuki managed to convince all of them to come, —it’s just a university basketball match—but he meets the eyes of each and everyone of them with a smirk. There’s no way in hell that he’d lose in front of them.
He nudges Kagami and jerks his head in their direction, and Kagami too laughs when he realises who’s watching. “Think we can give them a good show?” he says, grinning confidently.
“Hell yeah.”
Daiki holds his palm up, and Kagami slaps it with his own.
The crowd erupts when the buzzer sounds.
Daiki’s panting with exhaustion, but he looks up from where he stands on the court to find familiar faces in the crowd. Satsuki and Kise are on their feet, hands cupped over their mouths. Through the noise of it all, he thinks he might’ve heard Kise call out, “Aominecchi! Kagamicchi!”
He lets out a laugh again.
NBA be damned, this is Daiki’s life now. He thinks he’s thankful for it. Because if this hadn’t been his life—
He wouldn’t have gone to university, as his new attempt of what normal would be for someone who is as abnormal as he is. He wouldn’t be standing on this court, with players who push themselves harder than he’s ever seen any of his Touou teammates. He wouldn’t be staring up at Satsuki, Tetsu and the rest of them with a grin on his face and enjoying himself. And he wouldn’t be here, developing a friendship with Kagami Taiga—who currently has his arm around Daiki’s shoulder and is grinning just as happily.
Mentally, he reminds himself to thank Satsuki later for convincing him to go to Osaka University.