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Kazunari Takao’s life was rapidly falling apart.
Nearly everyone speaks about the difficulties the final year of high school lays upon oneself. The pressure of exams to get into your first-choice university, setting your mind to a career path, not to mention the terrifying monster known as adulthood looming over you. But Takao wasn’t simply overwhelmed by exams or college prep. Everything was about to change, and Takao was terrified by this realization.
The life he had built in high school, spending time with friends and laughing joyfully together as they chatted about everything and nothing all at once, goofing off in class and getting lectured by his senseis, not to mention playing basketball with his beloved team, facing the toughest opponents Japan had to offer and winning and losing together as a team. It was all slipping away from him like a balloon flying off in the zephyr, ruthlessly torn from his careless grasp. Takao was the child trying desperately to catch it, arms outstretched and heart pounding rapidly in his chest as he chased after the helium-filled sac of rubber, only to fail miserably as it floated into the troposphere, vanishing permanently from view.
And Shin-chan… Takao didn’t even know where to start with the green-haired ace.
Shintarō Midorima, who he dotingly referred to as “Shin-chan,” was Takao’s everything. He was the constant in his life that kept Takao grounded, but also free. Their dynamic seemed strange from an outside perspective, but their opposing personalities melded together in perfect harmony. Shin-chan was the sun, a harsh but all-encompassing light and the true center of the universe. Takao was the moon, a soft glow in the black curtains of night, slowly orbiting the brighter orb. The light to his shadow. Two halves of a whole. The two knew each other better than anyone else. True best friends. They were a perfectly synchronized system, reading each other expertly and understanding each other’s little quirks and various intricacies. Somehow, some way, they had created a perfect union together. As the days and months flew by since their fateful introduction, Takao had begun to develop feelings for the glasses-clad man. It started off as nothing more than puppy love. A mere crush. One that would undoubtedly fade away into the abyss as if those ridiculous feelings had never existed in the first place. However, much to Takao’s surprise, they did not fade. Instead, they grew stronger. His feelings for the ace grew larger and larger like waves during high tide, eventually morphing into a tsunami of emotion that consumed his mind entirely. But despite this, Takao never revealed the truth of his feelings to his beloved Shin-chan. Playing basketball with him, hanging out on weekdays and weekends whenever they were free, doing everything and nothing together, Takao was satisfied with how they were. After all, what was the point of risking a change in their relationship when everything was perfect the way it was? But now, with the realization that everything was changing, the love he felt for Shin-chan felt suffocating. It felt like a boa constrictor wrapped around his heart, squeezing tighter and tighter until it stopped beating altogether. So instead, he began to distance himself. He told himself it was for the sake of protection, that in the end, when the euphoria of high school ended, it would be less painful if he let go in advance.
But the light of the moon and the depth of the shadow cannot exist without the brightness of the sun…
The symptoms started off small and nearly imperceptible, progressing slowly at first, much akin to the way in which ricin affects those who are poisoned with it, but soon the damage would escalate until it led to a complete shutdown.
Takao had stopped laughing, or rather, on the rare occasion he did, it was hollow, devoid of any real joy or emotion. His teammates questioned him, concerned for their hawk-eyed teammate, but Takao, under a perfectly crafted ceramic mask, passed it off as mere exhaustion. After all, he was a third year, swamped with exams and college planning, not to mention captaining the basketball team. Everyone believed him, not noticing the now dim light slowly fading out of his normally shining slate-blue eyes. His spark was fading fast. The vibrant energy he brought into every room he entered, like a beautiful birdsong on a resplendent spring morning, had all but disappeared. And yet, somehow, this went generally unnoticed by his teammates… all except one.
Shintarō Midorima was not known to be socially perceptive. While sharp when it came to basketball and academics, his ability to read others was typically lacking. He often failed to notice even the most obvious of signs, such as his ex-manager Momoi’s very obvious and open attraction to his former teammate Kuroko, the phantom sixth man of Teikō.
Calculations and strategy came easily to him. Internally measuring the exact angle at which to launch a heavy basketball eighty feet in order to score a flawless full-court three-pointer, or solving complex mathematical equations for a test, was a simple matter for the light of Shūtoku. Conversely, interpreting emotions was not his forte.
However, Takao’s situation was a different story altogether.
Midorima understood Takao unlike anyone else he had ever come to know throughout his lifetime. So when Takao began pulling away, Midorima panicked. This was not the Takao he had come to love so dearly. His Takao was a majestic hawk, soaring through the azure skies on a cloudless day. But now, this poor bird’s wings had been clipped, falling through the sky to his death, plummeting toward the cold, hard ground.
Takao had stopped laughing.
Midorima had once considered this laugh to be an unending source of irritation for him, but now he missed its now fading melody. Every conversation he held with the raven-haired point guard was seemingly devoid of any true joy. But as of late, lengthy conversations were rare. The joyful presence Takao had brought to Midorima’s mechanical life was gone, replaced by the ghost of a man he once knew. A dying bird, crying for help on the cold gravel road as a car comes speeding toward it.
Midorima tried everything he could think of to help. He began consistently carrying the lucky item for Scorpios, today's being a shiny blue plastic bird keychain, alongside his own for Cancers, today’s being a crocheted purple hat, every day, carefully analyzing Oha Asa’s daily readings with even greater obsession in order to ensure maximum luck for his hawk-eyed partner. Every day, he tried his best to reach out to Takao, desperately seeking answers for his friend’s condition to no avail, unable to find the flaw in the broken system of the one he held most dear.
He watched, longing and pain evident in his emerald eyes, as Takao walked through the halls every day, eyes dead, posture slumped, and sound absent from his usual hyperactive self. He even noticed how Takao had changed on the court. He was still an incredible captain, leading the charge of Shūtoku, encouraging his teammates and leading his juniors as splendidly as always. But something was off. He was more formal toward his teammates and coaches, and his interest in basketball was noticeably lowered, at least in Midorima’s perspective.
Every time he faced Takao, he clutched onto Takao’s and his own lucky items as if they were lifelines, praying to God that he had done enough to protect Takao.
There was no perfect strategy for this. He was not even sure of what the issue was.
But every time their eyes met during practice or in the locker room, he felt a dull ache resonating in his chest, seeing the empty eyes of a dying hawk staring back at him.
He had to do something. Anything to help this horrible sense of doom he felt.
If he did not, then Takao could… no… no… no.
His breathing picked up. The room grew blurred, and his heart pounded loudly in his ears. The sound was a sickening “THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP” in his brain, making him want to puke.
Midorima hastily removed the crinkled white sports tape from the trembling fingers of his left hand, carefully filing his nails to perfection and brushing off the dust before methodically retaping them with a surgeon’s precision, starting from the thumb and eventually ending at the pinky.
This act calmed him. He slowed his breathing.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale…
It helped turn the volume down on the thoughts of Takao’s doom invading his head, horrifying images of his friend’s rotting corpse and shrill screams of terror flashing in his brain, looping like a cruel siren’s song dragging him deeper and deeper into panic and despair, while his body begged his mind for relief by any means necessary.
He looked down at his freshly taped hand and sighed, gently squeezing the keychain for Takao in his right, whispering quietly to himself.
“Come back to me, Takao…”
As the days ticked by slowly and Takao fell deeper and deeper into the dark pools of despair, Takao had begun to skip practice around once a week. “I’m okay, guys. I’ve just been getting some terrible migraines recently. Not really sure why, haha,” he would repeat to his concerned teammates.
It wasn’t a lie after all. His head hurt, his mind hurt, everything was painful. The pressure built in his skull like a hydraulic press to the brain. Exhaustion had hit his body like a freight train, as if Hypnos himself had cast his mighty wrath upon him. All he wanted to do was sleep endlessly and never wake up.
Showing up to practice and games these days was rough. It took everything in him to bring enough energy to even show up to practice. He was beginning to despise the sport and the team he once loved. Every squeak of sneakers against the polished wood floor, every bounce of the orange leather basketball, every swish of the net whenever baskets were made, every single horrible noise… It was grating to him. Takao wanted so badly to snap, to scream at everyone to shut up.
These sounds and these feelings disgusted him, draining his already limited energy. But even so, he kept the illusion of stability intact. He was still the charismatic, sharp, and dependable captain of Shūtoku High, shouting encouragement to his teammates during practices and games and leading the charge. Although he skipped once a week, everything functioned as normal, so no one questioned him any further.
However, it would all come falling down faster than the London Bridge itself.
Once a week became twice, twice became thrice, and eventually, Takao had stopped attending school altogether.
He had not meant for this to happen, telling himself, “It’s fine. I just need more sleep. Maybe then the motivation will come back.” But it never did.
His friends and teammates were worried. Constant streams of pings rang from his phone from concerned comrades with words such as, “Takao, are you ok? We haven’t seen you in a while and are just checking in,” “Are you sick? Do you need help?” “Takao, we miss you,” “Captain, please come back, we’re worried.”
He never answered the messages, instead falling deeper and deeper into the endless sleep he so desired, unable to leave the plush mattress he lay upon or even move his body, simultaneously comforting and suffocating.
The idea of getting up, even to get food, felt like climbing Mount Everest. His bed was a siren’s song luring him into it, with only death awaiting him.
Seeing those worried messages from his friends felt like being stabbed in the chest with hundreds of swords.
It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts.
The thought of going back to school and facing them again was sickening.
He heard his phone ring. It was Shin-cha—Midorima again, calling him for the nth time. He pictured the ace’s grief-stricken face, the glasses-clad man looking at his body wasting away in the cloud-like bed in his mind.
He missed the warmth of his sun.
But no tears came to his eyes.
Instead, sleep took over him once more.
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts.
Midorima had to act. He had called Takao thirty-five times this week and received no response. Frankly, he was panicked. First, Takao’s personality shift and distancing, then the weekly skipping, and now nothing but crickets from Takao? Midorima had every right to be panicked.
He could not take it anymore.
That morning, Midorima skipped school for the first time in his life. He messaged Coach Nakatani, informing him that he would not be attending practice that day, as he was concerned about Takao’s well-being and needed to check on him. His team and coach were grateful. Takao was not only a quintessential member of the team, but a dear friend to all of them. Not to mention, he was Midorima’s most important person.
And so he left home.
Climbing into the front of the rickshaw, he began to pedal down the cold, paved streets of Tokyo, a pine green quilted blanket with intricately threaded patterns of sparkling constellations adorning it close by his side. It was the lucky item for Scorpios. Midorima had risen an additional hour early to search for the blanket, believing that if Takao had his lucky item, he would be well again.
It was a gruelling twenty-minute ride. Midorima now understood why Takao so often complained about pulling the cart every day. But even more so because of his fear, his mind telling him that whatever Takao’s problem was, it was caused by him. That his friend was in his house dead on the floor with hordes of flies and maggots eating away at the bloodied corpse.
Midorima stared at his freshly taped fingers, looping back in his mind every action he had taken over the past weeks like a record spinning in his hectic brain. Scrutinizing over every little detail, every word he spoke, every action he took, every ritual he completed, and every horoscope reading. However, he was unable to find a single flaw in the system.
Arriving at Takao’s house, he parked the rickshaw in front of the Takao family’s home and walked up the stone pathway to his friend’s front door, gripping the blanket in his right hand. Upon reaching the door, he bent forward, picking up the left corner of the rough black doormat that guarded the entrance to the home and picking up the small tarnished gold key that lay underneath. He let out a shaky breath and pushed his half-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose before fitting the key in the lock and twisting it, opening the creaky wooden front door.
Midorima stepped inside the house, gently closing the door behind him.
It was quiet. Far too quiet, like the eye of a hurricane.
He carefully slipped his clean white sneakers off his feet and placed them in the shoe cubby beside the door, then placed the house key on top. He silently walked toward Takao’s room, his heart rate increasing with panic at every step. Normally, Midorima loved silence, but this simply felt wrong. Unnatural.
Standing in front of Takao’s room, he placed his trembling hand on the doorknob and, with bated breath, opened the door.
Entering the room, everything looked as usual. The lights were off and the room was dimly lit from the window’s light. It was as disorganized as always. Dirty clothes littered the floors, as well as sheets of crumpled-up paper, magazines, and school supplies. The smoke gray walls were covered floor to ceiling with basketball memorabilia, and the wooden shelves lining the walls were stocked full of the trading cards Takao liked to collect.
Midorima searched around the room before his eyes drifted over to the bed.
Midorima’s eyes widened, dropping the blanket from his hand as he covered his mouth, preventing a piercing scream of terror from leaving his throat.
He sprinted over to the side of the bed in panic.
“TAKAO?!”
Midorima climbed onto the bed, his body shaking like a faulty machine as he hovered over the shadow’s body.
Takao looked dead.
The hawk-eyed teenager lay sprawled out on top of the warm covers of his duvet, completely unmoving despite Midorima’s intrusion. His slate blue eyes, that Midorima had come to love so dearly, remained unopened. Takao’s face, normally bright and full of life, was now pale and gaunt like a body in the pallor mortis stage of death.
Instinctively, Midorima reached over to Takao’s neck, placing the pads of three fingers on the middle third of it, where the carotid artery lay underneath, and gently palpating the area, checking for a pulse.
Thump
Thump
Thump
Thump
Thump
Thump
Midorima breathed a sigh of relief. Takao was alive, and his heart rate was regular and strong. Midorima removed his fingers from the smaller man’s neck and stood up from the bed, running to the kitchen to grab a glass of cold water for Takao when he awoke.
Upon returning, he picked up the quilt he had dropped earlier and returned to Takao’s bedside, placing the glass of water on the scratched tan wood of the nightstand beside him. He lovingly placed the quilt over Takao’s exposed body and sat there waiting, staring at the other with worry clouding his eyes.
Midorima was unsure how much time had passed when Takao finally stirred. It startled the ace, like hearing the floors creak in the dead of night.
“Takao?...” Midorima whispered quietly to the waking point guard.
Takao’s slate blue eyes finally opened, making direct eye contact with Midorima. They were completely dull, as if he had fallen into the deepest pits of hell. Takao looked blearily at Midorima, his eyes hazy and bloodshot, deep circles carved out underneath them, before whispering out weakly as the fog began to clear:
“Midorima…”
Midorima cringed at the use of his last name from his best friend’s mouth. Not speaking to or seeing him properly for weeks, and now being called the unfamiliar “Midorima” by Takao, stung like a thousand bees straight to the chest. He reached out his hand slowly to touch Takao’s forehead, trying to feel for a temperature.
Takao, noticing this, forced himself to roll his body away from Midorima’s touch, stunning the green-haired ace.
“‘M fine…” Takao croaked out, his messy raven bangs falling into his eyes as he spoke.
Midorima huffed in frustration, pushing up his glasses on his nose once again before responding, a tinge of desperation in his voice.
“No, Takao. You are clearly not okay. You have changed, and I am concerned, hence why I am here. You have become a shadow of your former self. You have been avoiding the team, you have been skipping practice as well as school, and now I find you here wasting away on the bed, clearly not having eaten anything. Talk to me. I beg of you… Kazunari.”
That did it for Takao.
Hearing his best friend beg in such a way. That tone. Those eyes. The normally stoic ace being in such despair broke the last remaining pieces of the ceramic mask Takao had placed upon himself, revealing the shattered man who lay underneath.
The hawk had finally hit the pavement.
Its clipped wings allowed it to fly no longer, as it lay gasping for breath.
All his bottled-up emotions came barreling toward him, hitting his body full force like a semi-truck. Tears began pouring out of his eyes like a fountain as he let out an earsplitting scream of agony.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”
Takao slumped over, Midorima instantly catching him and placing his head on his shoulder. Takao’s body began shuddering pathetically as loud sobs erupted from him.
Midorima was highly alarmed. He was inexperienced in regards to handling breakdowns of others. He gently wrapped his arms around the smaller boy, being sure to take note of any potential negative reactions to the touch. He allowed Takao to continue weeping into his shoulder, the salty tears burning Takao’s eyes like acid as they fell onto the white cotton of Midorima’s polo, staining the shirt.
But Midorima did not care.
He pulled Takao in closer, gently running his fingers through the greasy raven locks of Takao’s hair as he waited silently for Takao to start speaking.
Many minutes, or perhaps hours, had passed when Takao finally ceased crying. Still wrapped in Midorima’s comforting embrace, the two sat together for a few beats, the only sounds filling the room being unsteady breathing and light hiccups as Takao pressed his tear-stained face into Midorima’s chest, gripping onto his shirt as if letting go of him would mean he would lose Midorima forever.
Midorima, unspeaking, grabbed the glass of water from the nightstand and carefully assisted Takao in placing it to the younger man’s lips. Takao took a large gulp of the now lukewarm water, the liquid hydrating him as if he were a plant in the desert, desperately thirsty for a taste. Some of the water spilled onto his black T-shirt, but Takao found he had no energy to care as he returned his head to its spot on Midorima’s shoulder.
A pause.
“I’m sorry, Shin-chan…” Takao croaked out.
He wanted to run, to scream, to cry, but he had nothing left to give. His tank had been empty for weeks.
Midorima sighed, shaking his head.
“You do not need to apologize. Just talk… Kazunari,” he replied, his voice low and comforting.
“I’ve been terrible though. I let everyone down. I stopped showing up, and now I’m dumping everything on you after I pushed you away the most. You don’t get it, Shin-chan… I-I’m terrible. Why do I have to be like this? Why can’t everything stay the way it’s always been? Why do things have to change? Why? WHY?”
Takao rambled, finally allowing the thoughts that had plagued him to escape. It was cathartic for him in a way.
Midorima tightened his grip on Takao’s waist, placing his chin on the crown of Takao’s raven head, his body trembling slightly as he listened to Takao’s cry for help.
“I thought that if I pulled away first, it would hurt less. I mean, when the year ends, we’re all going our separate ways, right? Might as well get it over with, you know? Ha… haha… hahaha…”
Takao began laughing hysterically, small screams and sobs interrupting his hollow laughter.
Takao continued speaking, his voice agonizingly melancholic.
“I can’t get it out of my head. When it all ends, we’re all going to go to different universities probably, and I’ll never see any of our friends ever again. I won’t see you again. You’ll leave me. We’ll probably talk for a bit at first, but eventually, you’ll fade away and forget about me, Shin-chan. Maybe you’re not afraid of this like I am, but I don’t want to lose you. The time we’ve had together has been the best years of my life, and I don’t want that to vanish…”
Midorima took his chin off of Takao’s head and moved his face to look into Takao’s eyes.
“Playing with the team, but most of all with you… Kazunari, I cannot express how much of an impact you have made on my life. I could never forget you. You are far too important to me in ways that even I will never fully understand,”
Midorima stated firmly, a genuine expression crossing his stoic face. His hawk-eyed partner had eroded away at his heart of stone, revealing the gentle smoothness lying underneath.
Takao pressed his face against Midorima’s chest.
“I really love you, Shin-chan. That’s why I don’t want to lose you. I like being with you too much. I know we’re best friends and all, and honestly, I was ok with how we were, but now that everything is changing… I’m scared. That’s why I pushed you away the most. I hoped that the feelings would finally go away, but they didn’t, and it only made things worse. I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I’d miss you. How empty my life would be without you, Shin-chan…”
He mumbled into Midorima’s chest.
Midorima’s breath hitched slightly at the confession. His stone heart turned into hundreds of tiny butterflies fluttering around his cardiovascular system.
“You are a fool, Takao,” Midorima stated bluntly, pulling Takao’s chin up to look at him.
“I-I’m sorry?” Takao stuttered out, confused at the reaction he had received.
“My apologies. Allow me to rephrase. You are a fool, Kazunari, to believe that I would simply abandon you that way. No matter how our lives may end up, we will always remain side by side. You are a part of who I am, and you always will be,”
Midorima declared, looking Takao straight in the eyes, a determined look across his face.
“But everything’s going to end, and—”
Midorima took that as an opportunity and brought Takao’s face to align with his own, pressing a loving kiss to his shadow’s lips.
Takao’s eyes widened in surprise before softening, tears threatening to spill out as he returned Midorima’s kiss, his chapped lips moving softly against Midorima’s as the two slotted together in perfect tandem, uniting the pair body to body.
“All banquets must come to an end…”
Midorima spoke softly, a gentle glint in his verdant eyes as he cupped the tear-stained face of his hawk-eyed partner, once again placing a soft kiss against his wet lips as tears began streaming quietly down Takao’s face, the light in his eyes having finally returned.
“But I will never leave you, Kazunari.”