Chapter Text
Furihata wasn’t sure why he remembered the exact moment he found out. It had been an unremarkable day in every way possible. It was cloudy and cold and miserable outside, but school and practice had proceeded as usual. Just another day on the calendar. Still, he could clearly picture sitting in the locker room after practice with Fukuda and Kawahara chattering in his ear, when the echo of a phone dropping to the floor turned his head.
“Kuroko? What’s wrong?” Kagami asked as his blue haired partner bent to pick up his phone.
“Momoi-san texted me,” Kuroko replied in his usual flat tone. “She said Akashi-kun is quitting basketball.”
“What?! Why?!”
Furihata had been surprised as Kagami sounded, but didn’t bother voicing it. After all, Akashi was a friend of a friend at best, and the most terrifying person on the planet at worst. The only real effect it had on him was that Rakuzan would be less of a threat in the Interhigh this coming summer. It was none of his business.
Furihata had other things on his mind, anyways. After their victory in the Winter Cup last winter, the basketball team’s popularity soared, and he’d finally had the courage to ask out the girl he liked. Even if he himself hadn’t become number one, the team had, and he was part of the team. To his surprise, his courage paid off and they began dating.
However, once the end of the school year closed in, things quickly began to deteriorate. Her excuses to not see him piled up. She started becoming increasingly distant. As hard as he tried to stay optimistic, it got to him. Then Kawahara had caught him after practice one day and told him some of his classmates had seen her out with the captain of the baseball team. At first, she insisted they were just friends, but the more the topic came up, the more the truth came out. Finally, she said the dreaded words: “I think we should break up.”
It had come just in time for him to nearly bomb his exams. He managed to scrape by with passing grades, but just barely. Only a couple weeks into the new school year, he saw them together everywhere. Rumors spread about the new couple like wildfire, and he had no choice but to sit back and watch it all unfold. It shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise, really. The baseball captain was tall and handsome, and while the team itself wasn’t as impressive as Seirin’s basketball team, he was a good player and a good captain.
In short, he was everything Furihata was not.
Any pride he had at his team winning the Winter Cup was gone, and any confidence he’d gained from it had disappeared as well. He went to practice everyday, but in truth, he was just going through the motions. He’d joined the basketball team for her, and while he liked his teammates and playing in games, it was obvious he would never become a spectacular player like Kagami or his senpai, no matter how hard he worked. Even a few of the new freshman that had been attracted by their freshly earned reputation were better than him.
Yet, even with all these negative thoughts swirling around his head, the mystery of Akashi quitting basketball still stuck out. Several times he found himself in the middle of the night, rather than wallowing in self pity, staring up at the ceiling and contemplating why. It had taken all of his energy to just stand on the same court as he did. Akashi was practically a one-man team, from what Furihata had seen. He was an incredible player with unfathomable skill. Why would he quit?
And if Akashi quit, what reason did someone as worthless as him have to keep playing?
It had been a week or so since Kuroko’s text, and even in the midst of practice, he found the thought of Akashi creeping into his head. At first it was strange, to be thinking so often so someone he didn’t know (and that scared him shitless), but by now he’d realized the only other option was thinking about her, so pondering the Rakuzan redhead was a welcome reprieve.
Practice was nearing its end when he saw Izuki point Kuroko’s gaze towards an onlooker seated on the bench. He followed their line of sight, stopping dead in his tracks when he locked onto spiky red hair and matching garnet eyes. The sudden stop caused Kawahara to crash into his back, which in turn caused Furihata to trip and fall face first on the court. The coach sighed and blew her whistle, signaling that practice was over.
“Sorry Furi!” Kawahara apologized. He offered a hand and pulled him off the floor just in time for him to see Kuroko to jog over to Akashi.
“Furihata-kun! What was that fall just now?” Riko demanded. Furihata jumped, feeling more embarrassed than usual, knowing that Akashi was witnessing this, whether he was paying attention or not.
“S-sorry coach, I just--”
“You’ve been slacking lately,” she said, still stern but with a hint of something softening her tone. Was it sympathy? He winced. There was no way she didn’t know what was going on with him. Everybody did. “Go get changed and meet me back out here. I want to talk to you before you leave.”
“Y-yes, coach,” he said, his eyes cast down at his feet. He turned enough to see Akashi and Kuroko speaking. Kuroko nodded at something the other said and took off toward the locker room, leaving Akashi to sit down on the bench again, his hands in his pockets. His eyes slid Furihata’s way.
Panic shot through his entire body as visions of attempted murder by scissors assaulted his brain. He scrambled to get to the locker room, sprinting faster than he had all practice for fear of being left in the gym alone with Akashi. He’d had too many nightmares that started out that way. No way was he going to risk it.
When he stumbled through the door to the locker room out of breath, he only got a couple of odd looks. He made his way to his locker and wrestled it open, trying to calm his rapid heartbeat before he had to have a talk with the coach. Today was quickly shaping up to be awful.
Fukuda shot him a glance, silently asking if he was okay, but didn’t say anything. Furihata was thankful; he knew his friends meant well, but he wasn’t the type to want to talk about his feelings. He started changing, concentrating on getting rid of the dread in his stomach, but it was impossible not to overhear the conversation happening behind him.
“What does he want?” Kagami asked in a hushed voice. At least, for Kagami, it was a hushed voice.
“To talk,” Kuroko replied simply. “It’s very likely that he wants to explain why he is quitting. I have not spoken with him since I received Momoi-san’s text last week.”
“Why did he come to Tokyo just for that?”
“I don’t know. It’s Akashi-san,” Kuroko said, as though that in and of itself was an explanation. They shut their lockers and headed out, their voices diminishing quickly once they left the room. Furihata was more than curious about what Akashi would have to say. He wondered how he could ask Kuroko tomorrow without being too obvious. But even if Akashi told Kuroko, there was no reason for Kuroko to tell him. Those two were friends; he and Akashi weren’t.
He stuffed his dirty practice clothes in his bag and headed back to the gym to face his fate. Coach Riko was standing by the entrance, arms folded, her foot tapping impatiently. A quick sweep of the gym revealed Kuroko and Akashi had already left. The first years were just finishing cleaning up. He approached the coach cautiously, her frown becoming clearer and clearer the closer he got.
“Come with me,” she commanded.
This might be worse than he thought.
She turned and walked outside into the brisk spring sunlight, and Furihata followed. She led them to a nearby vending machine and bought two juices, one of which she threw his way. Furihata eyed it warily. If he hadn’t seen her buy it right in front of him, he would’ve thought it was poisoned. He was still suspicious. He opened it and chanced a sip.
“Furihata-kun,” she said. “I know you've been under a lot of stress lately..."
Oh great. Here it comes.
"But you've been half assing practice since the school year started!" she yelled. Furihata shrunk back, his eyes immediately on his feet.
"You've got potential, Furihata-kun," she continued, a little more calmly. "After Kagami-kun, you've got the most out of all the second years. But you're going to be the worst on the team if you don't get your shit together!"
"Huh?" That was a compliment he wasn't expecting, even if it was directly followed by an insult. "Me? Potential?"
Riko sighed in exasperation. "Yes," she said, taking a sip of her juice. "You've got good observational skills and good reflexes. You’ve got a lot of room to grow. You could be a starter next year, if you work as hard as you usually do." She narrowed her eyes. "I'm not coaching this team for fun. I said it last year, and I'll say it again. If you're not serious about going to nationals, then you shouldn't be on this team."
His eyes widened. "Wh... What are you saying, Coach?"
"That you’re off the team," she said. Furihata felt a stab of panic, but Riko held up a hand before he could start to protest.
"But that's only if you don’t show some effort in the next few weeks," Riko explained. It didn't do much to relieve the unpleasant feeling that was swimming its way through his body. She clapped a hand on his shoulder and stared him in the eyes. "Please think about this seriously."
He stood there, dumbfounded, as she left. He knew the coach was brutal, but this was on an entirely different level. He knew he didn't want to quit the team. They were his friends and, currently, his only escape from everything that was going wrong in his life. But nationals? Did he really care that much? The more he thought about it, he really didn’t. But there was no way Riko would let him stay if he wasn’t going to give it his all.
A cold wind kicked up and he huddled into his jacket. Despite the spring sun, the chill of winter hadn’t yet left the air. He knew he should head home before the sun set, but he had no desire to be around anyone. His friends and family were always there for him, but he was always a disappointment. His girlfriend broke up with him for a better guy, his grades were abysmal, and now he was almost certainly going to be kicked off the team.
What a loser.
The thought hung heavy in his mind as he trudged his way toward home. His cell phone beeped with unread messages, probably Kawahara and Fukuda asking what happened, but he couldn’t bring himself to look. He didn’t want to explain the conversation he’d just had with the coach. He knew they’d be optimistic and encouraging, but he didn’t want to he hear it. He didn’t want to hear that he could stay on the team if he just tried harder. Easy for them to say. He didn’t have any will left to try. He was tired.
The sun was hanging low in the sky, and the air was rapidly cooling. His feet felt heavy, each step was a chore. Every scuff echoed as loser, loser, loser in his mind. He caught a glimpse of himself in the window of a shop. He looked as terrible as he felt. He kept dragging his feet onward, motivated only by thoughts of his warm bed and the bliss of sleep.
His feet came to a halt in front of the street court that was near his house. He had nothing but good memories here with friends, yet a pang of loneliness hit him. He caught sight of a stray ball left on the court. Instinctively, he threw his things against the wire fence and picked it up. The feel of the ball in his hands was so natural. He hadn’t realized how used to it he’d gotten in the past year.
He stood at the free throw line, dribbling the ball absent mindedly. There was no doubt that he’d miss basketball if he quit. He loved his teammates, and even if he didn’t get to play that often, the mix of anxiety and excitement he felt when he stepped onto the court was exhilarating. The coach’s words replayed in his head. He had potential. He could become a regular. He looked up at the basket and took a shot.
It missed.
The ball rebounded off the rim with a loud bang and flew over his head. He turned to chase after it, but stopped short, his eyes wide. A figure caught the stray ball, then gracefully moved into a jump shot. The ball soared back over his head and he heard the swish of the net as the ball went in effortlessly. Normally, he would have watched the ball to see if they made the shot, but as soon as he saw who it was, he couldn’t move.
“Good evening,” Akashi Seijuurou said pleasantly.
Furihata let out a mix between a choke and shriek. He’d never been so terrified. He wanted nothing more than to run away screaming, but his feet were glued to the ground. Worse than that, Akashi was standing between him and the only way out of the fenced in enclosure. This was it. He was going to die.
“Forgive me if I startled you,” Akashi said. “I was passing by when I saw you. You’re from Seirin, correct? Number twelve, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Y-y-you know who I am?” Furihata stammered.
The corners of Akashi’s mouth turned up in a small smile. “I do, although I’m afraid I have never learned your name.” He tossed the ball, and Furihata caught it with sweaty palms.
“U-uh, I’m… F-Furihata Kouki.” In a moment of panic, he tossed the ball back. Akashi caught it with ease.
“Akashi Seijuurou,” he replied, as though he actually needed an introduction. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Furihata-kun.”
“Y-you too.” Furihata swallowed heavily, his heart hammering in his ears. This wasn’t the psychotic scissor wielding emperor of Rakuzan that he remembered from the Winter Cup. Was it a trap? Was he supposed to get down on his knees and grovel? He only felt more anxious when Akashi spun the ball on his finger and smiled at him.
“Would you like to play a game?”
“Y-y-you’d destroy me,” Furihata said, gaze cast down at his shoes. His sneakers were dirty and worn. He was definitely due for new ones. Akashi’s shoes looked pristine.
Akashi was silent for a moment, dribbling the ball leisurely. “I wanted to apologize to you.”
“H-Huh?!”
“For our game in the Winter Cup,” Akashi continued. “I didn’t take you seriously. I underestimated you.”
“N-No, I’m not very good…” Furihata shifted his weight uncomfortably. Whether Akashi was crazy or not, it was still overwhelming to stand in front of him. He was regal, dressed sharp and professionally, looking more like a successful businessman than a second year in high school. The setting sun provided the perfect lighting to highlight his handsome features. Furihata had a hard time believing Kise was the model in the Generation of Miracles, not Akashi.
He felt pretty insignificant in comparison.
“You’ll never improve with that attitude,” Akashi chided, though the easy smile was still on his face.
“... I don’t think I’ll improve at all,” Furihata said, scratching the back of his head. Standing next to Akashi made him feel the full weight of all his problems. Akashi was rich. He could have any girl he wanted. Kuroko said he was always top of his class. He was great at basketball. He had everything.
He glanced up at Akashi, whose smile had morphed into a slight frown. His crimson eyes bored a hole through him, gazing straight into his soul. He shivered, willing his hands to stop shaking.
“You should not give up before you even try,” Akashi said. “You exhibited much more effort during our game than this. I’m disappointed.”
“Y-yeah, well… A lot has happened since then.” Furihata’s cheeks burned. He had no clue why Akashi was encouraging him, or why disappointing him was so upsetting. He suddenly wanted to explain everything to Akashi, but the thought of venting to him when he didn’t even want to talk to his friends was so surreal it made his head spin.
“Hm. I suppose that’s true.” Akashi turned and shot another basket, the ball flying into the hoop flawlessly. The ball bounced toward Furihata on the rebound, and he caught it. Akashi watched him placidly.
“U-um, Akashi-kun…” Furihata’s voice wavered a little, and he prayed the other didn’t notice. “... Is it true you’re quitting basketball?”
“It is,” the redhead replied.
“But… Why? You’re so good…” Furihata was quickly crumbling under the other’s gaze, but curiosity was getting the best of him. Luckily, Akashi didn’t seem offended by it.
“I made a deal with my father,” he explained, inserting his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “I would be able to resume my club activities as long as I remained the best at it.” He smiled wistfully. “And I am no longer the best.”
Furihata felt a pang of guilt. “B-but… Isn’t that just quitting when things get tough?”
Akashi chuckled. “Are you sure you’re one to talk?”
Furihata felt an embarrassed blush creep up his neck again.
“Besides, an Akashi is a man of his word,” Akashi continued, tilting his head toward the sky. The sun had set, and night sky was opening above them. “I will miss it, but I believe it is the correct decision.”
“How can it be the right decision?” Furihata asked. He couldn’t believe Akashi was so calm about it. “I thought… Don’t you love basketball? I mean… You could probably go pro someday if you wanted to!”
Akashi laughed. “I appreciate your praise, but you are mistaken. I am to take over my father’s company. He wishes to begin integrating me into the business, in place of my time spent on basketball. It would have happened eventually.”
Something about the situation didn’t sit right with Furihata. He found that his hands were still trembling, but it was no longer from nervousness.
“Y-you know,” Furihata started, gripping the ball a little too tightly. “I, um… I joined the basketball team for a girl… She said she’d go out with me if I was the best at something… But even after we won, it didn’t work out... S-so I kind of know how you feel.” He stole a look at Akashi, expecting a mocking smirk at how pathetic that sounded, but his expression was neutral.
“... I don’t think you should quit, Akashi-kun!” Furihata burst out. “You’re too good to quit! And if you really wanted to, I know you could keep playing!”
Akashi shook his head. “A deal is a deal. My father’s word is absolute.”
“Wh-what about Rakuzan? Don’t they need you?”
“Currently, they have more victories without me than with me,” Akashi replied lightly. “I believe I have left them in good hands.”
An idea crept into Furihata’s head. “B-but… What if they did need you?”
“Oh? Are you saying Seirin is going to beat us again?”
Furihata nodded his head, determined now. “W-we will! We’ll crush Rakuzan this time! And… I won’t just sit by and watch this time! I’ll actually become number one!”
Akashi tilted his head, a curious look in his eyes. “Rakuzan is a formidable opponent. Your confidence is admirable, but you said yourself that you only played basketball for the attention of a girl. Such a reason may be fine for a bench warmer, but it will not hold up on the court. If you truly wish to aid your team, you’ll need a much more concrete motivation than that.”
“Th-then.. I’ll… I’ll do it for you!”
The moment the words left his mouth, Furihata realized what he said. His eyes widened and he dropped the ball to clamp his hands over his mouth.
Akashi’s perfect mask broke for a moment, sheer shock plastered on his face. It was the most expressive Furihata had ever seen him. “You’ll… what?”
He was in too deep to take it back now. He forced his clammy hands away from his mouth, balling them into fists at his side.
“I’ll become number one, but this time for your sake!” Furihata repeated. He was running on pure adrenaline now. There was no way he could say these things otherwise. “I’ll prove that your team needs you! And that you should play again! B-because… If someone like me can become number one, then you can do anything!”
Akashi recovered his composure, sliding back to an amused smile.
“Interesting,” he said. “It seems I misjudged you once again, Furihata-kun.” He held out his hand. “I look forward to seeing how high you can climb.”
Furihata reached out and took his hand.