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Kuroko wasn't expecting to find Akashi Seijuro standing outside a conbini.
But that wasn't the thing that surprised him most.
Two days had passed since the get-together Momoi had arranged for all of them, for Kuroko's birthday. Kuroko hadn't been sure if Akashi had already returned to Kyoto, but he didn't think it was extraordinarily odd to find that Akashi had stayed. Perhaps he had some other business in Tokyo, or perhaps he'd simply wanted to see a little more of the city.
He did look a bit odd outside a conbini of all places. Kuroko wasn't sure if he could remember Akashi ever visiting them in the past, with him and Aomine or the others from Teiko. Akashi, and Midorima to a certain extent, had felt like a being who stood above such ordinary places.
That, still, wasn't the most shocking thing to Kuorko.
Akashi wasn't only standing outside a conbini.
He was smoking.
In his surprise, Kuroko felt himself almost miss a step. He'd just gotten out of a late team practice at Seirin, and was planning to buy a bento on his way home. This wasn't his usual conbini or anything; he didn't think Akashi had posted up there specifically to wait for him. It was one of many that lined the streets between Kuroko's place and Seirin, so this meeting…
It was just coincidence.
Kuroko became even more sure of that when Akashi spotted him. A look of surprise, chased by a flicker of what may have been shame or even remorse, crossed his face. He clearly hadn't expected to run into anyone he knew while he was out there.
Perhaps the polite thing for Kuroko to do would have been to pretend he hadn't seen anything. But Akashi was his…
Well, friend may have been a stretch.
But Akashi was something to him.
Kuroko made his way over to him, stopping at his side. Akashi hastily put his cigarette out on the top of a nearby trash can. It had looked good in his fingers, like he'd known how to hold it, like he'd smoked before.
It was a little funny, in a somewhat charming way, that Akashi rushed to put out his cigarette when Kuroko came to stand next to him. It didn't really diminish the smokiness of the air, since they were standing in the smoking area after all. Two older salarymen were still smoking just a few steps away, with a light winter breeze wafting their secondhand smoke directly towards Kuroko and Akashi.
"How long…?" Kuroko trailed off, unsure of whether it was his place to ask.
It most likely wasn't, but Akashi still answered, "I assure you, Kuroko, I don't make a habit of it."
Kuroko curled his hands around the strap of the gym bag that he wore across his chest. He absently scraped his thumb back and forth over the band, thinking to himself that this really wasn't any of his business.
It wasn't as though it were his place to tell Akashi to stop.
Then again, if he didn't, who would? He'd seen such destructive behavior, from Akashi and the others, before. If he hadn't stopped them, who would've?
"Why did you start?" Kuroko asked.
Akashi took a moment longer to answer this time, like he was debating how much to tell. In the end, he only said, "Business."
But that was enough of an answer to paint an image in Kuroko's mind. It had something to do with Akashi's father, didn't it? Their family, and their family business?
Kuroko could imagine it so easily—Akashi being told to simply have a cigarette, despite his young age, to fit in at some elite social event or to impress some important business contact.
Kuroko didn't think it was right for a parent to ask a child to do such things, but he knew that Akashi's family matters were even less his business than what he'd witnessed here.
"Did something happen?" he asked. His voice was soft, almost getting lost in the wind that was picking up and blowing harder. He followed when Akashi led him towards a nice car that was parked nearby.
Akashi didn't answer the question at all this time. He opened the passenger side door for Kuroko, then moved to get into the driver's seat once Kuroko had climbed in. "I'll drive you home."
But this was one question Kuroko couldn't let him dodge.
He needed an answer.
He needed to know that he hadn't broken something new, in trying to fix what had been broken in the past.
"Was it the party?" Kuroko asked. "Did you not want to—"
"No," Akashi interrupted. "It isn't that at all. I was very glad to receive Momoi's invitation, and to see you again. To see you all again."
Kuroko furrowed his brow. He couldn't detect any trace of a lie in what Akashi was saying, but…
"Then what is it, Akashi-kun?"
Akashi leaned his head back against the headrest behind him. He skimmed his fingers over the sides of the steering wheel and simply gazed out into the dark for a moment.
"I suppose you could think of it as practice," he said. "A little rebellion, to build up to a bigger one."
Kuroko peered at him over the scarf bundled up around his own neck. It was warmer in the car, especially after Akashi started it to let the heater run while they idled. Though Akashi was speaking so cryptically, almost like he was still his 'other' self, Kuroko sort of understood.
If Akashi was talking about rebelling, he could only be talking about rebelling against his father.
What would he have to rebel about now, besides basketball?
Rakuzan had lost. To Seirin, to Kuroko. If Akashi's father had his way, surely Akashi would be forced to quit the sport now.
"You don't want to quit," Kuroko said softly.
Akashi released a slow, even breath. "I don't."
"Then don't." Kuroko straightened up in his seat. He unwound his own scarf and folded it up in his lap, like it was getting in the way of them having a real conversation. "The court would miss you."
Akashi's lips twitched with a small smile. "Would you?"
Kuroko didn't answer right away. He wasn't the sort to offer empty reassurances. He gave it some real thought, first. He thought of the way Akashi played, the way he was so domineering yet elegant on the court. He thought of the way Akashi led; any team could achieve greatness in his hands.
And he thought of himself as well, standing on the court with Akashi. With him, or against him.
It made him shiver, feeling electrified by the memories of their past and the promises of what their futures could hold. And it made him sad, to think they could lose that.
"I would," he said in the end.
The smile that had only twitched at Akashi's lips earlier settled there now, like Kuroko's words were what he'd really needed to feel more at ease.
It was like Kuroko mattered to him, despite everything. Or perhaps because of everything.
Perhaps because of all that had happened, Kuroko now mattered to him more than ever.
"But," Kuroko went on quickly, "I don't like you smoking for that exact reason. What kind of athlete smokes?"
"It isn't often," Akashi promised.
"It shouldn't be at all," Kuroko chided with a new and perhaps unfounded burst of confidence.
The smile Akashi wore, the one that had become so rare in recent years, seemed to tell Kuroko that it was okay to speak his mind. That perhaps it was even okay to be a little demanding. It whispered to Kuroko that Akashi cared about what he had to say, and even about him.
"It shouldn't be at all," Kuroko repeated softly. "You call it practice. A little rebellion. Because your father would disapprove of you smoking for… reasons other than business?"
Akashi nodded; it seemed Kuroko had guessed it just right.
"There must be another way," Kuroko said. "There has to be something else you could do. Something your father would disapprove of, something that feels like rebellion but doesn't do irreparable harm to your health."
When Kuroko stopped there, Akashi was silent for a moment. He even turned his face away, looking out through the window at his side now, inside of the windshield before him. Kuroko frowned with worry when he saw a slight tremor run through Akashi's shoulders, and that frown became a huff when he realized Akashi was suppressing a laugh.
He knew, really, that he was being rather dramatic here. If Akashi was smoking a few cigarettes a year or something, it obviously wasn't going to have a particularly pronounced effect on his health.
Still, it was the principle of the matter.
Akashi seemed to understand. He was still smiling when he turned back to Kuroko, and his voice was warmed by that smile as he said, "I'll be in Tokyo for the rest of the week. If you can spare the time, perhaps I can trouble you to help me find that something else."
Kuroko blinked. He hadn't expected Akashi to ask him for help, and he wasn't sure what sort of help he would be able to give.
But Kuroko had never been the sort to stick his nose into something, to try to change something, without seeing things through.
He found himself smiling, too. "It would be no trouble, Akashi-kun. I'd be happy to help you disappoint your father."
Akashi let himself laugh out loud that time, without trying to hide it. It was such a lovely sound that Kuroko couldn't help but think he might miss much more than Akashi's basketball, if Akashi were ever to disappear from his world.
If some force, be it family or obligation or fate, wanted to sink its claws into Akashi and drag him away from the court, Kuroko would simply have to fight to free him.
And this time, just like before—
He wouldn't be fighting alone.