Chapter Text
Second Year, Teikou Middle School, Nationals
Cheers echoed as Kuroko smiled soft at the victory of Teikou, a second time, this time for them — confirming the birth and recognition of the Kiseki no Sedai to haters and fans alike, as the name goes around the rumor mill. If one were to be technical, it was born last year after their first victory as first years, just as talented and extraordinary as they were now.
Only with more slightly adjusted bodies that could minimally fit the talent that they held.
And Haizaki wasn't here anymore.
But instead, it was the enthusiastic Kise, who pouted at the shadow to be more fair in passing over to him rather than Aomine. In reward for his complaints, the sweaty, game ball meets his handsome face, courtesy of the ace himself.
Giggling, Momoi stifles them, as she hands out towels and sports drinks.
Nijimura-senpai yells at them to get their asses to the showers, the motherhenning of his former captaincy displaying it’s head while their actual captain merely smiles at their antics. Midorima stands arguing with Murasakibara in the background to complete the image, over something most likely trivial, knowing the two.
But none of them mind as the boys shuffle in, smiles and mood light.
That night, when his head meets the soft pillows of his bed in their hotel, Kuroko is asleep with the sound of Aomine-kun’s snores in the background, content accomplishment thrumming in his bones.
Unaware of the sheer mess he and his friends were in for.
First Year, High School, Winter Cup Finals
For the first time since their third Nationals in Teikou, all five members of the Kiseki no Sedai and their phantom sixth man were gathered under the same building for the Winter Cup, for the culmination of their middle school oath that lead to the final match with Rakuzan and Seiren.
However, instead of the expected game of Shutoku and Kaijo to open the finale, there was a strange announcement — that the finals were possibly canceled and to be rescheduled.
("What the hell?"
"What's going on?"
Similar sentiments echoed amongst the gathered audience, the outed teams from the preliminaries of the Winter Cup just as confused. Privy to the details of the Miracles, they may not have been but one needed to be severely deep in one's ass to not know that the clashes between the said talents was the focus of this year's high school basketball scene.
Hell, it was a facilitation of their clashes that ensured an entertaining game.
No one was stupid nor lacking in basic instincts within the basketball circle — not if they wanted to get this far. They knew something was up with those who were known as Kiseki no Sedai and their extra player, who was a rumor until the previous year.
And now this announcement?
It didn't take a genius intellect to see that the teams with a Kiseki were missing, whether it be from the audience or the courts below.)
And the cause of this, all laid in the infirmary of the stadium with the same peculiar account from all persons around them.
That one minute, they appeared fine — planning out the strategy for the upcoming game, speaking to their light and partner, seated in the audience with their manager, nursing their leg injury, warming up with their partner or snacking while in the audience — and the next, they were reported to have seized up, like all the tension in their form was triggered all at once before falling over in a limp heap.
“What the hell is going on?” Aida Riko mutters under her breath as she looks over to the six emergency beds with a different colored boy in each one, with the other respective coaches present, looking just as frustrated as a doctor informs them to wait.
Yes, indeed.
Every Miracle and even their Phantom Sixth Man seemed to have collapsed for no reason right before the Winter Cup Finals — simultaneous, if the reports are to be believed.
("Oi, Kuroko, what the— KUROKO?!" Kagami Taiga shouts, gathering the attention of Seiren from inside the lockers, as he shakes the limp figure of shadow who does little more than flop with every move that his light does, red eyes scared. "What the fuck is going on?"
In the other locker room for Rakuzan, the vice captain and the captain were discussing their strategy when Reo sees the younger man stiffen, a sight he had never seen before.
"Sei-chan? What's wrong?" Reo calls out, but there is no answer. "Sei-chan? Can you hear me? S-SEI-CHAN?!"
Reo exclaims aloud, when he darts over to catch the first-year from meeting the ground to see those heterochromic eyes closed and breathing shallow.
In the audience, Wakamatsu and Okamura were having their own Kiseki problems as they carried their respective one on their back, their teams straggling behind with worried expressions.
Especially Himuro Tatsuya, who was right next to Murasakibara when he suddenly paused in his light snacking before involuntarily kicking the back of the poor person in-front of him, and Momoi, who called out to her childhood friend, only to get silence as an answer.
Within the lockers of Shutoku and Kaijo were no better neither, as Katsumatsu pushed all the idiots — but they were his fucking idiots, dammit — out of the way to get their newest one to fucking infirmary with Otsubo doing the same, when Takao's teasing turned into concerned shouts for Midorima to wake up rather than to get his lucky item business straightened out.
All six teams, taken back to see one another at the same location with their respective unconscious Kiseki, could only wait as they informed their coaches.)
The doctor, having ran through a basic work-up, had the conclusion of all five ("Please do not forget Kuroko-kun, doctor!") ahem, he meant, six of them were in hale health outside of basic exertion from exercise — if anything, it appeared that the doctor was bewildered on how healthy six youths were still unconscious and confused as to why they suddenly collapsed.
“None of them hit their heads?” The doctor asks once again, now before the different teams of the Kiseki, all with worried expressions. “Does anyone have any medical histories of any of the collapsed?”
“I have them!" Momoi, in near tears, practically shoves six folders of information to the poor man. "This is all the medical history of all them — from the moment they had their first cold to this incident, all of their relevant and even irrelevant medical history is there.”
(The teams, even Tou, who had an idea of how large Momoi's information network stretched, were startled at their manager's on-hand information. Just far did the reach of this high school girl go?
As expected of Teikou and the Kiseki no Sedai's former manager.
She was on another level.)
Thanking her, he went back into the infirmary, frowning as he looked through each one — nothing jumping at him to prompt why six young and healthy men to have a seizure and suddenly faint for no reason. It had been fifteen minutes since they collapsed and even though their vitals and reflexes were all normal, they displayed no signs of wakefulness.
"Doctor!"
Looking up, the man sees the youngest coach run over to his desk, face pale. "P-Please! T-There's something wrong with them!"
Running over while trying to hold down his stethoscope from breaking his nose, he blinks at the sight before him.
All five six of his patients are awake, staring at all of the people in the room — himself, and the coaches of their respective teams — with obvious confusion and no recognition.
Shit.
"... Seeing the situation," The red headed young man — Akashi Seijuurou, the doctor remembers. — begins, eyeing the doctor and the coaches. "In that how no one appears to want to answer nor confirm our questions of where we are or who they are, let me ask this instead. How have we awakened in Tokyo Dome when the last thing any of us can recall is sleeping in Palace Hotel Tokyo after winning the Middle School Nationals in Tokyo?"
The coaches all blanch in unison while the doctor feels his job getting astronomically harder. He was just sports medicine, dammit!
Just what the hell was going on?
Second Year, Teikou Middle School, Palace Hotel Tokyo
That was exactly what Kuroko Tetsuya, high school student and Seiren first year, wanted to know.
Blank-faced as his former light 'freaked the fuck out' in his own words, not Kuroko's, he stared dazedly at the the large mirror. He was shorter, his hands smaller and face with softer baby fat — therefore, even if he wanted to deny it, the evidence was staring right back at him, he was in middle school again, before everything went to hell.
What the fuck. Kuroko stares back at his reflection, borrowing the shout from his light when they awakened.
"Aomine-kun." Kuroko sighs. Even his voice was a tad higher. If this was a prank, it was a very accurate one. "Please calm down, Aomine-kun. Freaking out over our situation is not going to fix it. At least, the two of us are not here alone."
"No, we are not, Tetsuya."
Kuroko turned to see just as young Akashi, followed by Midorima, Kise, and Murasakibara, filing into the room. They, like him, looked like they had just woken up from sleep, bed hair and night yukata crinkled, looking exactly as they did two years ago but their eyes gave it away. They were not wide nor innocent with love for basketball — they were narrow and windows to the beasts hidden within the maelstroms of their talent — they came from the very same place as he and Aomine.
"Akashi-kun. Midorima-kun. Murasakibara-kun. And Kise-kun. Good morning."
"Kurokocchi! Aominecchi! You're here too! Good morning!"
"Kuro-chin. Mine-chin. Good morning~"
"Kuroko. Aomine. Your bed hair is atrocious."
"Akashi." Aomine greeted with everyone else, gaze frustrated before frowning deeper at the sight of the others. "The hell, all of us are here? What the actual fuck is going on?"
"Language, Aomine."
"Fuck off, Midorima. One minute, we were at fucking Tokyo Dome for the Winter Cup and suddenly, I'm fucking seventeen centimeters shorter and in a hotel with Tetsu! I think I'm justified to freak out over the fact that we've gone back in time!"
"Waa~ Mine-chin is cursing a lot. Just like Kise-chin, only he was shouting more noisily."
"How mean, Murasakicchi!"
"I was with Akashi, I can assure you, you idiot — you're not the only one who is freaking out. I don't even know what my lucky item was from my luggage for this specific day, nonetheless, couldn't even see what ranking Cancer is because of this mess!"
"Fucking die. Who the hell cares about that shit right now, Midorima? We don't even know where the hell we are."
"If you would calm down like Tetsuya told you to Daiki, we will address the situation." Akashi-kun snaps, now heterochromic eyes narrowing for a second before continuing at the quieted group. "Based on what Ryota, Shintarou and Atsushi have reported as well as my own observations, we are currently back in time — to be exact, in our second year of middle school, just after winning our victory for Nationals."
Holding up his previous phone, the date displayed such in the redhead's hand with unyielding evidence.
"How the f—?" Aomine begins but a look from Akashi silences him from saying anything further.
"From what I have seen, no one outside of the six of us is from the same time era of just being at the Finals of the Winter Cup." Akashi eyes each of them before resting at Kuroko. "What is the last thing any of you remember? Recount the last 24 hours, even the smallest details."
Each of them reports their own perspective of the same setting as the former (now?) captain prompts, not noticing anything in particular out of place to make them experience something as extraordinary as time travel unless the rituals of basketball games in near daily repetition was the prerequisite for it.
But that could not be it, Kise reasons, pointing out that only four of them were getting ready or where preparing for a game, not all six — if that were the case, Aomine and Murasakibara would have been omitted. And the notion of Teikou alumni was not a viable theory neither, otherwise, Momoi would have been with them.
Which leaves them with the only obvious common denominator at the moment.
That the six of them, a former team, the most powerful one in their generation, were once that — stuck together in this time.
First Year, High School, Winter Cup Finals
Expectedly, instead of answering Akashi's question, the doctor and the ensemble of people they have never seen before, leave the room with instructions to stay put and that everything would be explained shortly.
Kise had never heard such a large recipe for bullshit lies at such a caliber before and scowled.
Taking their silence as acceptance, the doctor locks the door and leaves the six of them alone.
Upon awakening, Kise, having been the second to last, only knew that there was a seriously obese man asking him if he was okay and what happened for him to collapse and if his leg was okay — making him blurt out a barrage of questions of his own, bewildered.
"What? Who are you, old man? Where am I? I was sure I was at the hotel... Ah! Midorimacchi! Aominecchi! Kurokocchi, Murasakibaracchi, and even Akashicchi? What the hell?"
Sitting up, Kise blinked to find his team — only, they weren't his team.
They were all taller, more built, less fat and more muscle than they ever had in their teenage lives.
The fuck happened in that hotel? He knew that Teikou had gotten them the best resort for their first string but to capable of this?
Kurokocchi was still asleep, dressed in a jersey he had never seen before with the words of 'SEIRIN' on it . Aominecchi glared with a distrusting glare at a curly-haired man who had a troubled look on his face, hiding normal clothes under a blanket. Murasakibaracchi was also not in a jersey, looking bewildered at a woman who asked him if he recognized her to which the giant hummed a prompt no, body language unwelcoming.
Midorimacchi was holding onto a set of colorful markers in disbelief with a stern man frowning at him, insisting something as he hovered by the bedside, Kise able to make out something orange under the sharpshooter's covers. But the one who was the most surprising was Akashicchi, red-eyed and looking at the oldest man present with a risen brow, in a jersey that looked similar to Teikou's.
"Shirogane-san?" Akashi addresses more than questions. If he recalled correctly, the background check that Father had ran on their head coach mentioned that he had a relative that was a History professor in Rakuzan. Was this...?
"Eh? Now that you mention it, Akashicchi." Kise speaks up, amber eyes wide, ignoring the obese man next to him. "He does look like Shirogane-kantoku! A younger version!"
"The hell happened to your white hairs, sir?" Aomine blinks as they all stare at the addressed man who looked like he swallowed a lemon. "You dye it?"
They are ignored.
"Ne, oba-san, do you have any snacks?" Ah, leave it to Murasakibaracchi to seize the moment for snacks. The woman is too shocked to do anything but sway on her feet.
"This is not the correct lucky item for today! It was a power fan, not multi-colored markers."
Midorimacchi, is that really what you should be concerned over right now? We could have been kidnapped for all we know. Kise sweatdrops. But why take them to Tokyo Dome if that was the case?
Akashicchi does not reply to the chaos but instead, seems to narrow his ruby eyes, glancing at his jersey and then their coach lookalike who looks like he is on the verge of a painful headache.
It is then that the doctor arrives with a girl who looks older than them — leading them to the situation of being alone in this room.
"Where are we?" Kuroko blinked, expression perplexed and staring.
"Ah! You're up, Kurokocchi." Kise smiles before looking around. It was obviously a very well-equipped infirmary area, their own area separated with a white curtain. "Tokyo Dome, apparently. That's what Akashicchi said. None of those people who were in the room when we woke up would answer our questions. But they seem to know us even though none of us recognize any of them except the old guy that looked like Shirogane-kantoku."
"Rakuzan. Shutoku." Akashicchi read, before looking at Kurokocchi and then Kise's own chest. "Seirin. And Kaijo."
"All of those are high schools... I think." Aomine said, as it hits all of them except Akashi, who looked troubled and had already put the current situation together.
"...WE'RE IN THE FUTURE?! HOW THE HELL DID WE GET HERE?!"
Outside of the infirmary, the six coaches looked at the doctor, the only medical professional in their vicinity with a sense of loss — all of their star players have lost two years of memories, just before the finals of the Winter Cup.
Back in the room, Aomine rubs a hand over his face, scowling at how lanky he feels in his — future? nope. fuck that. put it the fuck back, please. fuck that shit. — body, looking over to the person who had to have some modum of control in any given situation.
"Akashi." Aomine tries to keep the panic in his voice low. He does not think he succeeds very well. "What the hell is going on?"
Sighing, Akashi, who is taller than Aomine remembers and with the wrong jersey over his chest, answers similarly to his future self. "Aomine, as much as I appear to be omnipresent, I am not entirely sure of the situation we may have gotten ourselves in. But from what Kise summarized earlier, it appears we have time traveled to the future, as impossible as it may seem."
Their captain — is he even their fucking captain anymore? he is wearing a different jersey and so is tetsu. you know what. put that the fuck back. he didn't fucking ask. — points to the clock on the wall, displaying the date and time.
two years. two fucking years. shut the actual fuck up, brain.
"Dates and clocks can be manually changed." Midorima blurts, not denying but rather to point out because he was nervous.
join the fucking club. what the fuck is this shit.
Akashi continues, red eyes calm. "To Midorima's counter, even with the presented date and time, I believe the physical changes of each of us are enough proof, considering forceful aging is not yet possible unless technology has boomed so much in the last two years, which is rather doubtful. But back to the main point, I gather that the six of us remember the same events of winning Nationals before we fell asleep in Palace Hotel Tokyo?"
Nods of agreement are presented.
okay. Aomine thinks. it could be worse. its not much comfort but fuck it, he's working on it.
"How do you know we're in Tokyo Dome, Akashicchi?" Kise asks, voice curious but underlined with a hint of unease.
"Nationals were held here last year, Kise-kun. At least, in our time." Kuroko answers, looking at his own jersey in confusion. Seiren? "Akashi-kun and I came to the infirmary once to check on Haizaki-kun for his injuries due to his aggressive play."
"Is that so?" Kise hums, trying to be casual over it but everyone present knew it was a sore spot.
And because they all either had tact or too emotionally repressed to fucking say it, they ignored it. Because teenage coping mechanisms are the most sound in middle school. Shut up, Nijimura-senpai. No, they were not in denial.
"In any case, if this is the future, it appears that Akashi-kun, Midorima-kun, Kise-kun and I do not go to the same high school." Kuroko voices out the elephant in the room. "We're all wearing different jerseys of different schools."
and that was million dollar question, wasn't it?
Because no matter how much Akashi believed to be omnipotent or how observant Kuroko was or even how instinctual they may have been — none of them could say what exactly the hell happened in the last two years to get them into differing jerseys.
Looking at the small back of his shadow, Aomine had the sinking feeling that none of them played like they did yesterday.
not anymore.
Second Year, Teikou Middle School, Palace Hotel Tokyo
They were not fooling anyone. And it was for the lack of trying — intentional and inevitable.
After the initial breakdown of how they got there, then came the decision of whether or not, changing anything of past was going to be a direct goal or an eventual, unintentional consequence — they unanimously decided that since the latter was already going to happen then they might as well do the former that way they could have some kind of control.
No matter how much of an illusion it was.
(That's what all the past two years was anyway, wasn't it?
Six boys who thought they had control, only to break the moment that very delicate control was stripped from them.
Nijimura-senpai left, smirking on how proud he was of having such talented brats as kouhai, telling them not to be fucking stupid. Shirogane-kantoku left too, leaving them in hands that could not rein them in but instead made them bleed more. Then Kuroko left, their most valuable yet most expendable, effectively abandoning them to bring them the salvation he preached for them to return to.
Yet before he can finish, that control slipped away again.
No, perhaps, like the days in Teikou, he never had any of it in the first place.)
But it prompted millions of other questions outside of how they got there (because it made more sense that it was something on their side of the time jump that caused this): What would happen if they went back? And what of their past selves? Were they in their bodies? And what of the Winter Cup? Or where they dead in their time? Could they even go back? Was this permanent or temporary?
"Ah mou!" Kise rubs his head in a faux headache, near braining himself on the armrest of the lounge seats. "We don't know enough to plan about all of this."
Seated in the artificial onsen, the others silently agreed.
Having gone nowhere in the discussion in the bedroom, Akashi ordered all of them to disperse as further talks would get them nowhere and regroup at their private onsen after getting dressed and ready for the day.
In the past, as a reward for their victory, Nijimura-senpai gave only the six of them private access to the Teikou-reserved onsen, to relieve their sore muscles and to cherish their last day in the luxury resort while everyone else was sentenced to mild training menus and the rest of the day off.
And as expected, the reward was the same.
Kuroko was perched at the edge, feet dipped in the warm waters beside Akashi, who lounged similarly with a cool towel over his damp hair, both freshly scrubbed. Aomine and Midorima were submerged to their necks, having sore calves that were not massaged after the game but their bodies opted for sleep instead last night, judging from the stiffness. While Murasakibara was with Kise, the taller snacking as he helped himself to the limitless menu, courtesy of Teikou, while Kise insisted in coming in the water later, eyeing his purpling bruises.
Another vein of interest was that their bodies were as they entered it.
Meaning that while their minds came with them to the past, that did not apply for their physical forms — being muscle mass, injuries, or even developed muscle memory — none of it came with them. For example, while the 'learning' of Perfect Copy was in Kise's memory, that did not mean he could execute it without injury, nonetheless, in this underdeveloped form.
But it was expected, Kise hummed, if their moves were easy to have execute with simple mental understanding, then they wouldn't have been called Miracles.
Speaking of which, before breaking, the six of them had decided on two major avenues of action: to do their best to adhere to the timeline and to not use any sort of moves that they had developed after to their middle school graduation under any circumstances outside of mortal ones.
Because even though it was technically their body, it wasn't theirs to injure recklessly.
Kise was pretty sure that if he tried Perfect Copy, he would permanently break something in this tiny body. Probably his legs.
"But I was curious earlier, Akashicchi, what do you mean by trying our best to stick with the timeline? Wouldn't it be the same if we just stuck to it?" Kise asks, swiping a potato chip from Murasakibara with a plead and with a reluctant grumble to take it in reply, the blonde continued. "Like if we just did all the highlighted parts, wouldn't everything be the same? Like in the movies!"
"That is harder than you would think, Kise-kun." Kuroko answers, gaze on the sky. "Even if we do adhere to our past, we have already changed some of it."
"Eh?" Kise blinks as Aomine quirks an eyebrow. Murasakibara too hums an incoherent sound of mild confusion.
Akashi ignores them, eyes lidded.
"What Kuroko said is right, you fools." Midorima sighs, face free of glasses as if was a bother to explain something so plain. "It's obvious in the way we carry ourselves, even if it is not immediately so on the surface. Nijimura-senpai, even noticed how all of us looked 'different' and asked Akashi if our win at Nationals made us more serious with basketball — not to mention Akashi's heterochromia. He even asked if any of us got hurt because of how quiet all of us were. Our odd behavior has already been noticed without even trying."
A nostalgic smile graces the blonde's lips before he could stop it.
Strange, how easy it was to smile so naturally. He tells himself its because his younger body holds a kinder and less jaded Kise than himself. And ignores the voice that tells him its because he is with his middle school friends again.
"Nijimura-senpai was always observant of us. Even when he had his own problems."
"Would it be so bad?" Kuroko asks to no one in particular, gaze far away. "For us to relive these days again?"
No one replies to him as Akashi opens his eyes, still different colors but just as hazy as the others as they too wondered how long this fever dream would last.