Chapter Text
Seijūrō Akashi had survived many hardships in life. He survived the agony of his mother’s death, and he had survived his strict upbringing with such a superfluous amount of work it would make a weaker man cry. He had even survived his loss against Seirin, the very first time in his life he had ever experienced such a soul-crushing sensation. However, even with all his survival expertise, this time around, Seijūrō Akashi was unsure whether he would make it out of this situation with his life intact. The event in question? Why, his birthday, of course.
The metal doors clicked shut behind him as Akashi stepped into the pitch black gym of Rakuzan High. The frigid December air nipped at his reddened extremities, biting at his skin like hundreds of chilly spiders piercing their frosty fangs beneath the surface of his skin. His warm breath billowed softly before him, meeting the winter air in a cloud of condensation before dispersing into the darkness.
“Is someone there?” Akashi questioned. His voice was authoritarian and deadly calm as it cut through the dark abyss before him like a sharpened knife, bouncing off the walls and echoing back into his ears.
No response. The gym remained ghostly silent, mockingly so.
Sighing, Akashi took a step forward; the sound of his polished black leather dress shoes softly hitting the floor echoed throughout the building.
BANG.
The world before Akashi exploded into a burst of light and color, searing his vision as he blinked the sunspots out of his rubescent eyes. A sudden onslaught of technicolor spotlights stabbed downward from the rafters, flashing on in a blaze and moving around the room in an intricate dance of dizzying light. Confetti cannons detonated from the sidelines, sending micro shards of silver and gold glitter and delicate ribbons of rainbow streamers spiraling through the air, covering the shock-stricken emperor and the freshly waxed maple floors of Rakuzan’s gym in what would likely be permanent sparkles. A fog machine coughed to life in the distance, spewing plumes of smoke throughout the gym, covering it in a fog like a mountain’s summit.
“What…?” Akashi murmured.
Before he could process the sight before him, a single beam of light struck down from the ceiling, spotlighting center court. The center circle split open like a dam as a gold platform began to rise from beneath the floorboards, ascending to the surface. Then he saw it, the silhouette of a woman posed dramatically on the platform. The fog began to part as the figure before him was revealed. A young woman of petite stature, her long, medium-blonde hair with emerald ends flowed gently behind her as her icy eyes, kept behind thick-lensed gold glasses, stared directly into Akashi’s own as if analyzing his very soul. Her ruby lips curved upward into a menacing smirk as she gave Akashi a small twirl, her long garnet dress circling her as she faced Akashi again, now holding a rhinestone-covered golden mic that spawned from seemingly nowhere.
“Who are–”
“Welcome, Seijūrō Akashi,” the woman interrupted, her bright, bubbly voice smothering his own. “To… your birthday extravaganza!” she exclaimed, her voice slightly shaken from excitement and subtle anxiety.
Akashi stared at her, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Is that what this is about?”
The young woman beamed. “But of course,” she purred. “But it’s more than that, of course. This event is no ordinary birthday party. No no. That comes later. Before that, WE BATTLE.”
Akashi blinked. “I beg your pardon, miss…?”
“You will find out my name shortly,” she winked. “But yes, you heard me correctly. On this fine December morning, a battle shall be held. A battle of the heart hehehe!”
“And what does this battle entail?” Akashi queried as he took another hesitant step toward the podium.
“It is simple, really,” she stated, pointing dramatically outward. The platform began to rise toward the ceiling once again, this time spinning slowly, her body acting like the needle of a compass pointing to each wall of the gym. The walls began to rumble ominously as if a horde of titans were attacking, and the metal doors squeaked and shook, threatening to burst open. “All your greatest admirers, excluding myself obviously, as I have elected to be the hostess, a shame truly, but perhaps next time, have gathered here today on your birthday to fight for the greatest honor of all, the opportunity to accompany you on your birthday and be your one and only. For today at least.”
Akashi closed his eyes for a moment, processing the barrage of information he had just received. “Do I get a say in this?” he asked, already knowing what the answer was likely to be.
“Nope,” the girl said, popping the “p.” “But I promise you it will be fun. Plus, you get to sit on the cool throne over there.” She pointed to the far end of the court, where a giant, ornate throne with plush velvet cushions floated in the air. How this was possible, Akashi was unsure.
“Very well,” Akashi relented, walking over to the throne and seating himself upon it. “This sounds like it will be quite interesting. I look forward to seeing this display.”
“Ahhh sweet,” she chirped, jumping slightly in her satin pumps. “Without further ado, let me release the contestants.” With a theatrical twirl, she spun once again, finishing with a flourishing snap of her fingers.
THUD.
The metal doors of the gym swung open as a new burst of fog appeared before the door, concealed behind eleven figures.
“When I call your name, please step forward into the gym and take your place on the center line,” the girl called out to the figures.
“TETSUYA KUROKO.”
A spotlight beamed onto a small figure as the phantom sixth man and light of Seirin stepped from behind the curtain of fog, his baby-blue hair and azure eyes bright under the lights as he made his way onto the center line.
“SHINTARŌ MIDORIMA.”
A new spotlight lit up, shining upon the ace of Shūtoku High, illuminating his moss green hair. His verdant eyes narrowed behind his rectangular titanium glasses. In his hands lay clutched a large pink flamingo lawn decoration, no doubt his lucky item, as he took his place beside Kuroko on the center line.
The young woman squeaked slightly at Midorima, her face flushed rose before clearing her throat to announce the next name.
“Ahem… KAZUNARI TAKAO.”
Another spotlight shone, landing on the raven-haired point guard of Shūtoku High. His slate blue hawk eyes glittered like sapphires in the lights, wide and wonder-filled, as he sprinted over to the center line, taking his spot beside the virescent ace.
The MC squealed slightly as she saw the two of them standing together, her arms flapping wildly as she hopped around like a rabbit.
“Oh my God oh my God oh my Godddd,” she sang, her bright soprano voice echoing throughout the room.
“Ok, ok, ok. CHIHIRO MAYUZUMI.”
Once again, a new spotlight appeared, setting its sights on Rakuzan’s resident phantom. His soft gray hair shone silver in the lights as his blank gunmetal eyes took in the sights around him, as he made his way to the center line.
“SHŪZŌ NIJIMURA.”
Akashi’s eyes widened as the newest spotlight shone on a familiar face. Stepping out from behind the fog came the former captain of Teikō Middle School. His jet-black hair absorbed the spotlight's brightness, his light-gray eyes glittering like diamonds as he stepped forward onto the center line.
“Ooh, got some old faces up in this mix hehe. Ok. REO MIBUCHI.”
This time, the spotlight illuminated the slender figure of Akashi’s second in command and the Uncrowned King’s resident Yaksha. His chin-length inky hair fell slightly into his face as he gazed around the room with gentle dark eyes framed by long, fluffy eyelashes as he took his position on the center line.
“KŌKI FURIHATA.”
After a beat, a small figure stepped cautiously from behind the fog and into the brightness of the spotlight. His eyes widened and panicked as the mousy brown-haired man stumbled over to the center line, body trembling with fright.
“Oh, oh, sweetie, it’s ok,” the MC spoke gently into the mic. “Close your eyes and take some deep breaths. Try to calm your heart rate, and please don’t lock your legs. Oh, Reo, if you could do me a favor and look after him to ensure he doesn’t pass out while I finish announcing, that’d be great. Thank you. Next up… woah, looks like I’m not the only American here… NASH GOLD JR.”
The next spotlight shone, illuminating the pale, heavily tattooed figure of the golden-haired American as he stepped out of the fog. His piercings glinted in the spotlight, golden eyes narrowed as he glanced around at his competitors, his lips held in an arrogant smirk as he stepped beside a quivering Furihata.
“Ooh, this is an interesting one,” the MC murmured before announcing the next name. “TAISUKE ŌTSUBO.”
The large captain of Shūtoku stepped out under the spotlight awaiting him. His gravity-defying hair pointed upward toward the ceiling. His thick dark brows furrowed in determination as he made his way beside Nash.
“Two more left ahhhh,” the MC squeaked. “ATSUSHI MURASAKIBARA.”
Lumbering forth from behind the fog and into the spotlight came the towering figure of the violaceous giant and center of Yōsen High. The mountain of a man gazed lazily around the gym, munching on a box of strawberry Pocky as he took his spot behind his fellow giant, Ōtsubo.
“And now for our final guest…” the MC spoke, a mysterious tone tinting her voice. “You haven’t met her yet, you haven’t had the chance, because she’s been kicking ass as the ambassador of… actually, I have no idea where you’re from, but that doesn’t matter! Let’s welcome our final contestant to the court… SEVONNE.”
The fog dispersed as the final spotlight illuminated the last contestant. Her raven locks draped down, framing her face. Her gorgeously tanned skin radiated a sunny warmth under the spotlight. Her eyes, dark and shining beneath a pair of rounded glasses, gazed lovingly over at Akashi as she bounded over enthusiastically to her final spot on the center line.
The MC grinned brightly and began to speak once again. “WELCOME EVERYONE TO THE HAREM GAMES. I am your host and MC, Mignon. It is truly a pleasure to have you all here. Can I get a cheer?” She held her microphone out to the contestants, urging them to cheer. Takao and Sevonne let out a joyous “Whoop” in response, but aside from them, no one else participated. A brief silence followed before the MC, now identified as Mignon, resumed speaking.
“Damn, tough crowd. Eh, oh well. Anyways, TIME FOR THE RULES.” She slammed a heel against the platform, causing a large silver screen to descend from the rafters. Pulling out a remote from her chest, Mignon turned on the projector.
“Alright, everyone, listen up,” Mignon called, pointing the rhinestone-encrusted remote at the massive silver screen as it buzzed faintly to life, a list entitled “Rules Of The Game” appearing in swirly golden font with a list of five numbered sections beneath it.
“RULE ONE: Murder is strictly forbidden. Now this one should be rather obvious since this is a birthday battle and not the Hunger Games, but I felt like it should be stated just in case anyone here forgot that murder is, in fact, illegal.”
She clicked the remote, turning to a new slide with a giant clip art image of the outline of a cadaver drawn in chalk and surrounded by blood, crossed over with a ginormous red X.
Clicking the slide again, she displayed the second rule of the game.
“RULE TWO: You may NOT cause your opponent serious injuries. Anything that requires genuine hospitalization or could lead to permanent injury is not allowed. Bruising, KO-ing, shoving, and of course, psychological and EMOTIONAL DAMAGE… sorry, Steven He took over me for a sec there, are permitted WITHIN REASON.” Her icy blue eyes glanced coldly at each of the contestants, ensuring this rule was drilled into their skulls.
“As the host, I am permitted to disqualify anyone if I believe any of you have violated this rule. So be good boys… and Sevonne… and don’t cause too much damage. Got it?”
The eleven contestants nodded fearfully at her strict gaze.
Her eyes softened once again before flipping to the next slide.
“RULE THREE: You are NOT permitted to use any special abilities in this battle. Weapons are, of course, permitted, but you cannot use special abilities. Not everyone here is built the same, so to keep it fair for all contestants, you are only allowed to use base abilities. So things like the Zone that need to be unlocked are disallowed. This is a brawl, not a basketball game. No bullshittery allowed.”
A few sighs were made audible from the group as she clicked the remote, her current slide dissolving and transitioning onto the fourth slide.
“RULE FOUR: You are not permitted to coerce the host in any way in order to win. This includes, but is not limited to, bribery, psychological manipulation, or flirting. Any attempt to do so will result in your immediate disqualification.” She pointed to Takao and Midorima, who were standing innocently in their assigned spots. “This means you two.”
Midorima scoffed indignantly. “Excuse you, neither Takao nor I were planning to–”
“Oh yeah, I know,” Mignon interrupted him with a sweet smile. “I just felt like calling you two out,” she winked.
Midorima spluttered in embarrassment as Takao stood hunched over and cackling beside him.
“Alright. Lastly, RULE FIVE.” She clicked the remote once again with a fanciful flourish, transitioning to the final slide.
“The last rule is simply to have fun and not be a sore loser. If you do not win, lock in and work harder to win Akashi’s affections in the future,” Mignon stated with a dazzling smile adorning her face.
“Now, do we have any questions, comments, or concerns?” she checked with the crowd.
No one did.
“Alright, cool. Now, as a final note, I am not responsible for any injury or psychological damage that may occur during this battle. If something happens, we have a medical team on speed dial to help. Try not to ruin the gym too much because I already have to pay for the glitter damage. Fight hard, have fun, and win for love. Make me proud, my lovely Akashi simps.”
A beat of silence followed her words as the participants absorbed her final notes. Akashi stared down at the crowd from his spot on the throne. His royal highness stared down with rubicund eyes, his vertical pupils examining each of his potential suitors with a soldier’s sharp gaze.
Kuroko and Mayuzumi stared back, their normally blank eyes shadowed further with a hint of determination.
Midorima clutched his lucky flamingo, adjusting his glasses up the bridge of his nose, forcing them into place.
Takao pumped his fist beside Midorima, a large grin crossing his face once more as his hawk eyes sharpened.
Furihata glanced around once more at his competitors, then at Mignon, and lastly at Akashi before taking a few calming breaths.
Nijimura cracked his joints, starting with his neck, down to his fingers, then his back, and lastly his hips in preparation.
Ōtsubo closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he focused on the upcoming battle, preparing to win.
Murasakibara gazed at his phone nonchalantly, seemingly focused on a separate task as he bit into his final stick of Pocky.
Nash grinned callously, already preparing several strategies in mind for how to win this brawl. He is American, after all.
Reo remained calm and composed. His posture was straight, unlike his sexuality, as he kept his eyes on the prize, that being Akashi.
Sevonne, much like Reo, also kept her eyes on the prize. She stood in her spot, vibrating with excitement as she awaited the cue to begin.
The whole room hummed with anticipation.
Suddenly, Mignon clicked her satin heel against the podium, and the gym was once again doused in darkness for a moment before a single bright spotlight shone over Akashi’s head, tightening into a singular narrow beam. From somewhere up above, Mignon’s voice could be heard once again.
“NOW THE BATTLE TO CONQUER THE HEART OF SEIJŪRŌ AKASHI BEGINS. CONTESTANTS, TAKE YOUR MARKS.”
The whole room stood with bated breath, preparing for her signal.
“LET’S.”
The bassy rumble of a drumroll could be heard playing throughout the room.
“GET.”
The spotlight above Akashi’s head powered off, tossing the room into inky blackness once more.
“READY.”
The light fixtures up high powered on, this time showering the room in blood-red light.
“TO.”
The fog machine activated once again, obscuring the room and contestants in a cloud of crimson. The air grew electric as everyone’s muscles tensed, ready to fire. The room began to shake once more.
“RUMBLEEEEEEEEEEE,” she shouted with glee as the room erupted into chaos. The giant BANG of a gong sounded throughout the gym. Confetti cannons blasted once more, the metallic glitter and long streamers bursting into the air like fireworks. Torrents of flame ejected from the four corners of the gym like fountains, bathing the ice-chilled room in fiery heat as each contestant took off.
“And may the odds ever be in your favor,” she smirked, dropping her rhinestone-encrusted mic against the podium as the metal platform levitated higher up toward the ceiling to observe the battle.
The harem games had officially commenced, and no one was prepared for the hell that was now unleashed.
The gong’s echo had barely faded when the gym exploded into pure, unfiltered chaos.
The plumes of dense fog swirled outwards in a crimson storm, revealing the dangerous terrain as the golden and scarlet lights flashed treacherously overhead. The 11 contestants scattered about the room, footsteps thundering against the smooth wooden floorboards, slipping and sliding as they ran over ribbons of metallic confetti strewn about the ground.
Akashi sat stone-solid on his plush throne, his piercing eyes scanning over the battleground, the gaze of an all-powerful emperor, calculating and cold, waiting to see who would be the first to fall. A single moment’s hesitation from any contestant could lead to their very demise.
It was mere minutes after the gong sounded that the first casualty occurred.
Tragically, albeit somewhat predictably, Furihata was the first to fall.
The poor point guard had already entered the battle riddled with such intense anxiety that he could put such money into the pockets of the pharmaceutical industry, single-handedly funding it for months with the amount of SSRIs he would need to calm down his quaking body. The cacophony of sounds and sights invading his senses, combined with the ever-rising pressure to play against opponents who he deemed far superior to himself, was simply too much, and through merely gazing upon Ōtsubo, who was merely walking towards his general direction, this spike of stress triggered the overactivation of Furihata’s vagus nerve, leading to a drastic drop in his blood pressure.
Subsequently, Furihata’s legs locked in place, his pupils constricting with terror, and he dropped to the floor from fright like a rag doll, making him the first official KO.
“Oh—oh dear… well, it seems we have our first KO. KŌKI FURIHATA OF SEIRIN HAS BEEN SUCCESSFULLY DEFEATED BY TAISUKE ŌTSUBO OF SHŪTOKU BY THE POWER OF UNADULTERATED TERROR!!!” Mignon announced, sweatdropping slightly at the display. “Oh dear… Ōtsubo, would you please be a dear and bring him over to me? The medics will take him shortly. You’ll be granted temporary immunity until you bring him over and drop him off successfully,” she finished, concern dripping in her honey-sweet voice.
Ōtsubo paused mid-stride at Mignon’s words, momentarily startled by the sudden request. He glanced down upon the fallen Furihata, who lay sprawled on the floor like a discarded marionette briefly, before quickly rushing over and scooping the unconscious boy into his arms of steel, cradling him securely against his strong chest. A soft, pitiful noise escaped Furihata’s unconscious frame as Ōtsubo cautiously, so as not to jostle the boy, made his way over to the platform, which had been lowered for his convenience. Upon reaching the platform, he gently placed Furihata down onto the stretcher, which the bubbly MC had already prepared.
“You did your best, Furihata. Rest well,” he spoke firmly, waiting beside Furihata until the medics arrived.
A few moments later, the medical team arrived on the scene, escorting Furihata out of the gym to provide care.
“Thank you again, Ōtsubo, excellent sportsmanship! Isn’t he such a great guy, everyone? Maybe he’ll be the winner of Akashi’s heart with that personality,” Mignon giggled slightly into the mic, glancing over at Rakuzan’s emperor before waving off Ōtsubo. “Now that Furihata is receiving proper medical care, your immunity period is now void. BACK TO THE GAMES!!!!!!!!!” she cried.
The moment those fateful words exited her mouth, the battlefield once again exploded in a flurry of movement.
The brief lull of energy Furihata’s removal had brought to the battlefield was shattered instantly, like a hammer to glass. Bodies surged every which way as shoes resumed their abhorrent scraping against the polished maple. Akashi, from his elevated vantage point, sat watching the chaos unfold before him like a living shogi board, observing as each player made their move.
To his right, a violent flash of gold captured his attention as his vision locked on the visage of Nash Gold Jr., who was barreling through the fading crimson fog at top speed like a raging bull preparing to topple anyone who stood in his way. Unfortunately, standing in the way of Nash’s blazing path stood Reo Mibuchi. The long-haired Yaksha tumbled backward as he was knocked off-balance by a particularly aggressive shoulder check from Nash, hissing slightly as he rose unsteadily to his feet.
“That’s totally barbaric,” Reo huffed indignantly as he faced the Magician, elegantly smoothing out his rose dress shirt. “Do you not have a single ounce of decorum? And to think you’re vying after Sei-chan’s heart,” he chided the blonde.
Nash laughed unabashedly, the sound echoing throughout the gym. “Just quit the game or die already. You really think you can beat me? Pathetic,” he taunted. Without even allowing Reo the chance to retort, Nash struck again. Reo dodged gracefully, twisting at the last possible moment, avoiding what was meant to be a direct hit to his face as Nash’s fist sliced through the air like a blade, landing in the same spot Reo had occupied only seconds earlier. Reo’s sneakers skidded across the wooden floors with a sharp squeak as he narrowly avoided the blow, his long raven locks falling gently into his eyes as he glared at Nash, his normally gentle eyes flaming with contempt. He hissed softly through his teeth, “Honestly, why must you always resort to such brutish tactics?” he muttered, pivoting into a defensive stance.
“It’s a fight, isn’t it?” Nash replied with a cruel smirk. “So come at me, monkey. Show me what you’ve got, if you can, that is.”
Once again, Nash charged forth without warning, landing a solid blow to Reo’s solar plexus, knocking the wind out of the tall Yaksha. The knife-like burst of pain and blunt force trauma led to Reo falling to the ground, sputtering and hacking his lungs out, unable to move or properly inhale.
“OK, OK, HOLD UP, TIME OUT,” Mignon screamed into the mic. “Nash, take a walk,” she hissed, abruptly lowering her platform and sprinting over to the fallen shooting guard to check on him.
“Ok, Reo, breathe with me,” she spoke gently to the wheezing man. “In 2, 3, 4, release. 2, 3, 4. In 2, 3, 4, release. 2, 3, 4…” She noticed his breathing beginning to stabilize. “Good, good. Now, can you stand? Lean on me if you have to.” Draping Reo’s arm around her shoulders, she gently hoisted him off the ground, the 30-centimeter height difference complicating the action a bit. After carefully escorting him outside to join Furihata and confirming with the medical team that there were no severe injuries, she returned to her spot on the platform and ascended back up to the ceiling.
“REO MIBUCHI IS OFFICIALLY OUT OF THE GAMES, DEFEATED BY NASH GOLD JR! 9 players left on the board,” Mignon announced to the group who stood frozen in wait. “Now, Nash, since you didn’t cause any permanent harm and technically didn’t break the rules, I’ll let this one slide, but you’re on thin ice,” she hissed, glaring at her fellow American.
“Alright, alright, whatever you say,” he smirked, raising his hands in surrender.
“LET THE GAME RESUME!”
“Nine pieces left on the board, but I wonder, who will emerge victorious?” Akashi spoke aloud, his sharp eyes focusing on different spots in the gym.
“Who knows, really?” Mignon replied, glancing down at the pandemonium beneath her and smirking.
“This should be interesting.”
Akashi’s gaze drifted over to the far right side of the court, acutely aware of the two weak presences preparing to fight.
Kuroko stood eerily still, his baby-blue eyes dimly shining underneath the colorful spotlights above. Across from him stood Mayuzumi, mirroring his stance, his own expression flat and unreadable. Neither one spoke, simply waiting… waiting for the other to strike.
Mayuzumi made the first move.
He acknowledged that it may have been foolish to do so, but whoever makes the first strike will claim victory. Those are the rules of battle.
The instant Mayuzumi shifted his foot forward to strike, Kuroko vanished into the fog, the plumes swallowing the phantasmal man whole. Mayuzumi halted his movements, his eyes narrowing, gaze flickering left and then right, searching for the presence of his fellow phantom.
There, right there, Mayuzumi sensed a disturbance in the Force.
Twisting his body, Mayuzumi dodged the hand darting out from the fog behind him, aiming to unbalance him. Well played, Kuroko. Catching Kuroko’s right wrist, he thrust the smaller man forward, forcing Kuroko onto the ground in front of him as Seirin’s shadow fought desperately to remove himself from Mayuzumi’s iron grip.
“You’re predictable, Kuroko. Don’t fucking look down on me like that again, especially since you’re weaker than me,” he stated bluntly, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at the azure man before him.
Kuroko hit the floor hard, the impact knocking his breath away from him in a small, sharp gasp. His free hand scraped against the floor uselessly, fingers clawing for something, anything that could give him leverage as his captured hand struggled in vain to break free. Mayuzumi, using his free hand, latched onto Kuroko’s left shoulder, pinning him to the ground. Kuroko looked into the gunmetal eyes of his foe for a moment before shifting his gaze over to Akashi, his perfectly coiffed crimson locks shining under the spotlight as the emperor stared at them, a flicker of interest entering his seemingly nonchalant gaze, watching and waiting to see what Kuroko would do.
Turning his eyes back toward Mayuzumi, Kuroko let out a solemn sigh. “I concede,” he spoke softly. He knew that the battle had already been won.
A familiar bubbly voice echoed loudly throughout the gymnasium.
“TETSUYA KUROKO IS OFFICIALLY OUT OF THE GAMES, SURRENDERING TO CHIHIRO MAYUZUMI,” Mignon announced. “Thank you for your participation! Please make your way out of the gymnasium. If you fear you may have sustained injury during this battle, please drop by the medical team to be cared for,” she finished brightly.
Kuroko nodded politely at her before bowing once to Mayuzumi. “Good game, Mayuzumi. You were victorious. But next time, I will be the winner,” Kuroko stated softly, his blank eyes hardening slightly.
“Tch, you could never hope to defeat me. You simply aren’t strong enough,” Mayuzumi retorted, a hint of pride tinging his typically flattened affect.
Taking one final look at Akashi, the phantom sixth man of Teikō Middle School stepped out of the metal gymnasium doors and into the frigid December air, disappearing into the wintry abyss.
Eight pieces left on the board.
Near the center of the gym, Shintarō Midorima found himself face-to-face with the very last person in the world he would ever want to fight, Kazunari Takao.
The shadow and light of Shūtoku High stared at one another in an uncomfortable silence, listening to the sounds of shouting, sprinting, and fighting as it roared dimly in the background of their small world.
Takao, as usual, was the first to break the silence. Grinning, he laughed lightly.
“Haha, I’m just gonna say it. I don’t want to be the one to knock you out, Shin-chan.”
Midorima scoffed, adjusting his glasses up the length of his nose bridge as he gently clutched the neck of his lucky flamingo beneath taped fingers.
“Fool, as if the likes of you could ever manage to beat me.”
A pleased cackle spilled from Takao’s lips for a moment before he glanced over at Akashi, his eyes narrowing in on his regal prey, before glancing back at Midorima.
“What if we teamed up, Shin-chan?” he suggested.
Midorima sputtered, his verdant eyes drifting over to Akashi’s as well before returning to meet Takao’s own eyes. “Excuse me, what kind of foolish suggestion is—”
“Just hear me out on this,” Takao started, his voice determined. “I like Akashi. He’s sweet once you get to know his true self, not to mention smart, talented, and handsome. You like him, too. You’ve known him basically forever and probably share the same sentiments I do about him,” he explained, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Thing is, I like you too, and I think you feel the same after the whole thing where we almost died together at training camp.”
“…And if I do feel the same? What then? I do not wish to abandon you nor Akashi, I’ll have you know,” Midorima responded sternly.
“Well…” Takao began again. “I’m saying neither of us has to choose. We can team up and win together. It’s stupid to fight each other when we both like him.”
Midorima hesitated.
If one were to look deep into the virescent ace’s mind, one would likely see the hundreds of thousands of future possibilities Midorima was internally creating. After a few moments of contemplation, Midorima exhaled sharply.
“Excuse me, host?” he called out stiffly, looking upwards toward the floating podium Mignon stood elegantly upon.
“Ah, Midorima, hehe!” she giggled excitedly, glancing at the ace with her icy blue eyes in a certain type of way which made him begin trembling, and not from the cold. “What can I do for you, hmmm?”
“Are we permitted to form alliances?” he asked carefully, fearing for the worst.
A beat of silence followed as Mignon stared into the depths of his soul. Midorima gulped.
“Are you saying you want to go the poly route, Midorima?” she inquired slowly.
“Indeed, Takao and I have discussed and—”
A shrill screech and sharp burst of excited laughter filled the air.
“OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD YES OF COURSE YOU CAN,” the crazed woman began laughing maniacally, causing the remaining participants to sweat at her madness.
“So it is permitted?” Midorima questioned again.
“Ah, sorry, sorry. I get really excited about these things, hehe! Of course, you can team up with anyone you’d like, provided both parties consent!” she responded.
“Very well,” Midorima stated, glancing over at Takao before meeting her eyes once more. “Takao and I wish to form a pair,” he finished, flushing scarlet as Takao clapped his hand on Midorima’s broad shoulders.
“OK EVERYBODY, WE NOW HAVE OUR FIRST OFFICIAL PAIRING!!!” Mignon announced over her mic. “SHINTARŌ MIDORIMA AND KAZUNARI TAKAO HAVE OFFICIALLY FORMED A TEAM! Prepare for trouble and make it double, everyone, because you’ll have to take BOTH of these boys out if you have any hope for winning, so best of luck!”
“A team-up, hmm?” Akashi commented, his lips quirked into a small smile.
“What do you think, Akashi? Pretty interesting, right!?” Mignon replied giddily.
“Indeed. I rather enjoy this new development,” Akashi affirmed with a warm chuckle.
“Eight pieces still remain, but a pair of bishops have been promoted to horses in the hope of capturing the king,” Akashi spoke, his head resting gently upon his closed fist as he continued to observe the board before him.
“Indeed, but will the horses succeed, or will a rook perhaps become a dragon?” Mignon replied.
“We shall see soon, of that I am certain,” Akashi replied softly.
When pieces get promoted in shogi, the mood of the game begins to shift, and with the MidoTaka alliance, every contestant began to feel the true weight of battle upon their worn bodies, altering the rhythm of combat entirely. The air itself began to tighten like nooses around the contestants’ necks, the tension and overwhelming pressure settling into their bones.
Akashi watched with quiet interest as the newest battle emerged.
Across the court to the left-hand side, a calm and collected Shūzō Nijimura found himself face to face with the ever-so-blank Chihiro Mayuzumi, whose gunmetal eyes stared back at him, unreadable.
“So you’re the same type as Kuroko, huh?” said Nijimura, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet.
“Don’t compare me to that charlatan. I’m the new and improved phantom sixth man with a playstyle all my own,” Mayuzumi stated angrily, a rare hint of fire coming from the stoic man. “He and I may both be phantoms, but we are not the—”
BAM
Nijimura ended Mayuzumi’s monologue with a sweep kick, honed from his skill in karate. Pivoting and sweeping his right foot around low to the ground in a near 360, Nijimura struck Mayuzumi’s ankles, causing the phantom to lose his footing, falling helplessly to the ground as his feet were swept from underneath him. Bits of metallic confetti clung to his denim blue jacket as he lay stunned on the ground, his expressionless eyes widened with shock.
Nijimura reset his position, carefully changing to front stance, waiting for Mayuzumi to rise.
“So you’re a fighter,” Mayuzumi questioned rhetorically after recovering from his stun.
“I had a bit of a phase…” Nijimura responded awkwardly, reminiscing on his hot-blooded former self.
“Whatever, I forfeit,” Mayuzumi huffed.
Nijimura stared down at him in shock. “You forfeit? Why?” he inquired.
Mayuzumi sighed before replying, “I’m not so unreasonable as to see your skill level is out of my league. I simply can’t compete,” he said, pointing out the disparity in their strength. “Besides, it would be far too difficult for little reward. Even if I were to beat you, there would be little chance of winning against the others, so I may as well go home and do something I enjoy,” he finished before picking himself off the ground and silently exiting the gym.
“Huh…” Mignon spoke into the microphone, stunned by Mayuzumi’s sudden departure. “CHIHIRO MAYUZUMI IS OFFICIALLY OUT OF THE GAMES AFTER SURRENDERING TO SHŪZŌ NIJIMURA,” she called out. “We’re down to 7 contestants on the board, people. Come on, you guys got this!” Her words of encouragement rang out, reaching every corner of the gym.
Seven pieces remain on the board.
The atmosphere of the gym shifted once again at Mayuzumi’s sudden departure. With only seven players left, the stakes were growing ever higher. The chaotic frenzy this battle royale had initially started out as, but had turned into something far deeper and more strategic.
Akashi observed the seven remaining contestants with keen interest, his pointed gaze flickering from one person to the next.
Midorima and Takao stood close by one another, their newly formed alliance remaining strong as they kept watch for incoming attacks. Ōtsubo remained unshaken, his presence steadfast and imposing like that of a mountain. Nijimura cracked his knuckles sharply, eyes alight with anticipation as he waited for the opportunity to strike. Nash stuck to the centermost spot, eyes burning with blasts of hot lightning, his posture screaming for the others to come at him. Murasakibara remained unmoving from his original location at the start of the battle, quietly standing in the corner, chewing on a piece of hard candy, his gargantuan figure as imposing as ever as he waited. And Sevonne, well, Sevonne stood apart from the others. Her chest rose and fell with measured breaths, her fists clenched tightly by her sides as her gaze remained unwaveringly locked onto Akashi. An air of confidence surrounded the glasses-clad woman as she plotted her next moves.
Suddenly, a sonorous DING echoed throughout the gym.
Murasakibara’s phone had buzzed.
The violaceous giant of Yōsen High blinked, glancing down at his phone briefly before his lips curved into a lazy, nearly imperceptible smile.
“Oh,” he murmured. “My food’s here. Nice.”
His words barely registered in anyone’s mind before the large metal doors at the front of the gym creaked open.
A tall figure entered the gym, wavy platinum blond hair blowing elegantly behind them as they made their entrance. Tall black platform boots over high-waisted wide fishnet tights stomped loudly against the hardwood floors of the gym. Their sharp blue eyes, eyeliner-darkened and piercing, searched the crowd for their target. Their short black skirt and silver chain belt swung elegantly as they moved towards the awaiting Murasakibara. Attached to their black lace-edged tank top and black duster lay the glorious visage of Leone Abbacchio atop a shiny new pin. This person radiated absolute aura comparable to that of even Akashi himself.
The room stood stunned still as they placed themselves in front of Murasakibara, holding up a large white and red pizza box.
“Uh, hi,” they spoke awkwardly, shattering the illusion of power and prestige.
“Uber Eats delivery order for… Mura… capybara???”
“ZEPHYR, WE’VE BEEN OVER THIS. HIS NAME IS MURASAKIBARA,” Mignon’s voice blasted from her spot on the podium as she doubled over in fits of intense laughter at her friend’s mistake.
“WELL FUCK YOU, YOU’RE SHORT,” the emo, now identified as Zephyr, shouted back, their matte-purple lips pursing with annoyance.
“I will withhold the entirety of Steel Ball Run from you. Do not test me, bitch,” Mignon retorted, her voice tinged with irritation as she struggled to withhold fits of laughter.
“Fuck you,” said Zephyr as they flipped Mignon off, exiting the gym with a sassy sway to their hips.
“LOVE YOU TOO, BESTIE!” Mignon shouted, throwing a finger heart at her friend as the doors slammed behind them.
A beat of silence followed the commotion before Murasakibara began walking towards the gym doors.
“Well, my DevilCraft pizza is here, so I’m gonna head out. Ok, that cool, Mignon-chin?”
Mignon, who had finally seized her fits of laughter, paused for a moment before responding. “I mean, yeah, sure, if you want, but don’t you—”
Murasakibara interrupted her. “Nah, it’s cool. Catch ya later, Aka-chin, and good luck and stuff,” the giant said before making his way out the doors.
Akashi pinched the bridge of his nose slightly, sighing. Typical Murasakibara.
“Well, ok then!” Mignon commented, a slight sweat drop gracing her face once again. “ATSUSHI MURASAKIBARA IS OFFICIALLY OUT OF THE GAMES! HE HAS FORFEITED! WE ARE NOW DOWN TO 6 PLAYERS,” she declared.
Six pieces remain on the board.
The battlefield is smaller now. While the size of the room itself remains the same, the number of contestants slowly dwindling down made the vast room seem all the smaller.
Akashi leaned back slightly against his throne, his fingers steepled beneath his chin.
“The board thins. The pawns have exited; now all that remains is the knight, the lance, silver, gold, the horse, and the rook,” he murmured.
“Indeed, but look,” Mignon pointed out. “Some of the pieces have been promoted, haven’t they?”
Nijimura had been itching for a proper fight since his battle against the phantom Mayuzumi. Well, old habits die hard after all. Turning his attention to Sevonne, he raced over to her location, his body moving on instinct alone.
Sevonne barely had time to register her current situation before Nijimura was upon her.
“Apologies,” he called out, “but I won’t be holding back.”
And so he swung.
Sevonne twisted out of the way just in time, the blow barely grazing her shoulder as she staggered backwards, a small jolt of pain shooting down her arm. Gasping, she regained her footing and, with dark eyes full of determination, charged towards Nijimura, shoulder-checking him straight into the nearest wall.
“Hey, you’re pretty good,” Nijimura complimented as he pushed himself off the wall.
“Thank you!” she replied sweetly, gracefully jumping over Nijimura’s attempted sweep kick before sending one of her own fists straight to Nijimura’s face, just barely grazing him as he expertly evaded her attack. The two exchanged blow after blow, block after block, remaining in a state of stalemate, that is, until Sevonne caught a glimpse of Akashi smiling in her direction. With the power of her unending devotion fueling her, she broke her pattern of swings, launching her body directly onto Nijimura, tackling him to the floor. Their bodies collided hard, the impact echoing throughout the gym as Sevonne drove her elbow into Nijimura’s chest.
“Sorry, Nijimura,” she apologized, now forcing Nijimura’s hands over his head in an effective pin. “I don’t share.”
Nijimura stared up at her, both of them breathing raggedly as Sevonne pressed him even harder to the floor.
“I yield,” Nijimura stated, letting out a breathy laugh.
Instantly, upon his declaration of surrender, the announcement rang out.
“Wowwww, that was intense!” Mignon exclaimed, her voice rising a semitone. “SHŪZŌ NIJIMURA IS OUT OF THE GAMES, ELIMINATED BY SEVONNE! 5 PLAYERS REMAIN!!!!”
Sevonne released her hold on Nijimura, helping him to his feet.
Nijimura nodded at her, respect glimmering in his eyes. “Win this,” he said simply before exiting the battlefield.
Five pieces remain. The rook moves ever closer towards promotion.
The moment Nijimura exited the battlefield, Nash decided to officially resume his rampage, turning a blazing grin towards Ōtsubo, his predatory grin splitting his face wide.
“Now you could be an actual challenge,” he drawled, jerking his neck sideways, releasing a crispy popping sound.
Ōtsubo remained silent, staring at his opponent, squaring his stance.
A clash between silver and gold.
The two captains moved at the same time, massive bodies of muscle colliding with each other with such force that it nearly shook the entire gymnasium. Nash took the first strike, slamming his fist directly into Ōtsubo’s ribs as he sought to overpower the massive center.
Ōtsubo’s body rocked slightly from the aggressive blow, his breath forced out of his lungs in a sharp exhale, and yet he stood proud, feet remaining firmly grounded.
Letting out a rough growl, he slammed into Nash, driving his elbow into the other's shoulder with punishing force, all 98 kilograms of force forcing Nash off-balance.
“I will not lose,” declared Ōtsubo firmly
A clash between silver and gold.
Nash’s balance quickly returned, allowing him the ability to jump Ōtsubo once again. Flashes of fists furiously fighting against one another could be seen from all angles as the two men fought, exchanging blow for blow. But alas, even the most rigid walls are forced to break down when outside forces weaken the structure.
Upon receiving a particularly hard chop to the side, Ōtsubo finally collapsed, exhausted, on the ground.
“I concede,” he groaned, holding his side in pain.
Nash cackled maniacally as the medical team assisted Ōtsubo off the battlefield.
Mignon’s voice rang through the microphone once again, bright yet stricken with worry. “TAISUKE ŌTSUBO IS OUT OF THE GAMES!” she called. “DEFEATED BY NASH GOLD JUNIOR. THERE ARE NOW 4 PLAYERS REMAINING.”
“So gold has captured silver,” Akashi remarked.
Four more pieces left on the board.
Nash barely had a moment to dwell upon his fierce victory when two figures began approaching him.
Midorima adjusted his glasses up his nose bridge, his eyes narrowing in distaste at seeing Nash standing before him. Midorima gripped the neck of his absurdly large flamingo, wielding it threateningly as a weapon against the blonde captain of Jabberwock.
Takao stood firmly beside him, his hawk eyes carefully analyzing Nash’s every move, waiting to swoop in and catch him in his talons.
To the surprise of everyone remaining in the room, Midorima struck first.
In a bizarre twist of fate, Midorima burst towards Nash, swinging his flamingo like the Queen of Hearts playing croquet and slamming the base into Nash’s stomach, colliding with a jarring THUD. The blonde sputtered, sliding across the floor like a child on ice skates as he desperately tried to maintain his balance. Snarling, Nash pushed himself off his right leg and lunged towards Midorima.
“SHIN-CHAN!” Takao called, signaling for Midorima to dodge left.
A swing, a hit, and a miss from Nash.
Takao took his opportunity while Nash was mid-strike to impose a couple of his own punches onto the blonde. Ducking away from Nash’s free arm, Takao made his way behind Nash to deliver a blow to Nash’s vertebrae, causing the Magician to roar in pain.
“WHY YOU MONKEY,” Nash roared, jerking violently as pain laced his body.
Takao barely managed to dodge the wild elbow Nash hurled into his face, skidding across the floor, leaving tracks in the confetti-coated wood, adrenaline surging through his veins.
Midorima, on the other hand, remained focused, finding an opening within Nash’s crazed movements. Raising the flamingo like the axe of an executioner, Midorima struck Nash’s shoulder with a dull thud.
“SHIT—” Nash cursed loudly as he continued to try to evade the barrage of attacks the two horses were dishing out to him.
“Two horses against a single gold, Akashi, what’s your take here?” Mignon inquired of the silent emperor.
“Two horses certainly hold an advantage over gold,” he started, analyzing the board in front of him. “But we must not forget, all the power in the world matters not if you make the wrong move.”
In that moment, Nash lunged once again.
Midorima sprang into action, attempting to avoid Nash’s hands. Unfortunately, he was too slow. With a feral grin, Nash’s fingers grasped onto the garish pink neck of Midorima’s flamingo, wrenching it from his hands before menacingly twirling it like a baton. He licked his lips threateningly before swinging at Takao, using the curve of the plastic bird’s beak to hook onto Takao’s ankles, catching the hawk off balance and sending him crashing to the ground.
“TAKAO!” Midorima shouted, panic flaring across his normally composed features.
Midorima rushed forward, a grave mistake.
With no weapon in hand, no plan, and his partner out of commission, he stood no chance against Jabberwock’s captain, receiving a brutal headbutt to the jaw, causing his glasses to fly off his face, blinding Shūtoku’s ace.
Midorima staggered backwards blindly, clutching his jaw, breaths sharp and uneven as he tried to orient himself. The world before him reduced to a blur of colorful smears and movement, the lights overhead radiating outwards in distorted halos of light.
Takao groaned somewhere near him, curled up in the fetal position, clutching the side where he had fallen, his breath labored.
Nash stepped forward towards Midorima, the ace barely identifying the movements of the blond-haired point guard.
“I yield,” Midorima spoke, his voice strained as he raised his hands in the air as a show of surrender.
“Ack—yeah, me too,” Takao affirmed weakly as he struggled to rise to his feet.
Mignon’s voice rang out dramatically overhead.
“SHINTARŌ MIDORIMA AND KAZUNARI TAKAO ARE OFFICIALLY OUT OF THE GAMES!” she sniffed. “And here I was hoping they’d stand a chance. Alas, it was not fated to be. Someone help Midorima locate his glasses—actually, you know what, I’ll do that. And medics, please escort these boys out of the building for examination.”
Mignon descended once again from her podium to search for Midorima’s half-rimmed frames. Finding them only a few short meters away from where he was standing, she nabbed them off the ground and returned them to Midorima before the shadow and light of Shtūoku got marshaled out of the building by the medical team, hands grasped tightly together.
“Awww, they’re so yaoi,” Mignon commented offhandedly before returning to the podium.
Two pieces remain on the board. A final battle between the rook and the gold awaits.
The gym seemed to draw in upon itself once more as two figures stood on opposite sides of the gym. The silence surrounding them was deafening.
Nash rolled his shoulders back, loosening his battle-stiffened muscles with a few loud clicks. Mauve bruises had bloomed over his arms and ribs, blemishing his pale skin. His breath grew heavy as his earlier arrogance dulled, eyes sharpening as he locked onto the figure standing before him.
Sevonne.
The young woman stood firm, despite the tremor of fear threatening to course through her body. She shifted her round frames up the bridge of her nose, her dark eyes full of concentration and pure determination. Her tanned skin, much like Nash’s, lay covered with countless scrapes and bruises from her earlier battle. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, steadying herself as she lifted her gaze directly over to Akashi.
He had risen slightly from his throne now, fingers gently gripping the carved edges of his golden seat as his crimson eyes met hers. This woman was the rook after all. The most powerful piece in the game, and Akashi… Akashi was absolutely enthralled by her.
The look Akashi gave her, his expression full of fascination and attention placed solely upon her, was enough. A fresh burst of adrenaline coursed through her veins as the strength of her absolute devotion to her beautiful emperor fueled her like gasoline to fire.
They were now ready.
Nash charged first, a golden blur cutting across the court at a devastating speed. Sevonne braced herself, hastily ducking as Nash’s fist whistled past her ear, the force of the blow sending her dark hair flying.
She immediately countered Nash’s blow, delivering a swift jab of her elbow to Nash’s ribs.
Nash turned, catching her forearm mid-strike and yanking her forward. Sevonne gasped as the motion forced her off balance, but she refused to falter. Pivoting sharply, Sevonne struck, slamming her foot directly into Nash’s shins.
Nash swore as pain coursed through his leg, releasing his hold on the young woman, allowing her to regain her stance.
Akashi’s fingers tightened further on the armrests of his throne in anticipation.
Nash pounced again, his movements spiked with fury as he aimed blow after blow at Sevonne, forcefully moving her into a path of his choosing as she desperately weaved through his attacks.
A punch grazed her shoulder.
Another clipped her side.
Sevonne stumbled in her retreat as Nash pressed in mercilessly.
BAM
Her back struck the wall behind her.
Pinned.
For a split second, Sevonne considered her options, a flicker of doubt entering her headspace.
And then she saw him again.
Akashi still watched, an expressionless look across his face. But his eyes read differently. He wanted—no, he needed her to win.
Something changed inside Sevonne, her last string of patience snapping as she surged forward, slamming her head into Nash’s broad chest with every ounce of might, forcing him backwards onto the maplewood floor.
The rook had promoted to a dragon.
The flames of courage encompassed Sevonne’s body, her eyes blistering with hot desire for victory as she struck Nash’s jaw with her fist, causing the captain’s head to slam into the ground.
But even despite his current state, Nash refused to concede.
Sevonne attacked relentlessly, sending punch after punch to Nash’s body as he struggled against her.
Realizing the tenacity of the man before her, Sevonne utilized her final card, the ace up her sleeve, the move that would finish the American once and for all.
Winding up her right foot, Sevonne focused all her might into one decisive blow and struck Nash.
A swift kick to the nuts.
A shrill scream pierced the air as Nash howled in agony, his body completely paralyzed from pain.
Akashi winced, unconsciously covering his own groin as he watched Nash’s pitiful display.
The gong rang overhead as the final announcement was made to the rhinestone microphone from above.
“OOOOOOH K.OOOOOO NASH GOLD JR IS OUT OF THE GAMES!” Mignon screamed over the gong’s bellows. “ALL RIGHT, BITCHES, BROS, AND NON-BINARY HOES, IT LOOKS LIKE WE HAVE A WINNER!!!!!!” she continued, her voice cracking from the strain and excitement. “THE WINNER OF THE 2025 HAREM BATTLE IS—”
CRASH
The gym doors exploded inward, ripping violently from their hinges as a new figure burst into the room in a shower of sparks.
Daiki Aomine stood in the wreckage, staring at Sevonne with an electric blue gleam in his eyes.
“The only one who can beat me—” he started as he barreled towards a horror-stricken Sevonne.
“Oh HELL no,” Mignon scowled as she gracefully jumped down from her podium.
“IS ME—AH”
A swift, perfectly aimed strike to the back of his neck was all it took before Aomine collapsed into a crumpled pile of flesh on the floor, unconscious.
“DAIKI AOMINE IS AUTOMATICALLY DQ’D FOR ILLEGAL ENTRY AND FAILURE TO REGISTER FOR THE GAMES,” she declared coolly. “Please, medics, if you will.” She gestured towards Aomine, who was scooped up by the medical team and promptly dragged into the nearest ambulance, alongside Nash, who had finally passed out from pain, thankfully with no irreparable damage other than broken pride.
“I swear, he literally told me he didn’t want to join. What the fuck?—You know what, it’s Aomine, why am I even surprised?” Mignon muttered, disgruntled.
Taking a moment to recollect her thoughts, she walked over to Sevonne, who was now standing dumbstruck beside Akashi.
“Anyway—” Mignon beamed as a few confetti cannons and sparklers erupted in the background. “CONGRATULATIONS, SEVONNE, FOR BEING THE VICTOR OF THE HAREM GAMES!!!!” She giggled slightly, pushing the woman towards Akashi. “He’s all yours now!”
Akashi let out a quiet chuckle, nodding his head slightly at Sevonne.
“You have played well today. You are more than worthy of my heart.”
Sevonne flushed crimson, a shade matching her beloved’s hair as she reveled in his beauty, reminding herself that Akashi was all hers.
“Are you alright? You are staring,” Akashi questioned, his brows drawing together in concern.
“No—I mean, yes,” she stuttered, flustered at having been caught. “It’s just… you’re so beautiful, Sei,” she confessed, the words slipping out of her mouth uncontrollably, much like her heartbeat fluttering out of her chest like thousands of tiny butterflies.
Akashi chuckled warmly as he rose from his throne, the plush seat levitating up into the rafters of Rakuzan’s gym, never to be seen again. He offered his arm to her. An invitation.
“Shall we go, my empress?” he whispered into her ear.
Sevonne shivered, her body growing warmer as she took his arm.
“Yes, we shall.”
As the two walked towards the exit arm in arm, one could feel the tension of the room lifting, filling the space with something warm and comforting, like a bowl of tofu soup on a cold winter’s day. The two passed through the space connecting inside from out, bodies moving ever closer together as they stepped out into the wintry abyss.
The end of the beginning of an unforgettable birthday.