Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Do you enjoy playing basketball?

A pair of brown eyes stared at him, focused and unwavering. Few dared look him in the eye anymore with such resistance -- certainly, there was something different about this player. It was almost tragic, the way this boy was engaging him as an equal -- something he had once always hoped an opponent would -- and yet his question was impossible for Akashi to relate to. He stared on blankly, heterochromatic eyes locked in an unfocused gaze.

"I'm afraid I don't know the meaning of that question," Akashi replied. There was something strange about the way this player looked at him -- as though he were seeking an answer, as though he wished to relate to Akashi as a friend. (As though it were possible for Akashi to relate to another so easily.) What did he expect for Akashi to say? The purpose of any game was victory, and beyond that, it was Teikou's purpose: 100 battles, 100 victories. That was what Akashi did best, after all -- fulfill his purpose. It was unfortunate he had not been blessed with a kinder destiny.

Where did enjoyment fit into the life he had been given? Sudden thoughts flashed in his mind -- a woman with red hair and her gentle smile, a teasing but kind voice telling him he'd be a great captain, a cold box of popsicles being thrust into his hands as a chorus of voices assured him he deserved this for his hard work, despite his protests.¹ They were distant memories now, all of them. Basketball alone could maintain none of them. But his father had always said that the victors wrote history, controlled their own destiny. He almost pitied the other player -- his question was so naïve. He couldn't see this player or his team as worthy opponents; not given this mentality.  Only victory mattered. It was his only chance.

***

"May I help you find something, sir?" 

Red eyes snapped into focus, turning to face an employee in her red uniform shirt, who was looking at him with a kind smile.

"It's quite alright, ma'am," Akashi replied, forcing a slight smile of his own. "I'm simply seeing what there is."

"Well, let me know if I can help," she answered.

"Thank you, I appreciate it," Akashi said, before she turned away, rather suddenly. It appeared another customer must have caught her by surprise.  With her attention redirected, Akashi's smile faded, and a quiet sigh escaped his lips. Unfortunately, she would never be able to help him find what he sought -- he was quite certain no one could.

Akashi walked slowly down the aisle, his eyes glossing over the various products on the shelves. Normally, he would have inspected the merchandise carefully, evaluating the merits and faults of each potential gift. Yet, at the moment, bright packages and tawdry displays failed to even leave an impression on his consciousness -- seeming more like indistinct images viewed through a fog-covered window. Even the other shoppers seemed to pass by in a haze. With each step, Akashi's mind became more clouded by memories and anxious predictions. It wasn't only the Emperor Eye which possessed the ability to foresee future outcomes; his mind could easily arrive at conclusions by recognizing patterns and combining seemingly disparate pieces of information into logical deductions. Often, an exercise in such thinking helped Akashi to prepare for any potential troubles and avoid them accordingly. Few realized how much care had gone into Akashi's predominantly unblemished record of success in life. Hard work and preparation were the keys to many of his victories. It was quite terrifying, therefore, that Akashi could construe no solution to avoid the failure he could see was bound to await him. It had been a mistake to come here, after all.

He looked down at his watch. It had been over an hour since he had first entered the store's premises, and certainly his father would shortly be awaiting his return. It had been foolish to think he could find a gift that was good enough for his purposes here.

You could have been finished with this task long ago, if you had simply selected a generic gift, Akashi scolded himself. He wouldn't see it as anything more than it is -- a kind gesture towards someone you don't know personally. Especially when you know well that you'll never find the sort of present you are searching for -- one which can somehow change his first impression of you.

Akashi closed his eyes, and breathed in deeply. He recognized the particular tone of voice which he was using with himself all too well. A few months ago, he wouldn't have thought of it as his own voice, but as the voice of his so called 'little brother', the part of himself that had craved victory and wielded the full power of the Emperor Eye as an independent personality.

I've never known you to accept defeat so easily, he countered, breathing out deeply and imagining the two personalities he used to divide himself into. Perhaps it was best to let his contradictory thoughts talk through this with one another.² You realize I am much the same as you, in these ways? No matter the future we envision, it is but a simple matter to change.

That's quite the statement, coming from the one who once said that "no matter what happens, the sins I've committed can't be erased," the little brother's voice retorted.  I can tell that you surely have no concept of inevitability.

I am not so proud that I cannot admit when I am wrong, Akashi answered. It is true that I didn't believe I could repair our relationship with our former teammates.  But over the course of the past year, they have made it clear that their forgiveness is more powerful than our guilt.

Our teammates knew you and cared for you long before our mistakes were made, his other self replied. Shigehiro is a stranger. I can tell that you don't trust that he will forgive you as readily as Tetsuya -- your hesitancy betrays your true feelings.

Akashi's eyes snapped open. He hated to admit it, but his meditation had revealed the harsh truth of the matter. Kuroko and the others from Teikou Junior High had forgiven him without Akashi so much as having to ask. But they had known him as their captain for some time, and Kuroko had insisted that they understood his true nature. He was not so lucky in this case. Akashi stuffed his right hand into the pocket of his beige, belted trench coat, and clenched his fist. He felt his fingers curl up around a thin, long strip of paper, folded in half. Exhaling with a huff, he clinched the paper between his thumb and index finger, before folding it into an even smaller size.

There was no reason to take it out. He knew all too well what it said. After all, it had felt just the same in his hand when he had drawn it out of the bowl in Kuroko's bedroom. At the time, Akashi had been excited to see what name he would draw. For all he had studied foreign traditions as part of his schooling and private lessons, he had never heard of "Secret Santa" until Kuroko had explained it to him. Apparently, it was an American tradition, in which party-goers drew the name of a colleague out of a hat and purchased a Christmas gift for them in secret. Only at the party would the names of the gift-givers be revealed. It was an idea Kuroko had borrowed from Kagami, and it seemed to Akashi a fun activity in keeping with the spirit of the holiday.

As Akashi placed his hand in the bowl to test his luck against fate, he couldn't help but imagine some of his possible recipients. There was a chance his draw could land him an incredibly simple task. After all, if he found Murasakibara's name written on the strip of paper he chose, he would simply have to buy the latest maiubo flavors. Even if the others were more difficult, he knew any of his former teammates' likes with ease -- though he refused to buy Aomine those licentious magazines -- and several of Seirin's players also had obvious interests. Their captain, Hyuuga Junpei, he had learned, was a collector of historical figurines. And their substitute point-guard, Furihata-kun, had slowly grown close to Akashi since they spent the evening conversing at Kuroko's birthday party a year ago. He was a train spotter, Akashi now knew, and it would be a simple matter to buy him a model set -- or even a pair of first-class tickets aboard one of the shinkansen.³ Yet his mind hadn't even thought to prepare for the name he actually found, scrawled on his paper in blue ink. When he saw it, he stiffened, though he kept his face level, for Kuroko's sake. There, written in Kuroko's hand, was a name he hadn't seen in some time: Ogiwara Shigehiro.

I still refuse to admit defeat so easily, Akashi chastised the doubting part of himself once more, but I must admit that I am wasting my time here. Staring at the shelves is of no use to me.

He waited, to see if the stubborn voice in his head would respond. But, when only sullen silence greeted him, he simply reached into his other pocket and pulled out a pair of black leather gloves. He inhaled deeply and stood up straight, regaining a posture of calm, as he slipped on the gloves and walked towards the exit. He could already feel the chill of the December air whipping though the store's faulty automatic doors, which opened before Akashi reached where the sensor ought to have been. He stifled a shiver as he walked off the store's premises and stepped out under the newly darkened sky. A rush of wind brushed against his exposed cheeks, causing them to tingle, and the crackle of snow greeted each step of his boots. Feeling the cold seep through his gloves, he buried his hands into his coat pockets, and trudged on with his face pointed downward, hoping to protect his skin from the icy gust.  Perhaps it would have been wise to have agreed to let his driver take him to and from the department store. But, Akashi had already declined the offer. He felt that this task had to be accomplished, from start to finish, on his own.

"Akashi-kun."

A sudden voice calling from up ahead brought Akashi to a halt. He slowly raised his head to face into the wind, pulling up one hand above his eyes to shield them from on onslaught of snow. When he saw nothing ahead, he was left to wonder whether he had merely imagined the voice. Surely, it was no longer a voice from one of his meditations.

"Akashi-kun," a familiar monotone rang out again, this time in much closer proximity.

Startled, Akashi took a step backwards, his hand falling away from his face and his eyes widening as he took sight of snow-covered, wind-wisped, light-blue hair, and the expressionless gaze of his friend, Kuroko Tetsuya.

"Kuroko!" Akashi responded, blurting out the name with a clear tone of surprise. He paused for a moment, to regain his bearings, before adding in a level voice: "I didn't expect to see you here."

"I was at the department store the whole time," Kuroko replied.

Akashi stuffed his hands back into the pockets of his coat as he glanced over Kuroko once more. Sure enough, Kuroko was holding a plastic bag from the store Akash had exited just moments before. His eyes blinked shut and he let out a small, breathy chuckle.

"I was as well," Akashi said, a soft smile adorning his face. "I must say, you still never fail to surprise me." He looked down into Kuroko's eyes, quickly realizing that they were trained on the space where his hands were balled into his pockets.

"You didn't buy anything at the store, Akashi-kun?" Kuroko asked.

Akashi's eyes widened in realization once more, as his gaze traveled down to his empty hands.

"I'm afraid not," Akashi answered, refocusing his vision on Kuroko. He kept his voice as level as possible, almost matching Kuroko's in tone. "Unfortunately, they did not have what I was looking for."

"Was it your gift for the party?"  Kuroko asked. Blue eyes narrowed on Akashi's visage, full of a determination Akashi rarely saw off the court. He felt gusts of wind whip against his cheeks, beating his uncovered skin, and leaving pale red trails in their wake. Yet, somehow, he felt less exposed to the elements than to his former teammate's stare. After all, Kuroko's eyes and his keen powers of observation were the only things ever to have defeated him.

"Yes," Akashi replied, calmly, despite the tingling sensation growing in his gut.

"I'm surprised you didn't know exactly where to look," Kuroko replied, making such condemning words sound so innocent on the trails of his soft voice. "Usually, you'd have researched everything in advance and made plans. You don't like to leave things to chance, Akashi-kun."

"I'm afraid I drew the name of someone I am not well acquainted with," Akashi said. "I thought it might be best to examine the offerings, before I made a final decision."

"So, are you headed to another store?" Kuroko asked.

Akashi sighed, his breath forming a visible cloud of air in the space between himself and his friend. "I'm afraid I'm headed home, for the moment. There's still time before the party to find what I need. Do not concern yourself with it, Kuroko."

There was silence for a moment. Red eyes met blue, gazing at one another, undeterred by the continuously falling snow. The winter air felt all the more bitter to Akashi as they stood there, frozen as the ground beneath them. He could tell Kuroko was observing him closely once more, possibly trying to grasp the cause of his uncharacteristic behavior. Perhaps a better man would have told him, rather than burying the truth inside his own soul. But Akashi felt it wrong to burden Kuroko with his personal struggles, especially when they involved the pain of the past. After all, no one could bear the responsibility of Akashi's sins except himself.

"Something is wrong," Kuroko said, finally. "You aren't acting like yourself, Akashi-kun."

"I don't know why you assume that," Akashi retorted, perhaps too quickly and harshly. The words left his tongue not with a feeling of malice, but fear.  

"Akashi-kun…"

"I must be off," Akashi interrupted, before Kuroko could say another word. "My father is certainly wondering where I have gone off. I must be mindful of the time." He diverted his eyes back towards the ground, telling himself that this was only because he was bothered by the onslaught of snow, and the way it was becoming caught in his eyelashes.

Akashi took a stride to the side, expecting Kuroko to accept his excuse and politely bid him goodbye. Yet, instead, he was stopped by Kuroko stepping in front of his path. Before he could protest, Kuroko had stretched out his hand, and was, suddenly, pressing his index finger against Akashi's left lapel. Akashi must have gasped, for soon another cloud of his breath stretched in front of him.

"Please," Kuroko said.

Akashi looked up. He remembered the first time Kuroko had pressed a finger to his heart, on another snowy winter evening such as this, nearly a year ago, shortly after Akashi's first loss at the Winter Cup. It was to return the lesson Akashi had taught him -- to contain his emotions on the court for the sake of his misdirection. Back then, Akashi had felt burdened by his failings, as he did now. He had meant to tell Kuroko goodbye that evening -- to turn his back on his former teammates forever, after all the hurt he'd caused them. But their conversation hadn't ended how he expected, not after Kuroko intervened and convinced Akashi to give both his former teammates and himself a second chance.

Show your emotions, Akashi-kun, Kuroko had said to him, pressing his finger on the lapel of Akashi's coat, right above his heart, as he did now. Stop keeping them hidden.⁴

Akashi shivered -- from the bitter cold, he told himself.

"Tell me," Kuroko said, dropping his hand. "Tell me what's bothering you, Akashi-kun, and I'll let you go home."

Akashi felt his heart beating fast underneath the spot where Kuroko had just pressed his finger. He hadn't wished to burden anyone -- least of all Kuroko -- with a problem that was fully his own. Yet, Kuroko's words begged his attention in a way he simply couldn't dismiss. Had not one of his worst flaws in the past been failing to trust his teammates? Akashi clenched his leather-clothed hands into fists and exhaled.

"I drew the name of your friend, Ogiwara-san," Akashi confessed. Strangely, the words came out with ease. For all he had labored to hold them back, it was a surprisingly simple matter to set them free.  "I'm afraid I couldn’t find anything suitable."

"Akashi-kun," Kuroko said, his voice barely raised above a whisper. He smiled. "I'd be happy to give you suggestions…but, I'm not sure that's really what you're looking for."

"You know me too well, Kuroko," Akashi replied with a shake of the head, finding himself smiling back.

"At this point, I would hope so," Kuroko replied. "I also know that you hate the cold, as much as you try to hide it. You're shivering."

"Is there anything you fail to observe?" Akashi asked with a bitter chuckle.

"You taught me well," Kuroko teased.

"I did nothing of the sort," Akashi responded, "I merely saw potential in you, and made a suggestion. You made yourself the player who you are now: a regular of the Generation of Miracles and a Winter Cup champion. I won't let you sell yourself short."

"And I won't let you either, Akashi-kun," Kuroko replied. "You're using this gift as an excuse to punish yourself for the past again. I don't think it's a present that you're looking for. You're looking for forgiveness. And you'll never find it until you forgive yourself."

Akashi closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, listening to the sound of the wind blowing past buildings and tree branches. Of course, Kuroko would understand how he felt -- Kuroko, who had blamed himself for the fact that Ogiwara had quit basketball for a time. Though Kuroko's apologies had always seemed absurd to Akashi, there was little doubt why Kuroko was able to understand his emotions so well -- almost better than Akashi understood them himself.

"Akashi-kun…you don't have to do this alone."

Akashi opened his eyes. "Kuroko," he interjected. "I do not wish to interfere with your plans, but permit me to make a suggestion, if I may."

Kuroko nodded.

"Though I must return home, I suspect it is still early for dinner," Akashi continued. "My father must take a conference call that may run rather late. I was planning to have a cup of tea, when I returned, and I was wondering if you might care to join me for a short while. Only, of course, if it is no trouble to you."

"I would love to, Akashi-kun" Kuroko replied with a smile. "So long as it is no trouble to you, either."

"Of course not," Akashi said with a grin, "it is my pleasure."

Kuroko stepped aside, clearing the path towards Akashi's home that he had blocked a moment ago. With a small nod, Akashi stepped forward, leading the way, while Kuroko walked a short pace behind.

They spoke few words, eager to escape the bitter winds. With each step forward they quickened their pace, leaving flurries of windswept snow in their wake as they made their way to the Akashi family estate.

***

"Your decorations are lovely, Akashi-kun," Kuroko said, his eyes scanning the perimeter of the dining hall, where rows of Christmas garlands hung along the molding. An assortment of colored bulb ornaments hung along each thread of pine, catching the light of the room's lamps, and illuminating its dark, wooden interior in a subtle glow. In the corner of the room nearest the fireplace, a large tree sat, adorned with red and gold lights, which further basked the hall in the colors of nightfall.

Akashi smiled as he set a gold-trimmed china teacup down atop its saucer.

"My mother loved decorating around this time of year," he said wistfully, leaning back against the green upholstery of his wooden chair. "Her favorite season was spring; she always found the winter quite dreary. But decorating for the holiday lifted her spirits, especially since it was around my birthday as well."

He stopped, for a moment, recalling his mother standing on one of the dining room chairs, her red hair flowing behind her as she leaned over the back of the chair to fasten a garland to the wall. Struggling to reach the top molding, she stood up on her tiptoes, but stumbled as she pulled the sting of pine taut, falling back onto her heels. His father dashed forward, his jaw dropping and his golden eyes widening in a way Akashi rarely saw. His mother only giggled, assuring his father with a few stern words that she could handle herself -- though she eventually agreed to let him assist with the garlands. It was one of the few times he remembered his father partaking in such a simple pleasure.

"She always insisted on doing it herself," he chuckled, the memory somehow feeling so close under the shadow of red and gold lights. "My father asked her to allow the maids to decorate, but she was set in her way."

"Like someone else I know," Kuroko laughed from the seat beside Akashi, setting down his own cup of tea. "She seems lovely," he added, his voice trailing into something less jovial. Akashi followed Kuroko's eyes, stopping as they came to rest on the portraits on his mantle -- specifically, he suspected, the photograph of himself with his parents. Akashi looked away.

"My father insists that the household continue putting up decorations every year," he said. He leaned forward and set his arms down on the table -- though he knew it rude to do so -- and looked down at his teacup. With his right hand, he ran a thumb along the handle. "It's beautiful…" he continued, "…and yet…" he sighed, allowing his breath to trail off without continuing the thought.

"It isn't quite the same," Kuroko finished. Akashi felt a sudden brush of cold against his left hand, and looked over, to see Kuroko placing a hand atop his own. Akashi looked into Kuroko's eyes and nodded, though he said nothing. His stomach was tight, and yet his chest felt suddenly warm.

"She would know what to do about this," Akashi sighed, gesturing to nothing in particular. "This…gift giving." 

Kuroko squeezed his hand lightly. Akashi bristled, pulling back and severing the contact.

"I'm sorry," he said, breaking eye contact once more. "I brought you here for your companionship and, perhaps, some advice. I didn't mean for this to become so upsetting."

"Please, Akashi-kun," Kuroko pleaded. Startled by the raw emotion in his friends' voice, Akashi reinitiated eye contact. "Don't apologize." Kuroko's gaze was the one to lower towards the table this time, as he slowly reached out his hand to take another sip from his cup. "I used to think I was a burden, you know," he said, drawing it away from his lips. "I worked so hard for a spot on the basketball team, but for what good?" Kuroko's teacup clanked loudly against the china saucer, causing Akashi to jolt upright. He stared at his typically well-mannered friend, who looked back once more.

"You changed my mind, Akashi-kun," Kuroko continued. "Because of you, and Aomine-kun, and the others… I felt that I had a purpose." Akashi felt a great weight where Kuroko's hand had rested over his own a moment ago. Noticing Kuroko's head begin to edge downward again, Akashi reached out to return the gesture. Kuroko's eyes widened.

"I'm sorry, Akashi-kun," Kuroko sighed. "I didn't return the favor back then. When you began to feel lost…I didn't know how to help. I did nothing."

"Kuroko, for the last time," Akashi replied in exasperation, "what happened at Teikou wasn't your fault."

"And it wasn't yours either, Akashi-kun!" Kuroko cried back in an impassioned tone. "Even now, a year after we agreed to reconcile, you still hold everything back. I won't let you any more, Akashi-kun! This time, it's going to be different. This time, I'm not leaving you on your own."

"Kuroko," Akashi protested, "you never left me."

"Yes," Kuroko interrupted forcefully, "Yes I did. I was always so convinced that the championship game was my fault -- that Ogiwara-kun would never forgive me -- that I never stopped to think about how it affected you. This whole time I've struggled to forgive myself, but I've never found it in me to say that I forgave you for what happened that day. I know that's what's bothering you now -- that's the reason you can't find a gift for Ogiwara. You can't think of any gift that makes up for what you think you've done."

"Kuroko…" Akashi interrupted, clasping his fingers around his former teammate's hand.

"But he will forgive you, I promise!" Kuroko continued. "You were never at fault, Akashi-kun -- captain or not. It wasn't even your idea -- it was all of our doing. It was the fault of what we had become. And Ogiwara-kun will understand. He'll forgive you, and all the others. On my life, I swear!"

"Kuroko, you don't understand," Akashi replied, raising his voice, sternly.

"What don't I understand, Akashi-kun?" Kuroko cried back, pulling his hand away from Akashi's grasp. "What it feels like to think my actions will never be forgiven?"

"No, you misunderstand," Akashi replied, his tone still firm, before dropping his shoulders and exhaling. Quietly, he continued, "It isn't the championship game that haunts me. I realize that is in the past." He felt a chill run across his spine. "It was the first time I met Ogiwara-san…in the hallway before the game."

"Did something happen?" Kuroko asked with a softened voice, though his eyes remained focused. He pulled his hands back into his lap. "I remember, when I woke up in the medic's room, you mentioned running into Ogiwara-kun in the hall. All you told me was that he said to you that he still wanted to keep his promise to play basketball with me." Kuroko paused for a moment, exhaling, before continuing on. "Was there something else that happened between the two of you?"

"Yes," Akashi replied, almost instantaneously. "He asked me if I enjoyed playing basketball."

Akashi breathed in slowly, as he set his own hands in his lap and sat up straight. He closed his eyes momentarily and exhaled, brushing over his left hand gently with his right thumb.

"And what did you say?" Kuroko asked. "No?"

"Worse," Akashi replied. "I told him I did not know the meaning of his question."

"Is that all?" Kuroko asked, his eyes widening. "You know, Akashi-kun, I hated basketball for a time. So did Ogiwara-kun himself. Why would he hold that against you?"

"Ogiwara-san is quite perceptive, Kuroko," Akashi said. "He already knew we found no enjoyment in the game. It was not a genuine question.  I took it as a challenge -- but it was more like an attempt at an intervention. Or, perhaps that is not quite right either; it was an invitation. One which I responded to only by berating him cruelly."

"What do you mean?"

"I told him that finding enjoyment in the sport was just an excuse for the weak," Akashi continued, "and that I found him an unworthy opponent -- both from his talent and his mindset." He laughed, deeply and bitterly. He blinked his right eye closed and shook his head. "And, yes, I could simply blame that behavior on my "little brother." But it would be wrong of me, not to mention inaccurate."

Akashi picked up his cup of tea again, drinking the last few sips before gently placing it down. Kuroko studied him with unmoving eyes.

"You see, Ogiwara-san responded to my comment by saying that it was not weakness to be able to find motivation in losing; in fact, that trying harder is that part that makes basketball fun. Naturally, I found these sentiments naïve. At the time, I had never encountered defeat, but that is not to say I did not know loss. With my mother's passing, I lost not only her, but, in some ways, my father as well."

He paused for a moment, eyes catching the soft glow of the Christmas lights once more. For an instant, the presence of his friend faded into the background as he remembered the scene he had imagined before, in greater detail now. He recalled watching his father hang the lights on the tree as he argued with the prickling pine needles shedding onto his suit jacket, while his mother happily hummed an American Christmas carol he wasn't familiar with. Sometimes his parents' eyes would catch one another, and the trace of a smile would grace both their lips, before they turned back to their consuming work. Inhaling deeply, he tried to suppress the memory. Certainly, it was only natural to remember such things given the topic at hand, but becoming lost in thought was not prudent right now. Catching Kuroko's eye, Akashi remembered that he was making a point -- and that he best carry on.

"By the end of my first year at Teikou, I felt that I had finally escaped my isolation," Akashi continued. "I enjoyed basketball -- and, far more, I enjoyed the companionship it brought me."

He looked at his empty teacup with a quiet sigh. He paused briefly as another memory came to mind. Once, this dining hall had been a meeting place for Teikou's captain and vice-captain. It had been around Christmastime back then, too, in his second year, when he invited both the former captain, Nijimura, and current vice-captain, Midorima, to have one final cup of tea here before the season's end. The colorful bulbs reflected in the shining gold trim of the china on that night, just as they did now. Midorima had taken his leave -- with some hurried remark about his homework, and how the Oha-Asa horoscope had warned that Cancers should be prudent with their studies -- leaving Akashi and Nijimura alone. They looked one another in the eye, knowing full well what each was thinking, yet afraid to speak the thought aloud. After a moment of silence, Nijimura stood up, placing a hand on Akashi's shoulder. He likely knew Akashi's fear -- that he would disappear into the unknown, like everything Akashi had ever cared about. Perhaps as reassurance, he had promised to stay in touch, despite the time difference between the United States and Japan. It was painful to recall the conversation on now, having barely heard from Nijimura for nearly three years.

"The Generation of Miracles fragmenting made me fear not only that I would lose each of you, who had grown so important to me," Akashi confessed, "but that, somehow, I was doomed to lose each person who ever had held an irreplaceable position in my heart." He wrung his hands in his lap. "I placed all my hope in the one thing that had never failed me -- my own invincibility. That is, after all, why I allowed my troublesome 'little brother' to take control. I had to find within myself the power to control my situation. I sincerely believed this was the only thing which could lead to my own happiness."

Akashi shook his head, as if he could not believe his own foolishness. "Ogiwara-san approached me without fear, like few others had in the past. He challenged me as an equal. I could have found myself a companion, had I been open to his generosity, but I was unable to consider the possibility that I could find pleasure in such a spontaneous gesture. Instead, I focused on what I so mistakenly believed was the foolishness of his words. Victory, control…I was so thoroughly convinced that those were the only chances I had at happiness. And here he was, saying that basketball would be fun for me, even if I lost, so long as I just kept trying! I thought this was unforgivable audacity. Yet, now I see that he was showing me the truth, and offering me friendship, as the very kind of person from whom I needed it.  But I was the one who was too proud and senseless to see it!"

"Akashi…kun…" Kuroko replied, slowly.

"I cannot say I warrant his forgiveness," Akashi sighed. "But I still vainly hoped that I'd be able to find a gift that could somehow replace that cold first impression I had given him. No one else offered me any sign of help when we were at Teikou; neither was it shown to Aomine, or Murasakibara, or you, Kuroko. I spurned his offer. And perhaps the distance that will remain between us is the lesson I deserve."

"Akashi-kun," Kuroko interjected again, but strongly and forcefully this time. "I think you underestimate Ogiwara-kun."

"Please," Akashi replied, holding his hand up as a gesture of peace, "I mean no offense. I do not doubt that Ogiwara is a kind and forgiving person."

"It's more than that," Kuroko responded. His eyes were focused, and he took a short breath, as though he were going to say more, but, suddenly, he stopped. Akashi waited.

"Akashi-kun," Kuroko began again, his voice quiet once more. "I haven't been completely honest with you. I've asked you to open up to me, and yet, there are things which I have still never told you.

"You see…" Kuroko continued, "…when I stopped coming to school, after the championship game, I never planned on playing basketball again." He diverted his eyes, which were beginning to show signs of strain. "I know that you believed I would return to prove my own style of basketball; and, in the end, you were right. But I never would have returned…if it wasn't for Ogiwara-kun."

"How so?" Akashi asked, feeling a faint ache in his stomach as he noticed the way Kuroko's eyes wavered and shimmered against the lights.

"I decided to visit his school, sometime after the game," Kuroko said. "Thinking back on it…I'm not sure why. I was so convinced that he would never forgive me, after all. Perhaps, I thought that if he knew I had quit, he would think I had redeemed myself."

"That's absurd," Akashi quipped. "Your basketball is what redeemed us all, in the end."

"I know," Kuroko whispered. "And Ogiwara-kun knew too." He looked back up at Akashi, eyes shining with unshed tears, and yet his determination burned through each part of him that wavered. "He was no longer there when I visited. He had transferred away. But, by some miracle, his teammate met with me, and handed me Ogiwara-kun's old wristband -- the one I still wear in all my games. And he told me what Ogiwara-kun had said to him…before he left." He took another deep breath, and sniffled, keeping his tears from running down his cheek. "You aren't wrong, Akashi-kun; he thought that you, and all of our teammates, had a cold look in your eyes. But…he said: 'Kuroko can definitely stand up again. He will definitely melt those cold eyes.'"

"He still believed in you," Akashi said with a smile, though he felt something heavy in the back of his throat.

"Not just in me," Kuroko replied with a shake of the head. "He believed that all of us would enjoy basketball again. Even you, Akashi-kun."

Akashi closed his eyes, feeling them beginning to stir, and inhaled slowly. His throat was aching now, and his chest felt heavy. He opened his eyes again, coming face-to-face with the sight of Kuroko, smiling gently at him. He bit his lip.

"Only with your help," Akash murmured, attempting to protest Kuroko's statement, but finding himself physically struggling to force the words out.

"That's why I knew I had to win," Kuroko replied. His smile remained bright, but a tear snuck onto his cheek for the first time that evening.

Akashi tried to smile in return, but instead exhaled harshly, releasing the tension on his throat, and producing his own set of tears. He turned his face in an attempt to hide it from view.

"If you can show Ogiwara-kun that you love basketball again, there's no way he won't think you've changed," Kuroko said, gently.

Akashi stiffened, his eyes widening. Slowly, he turned back. "Kuroko…" he smiled." As always, you exceed my expectations."

"What do you mean, Akashi-kun?" Kuroko asked.

"You've helped me decide what my gift should be," Akashi declared proudly, "something which will prove to Ogiwara-san that I really do love basketball again." He looked down and placed his hand into the pocket of his pants, rummaging until he produced his cellphone.

"Now, this will take some arrangement," Akashi continued, flipping the phone open and beginning to search through his contacts, "but, fortunately, there is still ample time."

"I'm glad that I could help, Akashi-kun," Kuroko replied.

Akashi nodded, but gave no verbal reply. His gaze was intense but eager as he tapped the keys of his phone in a furious rhythm.

Kuroko said nothing further, merely returning to drinking his tea. But, as Akashi glanced up, he thought he noticed a smile hiding just above the rim of Kuroko's tea cup.

***

"I'm afraid this is the end, Midorima," Akashi declared, projecting an air of confidence with his content but calm demeanor, as he looked down at the red figure standing near the end of the rainbow-colored path on the game board.

His friend, Midorima Shintarou, stared wide-eyed at the card in his hand, mouth agape.

"Geeze, Shin-chan," Takao Kazunari sighed, as Midorima set down the card with a huff and moved his green colored figure backwards. He moved it behind all the other game pieces, finally stopping on the square decorated with a picture of candy hearts. "You can't let Akashi win that easily."

"You have only yourself to blame, Takao," Midorima sighed, pushing up his glasses. "You picked a game that is governed purely by chance on the unluckiest day for Cancers. If you had chosen a strategy game, like I asked you to, then I could have played more competitively."

"Oh, come on don't blame me," Takao whined. "Besides, I thought this lucky globe I had to drag you out to buy this morning was supposed to fix your luck," he added, spinning a small globe which sat on the table next to Midorima and the game board.

"That isn't how it works, Takao," Midorima scolded. "It puts me in a better position before fate. It cannot change it. A game of luck will still not be in my favor today."

"Well, since we're at Kagami's place, I thought it'd be fun to try one of the American games that was lying around in the closet," Takao replied, with a self-assured tone.  "Candy Land looked fun.⁵ I mean, come on, we're having an American-style Christmas party! Get into the spirit, Shin-chan!"

Midorima sent Takao a side-eyed glare, which was returned by a playful pout.

"Uh, Takao-kun, it's your turn," the fourth member of their game, Furihata Kouki, interjected, pointing to the stack of cards.

"Yeah, I got it," Takao muttered, shooting one last feigned look of disappointment at Midorima before he drew the next card. He flipped it over to reveal one green square. Looking down at his yellow game piece, then up the rainbow colored board, he moaned in exasperation. "One lousy space," he whined, moving the figure to the green space, just one place ahead.

"What did I tell you about this game?" Midorima sighed. "And, for the record, Takao, Scorpio is in eleventh place. Your luck is no better than mine, especially since you did not secure your lucky item."

"Oh, excuses, excuses, Shin-chan!" Takao snapped back.

"It's no matter, Midorima," Akashi interjected, hoping to bring some peace to the conflict. "The result would have been the same, regardless of what game Takao may have chosen. I simply will claim my victory more swiftly this way."

"I see you're as cocky as ever, Akashi," Takao quipped teasingly, between gritted teeth. "One of these days, someone's going to beat you in one of these games."

Akashi looked over at Takao, a small grin tugging at the edges of his lips. "Is that a challenge?" he asked. "You seem to have forgotten, I was already defeated by Seirin. Perhaps, in another sixteen years, I will experience defeat again."

"Good to see that your talent and luck is only exceeded by your modesty," Takao remarked sarcastically.

Akashi's grin faded and he stared back at Takao, sternly. He had meant his previous statement as a witty joke, but, clearly, it had not been taken as one. His stomach churned.

Perhaps, in some sense, he did lack modesty, though he had always seen it as self-assurance, rather than arrogance. He certainly saw the value of humility -- theoretically, at least -- but, the fact of the matter was that he nearly always preformed to any expectations set by his father, his teachers, his coaches, and, of course, himself, no matter how high. When he began his studies at Teikou, he thought it might be best not to speak of his background, his family fortune, his grades, or his many positions within school clubs and activities. Yet, in the end, his silence had only led to further isolation. But speaking the truth aloud was no less distancing. He might try to address his life experiences in good humor, but it only resulted in Akashi's heightened realization that there were some things no one would ever understand about him. There were some bridges that could never be crossed.

He looked down at the small white envelope sitting on his lap. A week ago, when he had sat down to tea with Kuroko, he was certain that he had secured the best possible gift to demonstrate to Ogiwara that he had changed since their first meeting. Now, however, he felt he could not rule out the possibility of misinterpretation. He ran a finger along the edge of the envelope, feeling the sensation of the coarse paper against his dry skin.

"Uh, Sei? About those sixteen years," a teasing but somewhat uncertain voice called from Akashi's side, snapping him out of his reverie.

Akashi looked over to see Furihata Kouki, holding up a card with one hand while pointing to it with the other, a timid smile plastered across his face. Printed on the card was a picture of a tri-colored Neapolitan ice cream bar, corresponding to the "ice cream floats" section of the game board -- the closest picture card to the end of the board. Akashi looked down as Furihata set the card aside and moved his blue figurine just three spaces behind Akashi's.⁶

"I believe you have a challenger now," Furihata laughed.

Takao gasped dramatically, oohing and ahhing, while Midorima simply huffed and pushed up on the bridge of his glasses.

"Challenge accepted," Akashi replied, with a small grin, reaching for the next card. He drew a purple square, and moved his piece forwards to the next purple space on the board.

Perhaps no one quite understood Akashi, but with a quiet sigh, he reminded himself that he was lucky to have the friendships he did. As much as he felt tension in the atmosphere, as they waited for the present exchange to be announced, the evening was just as great a reminder of the enjoyable company of friends. He had nearly given up, a year ago, on thinking that he could regain the friendships he had forged in junior high. Yet, here he was now, playing a board game with three people he couldn't have imagined entertaining a year ago: the best friend he had once spurned with his antics, said best friend's trusted partner, and an opposing point guard who had once trembled at the very sight of him. To be able to count these people among his best friends now was surprising, but a miracle in itself. The very thought gave Akashi a small glint of hope that perhaps his present for Ogiwara would have its desired effect. Yet, he tried to suppress such thoughts, out of fear of disappointment.

Midorima reached for the next card, when their game was interrupted by the sudden sound of metal on glass. Akashi turned around to see Momoi standing at the front of the room, clinking the back of a serving spoon against a toasting flute. Kuroko was standing at her side.

"Attention, everyone!" she called. The buzz of chatter -- and occasional yells -- that had filled the apartment came to a halt in an instant. "Tetsu-kun would like to make an announcement. But, first, I'd like to say a couple of thank you's. First, let's give a big hand to Kagami-kun for kindly letting us use his apartment for this party. Thank you, Kagami-kun!" She smiled widely and clinked the spoon against the glass once more, cuing a round of applause from the guests. "And then, of course," she added, a slight blush tinting her cheeks, "thank you to Tetsu-kun for this wonderful idea! It's been so much fun, and I can't wait for what's next!" She suppressed a small giggle and tapped her spoon against the glass again, leading an even louder chorus of applause this time. "And now," she finished, stepping aside, and extending a hand towards Kuroko, "I'll turn it over to Tetsu-kun."

"Thank you for coming, everyone," Kuroko began. "I hope that you've been enjoying the party. But, I think it's time now to begin our main event of the evening."

"Presents!" Takao cried over a chorus of excited voices, pumping a fist in the air. Furihata smiled and clapped, while Midorima remained still. Watching them, Akashi smiled softly, yet the action was forced. Inside he felt an itch crawl up the lining of his stomach, then percolate through his body, like a spilled cup of water, spreading out uncontrollably in all directions.

Kuroko smiled, looking on at the smiling faces of his friends. For a moment, he turned, his eyes meeting Akashi's, and, in that instant, Akashi thought he saw Kuroko's joyful expression turn to one of concern. A minute later, though, Kuroko had focused back on the rest of the crowd, looking as content as he had a moment before. "Have fun, everyone!" he finished, with a grin. The sound of metal chair legs scraping on the ground, feet pounding down on the hardwood floor, and wrapping paper rustling filled the room within an instant of Kuroko's announcement.

Akashi sighed, and turned his head down, staring once more at the small envelope in his hand. On one hand, he had hoped to put off this exchange for as long as possible. Yet, on the other, the event that had preoccupied his thoughts almost the whole time he had been in Tokyo on his vacation was finally coming to an end. Suppose Ogiwara didn't appreciate his gift -- nothing would change between them.  If he felt offended by Akashi's presence, a failed apology could hardly make matters worse. Akashi breathed in deeply through his nose. There was no use waiting any longer.

"Hey, Furihata-kun!" Takao's voice called happily beside him. "Don't run off just yet! I'm your Secret Santa!"

Akashi looked up to see Takao pull a large present wrapped in glimmering, gold wrapping paper from underneath the table, and carefully pass it over with both hands to Furihata.

"Oh, God, it's huge!" Furihata laughed nervously. "Really…Takao…you didn't have to."

"You don't even know what it is yet!" Takao chuckled back in reply. "Come on, open it up!"

"All right," Furihata agreed with a nod, digging his fingers into the paper and ripping it open. He gasped. "No way!" he cried, pulling the paper off faster now. "I don't have this yet!" he continued, as Akashi caught a glimpse of box filled with green and silver model train cars. "It's the 400 series -- running from Fukushima to Shinjou on the Yamagata Shinkansen -- the mini-shinkansen route opened in 1992," Furihata's speech was becoming very rapid now, as his eyes lit up with each word. He ran his fingers over the box, counting the trains inside. "This is the seven-car set -- so it’s the up-to-date model. See, originally, the 400 series was a six-car model, but the tsubasa service became popular enough that they had to add a seventh car, and…" he looked up, his eyes suddenly wavering. "Oh, goodness, I'm probably boring you, I'm so sorry!"

"It's really not a problem, Furihata," Takao laughed, "I'm just glad you like it." ⁷

"Like it!?" Furihata cried, "I love it!" He stopped for a moment, suddenly looking very frightened. "But…G-god…Takao, t-this isn't some k-kid's playset or s-something, I mean, t-this is a Tomix N-scale model …this m-must cost…20,000 y-yen…" ^{8 9}

"Don't sweat, it, of course I didn't pay that much for it," Takao said, waving his hand dismissively. "Shin-chan dragged me to some recycle shop for a lucky item, of course, and I happened to see this there.¹⁰ You'll notice the packaging isn't new or anything."

Furihata's eyes lit back up, his smiled widening. "Thank you, Takao!" he exclaimed, holding the model train box out at arm's length and inspecting it carefully.

Despite the unease spreading through Akashi's core, he couldn't help but grin at the delight radiating from Furihata's wide, brown eyes and awestruck smile. At the same time, though, he wished that his present could have such an overpowering effect on its recipient.  Whether or not Ogiwara appreciated his gift, his eyes certainly wouldn't sparkle at the site of it, nor would it likely win him any affection. At best -- if all went according to Akashi's plan -- it would be seen as an apology. At worse -- the more Akashi pondered on it -- it could be taken as a sign of disrespect.

He stood up, forcing himself to look away from the smiling faces in front of him, tuning out their jubilant laughter. Clutching the envelope tightly in his hand, he let his eyes search the room for a face he hadn't seen -- except at a distance -- in two years. He took a step forward, towards the corner of the apartment, then another. He stopped abruptly, noticing Ogiwara Shigehiro about a meter away, approaching him with slow, cautious steps.

Ogiwara looked somewhat different than last time Akashi had seen him. Of course, in some ways, this was no surprise. He was taller than he had been in junior high -- his muscles were more toned, and his face wore the burden of those weary years since the championship game. Yet, Akashi was startled -- and disheartened -- to see that he treaded slowly, somewhat slouched over the small red-wrapped box he carried. Furthermore, his eyes -- those strong, unwavering eyes that haunted Akashi's memories of their meeting in the corridor of the gym -- seemed unable to meet Akashi's own straight-on. Akashi's stomach tightened as the reality of his fears sank in. The boy who had once approached him with such strength had become yet another subjugated to his onerous empire.

"Excuse me, Ogiwara-san?" Akashi asked, as Ogiwara stepped within centimeters of the place he stood. Akashi's voice sounded strong, despite the quiver he felt on his lips as the words escaped. Brown eyes turned to meet his own, widening.  

"Are you - my Secret Santa?" Ogiwara asked, disbelief coloring his voice.

Akashi felt his legs shake, small muscle spasms threatening his tall, proud posture. "Yes," he responded firmly, his eyes level with the one he addressed.

Ogiwara chuckled softly to himself, his eyes closing pensively, as though he were laughing at this twist of fate. Perhaps they could at least agree on the cruelty of Akashi's assignment, if they could find no other common ground.

They stood in place for a minute, at a distance too far to be termed friendly, but too close for both their comfort. The other guests scurried around them with boxes of various sizes and shapes, excitedly searching for others, often while calling out their names.

 "Perhaps we should find somewhere to sit," Akashi suggested, gesturing towards the corner of the room. "It would be best not to get into the way of the others."

"Right," Ogiwara, responded, snapping to attention. He followed Akashi's lead towards the corner of the room, away from the crowd, where they sat down, face-to-face on the floor.

"So, how have you been enjoying the party?" Ogiwara asked, as they made themselves comfortable.

"I've enjoyed it so far," Akashi responded, simply. "And you?"

"It's been fun," Ogiwara agreed, with a small nod. "I'm glad Kuroko decided to host it, and invite us, despite how far away some of us are. You're studying in Kyoto, right?"

"Yes," Akashi replied, "but Rakuzan is currently on winter vacation, so I have been back with my father, in Tokyo."

"Oh, I see," Ogiwara answered.  "It's nice that you can spend a little time back home with him over the break."

"Indeed," Akashi responded his voice speaking in a rather genuine tone, "The other day he gave me a lesson on investment strategies; and, after that, we reviewed the performance of the Akashi Corporation's stock over the course of the current fiscal year. I believe that tonight, we are discussing the yen's exchange rate, and how it should inform our decision-making process with respect to our international subsidiaries. Perhaps we'll even make some tea for our discussion."

"Well, I guess it's been informative," Ogiwara replied, hesitantly.

"Quite."

"I'm sorry if I touched on a rough subject," Ogiwara apologized, softly.

"It's no matter," Akashi reassured him, "I am accustomed to how it is, by now." Akashi felt another tingle shoot through his core. He was, indeed, accustomed to the reality of his relationship with his father -- enough, that he shouldn't have felt the need to bring it into the conversation just now. Normally, outside of close company, he'd have responded diplomatically to such an inquiry about his time at home. A simple "yes," or even a nod of the head would have sufficed to answer Ogiwara's statement.  But somehow, withholding the truth from Ogiwara felt like adding insult to injury. Though, perhaps, he'd avoided insult, only to create further injury.

Akashi exhaled slowly, and peered down at the envelope in his hand. It was best that he hand over the gift, for better or worse, and put an end to this situation once and for all. What was ostensibly an evening spent among friends was beginning to feel increasingly like one of his father's dinner parties.

"I think I've been keeping you waiting for long enough," Akashi said, forcing a small smile. He lifted the envelope off his lap carefully, presenting it to Ogiwara. He felt his pulse escalate as he performed the simple gesture. "Forgive me," he continued, "it is not a physical gift. But, I hope that you will find it agreeable, nonetheless."

"All right," Ogiwara replied, taking the envelope into his own hands and gently sliding a finger under the seal to wedge it open.

Akashi watched, breathing slowly in and out as he waited, in order to avoid holding his breath.  His pulse pounded in anticipation and his stomach muscles tightened to the point where he felt faintly nauseous.

Ogiwara slipped a crème colored letter out from the envelope and unfolded it, revealing lines of impeccable calligraphy. Akashi observed his eyes slowly moving the length of the page, ready to hear his final sentence in this trial that had taxed him for weeks. His breath faltered, as Ogiwara looked up and muttered, softly, nothing more than: "Akashi-kun."

"Yes?" Akashi replied, as he collected his breath.

"My team didn't make it past the first round of the Winter Cup," Ogiwara continued, his words still soft. His eyes remained transfixed on the letter in front of him. "And now…you're inviting us to play against the champions?"

Akashi's heart continued to race as he tried desperately to interpret the tone of Ogiwara's words. Ogiwara’s eyes were wide, his mouth agape in disbelief, but whether it was a positive or negative sort escaped even Akashi's powers of observation.

Ogiwara chucked. "I'm not sure we're ready," he said, with a slight shake of the head.

Akashi felt it become harder to breathe. Of course Ogiwara didn't feel ready. Two years ago, Akashi and his teammates had stripped Ogiwara of his hope and even his passion for the game; subjected him to the same torturous fate of seeing basketball as the burden that they experienced. Why would Ogiwara see this gift as anything but another chance for Akashi to remind him of his status -- to force him away from basketball for the second time?

"Yes, but your opponent was Shuutoku," Akashi argued back. It was pointless, most likely, but Akashi could never let a flawed statement pass without interjecting the truth. "Which, need I remind you, is one of the strongest teams in Japan, with some of the strongest players in Midorima, Takao, and Miyaji. And Rakuzan -- champions though we might be -- has lost most of our starting lineup to retirement."

"Perhaps, but Rakuzan is strong every year," Ogiwara continued, pensively. "We'll have to play carefully…and think of a strategy that might exploit the short time your other players have played together." Ogiwara laughed again, brighter this time -- or was it only Akashi's imagination? "But I shouldn't give away my gameplan to the opposing captain."

Akashi's eyes widened, his pounding pulse skipping abruptly.

"I'm not sure we'll ever be ready," Ogiwara laughed, "but you'd better believe we won't let this opportunity go to waste."

"I would hope not," Akashi replied. His body was still enveloped in an anxious tingling sensation, yet he was transfixed by the light that seemed to shine in Ogiwara's eyes. "Your team has a starting lineup of five third-years -- which is almost unheard of. Your coaching is clearly strong too. I've watched film of your team, and you play the 2-3 zone as well as any team I've seen. You couldn't have drawn a worse matchup than Shuutoku -- who has the most consistent three-point shooter in the country, given that the perimeter shot is the greatest weakness of the 2-3 zone. And yet, knowing this, you managed to pull together quite a capable man-to-man defense for the match. It will be a great test for our young squad to play against such a disciplined, veteran team."¹¹  

"You're too gracious," Ogiwara responded, diverting his eyes as his cheeks flushed lightly with embarrassment.

"There is no place for flattery in evaluating one's opponent," Akashi replied. "If I cared for flattery at all, which I do not. I am simply stating the facts."

"Oh, I don't just mean your words," Ogiwara corrected. "It must have taken a lot of effort to arrange an entire practice match with a team in another prefecture, just for a Christmas gift."

"It took time, certainly," Akashi replied, "but it was a fairly simple matter to arrange. Before the break, Coach Shirogane and I had already been discussing the possibility of adding new practice matches to the schedule. I simply had to contact him, and inform him that your team would be the perfect test of skill, for the reasons I have already stated. There's hardly better practice for a team of new players than to play an experienced team, such as yours. And it didn’t take much convincing, considering you came within a point of defeating Shuutoku."

"I'm honored to have my team be seen as such worthy opponents," Ogiwara said with a small smile. Akashi's chest tightened. For as long as they had been conversing, there had been no mention of the first time he and Ogiwara had met.  In fact, they had been speaking to one another as though they had never met before. Yet, Ogiwara's words clearly harkened back to their first conversation -- to the time when Akashi had informed him that his team was an unworthy opponent for Teikou. Akashi couldn't help but stare into Ogiwara's eyes, hoping to discern the meaning behind this sudden statement. Certainly, it did not seem coincidental. 

"I take it you like the gift, then?" Akashi asked, hoping to extract more information.

Ogiwara laughed. "I'm amazed, frankly!" he replied, surprise and awe evident in his voice. "Your coach must have a great deal of faith in you, Akashi."

"I suppose so," Akashi replied calmly. Perhaps he should have responded more generously to such kind praise, but, frankly, he wasn't sure what more to say. Certainly, Akashi was aware that it was unusual for a high school captain to be entrusted with creating the team's schedule, running team practices, or any of the other numerous responsibilities he had been given. But Akashi had always found himself in this position since childhood. And, from his perspective, it felt far less like praise to be put in charge of tasks more befitting of an adult, and more like the burden he had to bear for his natural gifts. Akashi tried his best to take it in stride, but at times he felt resentful towards teachers and coaches who forced him to be so involved in their own responsibilities. He had never thought to consider it a token of their faith in him.

"I can see why," Ogiwara continued, with a smile. "I don't think I could have come up with a better gift myself! I don't know anyone here very well, other than Kuroko. So, I admit, I was expecting something pretty generic, like snacks, or a basketball wristband or something. I know you said you were sorry that it wasn't a physical gift, but there's nothing I love more than a good game of basketball! I don't think I could have come up with anything as creative or fun as this."

Akashi felt his heart lift as he observed Ogiwara's gentle smile and shining brown eyes.  He had not only succeeded in presenting Ogiwara with a gift that he appreciated and deserved, but Ogiwara's gratitude for the gift exceeded his expectations. Yet, somehow, it felt wrong to claim the victory for himself alone.

 "Thank you," Akashi replied, sincerely. "But, unfortunately, I cannot claim to have thought of this idea on my own. In fact, I was having trouble deciding on a gift, until Kuroko gave me some direction. You ought to thank him as much as me."

"Kuroko's very helpful," Ogiwara said with a small nod, "but you should give yourself more credit. You arranged the match yourself, after all. Your efforts are appreciated."

"You're very kind…" Akashi responded, meaning to continue on by politely insisting that his efforts were little trouble. Yet he found himself suddenly losing his train of thought as he caught sight of Ogiwara's bright expression dimming. The tension he had sensed when they had first sat down together had curiously returned. Ogiwara was staring down at his present with uncertain eyes, his body slouching away from Akashi. Perhaps, Ogiwara's praise been nothing but a mere formality; but his response to Akashi's gift had seemed far too genuine for that to be the case.

"I only wish that my gift could be as good," Ogiwara said, picking up the box at his side.

"I'm sure that whoever it is for will appreciate it greatly," Akashi replied. "You shouldn't worry about whether it seems creative or generic. The gift does not have to be perfect to be meaningful." Akashi somehow managed to keep a straight face while saying the words, despite realizing his own hypocrisy. Yet, when he spoke the advice to another, it felt genuine. His high standards burdened only himself. It was far easier to see that they were not always best for others.

"Oh, it's not generic," Ogiwara laughed. He grabbed the box with both hands, and turned his gaze back on Akashi. Akashi's eyes widened suddenly, as Ogiwara leaned forward, presenting him with the gift. "It's for you."

Slowly, Akashi reached out his hands and grabbed hold of the box, feeling his fingers tremble against the wrapping paper. He pulled the gift into his lap, keeping his eyes trained on Ogiwara's expectant expression. Carefully, Akashi wedged his finger into the folds of the wrapping paper, and ripped back the decorative covering, finding a simple cardboard box underneath. Exchanging gifts ought to have been a joyful occasion, but Akashi could sense tension, rather than anticipation, in the way that Ogiwara was inspecting his every movement. It was true that Akashi had felt the need to placate Ogiwara with his gift, but there was no reason for Ogiwara to do the same. The unfortunate reality of the situation was settling in. As pleased as Akashi was that Ogiwara had accepted his apology, and seemed to hold no ill will against him for the incidents of the past, it could not mend the distance that always existed between Akashi and others. Indeed, Akashi felt no different than he had during the game of Candy Land earlier, when his joke had been misinterpreted as a haughty truth. It was as though he were a god being offered a poor man's sacrifice with reverence and fear.

Exhaling slowly, Akashi removed the lid of the cardboard box, hoping his reaction might soothe Ogiwara's nerves.  He looked down, expecting to see basketball paraphernalia, or, perhaps, a winter scarf, or a slice of Christmas cake. But, instead, his eyes caught sight of a black bottle. His eyebrows rose and his body shifted back. Taking the bottle in his hand, he turned it over, revealing the words "Hoof Polish" written in bold white characters. It certainly was not generic.

Eagerly, he set the bottle aside and pulled out a second gift, wrapped in a plastic covering, that still sat inside the box. Holding it up, he observed a small horse cap, folded in half. The cap was red with white cotton trim -- much like Santa-san's famous hat -- and on either side, imitation reindeer ears poked out, acting as a Christmas costume for any horse who wore it. Akashi set the gift down on his lap, and looked back up at Ogiwara, who smiled meekly.

Akashi smiled back reassuringly in Ogiwara's direction, before returning his attention to the gift. He hadn't anticipated that Ogiwara knew he had a horse, and from his tense expression, he hadn't expected that he would present him with such a casual and humorous gift. He pictured his proud and elegant white horse, Yukimaru, dressed in a small pair of reindeer antlers. Finding the mental image so endearing and amusing, he looked back up and Ogiwara and, unable to suppress it any longer, let out a loud, joyful laugh.

"I know," Ogiwara said, with a small, shy chuckle of his own, "it's a little silly."

"No," Akashi replied, struggling to contain his undignified laughter, "it's very charming, actually."

"I'm sorry if you don't have any use for it," Ogiwara apologized. 

"There's no need to apologize," Akashi responded, regaining his composure. "My family has always decorated quite lavishly for Christmas. According to my mother, the tradition began a few years before I was born, when my father was negotiating contracts with international business partners in the West. The American corporation he had been spending most of his time in discussions with was closed for the holiday, so my mother convinced him to take the rare opportunity away from work to relax. He decided to travel to Kobe with my mother for a Christmas Eve date, and took her to see the Kobe Luminaire.^{12 13} She was so awestruck by the light display that my father suggested having our serving staff put up Christmas lights -- though, she always insisted on putting them up herself." He laughed, quietly. "She was the one who suggested I be given my own horse to ride, as well," Akashi continued. "I had never thought of including my horse, Yukimaru, in all the festivities. But… I believe there are few things she would have loved more."

Akashi stopped, suddenly, realizing that he was staring blankly at the gift in his lap while divulging all manner of memories that he normally would have kept private. He rarely spoke of his family, even among his closest friends; so there seemed little purpose in reveling it all to a stranger. It seemed trivial at best and improper at worst. He looked up, hoping that he was not showing as much embarrassment as he felt after speaking for so long.  Yet, as Akashi noticed the gentleness in Ogiwara's eyes, he felt a certain rush of calm.

The present which Akashi had been given just now ran counter to the entire narrative that had plagued his mind since drawing Ogiwara's name. The distance he felt from others, that sense that no one could connect with his truest self -- it all seemed voided by the incredibly personal and thoughtful gift he had received, from the person he had least expected to receive it from.

"I'm so glad," Ogiwara said with a smile, exhaling what was likely a sigh of relief. "Your house sounds like it must be lovely at Christmastime. I think it's beautiful that you carry on your mother's tradition like that. And, I'm honored, honestly, that my gift worked out so well. It seemed a little hit or miss to me."

"I appreciate it greatly," Akashi replied, sincerely, with a bow. "You have my thanks."

Ogiwara chuckled once more, perhaps taken aback by the formality of Akashi's appreciation.

"Would you permit me to ask you one question, though, Ogiwara-san?" Akashi inquired.

"As many as you'd like," Ogiwara replied.

"I do not wish to sound as though I am passing judgement on what was, I believe, one of the most thoughtful gifts I have received in some time," Akashi began, "but did Kuroko assist you, as well, in choosing your gift? I ask because few people know about Yukimaru. Kuroko; Midorima; my former captain, Nijimura-san; and, most recently, my friend Furihata, are the only ones I've ever told."

"Well, I guess Kuroko might have helped, in a way," Ogiwara said, his eyes trailing off to the side as a small blush crept onto his face. "But…not directly."

"What exactly do you mean?" Akashi asked.  

"Well, you see, when I left Tokyo in sixth grade, I wanted to stay in touch with Kuroko," Ogiwara began. "I didn't have a cellphone yet, so I used to write him letters, telling him how I was doing. Kuroko would write me back; though, as I'm sure you know, he was often quiet when he was struggling, and really needed the most support. So I tried to always keep sending him something.

"By second year, we both had gotten phones, and would often text each other, but occasionally we still wrote letters, too. And, I noticed that something had really changed for the better. It started out at the end of first year, when he met Aomine, who would stay late at the gym and practice with him, even though he was only on the third string. And not too long after that, Kuroko told me that he had made the team, thanks in part to his encounter with the vice-captain. You, of course."

"So, Kuroko used to talk about us?" Akashi asked, in a calm and collected voice. It was unsurprising, given that Kuroko had even mentioned Ogiwara's name to Akashi once in passing, despite often refusing to speak about his past. If Kuroko and Ogiwara had remained in touch throughout junior high and shared stories with one another about their teams, then all the members of the Generation of Miracles were likely to have been mentioned at one point or another.

"He talked about you all the time," Ogiwara smiled. "I could tell that you guys were wonderful friends for him. He started writing and texting more and more, so I knew that he must have felt happier at school and on the team.

"Now, I hope this doesn't sound too strange. But as time went on, I felt like I almost got to know all of you. There was Haizaki, who always caused trouble; Midorima, who brought lucky items to practice to follow his daily horoscope, Murasakibara, who loved to eat; and Kise, the new player, who was also a model. But most of his letters were either about Aomine -- who I could tell had quickly become his best friend -- or you, Akashi."

 "As the captain, I suppose it was natural that my name would appear in conversation," Akashi replied.

"Perhaps," Ogiwara replied, "but, he didn't only mention you in the context of basketball. He told me about the time you beat the president of the shogi club at his own game and won prizes.¹⁴ And about the time you took nearly all the tofu during a team dinner."¹⁵

"I hadn't suspected that anyone had noticed me," Akashi said, diverting his eyes with a hint of embarrassment. "Of course, Kuroko would have seen."

Ogiwara laughed. "He is a great observer, isn't he?"

Akashi nodded.

 "That's how I knew that you loved horseback riding," Ogiwara continued. "It was something that Kuroko mentioned was one of your hobbies -- like shogi, basketball, chess, and music. Kuroko saw you as a friend too, not just a captain. And someone he was very grateful to, for seeing potential in him where no one else could."

"I've told him many times," Akashi said with a shake of his head, "that is not something I should be thanked for. Just because others are incapable of seeing what lies before their own eyes does not make me remarkable. I have plenty of talents to boast of. Taking advantage of Kuroko's special abilities is hardly one of my merits."

 "You don't give yourself enough credit," Ogiwara sighed.

Akashi's eyes widened. Given how many people envied his many talents -- and his lack of shame in embracing them -- this was not something he was used to hearing.

"Kuroko's potential was obvious to you because you have a gift for seeing what other people can contribute and become," Ogiwara continued. "I've studied film of Rakuzan before, and when you are out there, leading your team, it's like you all enter the zone in unison -- everyone on the team plays at a higher level. Maybe it's just another day on the job for you, Akashi, but that doesn't mean it isn't worth something. Just like how Kuroko doesn't understand that his kindness and his desire to improve, even when he feels weak, are an inspiration to others. Honestly, it's not just Kuroko who is amazed by your leadership. It's a little embarrassing to admit, maybe -- I hope I don't sound like a crazed fan! But I remember reading all of Kuroko's letters, where he talked about you being a tough but supportive captain, or a great tutor, or a top-rated point guard, and…I really admired you. I always hoped that we'd meet some day. But…things changed, before we got a chance to."

"I suppose they did," Akashi replied, inhaling deeply. Despite having set up his entire gift to Ogiwara as an apology for the past, he had avoided broaching the subject. Yet, clearly, he had nothing to fear from Ogiwara, who was treating him with a respect that went beyond kindness. It was just as it had been before, when they had first met. Ogiwara was not merely expressing his sentiments to Akashi -- he was extending an invitation of friendship; an invitation which Akashi had believed he was no longer privileged to. And while Akashi had changed in many ways since their first meeting -- most notably in that his two divided personalities had merged into one, coherent whole -- he still bore the responsibility of all that had happened, not least because he had chosen to accept the personality he had once called his "little brother," as an integrated part of his own being. Up until now, Akashi had been a coward. For the sake of a peaceful exchange of gifts and pleasantries, he had failed speak the truth to Ogiwara. But the time was now. If Akashi were to accept this second chance, he needed to find the courage to set everything right.

 "I am afraid, Ogiwara-san, that up until now, I had been too fearful to discuss the subject of our first meeting," Akashi said. "But this is cowardice on my part. I owe you a formal apology. The way I spoke to you before the match and the way my teammates and I behaved during the match were reprehensible. On behalf of myself, the team I captained, and my very family name, I express my sincerest regret for what I have done." He bowed -- far lower than one typically would to a peer.

"Akashi, that's really not necessary," Ogiwara replied, reaching out his hand and placing it on Akashi's shoulder, while staring down at him expectantly until he finally looked back up. "Even before we met, I knew that something was wrong. Kuroko normally only texted me, but he called me to express his concern about Aomine's behavior around the fall of second year. And not long after that, he started to message me less and less. Perhaps, I was shocked by all of you, and how little you seemed to enjoy basketball, when Kuroko always told me about how much you enjoyed playing together. But…that's why you decided on giving me a basketball match as a gift, right? So that we could enjoy basketball -- together -- like we weren't able to before."

Akashi sat up straight again, and swallowed to relieve the tension building in his throat. He smiled gently. "I underestimated you, Ogiwara-san," he said softly, closing his eyes, "Kuroko was right."

"He usually is, isn't he?" Ogiwara said with a smile. "And don't worry. There's a reason I decided to give you my gift as well -- though I was very nervous that you might not like it! I wanted to give you something that would be meaningful to you. And then, maybe, we could start again?"

"It would be my pleasure, Ogiwara-san," Akashi responded.

"Please," Ogiwara replied with a laugh, "you don't need to use the honorific, Akashi. You can just call me Ogiwara. Or, really, you could call me Shige. That's what all my friends call me. Well, except Kuroko. It's impossible to keep him from speaking politely."

Akashi and Ogiwara laughed in unison, the bright tenor of their voices echoing through the apartment, across the chatter and the rustling of gift wrap.

"All right, Shige," Akashi began again, trying out the informal name. Somehow, it didn't seem too difficult to slide off his tongue -- perhaps, because a part of him enjoyed the closeness of addressing others by first name. It was strangely comforting, given how formal his relationships were with the majority of his colleagues, and even his own father. "It's a pleasure to officially make your acquaintance."

"Of course," Ogiwara replied. "You too."

As they sat for a moment, saying nothing, but enjoying the comfort of each other's contented smiles, the sound of a spoon clanking against a glass once again resounded through the room.

"Attention, everyone" Momoi's voice rang brightly. "I have another announcement to make!"

Akashi looked up in the direction of his former manager's voice, while Ogiwara twisted his body backwards to gain a better view. This time, Momoi was standing next to a small folding table in the center of the room, covered in silverware and small serving plates.

"Riko-chan and I have a special surprise for all of you," Momoi said with a bright smile, turning her gaze towards the small kitchen in the back of the room. Akashi glanced towards the kitchen, where Aida Riko was bent over something on the counter, staring at it meticulously before she stood up straight and gave Momoi a thumbs-up. Akashi turned his focus back towards Momoi with a hesitant, knowing look.

"We decided to make Christmas cake for everyone!" Momoi finished, beaming at all of the guests.¹⁶ Her announcement was met first with silence, followed by the small buzz of whispered remarks.

Riko walked towards the front of the room, holding in both hands a round, white cake, decorated with sliced strawberries. The strawberries were cut in half, with a ball of white frosting sitting between the bases of each the strawberry and the pointed tip. The tips of the strawberries each had a dash of white frosting on top, much like a Christmas hat, while the balls of frosting were decorated with black-frosted smiley faces, making each decorated strawberry resemble a tiny, smiling Santa.¹⁷

"Here it is!" Riko announced cheerfully, setting the cake down on the table, as she and Momoi exchanged a look of pride. "Everyone feel free to come up and help yourself!"

None of the guests made any motion towards the table, nor remarks above a hushed murmur, though Akashi thought he heard Aomine mutter "I'd rather not die," to himself.

"Hey, Akashi," Ogiwara said, causing Akashi to snap back into focus on the person sitting across from him. "I'm going to get a piece of the cake, do you want one too?" he asked, propping himself up with his hands, and slowly rising to his feet. 

"Shige," Akashi cautioned, in a hushed voice. "I hate to speak ill of my friends, but Momoi was our manager for years, and I say this from experience: I would highly advise you not to try her cooking. Not to mention that Kuroko tells me his coach, Riko's cooking skills are equally atrocious. And, apparently, she throws protein powder into each of her recipes as well."

"But it looks so cheerful," Ogiwara countered.

"The smiles appear somewhat eerie to me," Akashi sighed, "like vultures waiting anxiously for their prey to succumb to death."

"I guess you'll pass, huh?" Ogiwara laughed.

"You may try it if you wish," Akashi replied. "But when you get food poisoning, I cannot promise that I will be above reveling in the victory of having told you so."

"I'll just take a taste," Ogiwara said as he stood up straight and turned towards the table. "If it's bad, I won't finish it."

"You're as determined as always, Shige," Akashi marveled at his counterpart. "You know, I honestly wished to start anew, but I am afraid I must once again tell you that I cannot accept your logic. Though, perhaps the true horror of my former manager's baking must be experienced firsthand."

That was stupid, Akashi chastised himself no sooner than he had spoken the words aloud. His jokes never went over well, and considering that he had just successfully apologized for his sins of the past, it was certainly a mistake to bring them back into focus now. Yet, before he could think of a suitable statement to downplay what he had just said, he heard Ogiwara laughing.

"If I die, I give you full permission to write Akashi was right on my grave," Ogiwara spat back between chuckles, clutching his stomach as he doubled-over with a joyous expression.

Akashi breathed a sigh of relief, and smiled. No wonder Kuroko thought so highly of Ogiwara. He was as different of a player and a person as Akashi had suspected those years ago.

"I suppose this is goodbye, then," Akashi replied in sorrowful tone, "after all, I am always right. I am absolute."

"Goodbye, Akashi," Ogiwara responded melodramatically. "I'm glad I got to know you while I still could. Promise that we'll play basketball together in the afterlife."

"On my life, Shige," Akashi swore.

"You make that sound serious!" Ogiwara cried, dropping his act and bursting into a fit of laughter once more.

"Is there something wrong with that?" Akashi asked. "I was acting."

"No, no," Ogiwara replied, waving off Akashi's question with his hand, "it's just hilarious." 

"You should go and get your piece of the cake, if you still want one," Akashi said. "Or are you starting to have second thoughts now?"

"I'm going to try it and decide for myself," Ogiwara said, walking resolutely towards the table.

Akashi laughed, feeling lighter as his chest was filled with the sensation of warmth. There hadn't been anything for him to fear, after all.

"Alright," Ogiwara said a moment later, as he returned and sat back down with a fork and a neatly plated slice of cake. "I'm going to try this. We'll see who is right."

"If I were more reckless, I'd bet my father's fortune that you will dislike it," Akashi replied. "But, luckily, even my most reckless side is tempered by sound judgement."

"Well, thanks for the meal, I guess," Ogiwara sighed. He dug his fork into the cake, and broke off a piece of white sponge cake, strawberry, and white frosting. Closing his eyes, he put the fork in his mouth. He began to chew, then grimaced, and then, pulling the plate close to his face, promptly spit it out.

"Excuse me, that was rude," Ogiwara apologized immediately. "But, you weren’t kidding, were you?" 

"Well, at least your health appears intact for now," Akashi replied.

"Give it a few minutes," Ogiwara joked, as he set down his plate.

Akashi merely smiled in reply, allowing a comfortable silence to once again emerge between himself and Ogiwara. Around them, silverware clanked against the floor, as the sounds of groaning and choking began to overtake the room. But, for now, with the offending piece of cake discarded at Ogiwara's side, Akashi finally felt at peace.

***

The snow fell lightly over Tokyo that night, leaving traces of white flakes scattered throughout Akashi's red hair. It was milder than it had been that night a week earlier, when the onslaught of snow had pelted him in coarse bursts of wind. Today the air was chilly, but calm, allowing him to feel a sense of warmth and protection underneath his trench coat.

Looking up into the dark night sky, which glistened in the bright city lights, Akashi breathed out slowly, taking this brief moment to relax before he returned home for his meeting with his father. He glanced over at Kuroko, who was walking alongside him. They had both agreed to stay late after the party to help Kagami clean his apartment, and were now, finally, making their way back home. The sound of snow crackled beneath their boots as they walked in unison down the empty sidewalk, both lost in thought.

"Akashi-kun," Kuroko said, breaking the peaceful silence.

"What is it, Kuroko?" Akashi asked.

"I noticed that you and Ogiwara-kun seemed to be having a good time at the party," Kuroko replied.

"You were observing us, weren't you?" Akashi responded with a light laugh.

Kuroko said nothing in response, but looked up at Akashi with a telling smile. "I knew that Ogiwara-kun would like your gift," he continued, "but I was glad to see that you looked relaxed too."

"He's a very forgiving person, just as you said," Akashi replied. "I believe you were right. I underestimated him."

"That's two victories I have over you now," Kuroko responded in his serious, calm voice, though a shimmer of mischievousness gleaned in his eyes. "You'd better be careful, Akashi-kun."

"I'm on my guard," Akashi replied with a smile of his own.

They continued quietly on their way once more, with the sounds of their boots and cars passing by on the nearby roads forming the soundtrack to their journey. Akashi walked at a slower pace than he was accustomed to -- both because he walked alongside his friend, and because he realized he was somewhat tired from all the day's events. Though, in the end, he'd had a most pleasant evening, the emotional ups and downs of confronting his fears and seeing them relieved had left him feeling in need of a cup of tea, a hot bath, and a night spent under warm blankets with a good book.

It was comforting, in many ways, for Akashi to know that Ogiwara did not hold his past mistakes against him. But Kuroko had been right about more than just the fact that Ogiwara would like his gift. He thought back to their conversation a week earlier, when Kuroko had first confronted him under the cover of the snowstorm.

You're using this gift as an excuse to punish yourself for the past again, Kuroko had said. I don't think it's a present that you're looking for. You're looking for forgiveness. And you'll never find it until you forgive yourself.

There was no doubt in Akashi's mind anymore that he had been forgiven by Ogiwara. But whether this would allow him to let go of the baggage he carried with him into every social situation with someone from his past, Akashi was less certain of.

"Kuroko?" Akashi asked.

"Yes, Akashi-kun?"

"I have a question for you," Akashi said. "It's of a somewhat personal nature, so if you do not feel comfortable answering it, then, by all means, you may refrain."

"It's alright, Akashi-kun," Kuroko replied. "What is it?"

"How did it feel, when you played against us in the Winter Cup, and you first saw Shige cheering for you in the stands? What did it feel like to know that he was there supporting you, when you thought you had done something unforgivable?"

Kuroko stopped walking and stood silently for a moment. "At first, when I saw him, I was scared," he admitted, softly. "Part of me hoped that I'd never have to confront him about what I thought I'd done. But, when I realized he was cheering for me, I felt lighter, somehow. I'm not sure how to describe it. Think about a game of basketball, where your defender is guarding you tightly, and you can't find any open space to pass or shoot. But, in a split-second, you see an opening. It's like that moment -- when you see a clear shot to the basket in front of you. I'm sorry if that's a bit unclear."

"No, I understand" Akashi replied.  Kuroko was right. It was a difficult feeling to describe, but somehow, his friendly conversation with Ogiwara had helped him to see possibilities, where, before, he only saw limits and confinements. He couldn't wait to return to Kyoto and begin training for the practice match against Ogiwara's team. Time permitting; he might even be able to begin work on the scouting report tomorrow morning.

As Akashi and Kuroko resumed their walk home, Akashi felt a small vibration in the pocket of his trench coat. He pulled out his cellphone and flipped it open, noticing a new text message waiting for him:

From: Ogiwara Shigehiro

Can't wait to start training for our game! I won't go easy on you, just because you warned me about the cake!

Talk to you soon,

-Shige

Akashi flipped the phone shut, returned it to his pocket, and continued on his way with a smile. From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Kuroko grin as well. Perhaps, he thought, this feeling of excitement for the future -- rather than fear of the past -- was what forgiving himself really meant.

~*Fin*~ ¹⁸