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To say that Midorima was unnerved by Akashi’s return to his former self would be an understatement.
Of course, he felt somewhat bitter that, of all people, Kuroko had been the one to drag him out of his own mind and back into reality. Perhaps there was a selfish part of himself that wished he could have been the one to aid Akashi’s re-emergence. But that was the way fate worked, apparently- That is, to say, not at all in his favor.
(He can still remember the sting of Akashi refusing his handshake at the winter cup, still remember the crushing waves of inferiority that nearly drowned him.)
Naturally, one cold afternoon in early January, he was surprised to see the number that so rarely appeared on his screen, notifying him of a new text.
Meet me at the train station- you know which one- at 2:15 tomorrow.
(4:37 pm)
And then, a minute after,
Please.
(4:38 pm)
---
The biting cold did little to ease Midorima’s nerves, seeming to seep through his jacket. The train was running almost twenty minutes late, and with every second that passed, Midorima felt his anxiety increasing. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe--
“Train 48 is now entering the station. Please step away from the railings.”
Well, it was too late now.
As the train came to a halt and the passengers exited, Midorima glanced around for the familiar shock of red hair. When he found it, he carefully made his way forward.
“It’s good to see you again, Midorima,” Akashi said, and it was almost too strange to hear him address Midorima by his last name again. Midorima flinched, and hummed in response.
“Where to?” He asked.
Akashi looked at Midorima then (and it was so odd, to be observed by two red eyes instead of one red and one gold.)
“There is a small cafe nearby. Shall we?”
---
The cafe was just busy enough that Midorima could hear the ambient noise of the radio playing softly in the background as other patrons conversed. It made it slightly easier to bear the silence between the two. Akashi sipped his coffee.
“If I may ask,” Midorima tentatively began, “Why are you here today?”
Akashi set down his mug, and pursed his lips.
“I have a therapy appointment tomorrow. Naturally, my father only allowed me to visit the finest hospital available, which happens to be stationed in Tokyo.”
Midorima’s eyes widened.
“Therapy?”
Akashi’s expression turned wry.
“Surely you know what for.”
There was a pregnant pause, and Midorima leaned back in his seat.
“I’m glad for you. It’s not easy to reach out, and your strength in doing so is…” Midorima paused, trying to find the right word, “...respectable.”
“Thank you,” Akashi said, and the sincerity in his voice made the tension that Midorima had been trying to ignore loosen its hold on him.
“But informing you wasn’t the only reason I messaged you. I wanted to apologize, in person.”
Midorima raised his eyebrows, surprised. Akashi avoided his gaze, opting to stare at his mug as if it held the secrets of the universe instead.
“I understand that, as one of my closest… friends… I have said and done things to you that are unforgivable to many, if not all. I am ashamed to say that I cannot turn back from my mistakes- not completely. While I do not expect forgiveness, I figured it would be best to at least voice my remorse so there won’t be any loose threads.”
Midorima was stunned. Of all the things he could have anticipated, an apology was not one of them.
“It will… be a matter of time before I’m able to fully come to terms,” Midorima said, and added, “But that doesn’t mean it won’t happen.”
The relief in Akashi’s expression let Midorima relax further.
“How often will you be attending your therapy sessions?”
“Once a month.”
Akashi seemed uncomfortable at the prospect, but Midorima expected as much.
“You’ve hardly touched your drink,” Akashi added, and for the first time in a long while, Midorima saw an honest smile, albeit a small one.
“It’s a bit too bitter,” Midorima said, and hesitated. “Perhaps the next time we meet, I can order a different one.”
Midorima swore he saw something akin to hope light up in Akashi’s eyes.
“Next time sounds good.”
Maybe fate could be in his favor, eventually.
---
February was almost as cold as January, and as Midorima waited at the station, he wondered how long it would take for the weather to get warmer.
While Midorima had seen Akashi again the previous month for Kuroko’s birthday party, the two hadn’t had the opportunity to talk to each other without the pressure of a knowing crowd around them- It wasn’t as if it wasn’t enjoyable, despite Midorima’s (nonexistent) tsundere-ness, but the fact remained that if he wanted to mend his friendship with Akashi, room for interference should be minimized.
If Takao knew that they were back on speaking terms, he would throw a fit.
Soon enough, a spot of red emerged against the rest of the passengers exiting the train, and Midorima approached it again.
This time, his anxiety wasn’t as encompassing.
“How are your studies?” Akashi asked once they had arrived at the cafe they had previously been to.
“They’re fine. I’ve still ranked high on official test scores. Though it feels monotonous now that basketball season has ended and the upperclassmen are preparing to graduate.”
Akashi hummed. “I’m certain that the upcoming break will give you enough time to be entertained.”
“And what about your studies?” Midorima asked, though it was almost pointless- Akashi was, most likely, still perfect at everything he did in his academics.
“They’re going well. I’ve had more free time than I expected, though it does get lonely occasionally.”
“You don’t communicate with anyone in the dorms?” Midorima asked, and felt a twinge of regret at the way that Akashi winced.
“I never had a need to, before.”
Midorima took a sip of his drink- sweeter this time, just enough that he could drink it without problems.
“What about your teammates?”
“They’ve decided that since I’m still, quote unquote, recovering from myself, I should be given space.”
Midorima nodded in understanding.
“May your recovery go well, then.”
---
March was relatively uneventful. The basketball team bade a tearful goodbye to the graduating upperclassmen, and Midorima invited himself over to Takao’s house to play videogames.
“You seem less uptight lately, Shin-chan,” Takao noted on one particular day, “Did something good happen?”
Midorima thought for a moment.
“I suppose you could say that.”
Takao raised an eyebrow at Midorima’s cryptic answer, but left it for the time being.
Days later marked Akashi’s third therapy session, and as per his request, Midorima waited until after the session. When they met at the cafe, Akashi wore an unfamiliar expression- one of pure exhaustion. Still, he made the effort to smile at Midorima before ordering his drink.
Without Midorima even having to ask, Akashi answered the question on the tip of his tongue.
“The sessions are enlightening, if not comfortable. I’ve been working through my stressors with my therapist, and the memories that resurface are becoming more tolerable.” He went quiet for a fleeting moment, and added, “She thinks I’m making good progress.”
Midorima hummed, and took a bite of the small pastry he had decided to order.
“It shows, in a way.”
Akashi smiled, and took a sip of his tea.
“Thank you.”
---
April marked Midorima’s second year of high school, and oddly enough, the increased frequency of exchanging texts with Akashi.
“Shin-chan, you’ve been tapping at your phone for a while now. Are you talking to a girl?” Takao teased one day before class.
“Not quite,” Midorima responded dryly.
“Who are you texting then?” Takao asked, genuinely curious.
Midorima supposed it was about time he let the other know.
“Akashi.”
Takao made a strangled sort of sound.
“You mean your old teammate who threatened to gouge his eyes out if he lost our match?”
Midorima frowned. “Yes, that one. You met him again at Kuroko’s birthday party, if you’ll remember.”
Takao stared at Midorima for a long while.
“Is he still… you know…”
“No, he isn’t.” Midorima hoped his voice held a note of finality.
Takao shrugged at him, and faced forward in his desk as the teacher entered the classroom.
My session falls on a Thursday afternoon this month. Do you have practice?
(7:49 am)
Not on Thursdays, no. I assume we’ll meet at the cafe again?
(7:49 am)
Sounds like a plan.
(7:50 am)
Days later, and Midorima found himself at the same old cafe, sitting across from Akashi. Unlike last time, Akashi had decided it was better to meet before the session, and Midorima was slightly grateful for that fact- it had been almost jarring, to see Akashi look so tired, and he honestly hoped that he wouldn’t be confronted with that sight again, at least out of concern for his own comfort.
He couldn’t quite say that he forgave Akashi just yet, but he knew that, at the very least, the last few vestiges of dread at their meetings had gone away.
---
On one night in May, long after returning home from a grueling day of basketball practice, Midorima received a phone call.
“...Akashi? Why are you calling me so late?”
“I’m having a bad night. I couldn’t think of anyone else to turn to.”
“Not even your teammates?”
“I don’t want to talk to them. They don’t understand...”
“...”
“I know it’s probably not wise of me to call you at this point in time, but-”
“What can I do to help?”
“Just talk to me. I don’t care what about. It could be a story, or a joke, anything really.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m certain.”
“I can tell you about the day I missed Oha Asa and had to search for everything red for my lucky item.”
“That would be nice.”
Midorima proceeded to recount the story. Occasionally, he would hear a small huff of laughter. When he finished telling the story, he felt exceptionally tired, and wondered if Akashi had fallen asleep. Eventually, when he was almost sure that Akashi had, he heard the other speak in a hushed tone.
“Thank you, Midorima.”
“You’re welcome.”
When they next met, Akashi seemed much more at ease than he had the last few times. Midorima was grateful.
---
The inter-high was rapidly approaching as June came and went. Midorima was unsurprised to hear that Rakuzan had made it past the preliminary finals and would be attending the tournament the following month. He wasn’t quite sure how he should feel about it, considering Shutoku had made it past the preliminary finals as well, meaning they would be playing against each other for the first time since the winter cup. To say he had mixed feelings would only scratch the tip of the emotional iceberg.
“We’re going to be playing Rakuzan at the winter cup, probably,” Takao mentioned to him, sweaty and panting after running laps around the gym. Midorima only nodded in response, and Takao gave him an odd look.
“You okay, Shin-chan? I thought things were going well between you and the emp-- I mean, Akashi.”
“They are,” Midorima agreed, and sighed. “But I am unsure of how the inter-high will play out. I know that Akashi does not plan on showing any weaknesses during the game, and I can only hope that he manages to stay above the stress.”
“You really do care about him, don’t you?”
“Of course I do, fool.”
Takao offered him a weak smile. “Shin-chan, if he’s changed as much as you say he has, then you should be able to put at least a little faith in him, yeah?”
Midorima hesitated. “I suppose you’re right.”
Takao slapped his back and grinned. “I’m always right!”
Midorima and Akashi did not meet at the cafe before Akashi’s appointment as they usually did, but that was okay, he thought. Though he had to admit, he liked being in Akashi’s company again.
---
Rakuzan won the inter-high, though they didn’t end up playing against Shutoku. A match against Yosen with a newly-motivated Murasakibara had landed Shutoku in third place, though it did secure them a position in the winter cup. Midorima supposed he was lucky for that.
Observing the final match between Yosen and Rakuzan had settled some of Midorima’s worries- much to his relief and, dare he say it, enjoyment, Akashi looked as though he genuinely had fun playing against the team. A wave of nostalgia- not the kind that left him feeling bittersweet, but the kind that reminded him of the good times that were had- hit him, and he found himself smiling as he watched Akashi and the rest of his team conquer the court.
Shortly after the match, Midorima got a text.
We’re staying at the lodge overnight. Would you be amenable to playing a game of shogi before we leave?
(8:19 pm)
This time I will win.
(8:22 pm)
Midorima did not win. He was surprisingly okay with that.
“You played well,” Akashi commented after the game was done, and moved to place the small board back into his travel bag. The Rakuzan hotel room, which was empty aside from the two of them- Akashi’s teammates had decided that it would be a good idea to try and sneak some drinks without the coach noticing- felt warmer than Midorima’s own.
“Thank you,” Midorima answered, distracted.
Akashi sat next to him. “What’s on your mind?”
Midorima hummed.
“I think… it may be possible that I’ve forgiven you without knowing it. I missed playing Shogi with you, and despite not being able to compete with you for the inter-high championship, I believe that the trip was worth it. I think I’ve found a sort of peace.”
Akashi smiled warmly, and Midorima couldn’t help but mirror it.
“I’ve still got a while to go before I can say I’ve completely tended to my wounds,” Akashi stated, “But I’m glad we can start again.”
“I am, too.”