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Himuro stares up at the star-spangled night sky with an empty feeling in his chest.
A fire had burned in him for so long; waiting, watching, longing to burst out and consume all that lay in its way. He’d hid it within the icy walls he’d built for himself, stoking it gently and promising that it would run free one day to burn his enemies to ashes.
He never realised that in the course of time, it had begun to burn itself out.
When he faced Kagami on the court, it all exploded. His fire covered the court, eating away at the wood, melting its cold gaol and raging like it never had. But Kagami had simply responded with flames of his own, twice as powerful and twice as large. They enveloped Himuro in their warmth - they destroyed him, but they did it with gentleness and a touch of resentment that their hand had been forced into this.
Himuro exhales, a puff of chill breath misting over in the air. He’s half tempted to take one from the box of cigarettes his roommate no doubt stashed under the bed. The irony of it strikes him, and his lips turn up into a wry smile. To satiate the lack of fire in his chest, he thinks about burning his own lungs…
He can’t bother himself to walk all the way back up to the dorms to get it. Besides, it’s peaceful out here on this cliff. Just him and the night sky and the wind whispering in his ears all the mistakes he’s ever made—
It’s always self-destruction with you, isn’t it, Tatsuya?
“I fucked up,” he whispers into the darkness, and finds that putting it out there makes him feel a little better.
Just a little.
Moments from the game begin to play out in front of his eyes. There is Taiga, burning brilliantly with all the talent that had slumbered inside him for so long. There is Kuroko, unseen and untalented but making his mark anyway. There’s the center Kiyoshi, never even flinching in the face of Atsushi’s far greater ability. The shooting guard Koganei, with skill born out of dogged determination and a will that’s hard as iron.
And then there is the captain, Izuki. The boy with dark hair and eyes that burned the way Himuro’s own once had. The sort of fire that he longs for even now, the only spark that can truly warm him from the inside out.
“I know because I almost became you.”
Himuro had asked him about it over the phone, and Izuki hedged by saying, “It’s a long story.” But within his heart he knows exactly what Izuki meant - and it makes him feel all the worse for it.
He could choose love over jealousy. Why couldn’t I?
Truth is, he’d waited for so long to get revenge on Taiga for being better than him (yes, it’s petty and it’s revenge and it’s something he’s so ashamed of) that he lost sight of what basketball means to him. Of why he loves this sport, why he’s so attached to it.
There are two cardinal rules to revenge, they say. One, to bide your time; and two, to strike when the iron is hot. Himuro followed both, and he was defeated by the simple truth that his younger brother is a kinder and better man than he is.
He doesn’t know he’s crying until the wind whips a salty, warm tear into his mouth. Himuro raises a trembling hand to his eyes, pressing against the tears flowing from them in a futile attempt to stop it. But they just keep coming, as if a dam has been broken. He lets his hand fall, and his lips twitch up into a sad smile as the water continues to stream down his cheeks.
I deserve this.
They say revenge is best served cold, but Himuro had been so obsessed with getting it cold enough that he’d forgotten what he really wanted all along. To play basketball with his brother once more, to laugh with Taiga like the children they would never be again.
If I could do it all over again…
There are two cardinal rules to revenge, they say. One, to bide your time; and two, to strike when the iron is hot.
What they don't tell you is that there's a third - a third which states that often, revenge isn't worth it at all. He has learned that the hard way, from years of practice with Taiga's figure in his mind instead of the sheer joy of the game, from the vitriol and jealousy that have simmered on his stove for far too long. From shattering the bond that matters most to him.
His hand comes up to his neck, and he carefully fingers the ring hanging off it. He and Taiga reconciled after the match, but some things will never be the same. Not for him, at least.
Taiga's a simple guy. He forgives as easily as he gets angry; Himuro knows that Taiga feels as much love towards him as he had when they were younger. And of course Himuro reciprocates it - he always has, more than he ever knew - but this guilt will be a part of him for a long time.
It'll probably replace revenge as his motivator; it'll be a better one, at any rate. Maybe one day it'll go away, if he can ever forgive himself for this. Maybe he'll be able to leave guilt behind and look at Taiga without thinking about how petty he'd been towards someone who did nothing but love him.
But that's in the future. This is now, and now, Himuro Tatsuya is guilty.
Let his guilt be a needle, a thorn in his side when he gets too comfortable, reminding him of how far he has to go to be a good person. He'll keep adjusting his position until the thorn doesn't prick him anymore, keep trying and changing himself bit by bit.
Taiga deserves that much from him, at least.
Himuro walks back to the dormitories that night with an old chip off his shoulder and a new one on it. Revenge is his past; guilt is his present, and he doesn't know what future it'll lead him to… but he'll make sure that that future has a better Himuro Tatsuya than the past ever did.