Chapter Text
There were a lot of things that Akashi didn't believe in.
Perhaps it wasn’t so much that he didn’t believe, but more so that he couldn’t believe. Having been raised in a traditional Japanese household, Akashi was accustomed to a wide variety of rituals and customs. He found enjoyment in most of them, taking interest in the rich history that coincided with the majority of them. He was more than comfortable with this, especially considering he was able look up and track decades upon decades of the same traditions, as well as the reasons behind them, from more than reliable sources.
But then there were the other ideals, or perhaps they were more accurately labeled ‘legends’, that were quickly becoming increasingly popular throughout Japan. Some he had heard since he was a child, when his mother use to read to him before bed and tell him of the benefits of wishing upon a shooting star or blowing away a stray eyelash. Others were whispered throughout grade school as children teased one another by writing each others names in red ink to bring bad luck.
Akashi had never been able to wrap his head around any of them. After all, these things were called myths and legends for a reason, that reason being the lack of any substantial proof or evidence that they were true. Wishing on a shooting star did not bring those wishes to reality, just as a particular color of ink would not bring misfortune. Akashi couldn’t see them for more than what they were, despite the small part of him that occasionally wished he could. They were words parents told children to keep them out of trouble, or things classmates liked to tell to frighten one another.
In other words, Akashi saw them as utter nonsense.
There was a legend in particular that had been gaining popularity as of late, so much so that it was even airing on news stations occasionally. People throughout Japan, and the world even, had been claiming that they’ve been waking up with a simple red string tied around their pinky fingers. Even more ludicrous, they also claim that these mysterious strings lead straight to their soulmates.
Akashi had heard the legend of the ‘Red String of Fate’ before, of course. Everyone had. He remembers hearing his female classmates from as far back as grade school talk about it, fantasizing about who they were destined to be with.
He had found the notion ridiculous, even back then. It seemed narcissistic, for one thing, to believe that there was someone out there who was designed specifically for one individual. Even if that were true, which Akashi found nearly impossible to believe, what were the odds of that person living close enough for the two to ever meet? And then there was the overwhelming lack of evidence to support any of it. People claimed that the string existed, yet there wasn’t so much as a photo to back it up. “It’s because only your soulmate can see it”, was the common response. Akashi found the entire ordeal absurd, yet more and more people were coming forward with claims that it existed.
Which is why when Akashi wakes up one morning to a neatly knotted red string tied around his pinky finger, it throws him off for a moment.
He hadn’t even noticed it right away; it wasn’t until he was brushing his teeth in preparation for class that he first caught sight of the string. At first he mistook it for a stray hair of his, seeing as it was nearly the same shade. But after brushing and picking at it a few times, he finally allowed the reality to set in.
It seems the string existed after all.
This fact didn’t change his thoughts on the matter in the slightest. Just because he now had proof right in front of him didn’t mean that the entire legend was true. After all, the string was the easiest part for him to swallow, given that the implication behind it supposedly meant that there was another person in the world with a string to go with his. The concept of soulmates was much harder for him to grasp.
Akashi stood in the bathroom for a few minutes, deciding how to best handle the situation. His first thought was to call Midorima, since his green haired friend had a degree of expertise in the matter, but quickly brushed the thought aside. He was in no way prepared to deal with that conversation. He briefly entertained the thought of calling Mibuchi, but again, he ultimately decided against it.
Instead, he went to school, and quickly found the conundrum of the string pushed to the back of his mind. It did surprise him a bit, when he realized that none of his classmates or teammates could see it. He didn’t say anything about it, of course, but his left hand had been in full few for most of the day, yet no one so much as spared it a second glance.
Well, that was reassuring, to say the least.
For once, Akashi found himself grateful for his busy schedule. On top of exams quickly approaching, Akashi’s father was also insisting that he partake in a summer internship at the company’s Tokyo branch. Soon enough he would be forced to balance that, along with basketball practice and end-of-the-year homework, as well as his private studies. Normally, he might be slightly concerned, but for the moment, he was thankful for any distraction from the puzzling situation at hand. As his list of work to be done before the school year ended piled up, Akashi found the troublesome string around his finger shoved further and further from his thoughts.
Nearly a month after the string first made its appearance, Akashi found himself walking down the sidewalk in Tokyo. His father had requested his presence to finalize his schedule for the internship, since the last day of school was only a few weeks away. Everything had gone smoothly, as expected. Akashi was more than a little pleased with how the whole thing had turned out. He would be scheduled to work weekends, for only a few hours in the mornings, which would leave him with plenty of free time for his studies or visiting old friends that lived in the area.
Akashi was looking forward to that the most. After the Winter Cup, he hadn’t gotten to see his former teammates very often, the exceptions being Kuroko’s birthday party and the handful of times they’d gotten together for coffee. It was rare to get them all together, with everyone’s conflicting schedules, but he had managed to see everyone at least twice since the party. He was hoping, with summer break, that perhaps meetings would be easier to arrange.
Currently, Akashi was on his way back to his father’s apartment that he kept incase of business meetings such as these. His train back to Kyoto didn’t depart until tomorrow evening, leaving him nearly a day to catch up on any last minute assignments from the week prior. He glanced absentmindedly at the numerous shops and restaurants that lined the streets, remembering all times he’d walked this same route back in middle school.
A familiar sign caught his eye, and Akashi stopped without thinking about it. It was a book store, and it held an air of nostalgia around it. He had often frequented this shop in middle school, since it was so close to his apartment complex. He even recalled how he had tipped off Kuroko and Midorima to its location, seeing that the small, seemingly unassuming building was often overlooked for larger establishments. Akashi stood on the sidewalk, letting pleasant memories drift through his thoughts.
He might as well go inside, he finally decided. After all, he had a long train ride ahead of him tomorrow, and if he managed to finish his schoolwork tonight, he would be left with nothing to occupy himself with for the duration of the ride. A promising new book would be just the solution for that.
Akashi pushed the door open, a chiming ting announcing his entrance. He gave a friendly nod to the older man behind the front desk before ducking between two aisles, scanning the shelves with keen interest.
He quickly found himself adrift in the many tightly-packed rows of books. He knew he should decide swiftly and be on his way, but instead he found himself lingering for longer than necessary, in no real hurry. It was relaxing, to say the least. It was rare that he had an opportunity like this, and even if it was a task as simple as selecting a new book, it was nice not to have any immediate deadlines breathing down his neck.
A book with a worn green spine with gold embellishments caught Akashi’s eye, and he plucked it from the shelf, scanning the summary and skimming through the first few pages with interest before replacing it. He moved slowly, his gaze examining the titles incase one caught his attention, when his shoulder bumped into something hard.
Or rather, when something hard bumped into him.
He heard the sound of a book clattering to floor, and realized that the something had been a someone. Akashi brought a hand up to his shoulder and orientated himself, noticing that the person who had run into him was rubbing at the center of his forehead, a wince of pain evident in the shape of his mouth.
Akashi thought the boy appeared to be around his own age, despite the fact that his hand shielded most of his face. Something about his mousy brown hair seemed vaguely familiar to him, although he had no clue as to why.
The brunet lowered his hand, a stuttered apology falling from his lips.
“Excuse m-me! I wasn’t p-aying atten--” The boy cut off suddenly, his expression quickly changing from embarrassment to what Akashi could only describe as alarmed, almost fearful. The blood drained from his face, leaving him looking white as snow. His pupils were nearly pinpoints, and something about that small detail also seemed very familiar.
Akashi was certain he had met this person before, wearing this exact same expression. A sudden memory invaded his thoughts, a flashback of the door being pulled open at Kuroko’s birthday party…
“Furihata-kun?” Akashi asked, just has he had back then. He was almost certain that was the boy’s name. Seirin’s first year point guard, if he wasn’t mistaken.
Fortunately, Furihata remained conscious this time. The way his eyes widened even further in panic was less fortunate. The brunet stumbled backwards a half step before bumping into the shelves behind him.
Akashi extended a hand automatically. “Are you all rig—”
“S-Sorry!” Furihata interrupted suddenly, holding his hands up apologetically. “I-It’s my f-fault...I w-w-wasn’t—” He cut off, his throat pulsing with a visible swallowing motion. “I-I’m really s-sorry, he stuttered again, ducking down into a clumsy bow. Before Akashi could respond, Furihata turned and darted around the corner of the aisle, disappearing from sight. A few seconds later and Akashi heard the front door chime with what he presumed to be Furihata’s departure.
Akashi barely paid it any mind. His eyes were still glued to the space where Furihata’s hands had been, trying to convince himself that he hadn’t seen what he thought he had…
Because if he didn’t know any better, Akashi could have sworn he’d caught the flash of something red around Furihata’s pinky finger, just before the brunet had turned to make his escape.
Akashi stood staring into space as a three month old memory played out before his eyes. He’d been in town for the weekend, and Midorima had offered to meet him for coffee…
“How was your trip?” Akashi asked, raising his mug to his lips.
“Pleasant enough,” Midorima answered, adjusting his glasses. “The park was more than a little childish for my taste, but my sister seemed to enjoy herself.”
Akashi couldn’t help but give a small smile. “Does that mean you didn’t partake in any of the rides?”
Midorima scoffed, taking a sip of his own drink. Akashi chuckled quietly at his friend's response, as well as the mental picture of his former teammate clutching the lap bar of some thrill ride.
He kept his comments to himself, not wanting to tease his friend when he had the feeling that there was something much more pressing weighing on his mind.
“Not that I’m opposed,” Akashi began, choosing his words carefully. “But was there anything in particular you wished to discuss? You sounded oddly urgent when you called.”
Akashi had texted him the day before he was scheduled to arrive in the city, inviting him to a game of Shogi if Midorima was available. Akashi would be in town for a dinner party for his father’s company, but his schedule would be free until early evening. Rather than getting a text back, Midorima had called him, and asked if they could meet for coffee instead at his earliest convenience.
Midorima’s brows pinched together in the middle, his eyes flickering down to his mug, where his taped fingers were wrapped around the slender handle. “There is, although I’m not sure where to begin.”
Akashi couldn’t help thinking that his friend’s behavior was off. Midorima was typically rather blunt, speaking his mind with little hesitation. “Is everything alright?”
His friend set his drink down, green eyes remaining downcast. Akashi noticed that Midorima seemed oddly focused on his left hand.
“I know you aren’t particularly interested in this sort of thing,” MIdorima began, sidestepping Akashi’s question. “But are you familiar with the legend of the Red String of Fate?”
“I am,” Akashi answered, hardly surprised by the direction of his friend’s thoughts. After all, he was more than well acquainted with Midorima’s rather eccentric obsession with fate. While Akashi didn’t take any personal interest in horoscopes and the like, he also wasn’t one to judge others for their beliefs. “Is that what’s troubling you?”
Midorima pushed his glasses up before meeting Akashi’s curious gaze. “Two days ago, when I woke up, there was a red string tied around my pinky finger. At first I thought it was my sister trying to prank me, but I was able to rule that out quickly. I can’t touch it or untie it, and--”
The green cell phone resting on the table cut him off, vibrating loudly against the wooden surface. Midorima muttered a quick “excuse me,” and lifted the phone, checking the screen for the identity of the caller. He rolled his eyes at the name before declining the call.
Akashi blinked, tilting his head to the side and giving his friend a skeptical look. “Are you telling me that the string exists?”
“I’m having a hard time believing it myself,” Midorima responded. “While I obviously accept the workings of fate in certain situations, I always found concept of the string hard to swallow.”
Akashi stared at Midorima’s hands, trying to see what he couldn’t. If anyone else had told him this story, he would have had a difficult time believing them. Midorima wasn’t one to lie, however, or make things up for popularity or attention.
Still, Akashi was having a hard time wrapping his head around it.
“I’m not— Midorima began, only to be interrupted again by his buzzing cell phone. He once again declined the call, barely sparing it a second glance.
This behavior was also odd, Akashi thought. He’d never known his friend to be one to pass phone calls off.
“It seems someone is demanding your attention,” Akashi commented. “Are you certain it’s not important?”
Midorima scoffed, shaking his head. “It’s just Takao. He’s been trying to get ahold of me all morning.”
Akashi remembered Takao well, both from his skill and determination in their match at the Winter Cup as well as their meeting at Kuroko’s party. He had found it more than amusing, watching the two of them interact. Midorima and Takao were opposites in every imaginable way, yet their teamwork and companionship on and off the court reminded him in some strange way of Aomine and Kuroko, back in their Teiko days.
“Perhaps it’s an emergency,” Akashi said, glancing at the device on the table. “Have you spoken with him?”
Midorima took a sip of his drink, setting it back down with care. “It’s never an emergency with Takao. He probab--”
Bzzt. Bzzt.
“Him again?” Akashi asked, nodding towards the vibrating phone.
Midorima sighed, snatching the phone off the table and pressing it to his ear, an annoyed look on his face.
“What is it?” Midorima asked, cutting straight to the point. Akashi could hear Takao’s excited tone on the other end of the line, but he was unable to make out any of the words. “Tell me later,” Midorima interrupted. “I’m busy--No, I’ll call you...I’m getting coffee, I’ll be home lat--Takao! Don’t come up here! Just wait--” Midorima pulled the phone away from his ear, and Akashi could hear the faint sound of a dial tone from the other end.
“Damnit,” Midorima mumbled, flipping his phone closed. “I’m sorry about that. Takao is on his way here, but I’ll get rid of him when he shows up.”
“It’s no trouble at all,” Akashi told him, lifting his own drink to his lips.
Midorima raised his hand, running his index finger around his left pinky, circling the invisible string. It pulled Akashi back to the topic at hand. “So, what do you plan to do about it?” he asked, watching Midorima’s fingers curiously. He squinted, trying to see, but of course he couldn’t.
“I suppose the only option I have is to wait and see,” Midorima answered simply.
Akashi raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. “And when, or should I say if, you find your soulmate or what have you, do you intend to accept them?”
Midorima was silent for a moment before answering. “I imagine it would be fairly hard, to deny that sort of proof right in front of you. While I personally never took any interest in the concept of soulmates...I don’t believe any harm would come from seeing if we are compatible.”
Akashi stared, trying to maintain his calm expression. He more than a little shocked by the revelation. For as long as he’d known Midorima, his green haired friend had never shown the slightest interest in anything romantic, or even any interest in people, for that matter. Midorima was quiet, and generally kept to himself. It was one of the reasons Akashi had befriended him so quickly. They were alike in that aspect.
But now that same friend was telling him that he would be willing to pursue a potential relationship with someone because of a not-so-fictional string. It was more than a little bewildering, to put it lightly.
The door to the cafe banged open suddenly, causing Akashi and Midorima to jerk their heads at the sound. Takao stood in the doorway, scanning the booths before catching sight of the two, paired off in quiet corner of the shop.
A grin stretched across Takao’s face, and he bounded forward, waving off the stewardess who had come to seat him.
“Shin-chan! There you are! I’ve been trying to talk to you all--” Takao met Akashi’s gaze, slowing as he approached their booth. “Oh, uh, hey...Akashi.”
Akashi smiled gently, cupping his mug between his hands. “Hello, Takao-kun. It’s nice to see you again.”
Takao blinked. “Yeah, you too.” The grin returned to face as he nodded towards Midorima. “Is it cool if I interrupt you two for a sec? Shin-chan has been avoiding me all morning.”
“Be my guest,” Akashi said, gesturing across the table.
Midorima unwilling turned his attention to Takao. “I told you I’d call you back when I got home.”
“Yeah, and you also said you’d call me the minute you got back from your trip, but you didn’t.” Takao shook his head in mock disappointment before smiling again. “Listen! Something happened the other day, and I know you’re big into all this kinda crap, so I wanted to tell you before I talked to anyone else, and it’s kinda hard to explain over the phone so I--”
“Just get to the point and go,” Midorima said, adjusting his glasses as they slipped down his nose.
Takao laughed. “Geez, you’re a grump today, huh? But fine, whatever.” Takao hesitated for a moment, clearly building up the suspense. Suddenly, he extended his left hand, all of his fingers curled into a fist except for his pinky finger. “It’s the red string! You know, from that legend? I know you can’t see it, but--”
Midorima’s mug clattered to the table, cutting Takoa off. Large pieces of porcelain littered the table, along with the remainder of his coffee.
Akashi looked from the mess in front of him to Midorima, who was frozen, his eyes fixed on Takao’s hand, his expression horrified.
“What the hell, Shin-chan?!” Takao cried, reaching forward to grab a handful of napkins. Midorima snagged his wrist, halting him. The raven stared back, confused, while Akashi started trying to mop up the mess before coffee started dripping onto the floor. There was a long pause before anyone spoke.
“Shin-chan?” Takao asked, all traces of humor gone from his voice. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”
With the coffee mostly cleaned up, Akashi turned his attention back to the two in front of him. He wasn’t typically one behave so rudely as to eavesdrop, but the concern for his friend kept him seated.
In answer, Midorima lifted his left hand and held it up to Takao, his expression still frozen.
Takao stared at it, eyes widening in shock, and suddenly, Akashi made the connection.
They could see each other’s strings.
The silence was heavy, and Akashi was sure he could cut the tension in the room with a knife. Just as he was wondering how to resolve this situation, Takao burst out laughing, tugging his hand away from Midorima.
“No way!” Takao laughed, clutching his stomach as he doubled over. “Ha, this is great! I can’t believe…” he trailed off in another fit of giggles. “Listen, I’ll—haha, I’ll let you two finish your drinks or whatever,” Takao finally managed, regaining some composure. He moved away from the table, heading for the door and leaving a dumbfounded Midorima in his wake.
“Sorry about all this, Akashi,” Takao called over his shoulder. “And I guess I’ll see you later, Shin-chan! Have fun!” With a wave, Takao left. Akashi could still see a smile plastered on his face through the shop windows as he headed down the street.
Akashi turned back to Midorima, who was still staring at the empty space where Takao had been. He had no clue how to deal with the situation at hand, which was unusual for him. Akashi normally knew the right thing to say at any given time, but now he was at a loss. Should he offer comfort? Would it be better if he ignored the whole ordeal and changed the subject? Midorima wasn’t a very expressive person, and rarely spoke of personal matters. He looked exceptionally uncomfortable, to put it lightly.
Rather than make matters worse, Akashi chose to stay silent. He flagged over a waitress to remove the broken pieces of mug from the table, offering to pay a replacement fee if necessary. The woman waved him off with smile, clearing away the mess. She was on her way back with a new drink when Midorima spoke.
“I...apologize for that.” he said softly, accepting the new mug with a polite nod.
“It’s no trouble at all,” the waitress told him. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can get for you.”
Midorima took a long drink before finally meeting Akashi’s gaze. “I’m sorry for—”
Akashi held up his hand, stopping Midorima. “Please, don’t apologize. I understand what just occurred must be…” He wasn’t sure how to finish his sentence. He didn’t have the slightest clue as to how his friend must feel at this moment.
“A mistake,” Midorima said, filling in the blank. “There’s no way--I mean, perhaps the legends are wrong. Maybe the string is simply a symbol of friendship, or for a partnership that’s different from romance. Like basketball, for instance.” He nudged his glasses up again, clearly agitated.
“Perhaps,” Akashi nodded in agreement, despite knowing that his own thoughts on the string would remain unchanged. There were no such thing as soulmates, in Akashi’s opinion, so his friend’s proposal was substantially more believable, but he still failed to comprehend it. People made their own choices, and their own decisions. Trusting in fate implied giving up control of your own life, a concept Akashi couldn’t understand. If you wanted something, you had to earn it, through hard work and effort.
Midorima changed the subject quickly after that, and Akashi went along with it, not wanting to upset his friend any further. They talked about mundane things, like school and basketball practice, and if either of them had read a particularly good book lately.
But Akashi could tell Midorima’s thoughts were elsewhere, so it didn’t come as a surprise to him when their meeting ended earlier than usual. He’d been hoping to spend a little more time with his friend, especially since he had a long day ahead of him before the dinner with his father, but he understood the necessity.
“I’ll give you a call the next time I’m in town,” Akashi said, adjusting his bag.
Midorima nodded. “Please do. I hope everything goes well with your father.”
Akashi laughed, rolling his eyes. “Ah, yes. There’s nothing like spending the evening with several CEO’s who are only interested in one-upping each other over a few too many drinks.” He paused for a moment, the smile slipping off his face. “I don’t mean to press the issue,” he began hesitantly. “But if you would ever feel the need to talk about it, I hope you know that I’ll gladly listen.”
Midorima met his gaze for a long moment before looking away, his eyebrows pinching together. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“Of course,” Akashi responded.
They said their goodbyes and set off in different directions. As Akashi walked, he couldn’t help but replay the scene from the cafe over and over, from Midorima telling him that the Red String really existed, to watching his friends’ obvious horror upon discovering the identity of his supposed “soulmate”. It was a lot to take in, considering Akashi had always found the entire legend to be ridiculous. He still did, even with Midorima's claim behind it.
Despite that, Akashi couldn’t help but wonder what he would do, if he were in Midorima’s situation. Probably ignore it, he thought. It wouldn’t have any impact on his life. Even if he came across the person he was tied too, it wouldn’t change his opinion on the subject…
“Sir, can I help you with something?” a voice asked, snapping Akashi out of his daze. He glanced up to see the older man from the front desk looking at him with mild concern.
Akashi cleared his throat, shaking his head to clear his mind. “Forgive me, I believe I spaced out for a moment.” He felt his face heat up slightly, unaccustomed to being caught off guard.
“Easy to do when you’re around books,” the man grinned, patting Akashi on the shoulder. Akashi manage to smile back, and the man returned to his post, leaving him with his thoughts once again.
Akashi hadn’t spoken to Midorima much since that day. Occasional texts, nothing more. Midorima never brought the string up, so Akashi didn’t either. He assumed Midorima had either decided to ignore the situation all together, or that the string had vanished entirely. Either way, Akashi had mostly forgotten about the Red String. Even waking up with his own hadn’t caused him to give the legend much thought.
Until now, apparently.
Of course, Akashi had never planned on actually encountering anyone whose string he could see. The thought had scarcely crossed his mind. And even on those rare occasions when he did think about it, he certainly never expected it to be someone he knew.
He glanced down, catching sight of a book spread open on the floor. Akashi bent down to pick it up, remembering the sound of it hitting the floor when he’d bumped into Furihata. He turned the book over in his hands, curious as to what the other boy had been reading so intently that he was oblivious to his surroundings.
The book was titled ‘Illustrated Encyclopedia of World Railway Locomotives’. Akashi raised a brow, flipping through the first couple of pages. It was an odd book, to say the least, for a boy his age to be reading. He turned the pages back to the beginning, catching sight of a handwritten name on the inside of the cover.
Furihata Kouki.
Akashi felt a pang of guilt looking at the name. The book was clearly important to Furihata, yet he’d run off without so much as a second glance at it. He understood why, of course. Their first meeting hadn’t been on the best terms, and their second meeting on the court hadn’t gone much better. Akashi had hoped to change Furihata’s opinion of him at Kuroko’s party, but apparently he hadn’t been as successful as he thought.
He closed the book, weighing his options. His train didn’t leave until tomorrow evening, so time wasn’t an issue. He considered handing the book over to the clerk, hoping that Furihata would return for it at some point. Or he could always text Kuroko and hand the book over for him to return. That would be the easiest and safest option…
But it didn’t feel right. For one thing, it would leave Furihata with whatever impression he had of Akashi, which clearly wasn’t a very good one. Returning the book himself would be the perfect opportunity to change that.
Then there was the dilemma with the string. In his panic, had Furihata noticed that Akashi was tied as well? And if he hadn’t, which Akashi didn’t think he did, should he tell Furihata? Or what if he had noticed, and that was what had caused his startling reaction?
Akashi’s head spun in answerless circles, the pros and cons of each scenario playing out before his eyes. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Akashi pushed all thoughts away, settling on the most straightforward path. After all, tackling problems head-on was something he did well.
He tucked the book under his arm and headed for the exit, stopping first to inform the clerk that “a friend of his” had forgotten it. Once on the street, he pulled out his cell phone, not allowing himself to change his mind.
First, he sent a text to Kuroko, explaining the situation without giving away too much information.
Secondly, he called Midorima.