Singing in the Dead of Night

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Branch

An AU arc of what might have happened if Kuroko had taken Aomine and Momoi to Seirin with him.

Ink Burns

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

This is a work of fanfiction, produced according to the principles of transformative fair use as put forward in US copyright law, and abiding by the custom and practice of fan-produced work in Japan, where the source texts were created. No author is in any way affiliated with any of the creators of the source texts, nor with the companies who distribute their products, nor any other rights holder, and these stories were not authorized by either the creators or the producers. Ink Burns is a fan site and the material here is freely provided for the enjoyment of fellow fan-community members; there is no commercial infringement.

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 US license at the Ink Burns fanfiction archive (http://www.branchandroot.net/archive/).

"This Moment to Arise - Departures and Arrivals" published on 2012-11-21 14:03:57.

"This Moment to Arise - Introductions" published on 2012-11-28 12:03:36.

"This Moment to Arise - Clarifications" published on 2012-12-05 14:39:40.

"This Moment to Arise - Preparations" published on 2012-12-12 13:36:27.

"This Moment to Arise - Revelations" published on 2012-12-19 18:29:10.

"This Moment to Arise - Stumbles" published on 2013-01-30 14:37:16.

Attributions can be made by author's name and a link to the archive.

This ebook edition was published on September 6, 2019 by the Ink Burns fanfiction archive.

Cover illustration is .

Cover design by Branch.

This Moment to Arise - Departures and Arrivals

Kuroko hauls Aomine to Seirin, and Momoi comes with them. The team is delighted, if a little taken aback by Kuroko's unnoticeability and Aomine's lack of condition. Kuroko is all the more convinced he's brought them to the right place after he meets Kagami, and sees the challenge he has the potential to offer Aomine. Drama, I-3

The door of Tetsuya's classroom slammed open and Aomine stood glowering in the doorway. "Tetsu!"

Ah. He'd finally heard. Tetsuya put down his sandwich and waited while Aomine stalked through his scattering classmates to slam a piece of paper down on Tetsuya's desk. The header, as much of it as was visible under Aomine's hand, said Sei. "What the hell is this?" Aomine demanded.

"A letter," he observed, just to get things rolling properly.

"Damn it, Tetsu, what did you say to my parents?" Aomine ran a rough hand through his hair, throwing himself down backward into the desk in front of Tetsuya's. "They went and registered me with this place already, without even asking me!"

"You've rejected four top schools already, left to yourself," Tetsuya pointed out, as he had pointed out to Aomine's parents. "Seirin has a good reputation, but they don't chase after athletes with recruiters. Your parents feel they'll be less likely to indulge you too much."

Aomine glowered at him. "You want to drag me off to some no-name school that doesn't care about their sports programs? Tetsu, what the hell?"

"Their basketball club just formed last year, but they advanced to the finals of the Kantou preliminaries," Tetsuya offered. He hadn't chosen Seirin on a whim, after all. He'd looked carefully for a school that might help him reach Aomine again.

Aomine flicked dismissive fingers. "Yeah, I looked up their record, too. They got trashed by the high-school bracket's top three. And then got trashed some more in winter. It was a decent start, but either it was a fluke or they don't have any staying power. They aren't in our range at all."

"Then won't it be a challenge?" Aomine hesitated at that, and Tetsuya felt the first real tingle of hope that this would work. "Isn't that what you want?"

"Mm." Aomine looked out the window, face still. "...you're coming?"

"Of course." Tetsuya made himself smile a little; if it was painful to do it after the tournament season they'd just had, no one else had to know that. Aomine did still want him there, and that was another grain of hope after the way the whole team had turned away from him on the court. And if doing this ran against the parting orders Akashi had given them... well it wasn't as though Tetsuya was feeling either obedient or charitable toward his ex-captain these days. Besides, Tetsuya was a supporting player. Akashi had said so himself, repeatedly. As long as the light was divided, it shouldn't matter where the shadow went. At least, that would be Tetsuya's story if anyone asked.

Tetsuya wasn't giving up his partner, or his game, without a fight.

Finally, Aomine snorted and wadded up the letter to stuff it into his pocket. "Guess it's too late to be complaining anyway, since my parents already signed me up. Fine. We'll see what this newbie club looks like." He stood and stretched, mouth twisted into a half smile. "Maybe you'll be right, and it'll be a challenge to face the rest of the guys with a half-assed team."

Tetsuya thought about the match footage he'd asked Momoi-san to find for him, and the straight, unbowed shoulders of Seirin's players leaving the court, even after defeat. This time, he smile was truer.

"Yes," he said quietly. "Let's see."

Aomine slouched against the side of the school message board as Tetsuya ran a finger down the map of club tables. "So? Where are we going?"

"Further down on the right." Tetsuya turned and looked through the sway and shuffle of other new students, and older students talking up their personal clubs. Yes, there was the table they wanted, down in a quiet corner as one might expect for a small, new club. There was a student at it signing up already, though, which was encouraging. "There," he pointed.

Aomine glanced over the top of the crowd and didn't move. "Already got someone, huh? Well, at least it won't be just us. Satsuki, go grab us some forms."

Momoi swung her bag briskly and whacked him in the side. "I'm not your manager again until we get joined up. Get your own."

Aomine pouted at her, and that was familiar enough to make Tetsuya smile. "Come with me, Momoi-san, and I'll get them while you talk to the senpai. Aomine-kun can be left out if he wants."

"Hey."

Momoi giggled and linked her arm with his as they slipped through the crowd, leaving Aomine looking indignant by the message board. He steered them through the press with a light hand on her elbow and let her take the seat the tall red-head was just vacating. "Hello!" she nearly sparkled at the slight girl and the boy with glasses sitting behind the table, and the second boy hanging over the end of it looking like he'd just gotten off some kind of hair-raising amusement park ride. "We'd like to sign up for the basketball club!"

The girl smiled, open and pleased, and passed over a paper form. "Would you like to manage the club? That's wonderful, we haven't been able to find a manager before this!"

Momoi smiled her having-secrets smile and plucked a pencil out of the cup on the table. "Yes. I think I'll be able to help out a lot."

Tetsuya took two forms and two pencils and made his way back to Aomine, handing him one. "Fill it out properly," he added, firmly, "or I won't take it back for you."

Aomine sniffed. "Why should I care whether I have to drop it off on the way past?" He ran a quick eye down the form and paused. "Ah."

Tetsuya enjoyed the small moment of triumph as he meticulously filled in his name and his reason for joining. And his previous experience. Momoi could probably pass through without causing too much excitement, if only because so few people knew what she'd really done for Teikou. But two Teikou starting players? There would almost certainly be a fuss, unless Tetsuya was the one to slip the forms unnoticeably back onto the table. He nodded, satisfied, as Aomine heaved a sigh and scribbled down all his information, holding the paper against the back of the message board.

They picked Momoi up on the way past, and she waved her fingers at the girl, who was looking a little exasperated, and the boy, who was looking a little disheveled, like maybe he'd been smacked by his companion at some point. Momoi-san was grinning as they walked away.

"What did you do, Satsuki?" Aomine wanted to know, eyeing her sidelong.

She clasped her hands behind her, wide-eyed. "Nothing much. It's just that Riko-kantoku is really easy to tease."

"Kantoku?" Aomine echoed, looking back at the table, startled. "Wait. You mean... that girl is the coach around here?" He glared at Tetsuya. "I told you this school was half-assed!"

"Aida Riko," Momoi murmured as they climbed the low steps to the school's front doors. "Daughter of Aida Kagetora, who played center for the Japanese national team for five years. He retired to work as a very successful trainer in his own sports gym, and his daughter is following in those footsteps."

"It will never not be creepy, the way you know this stuff," Aomine grumbled, but he didn't complain about their new team any more. Momoi winked at Tetsuya behind his back as they went in and started looking for their shoe lockers. Tetsuya gave her a tiny nod back; they would make this work.

And at least, this way, Aomine was forewarned and didn't do more than sigh when their new coach ordered all the first year recruits to strip, at practice that afternoon. He did roll his eyes when Momoi, standing on the sidelines with a fresh pad of paper in her clipboard, made an interested Oohhhh sound and the entire club blushed as one. Tetsuya was mildly amused, himself, until the coach looked right past him and asked where he was. Then he sighed a little. He'd forgotten the occasional drawbacks of breaking in a new team.

When Aomine and Momoi chorused, "He's right there," and pointed to him, though, he smiled. They were still together. They would make this work.

He felt another flash of hope when Aida-san got to Aomine and paused, frowning. "Aomine-kun," she finally said, hands on her hips. "Why are you in such bad shape?"

"Bad shape?" their new captain echoed, startled. "What do you mean?"

Their coach knelt, one hand lightly on Aomine's knee, studying his legs more closely while Aomine looked a bit flustered. "His figures are incredible. Off the chart, really. But there's a lot more muscle deterioration than I'd expect for just the off-season." She stood and frowned at him more fiercely. "You haven't been keeping up your training at all!"

Aomine shrugged one shoulder. "I win without it."

"That isn't the point!" Aida-san shook a finger at him. "You're going to injure yourself if you keep playing the way your team did without keeping your motion drills up. I'm not having one of my players injuring himself through sheer idiocy! You're barred from full-speed plays and any practice matches we have until you've built up your joint strength again."

"I'm what?" Aomine stared at her in absolute disbelief. Tetsuya exchanged a quick glance with Momoi, who was wide-eyed and looked impressed. Their old coach and captain had set limits on Aomine when he practiced against the rest of the starting team, but no one had ever barred him from matches.

"Don't argue with the coach about training," Hyuuga-san told him flatly. "If she says you're in danger of injury, that's all there is to it. You keep her training schedule or I'll pull you out of the official matches, too."

Aomine stiffened at that, and Tetsuya let his breath out, a little wondering at how easy it had been. That was the one threat that would work. The one Akashi would never have allowed. And Hyuuga-san had delivered it without blinking, clearly in earnest.

"All right," Aida-san clapped her hands. "Let's get started! Today you can get a taste of the kind of training we do!"

Aomine sulked through the drills, and Tetsuya stayed close to him. Aomine ignored him, though, obviously remembering exactly who was responsible for him being here. When practice was over, and they met Momoi at the doors, Aomine said, "I'll walk you home today, Satsuki." He still wasn't looking at Tetsuya.

Momoi glanced between them, worried, but Tetsuya nodded silently. He wouldn't put up with being ignored for too much longer, but it suited him well enough to be on his own tonight.

There was someone else he'd been watching, today. He made a guess at where someone like Kagami, who was almost as impatient with the endless drills as Aomine had been, would go after a practice like today's. Sure enough, he found Kagami shooting basket after basket in the little court at one end of the park between school and the nearest station. He opened the gate and greeted his new teammate quietly. "Kagami-kun."

Kagami jumped and yelped, and Tetsuya waited for him to collect himself again. "You." Kagami shook back sweat-damp hair, tucking his ball into the crook of one arm. "Well, I guess that works; I wanted to talk to one of you. I keep hearing about this 'Generation of Miracles', but when I came back from the States last year the level of all the middle school basketball I saw was pathetic. So, you're from that team, right? Are you really that good?"

Tetsuya nodded to himself; Kagami had reminded him of Aomine, earlier, throwing himself into even drills like he was throwing himself over the edge of something, dissatisfied only because it wasn't enough for him. Kagami was the type who played for intense games.

Good.

"Teikou never lost," he said plainly. "Not once, the whole three years Aomine-kun and the rest played."

Kagami made a disgruntled sound. "That doesn't tell me anything. Maybe your opponents were all just weak." He caught the ball again, bouncing it fluidly. "Play me. I want to see for myself."

Tetsuya shrugged and agreed. It would be a good chance for him to measure Kagami's game and get a sense of his nature.

They made it for about five minutes before Kagami blew up at him.

"Of course I'm not going to win," Tetsuya told him absently, turning over in his mind what he'd seen. "That's not the kind of player I am." Kagami's game burned hot; Kagami obviously loved it, and gave all of himself to it. That was good. But he was still unfocused. Tetsuya guessed that he played by responding to his opponents, shaping his game to against theirs. He'd ask Momoi, after she'd seen him play, to be sure. That kind of reactive play meant Kagami was only as strong as the opponents he'd met so far. It meant Kagami couldn't match any of Tetsuya's old team right now, but it might also mean he could grow to do so.

Kagami stopped yelling and sighed, slinging his uniform jacket over his shoulders. "Never mind. Just... look, take some advice and quit basketball. However much team effort you try to put in, the fact is it takes talent to play and win. You don't have any."

That jarred Tetsuya out of his thoughts, sent his mind flashing back to the day he'd said almost exactly the same thing of himself. Said it to Aomine, and had Aomine convince him to stay, convince him that his love of the game was the only crucial part to being a good player.

If he said those words to Aomine today, Aomine would probably agree, just like Kagami was right now.

The thought stiffened Tetsuya's spine. "No," he answered calmly. "I love the game, and I'm not leaving it. Besides, like I said, that's not the kind of player I am. I'm a shadow. In a game, you'll see." Kagami frowned at him, puzzled, and Tetsuya tipped his head, considering his new teammate. He thought he knew what he needed to do, now, to make use of the strength Kagami did have. "You asked about how good the Generation of Miracles is. Now I've seen you play up close, I can tell you this. With your current game, you couldn't even reach their feet."

Kagami bristled. "What?"

"If you play Aomine-kun, you'll see." If they were lucky, Kagami's fire would start Aomine's again. If Kagami was the kind of player who loved hard games, who grew against tough opponents, this would be good for him, too. And Tetsuya might finally get his partner and his game back. If Aomine had someone to play against who didn't give up easily, maybe he would start to come out of the dark again. "If you're strong enough," Tetsuya added, "you'll have all the challenging games you might want. And when we play together, you'll understand how I was part of that team."

He had his own pride, after all. He would make them all understand, his old teammates and his new ones, that his game was strong in its own right. He hadn't chosen Seirin only for Aomine's benefit; this was a place that suited him. Seirin was a team that could use and would value the way Tetsuya could make them stronger, far more than Teikou had valued it by the end. And Kagami had potential. He had... light. He might become strong enough to be a real partner to Tetsuya.

Aomine wouldn't like it, if that happened.

Tetsuya's eyes narrowed as he pulled his uniform jacket back on. If Aomine didn't like it, then maybe he'd stop acting like such an ass and act like a partner again.

Yes, this might be a place that suited Tetsuya perfectly.

This Moment to Arise - Introductions

Aomine is increasingly annoyed by the attention Kuroko is paying Kagami, and for that matter everyone else on the team, and annoyed by the restraints Aida puts on him, but Kagami does pique his interest a little. Drama, I-3

Daiki had thought he'd gotten used to just how ridiculous it was that Tetsu had dragged him to this no-name school and dropped him into a basketball club that apparently had nothing going for it but enthusiasm. But this was where he put his foot down. The very idea of 'announcing his intentions' during morning assembly in order to 'prove' himself for this new team was laughable. He was the ace of Teikou, he didn't have a damn thing to prove to a team that couldn't even get to the Interhigh.

On the other hand, good entertainment was hard to come by, and he didn't have any objections to watching other people make fools of themselves, so he'd let Tetsu haul him up to the roof to watch the fun. Watching the other first years was good for a snicker as they stepped up to the rail, one after another, and managed to stammer and shout at the same time. He wondered idly if it would be more of the same when the red-head he'd noticed yesterday stepped up for his turn. He was the only one of the club here that actually looked like he might be worth something on the court, tall and powerful. Good reflexes, too, Daiki thought, watching him jump up to balance on the rail.

And then the guy pulled in a lungful of air and yelled, loud enough that it echoed off the school buildings, "Class 1-B, seat 8, Kagami Taiga! I will defeat the Generation of Miracles and become the number one in Japan!"

That was when it stopped being funny.

That was when Daiki stepped in front of Tetsu, as he stirred toward the edge, stepped up and braced a foot against the rail and leaned out into the morning wind. "I'm Aomine Daiki," he called over the lines of assembled students. "And I am number one in Japan." He pushed back and turned on his heel to meet Kagami's hot eyes. "And if you think you're good enough, then come on," he finished.

For a few seconds he thought he might have some light entertainment for the morning, because Kagami looked more than willing, but then the door slammed open and teachers spilled onto the roof. The lecture they made everyone sit for broke the mood. By the time they got to practice that afternoon, he was bored again, and when their little slip of a coach divided the players for a mini-game, he volunteered to be the first-year who sat out.

"Won't be much use in it, otherwise," he pointed out, which was only the truth. She'd said she wanted to evaluate the new players. If he was in, the only one she'd see was him.

"We'll do two games," she decided. "You'll sit out the first one. Kagami will sit out the second."

Annoyance flicked at him again, being equated with that guy, but he shrugged and slid down cross-legged on the side-lines. At least he could watch Tetsu.

It wasn't long, though, before he was frowning a little. "Tetsu, what the hell?" he muttered as Tetsu went to dribble and promptly had the ball stolen by the second-years' point guard. Kagami was the only one scoring, and he was pretty much playing solo. The moment the second-years got serious and put three men on marking him, the other two blew past whole rest of the first-year team. Including Tetsu.

He couldn't actually blame Aida-san that much when she asked Satsuki, "He was a Teikou starter? Really?"

Satsuki gave Tetsu a positively doting look. "Tetsu-kun is so responsible," she cooed. "You said you wanted to evaluate everyone, Riko-kantoku. Tetsu-kun is a specialist; this isn't how he normally plays. But he's showing you everything, so you know."

"So I know how bad he is at every move?" Aida-san muttered. Before Satsuki could sing more of Tetsu's praises, though, there was a scuffle on the court where Kagami was yelling at one of the other first-years. Daiki felt a sneaking bit of sympathy, because the other guys were exactly the kind of losers who kept giving up on him. They deserved a bit of yelling.

And then Tetsu stepped up behind Kagami and knocked his knees out, facing the resulting snarling without turning a hair and gesturing back down the court. Daiki sat up straighter, eyes narrowing. He knew that expression on Tetsu's face. He recognized that action.

Tetsu liked this Kagami guy. He was treating him like a teammate.

And when the first-year team spread back out, Tetsu started passing. He'd obviously been watching everyone, himself, evaluating who could do what, because even with this team of losers he always got the ball to the one who was open enough to gather up his guts for a few seconds and take a shot. As the second-years pulled back from their triple-mark on Kagami, Tetsu shot the ball to him, and in three plays the points were almost level again.

Okay, Kagami wasn't terrible, Daiki admitted grudgingly. He shouldn't be mouthing off about beating Teikou's first string, but he wasn't bad. That still didn't give him any right to be getting chummy with Daiki's partner! He watched like a hawk as Tetsu got the ball for a final play and moved it down the court himself. He couldn't really be meaning to shoot...

Daiki's jaw tightened as Kagami started to move.

Tetsu tossed the ball up, with almost as little regard for form as Daiki had, and Daiki gritted his teeth as Kagami dunked it with perfect timing. But, as much as it pissed him off to see satisfaction flicker over Tetsu's face, there was also a little tingle of excitement. Kagami might just be good enough to be interesting. For a little while, at least. So, while the first-years were cheering over actually winning against their senpai, Daiki went and picked up one of the balls out of the cart, tossing it a little in his hand to get the feel of it.

"Hey, Kagami," he called, bouncing the ball a few times, and bared his teeth when Kagami turned around. "Let's see what you're really made of."

Kagami's eyes lit instantly in answer, which was nice. They'd see how long it lasted. Daiki slid down the court, weaving casually around the rest of the bodies on it, too fast for any of them move. Kagami moved, at least, came to meet him with a sharp, sure step that didn't waver even when Daiki cut around him, past him, leaped to drop the ball in. He looked back, as he landed, to see Kagami frozen and shocked, and sighed. Fuck. Another one. He scooped up the ball on the bounce and turned away, reaching for the familiar blanket of boredom to throw over the disappointment.

"Where the hell do you think you're going!?"

Daiki blinked and turned back. Kagami was pointing at him, indignant. "Get your ass back here and do that again!"

Daiki blinked some more. "...what, you like losing or something?"

Kagami snorted kind of impressively, folding his arms. "Don't be an idiot. Do it again, so I can figure out how to beat you."

Daiki was trying to put words to his feeling that he was not the idiot in this equation, when an earsplitting blast of the whistle made them both wince.

"Aomine-kun!" Aida-kantoku glowered from right next to them. "I told you no full speed plays!"

"That wasn't full speed!" Daiki protested, stung by the injustice. Not that he'd actually been thinking about her orders at the time, but he still hadn't broken them!

Everyone fell silent, staring, and Daiki huffed out an annoyed breath; did these people honestly not know what they'd signed up for their own damn club?

"How much of your top speed was that, then?" Aida-san asked at last, quietly, folding her arms.

Daiki considered. "Seventy percent, maybe." Kagami made an outraged sound, beside him, and Daiki paused to smirk at him. "What was that about beating the Generation of Miracles?" he needled.

"Cut that out, you two," the coach directed absently. "All right. Don't go above sixty until I tell you you can. Your style puts even more strain on your body than I'd realized, and we're going to have to make sure to build up your lateral movement muscles. And you!" she added, turning on Kagami. "Don't you go along with him like that! You can train together when I say you can!"

"Yes, Kantoku," Kagami agreed, glumly, giving Daiki a look that said he was pissed off over being held back like that. That he wanted to play again.

Daiki smiled slowly, spinning the ball lightly on his fingers. Lighter than he'd felt for a while, now. "We can take our time, I guess, yeah," he purred.

Maybe there was some fun to be had, here, after all.

Of course, then she made them play another mini-game with Daiki switched in for Kagami. But at least Tetsu had stopped demonstrating his weaknesses. Daiki didn't actually object to the chance to show Kagami how a real partnership with Tetsu looked, and even holding down his speed to sixty percent the ball sang between them and scorched down the court. The second-years weren't total slouches, either. They gave up on defense after about four minutes of total disbelief and concentrated on offense to even the score.

And they were staying close, because Tetsu kept passing to the other first years. Daiki finally straightened up from blocking yet another shot from Hyuuga-san, who really was a pretty good outside shooter, and jammed his hands on his hips. "Tetsu, what the hell are you doing?"

Tetsu got the set to his jaw that meant he was feeling stubborn. "This isn't a tournament match, Aomine-kun. It's practice. It's training."

Daiki ran an unimpressed eye over their panting 'teammates'. "You telling me you think you can train them up to win with a few passes? Don't be ridiculous, Tetsu. You're a shadow. You make any player stronger, yeah, but your own strength depends on the strength of your light." Quieter, he finished, "No one else here can make you stronger than me. There's no one here you can make shine brighter than me."

Tetsu looked deliberately over at Kagami, fidgeting on the sidelines. "I think there is."

It took Daiki a few seconds to put his jaw back where it belonged. "What the fuck, are you serious?" Tetsu's eyes narrowed, and Daiki rocked back a step. Tetsu really was serious. "Tetsu..."

"Why should I settle for being the shadow of someone who's given up, Aomine-kun?" Tetsu asked, low enough that Daiki didn't think anyone else heard.

Daiki set his own teeth and spun back to the game. He knew Tetsu was right, in absolute terms. But what else was he supposed to do?!

They won the game, just like they always won, no matter what else happened. And the stunned look on Kagami's face was satisfying. But the walk home that night was almost as silent as they'd been yesterday. And when Daiki came in to his classroom the next morning and saw everyone at the windows, chattering, and looked out to see what was written on the assembly ground in boundary chalk, he knew who had put it there.

My strength will make my team number one.

Satsuki slipped up beside him and leaned against his arm. "You know, Tetsu-kun has a point. He's as strong as any of you, in his own way. He deserves a partner who will work for his game."

Daiki turned away sharply from the window. He didn't go to practice that day, either, retreating up to the roof instead, to think. Tetsu had caught him in the trap of this school, this team. If Daiki didn't work hard enough for him, and maybe for the coach, Daiki wouldn't be able to play. Even if he could, he'd still have to watch Tetsu working with Kagami unless he agreed to keep hoping, keep pushing for nothing. And he couldn't do that any more. Part of him wanted to say fuck it all and just let the game go; it usually only hurt, these days, going out to play and having every opponent give up and turn away. But...

Well. There was still that 'but'.

And there was Kagami himself.

And there was Tetsu.

Daiki rolled over onto his stomach, chin on his crossed arms, and sighed. No. He knew he wouldn't actually leave. He supposed he'd just have to hang in there until he could play a team one of the others had gone to. That thought was a pleasant one, and he smiled, contemplating it until he dozed off in the spring sunlight.

This Moment to Arise - Clarifications

Kagami is pleased with his new team and his new challenge, though puzzled by the tension between Kuroko and Aomine. A practice match against Kaijou tells him at least a little of what the tension is over, and also gives him his first taste of working with Kuroko in a real game. Drama, I-3

Taiga swatted his alarm clock into silence, rolled over, and smiled up at the ceiling. He woke up with a smile a lot, lately.

Okay, so his strongest teammate was a total jerk, and he honestly thought Kuroko liked scaring the liver out of people by popping up out of nowhere, and their coach was clearly some kind of demon. He could deal with all of that and more, because basketball was interesting again. A challenge again, and more than a challenge. A bone-cracking, tendon-snapping, nerve-burning hurdle to get over, like it hadn't been for over a year since he came back to this country.

Aomine said he was the best, but Kuroko said the rest of them weren't actually much weaker. And a few of them were in nearby schools. Taiga couldn't wait for the tournaments to start.

And in the meantime, there was Aomine, who might be a deadbeat when he was sulking but was like fire on the court when he did show up. And he was training often enough that Kantoku was starting to let the two of them play opposite each other in the club's practice games. Taiga sometimes caught himself humming as he put together his dinner bento, for evening practice. Aomine was impossible. The shots he could make were insane; it was like the ball and the basket were his two hands and he brought them together easy as that.

But, then, most of the team already said Taiga's own jumps were impossible. And he was pushing his height further and further because it was the one advantage he had on Aomine. So Taiga didn't pay much attention to what was possible or not, only to what he saw in front of him. Right now, that was Aomine.

Aomine... and Kuroko.

Taiga wasn't always sure what to make of Kuroko. He thought about it today, on his way to school, hands stuffed in his pockets, looking out over a landscape of the tops of people's heads. In his own way, Kuroko was almost as impossible as Aomine. The things he could do with the ball, the way he could move over the court unseen, straight through any defense, the way he always, always knew who was open and where... it was amazing. When Aomine and Kuroko played together in a practice game, they went through the other side like it wasn't even there. Even, Taiga admitted, through him, because the speed and precision of their combination was frankly appalling. It was going to be an incredible weapon for Seirin, when the tournaments started.

But Kuroko refused to play with Aomine like that very often. He kept passing to other team members, deferring to Izuki-senpai's plays, concentrating his passes on Taiga himself, if anyone. And when Taiga asked why, all he would say was that his game with Taiga could become stronger than his game with Aomine, and the way Aomine responded if he heard that tended to distract Taiga. The one time he had tried to press for more detail, the teacher had yelled at him for talking during classâ€”at him, but not at Kuroko, because life with Kuroko was just like that.

Eventually Taiga intended to find out why Kuroko kept setting him and Aomine against each other. In the meantime, though, there were other things to think about. Things like failing English class, because the things they tried to teach here were utterly ridiculous and nonsensical. Things like hanging on to the counter during the rush at the cafeteria long enough to get a decent sized lunch, because he swore no one in this country ate enough to keep a squirrel alive. Things like defending his dinner from Aomine.

That last one was giving him some trouble.

Taiga slapped Aomine's thieving fingers away from his box of stir-fry and slid further down the bench. Of course, that just gave Aomine a chance to try to snag one of the sandwiches out of the stack on Taiga's other side; the man really was unfairly fast. Taiga swallowed and growled at his teammate. "What is with you? Bring your own damn dinner!"

"My cooking sucks," Aomine said easily, eyeing Taiga's other box, the one with the cookies, greedily. "So does Satsuki's. And Kaa-san's way too busy."

Taiga pinned down his cookies under his toe, glaring. "So go snitch from Mitobe-senpai!"

From his seat against the stage, carefully out of reach, Mitobe-senpai gave them both a reproachful look.

"That's not a very respectful thing to suggest, Kagami-kun," Kuroko murmured from where he sat on the edge of the stage, finishing a can of Pocari and watching. And laughing at them from behind that straight face, Taiga swore.

"See? Even Tetsu agrees." Aomine feinted for the sandwiches again and got a foot around the cookie box when Taiga shifted his weight, smirking with his success. Taiga decided finishing the rest of his food was more important than defending his dessert, and hurried up. If he finished fast enough, he'd damn well tackle Aomine and wrestle him for the damn cookies.

"Don't you think you should stop them before Kagami chokes on his food some night?" Izuki-senpai asked Hyuuga-senpai in an undertone.

Their captain shrugged with perfect fatalism. "Kantoku thinks it's good training for Kagami's speed, to play keep-away with Aomine. I don't argue with her about training."

Izuki-senpai looked torn between amusement and worry, but he didn't argue either. Taiga growled under his breath, biting into his last sandwich ferociously. Fine, then. If he had to teach Aomine some manners on his own, he'd do it.

Somehow.

"We'll just come with you for your snack after practice," Momoi offered, leaning on his shoulder and plucking the now empty cookie box out of Aomine's grip. "And you can make Aomine-kun buy you dessert then."

"He can what?" Aomine asked, brows going up.

"That sounds fair," Kuroko put in, and calmly ignored Aomine's protests. At least he ragged on them both equally, Taiga reflected.

"As long as there are absolutely no full-speed one-on-ones after," Kantoku specified, looming suddenly behind them. "I'm relying on you, Satsuki-chan."

Momoi pursed her lips dubiously. "I'll do my best, Riko-kantoku, but these two..."

Kantoku sighed. "At least you can report it." She glared down at them forbiddingly. "And then I can take it out of their hides."

Taiga exchanged a look with Aomine, for once in perfect agreement. "After we eat," Taiga muttered, as Aida-san moved off with Momoi, talking about individual training for the second-years.

"You're on." Aomine's smirk was annoyingly lazy and casual, but he'd never once turned Taiga down.

"You really are going to get in trouble with the coach," Kuroko noted, but not as if he expected that to stop them. Just an observation.

The weird part was, that seemed to be as good as a flat no to Aomine. "Oh come on, Tetsu," he groaned, flopping back to sprawl on the floor. "I'm going to die of boredom if I don't get to do something besides drills."

"Kantoku is right about needing to be back in condition before you push harder than you have been," Kuroko told him, even and relentless, and Aomine hauled himself upright to slump against the bench scowling.

"Like I'll have to push harder."

"You will in matches. That's why you agreed to Seirin."

Aomine hesitated at that, and finally sighed extravagantly. "Oh fine." He glanced up at Taiga and waved a hand at Kuroko. "Argue with him about it."

Of course, Taiga didn't. One, because it was time to get back to practice, and two, because he was still trying to figure out what was going on with Aomine and Kuroko. Aomine listened to Kuroko like he didn't to anyone else, up to and including the coach and captain. But there was something else Kuroko wanted, and Taiga could only think it was that something that kept Kuroko turning toward him instead of Aomine. He just had no fucking clue what it was.

He didn't have much time tonight to think about it, either, because Kantoku put Aomine on the opposite side of the practice game from Taiga and Kuroko, and Taiga still had to fight to get passes to and from Kuroko without Aomine being right there in the way. It was annoying as all hell.

Aomine was annoying as hell about it, too. "Are you guys done yet?" he asked, smirking over the ball cradled easily in his grip halfway to Taiga's hands.

"No," Taiga snapped and jerked his head at Kuroko, holding up his hand. They'd find a way around Aomine, because this was exactly the caliber of player who was waiting for the team at the tournaments. Kuroko nodded back firmly, shoulders settling out of the tense line they always seemed to get when Aomine was on the other side.

It really did make Taiga wonder. If Kuroko got this tense about being separated from his old partner, why did he seem so bound and determined to make a new one out of Taiga?

There had to be something he was missing.

When the coach had said she'd gotten them a practice match with one of the other schools that had taken in one of the Generation of Miracles, Taiga had been excited. But he had to say, his first look at Kise Ryouta was not impressing him.

"Kise," Aomine groaned, hand over his eyes, "will you get rid of your damn fangirls?" Once Kise had finished smiling and apologizing and generally dumping pretty-boy charm all over the landscape, and all the squealing girls had been herded out, he added, "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I heard we'd be having a practice match with Seirin, and I thought I remembered this was where you and Kurokocchi came, so I had to come say hello didn't I?"

"Hello, then," Kuroko said from behind two of the second-years, making them jump and yelp. "But if that was all, then we should get back to practice."

Okay, Taiga decided, as Kise downright pouted, Kuroko just liked to wind everyone up, is what it was.

"Kurokocchi is so mean, and after I was the one closest to you at Teikou, too!" Kise actually had tears in his eyes, and Kagami was starting to wonder if this guy was for real.

"I don't remember that," Kuroko said thoughtfully, and Aomine rolled his eyes.

"Do the comedy routine on your own time, you two. Seriously, Kise, why are you here?"

Kise's overdone mournfulness evaporated, and his eyes glinted at Aomine. "I just wanted to make sure you were ready to be playing on opposing teams, Aominecchi."

Aomine bared his teeth, shedding his usual lazy slouch as fast and completely as Kise had wiped away those fake tears, and something in Taiga leaped up like a fire catching. That. That look was the one he wanted to see in Aomine's eyes, when they played.

Which was when he realized that neither Aomine nor Kise was paying any attention at all to the rest of the team.

"Ki-chan!" Momoi appeared in the doors of the gym, bags of drinks swinging from her fingers, laughing. "Tell me you didn't come all the way up here to challenge Aomine-kun! The match is already set up, you know, you'll play him soon enough."

"Momocchi!" Kise brightened up and laughed along with her. "I just wanted to make sure I remembered right, that this was Aominecchi's school!" He paused, looking back and forth between Kuroko and Momoi. "Wait a minute... Momocchi too? That's no fair!" He crossed his arms and huffed at Aomine. "You should give us Kurokocchi, then."

"Dream on," Aomine told him dryly. "He's not going anywhere."

"That isn't actually up to either of you," Kuroko pointed out, and the flickers of guilt and something like panic on both Aomine's and Kise's faces almost made Taiga laugh.

Almost. Because watching the four of them, it was blindingly clear that they were still a team. Even broken up and competing as opponents, they still acted like a teamâ€”thoughtlessly close and knowing each other like right and left hand. Even Kuroko, who was standing a little back from the other three.

Fuck that. Aomine and Kuroko, and Momoi too, were part of Seirin now. They were Taiga's team. He scooped up the ball he'd been drilling with, strolling into Kise's peripheral vision, and heaved it straight for him, fast and hard as if it was a pass he was trying to get past Aomine.

Kise's head whipped around and his hand came up to catch the ball, eyes wide and startled. "What was that for?" he asked, on a breath of a surprised laugh.

"Kind of doubt Kantoku will let you have Aomine, today," Taiga told him, strolling closer, close enough to break the group as Kuroko stepped back further and Momoi rolled her eyes and hopped up onto the stage, off the court. "So let's make sure you didn't waste your time. Play me."

"Kagami," Aomine growled, truly pissed off if Taiga was any judge. He just raised his brows and jerked a thumb at the coach, who was tapping her foot and glaring at all of them.

"Fine," Aomine snarled after a steaming moment. "Get your ass kicked. Maybe it'll finally teach you something." He whirled and stalked out of the way.

"Well." Kise blinked after him before turning a sharp smile on Taiga. "Just a point or two couldn't hurt." He shrugged out of his uniform jacket, ball passing lightly from hand to hand as he did, never leaving his possession. Taiga smirked, pleased, and felt for his footing against the polished court.

Taiga was prepared for the speed, after playing with and against Aomine. He was even prepared for the pure assurance of Kise's moves, the easy, natural grace. What blew him back was the sudden mirror of his own moves, the cut and turn that made his muscles stutter because they knew that shape and this was the wrong end of it. He stared up at Kise from flat on his ass on the court, and just had to laugh, leaning back on his palms. They were obviously all monsters, all of Teikou's starters.

Good.

"Do that again," he grinned, hauling himself to his feet.

Kise gave him a startled look that turned thoughtful as he glanced over at Aomine, simmering on the sidelines. "Maybe I see why Kurokocchi brought him here, after all." He spread his feet, balanced on his toes, and gave Taiga back his grin. "Maybe a few more, then."

"No more," Momoi declared, jumping down lightly to step between them, palms held out. "You've had your look, Ki-chan. I'm not letting you take more of a handicap than that."

"But...!" Taiga started to protest, running together with Kise's, "Aw, Momocchi..." She shook her head firmly, looking past them to speak to the coach.

"No more. Letting Ki-chan see more of Kagami-kun would be dangerous."

Kantoku nodded slowly. "I remember what you said. All right, then." She stepped forward, gesturing Taiga back. "We'll see you next week, Kise-kun."

Kise sighed mournfully. "Yes, ma'am." He paused to stick out his tongue at Momoi, and collected his jacket to toss over his shoulder on his way out. "I'll look forward to it, Aominecchi!" floated back as the doors closed behind him.

"Mm," Aomine grunted in answer. He was looking at Taiga, not his ex-teammate.

"What?" Taiga prodded. Aomine would brood on shit for days if you let him.

"You're getting better," was the startling answer. Aomine stood up and stretched. "A little." And in a flash, he was across the court, blowing past Taiga and stealing the ball. Pure reflex spun Taiga around to follow his cut, and he leaped to block the shot he knew was coming. Aomine's teeth were bared as he slung the ball around at a crazy angle and made the shot as surely as always. "A little," he said again, as the coach yelled at them to knock it off and get back to their drills. "Just not enough." He turned away to pick up the ball again, and Taiga turned to see Kuroko watching them with something dark in his eyes.

The more he saw of the Generation of Miracles, the more Taiga wondered what the hell had happened to all of them.

The practice match against Kaijou ran into trouble as soon as they'd all gotten changed. Taiga couldn't say he was all that surprised.

"All right," Aomine said, dropping his bag behind the bench and turning toward the court with a gleam in his eye, "let's get this show on the hghk!"

Their coach had reached up for a grip on the back of his shirt and expertly yanked him down onto the bench. "Not you. You're sitting this one out."

He surged back up to his feet, towering over her. "What?!"

"You've missed almost a week's worth of practice in the past month," she snapped back, hands on her hips, perfectly uncowed. "You know the rules. You don't practice, you don't play."

Kuroko's voice cut over the start of his protest, cool and level. "Good."

Aomine whipped around to stare at him. "Tetsu? What the hell?"

Kuroko looked up at him, and suddenly there was an edge on the usual calm of his expression. "All you're interested in, here, is Kise-kun. If that's the case, you might as well just ask him for a one-on-one match later, and leave the team out of it. That was what you were going to do anyway, isn't it?"

Taiga found himself edging back, along with everyone else, shocked by actually seeing Kuroko angry, no matter how quietly. And... his voice was quiet, yeah, but also hard. Even Aomine seemed startled, staring at Kuroko with his hands loose at his sides.

"You heard what the captain said, the first day," Kuroko went on. "If you want to play in matches with the team, then you have to be part of the team. If you can't do that, then you might as well leave the game!" He gestured sharply at the club members around them. "I'm glad Seirin is this way. Akashi-kun and our old coach spoiled you, Aomine-kun. They let you turn your game into something that isn't basketball any longer." He jerked his wrist-warmers into place, motions sharp, and turned away. "If you want to remember what it is, what it was, then sit down and watch."

Taiga watched Kuroko stalk onto the court, and Hyuuga-senpai going after him to catch his shoulder with a few low words about keeping his temper. Kuroko ducked his head, apologetic, back to being as deferential as usual to their senpai. The rest of the starting team looked at each other and shrugged, and followed them out.

And Aomine slowly sank back down to the bench, eyes still wide, looking like he'd been sucker-punched.

Taiga glanced over at Momoi, questioning, only to find her biting her lip, brows knitted with concentration like she was watching the team practice some really difficult play. When she saw him looking, though, she just shook her head, shooing him out to the court.

Once again, Taiga wondered exactly what had happened to them all.

"Kagami-kun," Kuroko said softly, as Taiga came up beside him, "will you help me? Without Aomine-kun, there's no one on the team who can beat Kise-kun alone. But you and I might do it together." When he looked up, there was something burning in his eyes. Something Taiga recognized, and he grinned back.

"Let's do it."

Kuroko smiled just a little.

"What was that all about, Kurokocchi?" Kise asked, slipping across the center.

"Something I would have said a year ago, if I thought Akashi-kun would let me," Kuroko said levelly.

Kise quailed back, hands lifted. "Don't involve me if you're getting into another argument with the captain!"

"Which captain was that?" Kasamatsu asked dryly from behind Kise's shoulder, and, while Kise was stammering, turned him back toward his own team and hurried him on his way with a very literal kick in the butt.

"I'm glad Kise-kun found a team he can get along so well with," Kuroko said, to all appearances perfectly serious.

They were all crazy. Every. Single. One.

But being crazy didn't stop Kise from being crazy-good, and Kaijou matched them speed for speed right from tip-off. Within the first few minutes, Taiga thought he might be going to give himself a headache trying to keep one eye on Kise and one on Kuroko. Kise wasn't like Aomine, he didn't seem to feel in his bones where Kuroko's passes would be, but he was fast and powerful and every move Taiga threw at him was thrown back with bruising force. Keeping track of Kuroko so they could actually get the ball to one another was an edge of concentration Taiga couldn't afford to take away from Kise.

Kuroko knew it too. After the third ball they lost, just when Taiga swore he was starting to feel his jersey singe from the force of Aomine's mounting glare, Kuroko touched his arm. "Don't look for me," he said quietly. "Can you do that? Don't watch for me. Just go. I'll be there."

Taiga sucked in a quick breath. The thought made his spine crinkle; it would be almost like playing blind. And... he'd have to trust Kuroko blindly too. But Kuroko's gaze on his, perfectly steady, perfectly calm, still had that will and determination to win burning behind it.

That, Taiga could trust.

"Okay." He nodded shortly, turning to focus on Kise and nothing else. And it was weird. He'd have expected to have to fight to even remember Kuroko was on the court with him. But every time he needed to pass the ball, or found a place to break past Kaijou, Kuroko was right there in of the corner of his eye. Again and again, Kuroko was there.

He was also paying for it, running with sweat, breath rasping in his throat. "Can you keep this up?" Taiga asked as the first quarter ended, frowning a little.

"I can keep it up for as long as I'll be effective," Kuroko gasped, swiping away the sweat running down his jaw with the back of his wrist. "Just go."

This time, the words put a different kind of shiver down Taiga's spine, a feeling more like awe. He knew Kuroko was hopelessly weak outside his specialization, but he couldn't listen to Kuroko, couldn't look at him, and think his determination was pointless or futile. So, as the second quarter got started, Taiga took a deep breath and didn't hold back.

Kuroko was paying hard to keep up. But he was also smiling just a little.

By the time they hit the middle of the second quarter, and Kantoku signaled for a player change, as planned, Kuroko was swaying a little on his feet. His grip on Taiga's arm was hard, though. "Don't let them get too far ahead," he gasped.

"Obviously," Taiga snapped, irritated, glaring down at him. And then he let out his breath and pushed Kuroko toward the sidelines where Koganei-senpai was waiting. "Now it's your turn. Just go."

Kuroko blinked up at him for a moment before it seemed to click, and a real smiled flashed over his face for a breath. "All right."

Kagami watched him off, where the coach pushed him down onto the bench and dropped a towel on his head, crouching down to work on his legs. He watched Aomine watching Kuroko with one of the strangest expressions Taiga had ever seenâ€”pissed off and somehow lost at the same time. He watched until Momoi stepped up to the sideline and signaled him sharply to pay attention to the game, and then he shook himself, getting ready to block Kise as completely as he could.

It was ridiculous to feel a little lost, himself, just because Kuroko wasn't beside him.

Taiga took a couple deep breaths and sank himself back into the game, into the place where 'speed' and 'power' had no meaning. The only thing with meaning, there, was 'more'. His more wasn't enough yet; he couldn't keep up with Kise, not all the way. Couldn't stop him every time. Couldn't take his attention off Kise to help with the rest of the team. Couldn't pay attention to the score, only hope that his senpai could stop the rest of Kaijou. Half time barely registered with him except as a blur of cool water and Momoi's quiet voice talking to Izuki-senpai about how to get past Kasamatsu.

When they got to the fourth quarter, though, they were only eleven points down. There was a glint in Kuroko's eyes when he joined Taiga on the court again, and both Kantoku and Momoi were grinning like sharks beside the bench. "Ready to go?" Taiga asked him, gulping air.

"Of course." In fact, Kuroko looked annoyingly cool and composed, and he eyed Taiga up and down, critically. "Are you?"

"Hey," Taiga growled, and then rolled his eyes when he caught the faint curl at the corners of Kuroko's mouth. "You're just as much of a jerk as Aomine is sometimes, you know that?" He straightened up and swiped his hair back off his forehead. "And what did I tell you earlier?"

Kuroko looked up at him and nodded.

Just go.

Taiga sucked in another breath and took hold of the thought, sinking himself into it like he sank himself into the game, letting go of all the rest. Kuroko would be there. He believed it.

Their first play blazed past Kise.

When the throw-in hit Kise's hands, he blew back through them like they weren't even there, every movement sharp as a knife, and there was a look in his eyes Taiga was more used to seeing in the mirror.

"Right." Taiga rolled his shoulders and jerked his head at Kuroko. "If that's how we're doing it, let's go."

The last quarter was a crazy back-and-forth scramble of offense, of fighting against the weight of Kise's focus, and Taiga knew he was only keeping up because Kuroko was with him, because half their plays were something even Kise couldn't grasp and copy. And even so, they were barely keeping up, and the score was always on the ragged edge of dropping them down too far to get back. Taiga felt the air of the court against his bared teeth.

He loved it.

He didn't know if Kuroko did. Kuroko didn't laugh with him; his face was quiet and intent the whole time. But that was okay. He was there, always there, perfectly in place to catch the bounce of Taiga's passes and send them scorching back, edging Seirin's score up and up, and that was enough.

Kise kept pushing, though, always meeting every drive Taiga made, always passing him, and the last minutes were ticking down. There had to be something Kise couldn't just turn back on him!

"Kagami-kun." He'd gotten so used to knowing Kuroko would be with him that this time he didn't jump, even when he hadn't actually seen him. "There's one thing Kise-kun won't ever be able to return." He looked up at Taiga, measuring. "A buzzer-beater."

"Mm. We'd have to fake him out somehow, and he's getting better at predicting me."

Kuroko nodded, matter-of-fact. "We can do that. You already know my timing, for it. You got it the first time we played."

Taiga's lips slowly drew back off his teeth again.

And when they got to the basket, it worked. Kise obviously knew exactly how bad a shot Kuroko was and turned toward Taiga, only to whip back in shock when Kuroko tossed the ball up in a gentle, completely inaccurate, curve. Kuroko was right, too; Taiga knew just when he had to go up to complete the shot. It was like the flip side of knowing Kuroko would be there for him on a drive. He slammed the ball in and the whistle blew as his feet found the floor again.

They'd won.

Taiga laughed and reached out to slap palms with Kuroko. They'd done it! This time, Kuroko's steady concentration brightened into a real smile and his hand met Taiga's firmly.

That smile stayed with Taiga for a while. So did the absolute stillness of Aomine's face when the team came off the court. For a moment, he wondered whether this was the answer to what had happened to them. But it couldn't be; he'd seen Aomine and Kuroko play together, and Aomine still had that perfect awareness of where Kuroko would be, the trust that he'd be there, the belief in Kuroko that let him just go without holding back or thinking about his partner.

Didn't he?

This Moment to Arise - Preparations

Momoi knows that the problems between Aomine and Kuroko and Kagami have to be ironed out before they start the Interhigh preliminaries, and she has a plan. That doesn't make it easy, though. Drama, Angst, I-3

Momoi Satsuki liked Seirin. They were a challenge, and she liked a challenge to her skills just as much as any of the boys did. Seirin had a coach she could talk with about skin care and cute mascot animals, and Riko-san blushed kind of adorably whenever Satsuki teased her over the captain. (Who totally was her boyfriend, even if neither of them admitted it.) And their captain paid close attention to her, listened to her analysis of what teams were strongest, asked her to scout upcoming competition.

The results of her first scouting expedition after she'd gotten ahold of the Tokyo preliminary bracket, had made him look pained. Her tentative solution had made him look downright dyspeptic. He'd agreed to her plan, though, and she liked the feeling of that trust.

"Gather up!" Hyuuga-san called across the gym, as the club filtered in from the locker room. "Briefing time for the Interhigh preliminaries!"

All the boys perked up and promptly gathered around, watching her attentively, and Satsuki sparkled at them just a little, enjoying the thread of excitement and tension in the air. It was the start of tournament season, and Seirin was about to put her analysis and their skills to the test. "The preliminary bracket is oddly shaped for us, this year," she started, tapping a finger on the edge of her clipboard. "For the most part, we shouldn't have trouble until we get to the final match of our block, where we'll most likely face Shinsenkan. Our very first match, though, has something unexpected." She turned the board around to show them her stats sheet on Shinkyou's new player. "Shinkyou has a foreign student playing this season. Papa Mbaye Siki of Senegal."

There was a moment of silence.

"...Momoi-chan, are those figures real?" Koganei-senpai finally asked weakly.

"Two hundred centimeters," she confirmed. "His arms add almost another meter."

"He won't even have to jump for the basket," Izuki-senpai said, appalled.

"Which is why Mitobe-san will be the key of the defense," Satsuki agreed, and smiled a little as all the second-years relaxed. She liked this about Seirin, too, that they knew each other's strengths and trusted each other so well. "If he manages to break away from Mitobe-san, the second line of defense will be Kagami-kun, to block the shot, or Aomine-kun to steal the ball. Be ready, you two."

Those two exchanged curled lips over Tetsu-kun's head and Satsuki exchanged a resigned look with Riko-kantoku. They'd talked about the edginess between Kagamin and Dai-chan, and about how to bring the boys around. Riko-kantoku had made even worse faces than Hyuuga-san over Satsuki's plan, but in the end she'd agreed also. It was Satsuki, after all, who knew Dai-chan and Tetsu-kun the best, and could project their responses most accurately.

The trust warmed her, but the responsibility made adrenaline tingle through her veins.

"Offense will actually have much the same problem," she went on. "Siki-san is tall enough to block many of Aomine-kun's shots, and even Hyuuga-san's, and catch Kagami-kun's dunks if he just stays under the basket. We have to count on Shikyou's coach and captain spotting that. So!" She clasped her board to her chest and smiled sweetly at Kagamin and Dai-chan. "The two of you will need to work as a pair. Whoever doesn't have the ball will need to screen whoever does and keep Siki-san away from the basket. Let Tetsu-kun decide who takes the ball," she added warningly as Kagamin and Dai-chan eyed each other with an instant flare of competitiveness. She swore it was spinal reflex for both of them. "He has a better sense of the flow of the game than either of you will probably ever have."

Tetsu-kun nodded calm agreement, completely ignoring the way both his current partners shifted their glowers to him. Satsuki stifled a sigh. She couldn't exactly blame Tetsu-kun for using Kagamin to make Dai-chan jealous. It seemed to be the only way to get Dai-chan's attention at all, lately. But the unspoken competition over Tetsu-kun was starting to get serious. It had been heating up ever since the Kaijou game, when Tetsu-kun had come off the court with that little smile on his face, head cocked up to listen to Kagamin with the tolerant affection Tetsu-kun always showed his partners—and no one but his partners. He didn't look like that at anyone who didn't understand and value his style, who couldn't play with him. By that measure, Kagamin was overtaking Dai-chan fast, and Satsuki thought Dai-chan knew it even if Kagamin maybe didn't quite yet. He'd certainly noticed the fresh edge on Dai-chan's jibes at him, though. The tension was starting to interfere with their play.

Which was why the next thing she said was, "In order to help the two of you work as a team, you're going to be spending time together outside training. You'll go for late dinner together every night after practice, from now on, along with Tetsu-kun and me."

"What?!"

Satsuki wondered ruefully if she should consider it progress that they yelped that in perfect unison.

"I am damn well notâ€”" Dai-chan started, heatedly, and Satsuki gave him her sweetest smile and cut him off.

"Dai-chan," she lilted, and he shut up at once, eyeing her warily. He knew what that tone meant, and had ever since they were seven and she'd hit him over the head with a toy train when he wouldn't stop stealing her barrettes.

"We don't really need..." Kagamin tried in turn, looking appealingly at Riko-kantoku. She gave him a gleaming smile back.

"Quadruple drills?" she suggested, and Kagamin gulped and shut up too.

Satsuki wasn't particularly surprised, though, that that evening's Battle of the Bento was especially fierce. Dai-chan came away with skinned knuckles but also with three of Kagamin's meatballs while Kagamin clutched the remainder to his chest and held his chopsticks like he'd stab the next hand that came close. She'd have to remember to make Dai-chan buy Kagamin an extra hamburger tonight.

Tetsu-kun nibbled on the last of his vegetables and watched Dai-chan smirk over his spoils with a distance in his eyes that Satsuki didn't like. They weren't doing this a moment too soon. In fact, she was starting to hope they weren't too late. If Tetsu-kun ever really did turn away from Dai-chan to partner with Kagamin alone, she didn't want to think what that would do to Dai-chan.

Or to Tetsu-kun.

Dai-chan leaned his chin in his hands, watching with some fascination as Kagamin decimated a tray full of hamburgers. "How have you not exploded yet, seriously?" He reached over to poke at Kagamin's stomach, and Satsuki slapped his hand.

"Be nice," she ordered sternly. "This is a team bonding exercise. Besides, it's your fault if Kagamin is extra hungry tonight."

"I've always stolen my teammates food," Dai-chan defended himself. "So if the point is team bonding then you shouldn't stop me."

"The point is for you and Kagami-kun to work together and support each other," Tetsu-kun put in while Satsuki was making frustrated sounds over Dai-chan's personal version of logic. "Maybe you should just ask if Kagami-kun will make extra for you."

Kagamin paused in the process of inhaling another burger and glared at both Tetsu-kun and Dai-chan. "Like hell I will."

Dai-chan leaned back in his chair, hooking an arm over the back, mouth twisted in a sardonic smile. "Yeah, seriously Tetsu, that was kind of obvious."

Tetsu-kun took another sip of the shake he'd been working on, eyes level on Dai-chan, and Satsuki winced. She'd seen that look too often in the past week, and it wasn't one Tetsu-kun gave people he was happy with.

"Then it looks like the way you usually act with teammates doesn't work very well."

Dai-chan's face darkened. "Tetsu..."

"Stop," Satsuki said flatly, and sighed when all three of them looked at her. This was exactly why she'd made sure Tetsu-kun came along; they needed to get all the problems out in the open before they blew up, and these problems were rooted too far in the past for their new captain or coach to deal with easily. So it was down to her. "Tetsu-kun. I know you're angry over what happened last year. You have a right to be. But it's affecting your teamwork with Dai-chan badly enough that I'm not sure we can actually put the two of you in as partners in a demanding game. Is that what you want?" She clasped her hands tight, under the table, hoping the answer was still 'no'.

"Oh for god's sake, Tetsu," Dai-chan exploded before Tetsu-kun could answer. "I told you, didn't I? Yes, you're right! You're the one in the right! But I can't do it, I can't play all out, not when it just makes people give up!" He jerked his head away to scowl out the window.

"Then don't," Tetsu-kun told him, soft and harsh. "If you want to break your own game, fine. Do it. But don't break mine!"

Satsuki was biting her lip hard, fingers wound white-knuckled around each other; she'd seen the problem and she'd brought them here, and now the very most she could do to help was to nudge them. The rest, they had to do for themselves. It was the one thing she hated about her own speciality. "Is that why you've been working more with Kagamin, Tetsu-kun?"

"Of course." Tetsu-kun set his cup down and sat back with sharp, precise movements. "Kagami-kun trusts me. Aomine-kun doesn't."

Dai-chan jerked back at that, eyes wide, and whatever he'd been about to say cut off. Kagamin made a startled sound, one hand full of hamburger still halfway to his mouth where he'd stopped short to stare at the sudden argument.

"What... what do you mean I don't trust you?" Dai-chan asked, half laughing and unsettled. "You're my shadow, of course I trust you. Our combination is still tighter than what you have with Kagami."

"That's practice, not trust," Tetsu-kun said sharply. "You play on your own and just assume I'll follow, if you think about it at all. You don't care any more what choices I might make for the game. If we were in a tight situation again, you'd do what you did last year and keep the ball yourself instead of trusting me with it."

"So you'd rather play with him?" Dai-chan demanded, pointing at Kagamin, who was watching them intently, now, like they were a question he couldn't quite remember the answer to. "If I'm not trusting you enough, then he's leaning on you too much! He won't be able to advance, that way, and then where are you? You're a shadow, Tetsu; to be strong you need a strong light. He won't make you strong enough!"

Finally, Kagamin spoke up. "Don't go making decisions for other people. How strong I can get is up to me. And how strong Kuroko can get is up to him." He finished off his burger and folded his arms, eyeing them.

Tetsu-kun's shoulders fell a little out of their fiercely straight line. "That's why," he said quietly, looking up at Dai-chan. "Didn't you think that, too, when you told me I should stay in the club, in middle school?" He looked down at the table, jaw tight. "I want my partner back, Aomine-kun. But I'm your partner, not your equipment."

Dai-chan opened his mouth and closed it again, eyes dark. Finally, he pushed up from the table and stalked out the doors, head down.

"You okay with just letting him go?" Kagamin asked, dubious.

Satsuki had to take a deep breath to keep her voice from shaking, but she was smiling. "Yes. I think so. When Dai-chan stalks off in a huff like that, it usually means you got him to think and now he wants to do it in private."

"Hm." Kagamin made another burger disappear. "Seems like it's their teamwork you want to work on, not his and mine."

Satsuki pulled herself together and shook a finger at him. "We'll get to yours, don't worry. The two of you really do need to figure out how to work together, or what use is it to the team to have both of you around?" She shot a look at Tetsu-kun, who was staring at his half-melted shake and not drinking. "But it's true that a lot of the problems between you come out of the problems between Tetsu-kun and Dai-chan."

Tetsu-kun looked up at her, brows pinched in a little, and she reached over to rest her hand on his. "I think he heard you, this time, Tetsu-kun. It'll be all right."

Kagamin snorted, standing up with his empty tray. "So that's why you've been pushing us against each other." He looked down at Tetsu-kun, steadily. "You could have just said so, instead of hoping I'd rub off on him or something." He went back to the counter for another five burgers while Tetsu-kun winced faintly.

When he came back, he dumped a fresh shake in front of Tetsu-kun and wouldn't look at either of them while he finished off the rest of his snack. Tetsu-kun watched him for a long moment, eyes just that bit wider than usual that meant he was startled, and finally took the shake. "Thank you," he said, low, sipping quietly.

"Mm," Kagami acknowledged around a full mouth, still not looking at them.

Satsuki was starting to think that they'd all gotten luckier than they deserved, finding Kagamin at Seirin.

Dai-chan stalked through practice the next day, silent and preoccupied, constantly watching Tetsu-kun out of the corner of his eye.

"Do I need to keep those two separated?" Riko-kantoku asked quietly.

Satsuki shook her head. "No, I think we actually got somewhere. Let Aomine-kun play with Tetsu-kun in today's mini-game, and we'll know for sure."

Riko-kantoku patted her shoulder. "Good work. I'll see to it."

Sure enough, Riko-kantoku had a quiet word with Hyuuga-san, and when they divided up players for a mini-game Dai-chan and Tetsu-kun were on the same team. Satsuki watched Tetsu-kun stop in front of Dai-chan, looking up at him without speaking. After a long moment, Dai-chan closed his eyes and nodded. They turned away to their positions, still without speaking, and Satsuki noted ruefully how wary Tsuchida and Furihata seemed of their current teammates. She couldn't entirely blame them; there'd practically been a storm cloud hanging over Dai-chan's head all day. She was having to restrain herself strenuously from biting her nails, or possibly her clipboard, waiting for this game to start.

When they did, her breath caught.

Dai-chan moved like she hadn't seen him move in over a year. Like he and Tetsu-kun were thinking the same thoughts, breathing the same breath. Tetsu-kun didn't need to signal, barely needed to glance at Dai-chan, for Dai-chan to be in motion. Again and again, he hit the perfect mark to receive Tetsu-kun's passes, so cleanly no one could break the route. Again and again, Tetsu-kun sent the perfect pass to match Dai-chan's movement. At the end of twenty minutes, the score was fifty to thirty, in favor of Dai-chan and Tetsu-kun's side.

When they all finished tossing their numbers back in the basket, Tetsu-kun stopped and stood looking at Dai-chan with a smile on his face, faint and true, and Dai-chan smiled back, a little tilted. He held out his fist casually, and after a very still moment Tetsu reached out and touched it with his own, light as though he thought it was an illusion that might burst on contact. Satsuki thought about how long it had been since the last time she had seen them do that, and had to swallow hard to get the lump out of her throat, and nearly lost it anyway when Riko-san wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Shh, it's okay," Riko-san told her softly. "They're okay, now, aren't they?" Satsuki nodded wordlessly, blinking back tears.

"Aomine, you asshole," Kagamin panted, swiping back sweat-soaked hair. "You've been holding out on me." Dai-chan started to smirk, and then both he and Kagamin yelped as Hyuuga-san fetched them brisk, matching swats across the back of the head.

"Okay," he snapped, giving Dai-chan a hard look, "what the hell kind of play was that? I have never seen anyone hog the ball that badly in my life!"

Tetsu-kun looked abashed and bobbed a bow. "I apologize, senpai. I should have paid more attention to that."

Dai-chan looked back and forth between them, utterly blank. "Why should you? I mean, there's no one else here strong enough to deal with him," he jerked his thumb at Kagamin, "obviously you'd get the ball to me. What?" he added, as everyone stared at him.

Tetsu-kun sighed, shoulders slumping a bit, even though his smile still hovered around the corners of his mouth. Hyuuga-san just rubbed his forehead and muttered under his breath, "Why did I let that guy talk me into running this team, again?" He stabbed a finger at Dai-chan. "We are going to talk about why there are other players on a team. Later. Right now, we have shooting drills to get through; everyone get to it!"

Dai-chan gave their captain a baffled look and shrugged at Tetsu-kun before going to fetch them both balls from the bin.

Satsuki couldn't help herself. She turned and buried her head against Riko-san's shoulder, giggling helplessly and as silently as she could manage. Riko-san patted her back with a rueful sigh. "I guess we still have a ways to go, huh?"

Satsuki finally got a hold of herself and straightened up, brushing back her hair and smiling encouragingly for her coach. "Yes, but at least it's a start. If we can get him to work with Kagamin, that will be another step."

Listening to the conversation over late dinner that night, though, Satsuki thought that it might be kind of a big step from Kagamin to everyone else.

"I mean!" Dai-chan gestured vigorously with his cup of soda. "It's just the plain truth, isn't it? It's not like I'm saying they're totally weak, but none of them is up to our level. I think Hyuuga-senpai is the only one who even starts to come close."

She smacked his shoulder with the back of her hand. "Quit being such a snob, Dai-chan. Hyuuga-senpai would probably have been first-string at Teikou."

"Yeah, but there's first-string, and then there's us, is all I'm saying." He shrugged and sucked on his straw.

"And every single one of you is annoying as all fuck." Kagamin unwrapped another burger, giving Dai-chan a dark look. "Kise isn't as bad, and Kuroko's fine when he's not scaring the life out of you for fun, but it's been too damn long since you lost, is what."

Satsuki winced as Dai-chan's face turned still and distant. "No one can beat me," he stated, flat and harsh. "No one but myself."

"Aomine-kun," Tetsu-kun said quietly, with a shadow of something entreating in the way he looked at his partner. Dai-chan sighed and shook the moment off.

"I know, Tetsu, but facts are facts. The best I can hope for is people like him," he flicked his fingers at Kagamin, "who are at least a little entertaining and don't give up too fast." Kagamin growled around a mouthful of food, and Dai-chan smirked at him, humor restored. "So quit letting Tetsu pull your nuts out of the fire for you; it'll make you soft."

"Kagami-kun is my partner also." Tetsu-kun's tone made Dai-chan hold up his hands in surrender and Kagamin settle back in his chair, though his glare still promised the argument wasn't over yet. Just postponed. Satsuki quite deliberately sparkled at them and leaned her chin delicately on her laced hands.

"You can be so commanding when you want to be, Tetsu-kun."

That, at least, got Dai-chan and Kagamin snickering together, and the amused glance Tetsu-kun gave her over his shake suggested he knew why she'd said it. But Satsuki couldn't help worrying that it wouldn't be enough. They only had four days left before the first match of preliminaries, and Kagamin and Dai-chan were still treating each other far more like rivals than like teammates.

Although...

Satsuki gave Tetsu-kun a considering look; he had already set them on track to competing with each other. She didn't think Kagamin understood all of why, yet, but she did. She knew already that Kagamin could grow strong enough to make it work, to make Dai-chan respect him and break through that bleak core in his game. He was closing in on Dai-chan already, and all her projections said he could do it. That was yet to happen, though. Maybe, for now, instead of trying to make them work together the best thing to do was to make use of their competition.

Four days later, Riko-kantoku winced a little as Kagamin nearly ran Siki down trying to slam in another dunk. Not because Seirin was behind in points, which they weren't. No, it was because Kagamin was two baskets behind Dai-chan in their personal contest. "Are you sure this was a good idea, Satsuki-chan?"

"I'm afraid it's the best we're going to get for now," Satsuki murmured, watching the second-years and weighing her captain's fast eroding patience. Hyuuga-san was going to smack both of them any moment now, unless... yes, Izuki-senpai saw it too and sent the ball to the outside to let both the team's aces settle down a bit. Satsuki sighed. "I'll keep working on it."

"We'll all keep working on it," Riko-san corrected firmly. "If both of them were raised by wolves before now, it's up to us to civilize them."

Satsuki smiled down at her coach, sweet and warm with the unaccustomed feeling of a senpai's support. "Yes, Kantoku."

She really did like being at Seirin very much.

A/N: So, here's the thing. Fujimaki's Interhigh tournament brackets are incredibly screwed up. The only preliminary we see, for Interhigh, is prefect-level. This is made very clear by the fact that Kaijou, the Kanagawa champions, do not appear in the preliminary finals. Kanagawa is a prefect of the Kantou region, just like Tokyo is, and if the preliminary had been regional (as Kiyoshi suggests it is much later in the series by calling it the Kantou tournament) then Kaijou would have been in the finals. So, apparently the regional preliminary doesn't exist, fine, whatever. But on top of that, Fujimaki puts two of the three Kings into the same block of preliminaries. This is completely counter to usual practice in any kind of preliminary elimination; three schools as widely geographically divided as those are shown to be should not be in the same block. Over and above that, though, these three are said to always be the three who win the preliminary finals, which means they must never have shared a block before or one of them would have eliminated the other before the finals. In short, Fujimaki decided that Drama > Logic. Fine, whatever, but I'm a little allergic to that kind of thing, and hereby declare that the three Kings are each in a different block, and that Shinsenkan is the only one in Seirin's block. The preliminary finals will, therefore, feature Seirin, Seihou, Shuutoku, and Touou.

This Moment to Arise - Revelations

Aomine plays against Seihou, and the team that surprises him the most is his own. He watches Kagami and Kuroko play against Shuutoku, and understands some of what went wrong the previous year. Drama, Action, I-3

On the second day of the Tokyo preliminary finals, Daiki's heartfelt comment was, "About damn time." He shrugged off Satsuki's admonishing look. "Oh, come on, I've been bored out of my mind. Shinsenkan was pathetic, and even those Touou guys weren't exactly a challenge." Which had been a great disappointment, after he'd hauled himself through the whole month of A-block matches on the hope that the 'Kings of the West' would be at least a bit of fun. Or at least that their first match in the final block would be. But no, not so you'd notice. If it hadn't been ridiculous to imagine, he'd actually have thought Touou was holding back against him. So he had to hope that Seihou would be better; they had Tsugawa, at least, and he might be good for a bit of fun, if Daiki was remembering right.

"Be sure you don't get careless," Hyuuga-senpai ordered sternly, folding his shirt into the locker he'd claimed in the changing room. "All you first-years should be prepared. Seihou has the toughest defense in Tokyo; last year, they trashed us badly enough that we actually hated the game for a while. Badly enough we nearly quit." He banged the locked shut with more force than was necessary.

Daiki's lip curled a little. "Yeah, you and everyone else." He said it quietly, though, because Tetsu was giving him a Look. More loudly he added, "Of course you lost, you didn't have me or Tetsu. Or Satsuki. Or even Kagami, I suppose." He ducked Kagami's annoyed swipe, grinning.

"That doesn't matter."

Daiki paused in the middle of grappling with Kagami, startled by just how level Hyuuga-senpai's voice was. And when their captain turned away from the lockers, Daiki straightened up in pure reflex. Hyuuga-senpai's eyes were gleaming like light off steel.

"It wouldn't matter who we had or didn't have, this year. Because we didn't quit. And we're going to win." He opened his hand to Satsuki, and she stepped forward with a demure, bloodthirsty smile.

"Yes, Captain. We'll be using Aomine-kun and Tetsu-kun in this match, and saving Kagami-kun for the match against Shuutoku. Tetsu-kun, please."

The start of Daiki's protest was promptly cut short by a sharp jab in the ribs. As he turned, gasping, to glare at his partner, he saw Kagami bent over on Tetsu's other side, rubbing his ribs and glaring to match. Tetsu met both glares with a perfectly bland look, just as if he hadn't essentially sucker-punched both his partners. Satsuki was still smiling, sweet and alarming.

"Thank you. It's necessary, Dai-chan, so shut up. Midorin knows you too well, and you don't have the height Kagami-kun does. He's the only one here who might block Midorin's shots. You, on the other hand, are better at getting past defense." She gave Kagami a pointed look while she said it, and he subsided sulkily.

The door of the changing room clicked open and everyone looked around to see their coach standing with her hands on her hips. "It's time," she said, eyes gleaming to match Hyuuga-senpai's. "We have a year's worth of interest to pay Seihou back on our loss last year. It's a big debt. Are you ready?"

The snap of the second-years' agreement made Daiki's ears perk up. That... that was a good sound. He liked hearing it.

As they filed out into the hall, Kagami glanced down at Tetsu. "Something wrong?"

Daiki looked around sharply; sure enough, Tetsu was looking up at the darkening glass ceiling of the main concourse as he walked, eyes distant. "Have you ever hated basketball, Kagami-kun?" he asked quietly.

Kagami blinked. "Not really."

"I have."

Daiki jerked up short in the hall, and Tetsu stopped too. When he glanced at Daiki, those pale eyes were flat and shadowed. "It wasn't for the same reasons as our senpai. But I know that feeling."

"Tetsu, what," Daiki started, chest suddenly tight. "You didn't..."

"It's a painful feeling, to hate what you love," Tetsu said quietly, holding his eyes.

Daiki flinched back from talking about this here, in front of Kagami again. "I don't..."

"I think this is an important game," Tetsu continued as if he hadn't spoken. "For our senpai to get beyond the past. And maybe for us, too."

Daiki just stared back, wordless. It was Kagami who snorted, hands jammed in his jacket pockets. "I don't know what all you're talking about. But if it's an important game, let's go win it."

A slow smile tugged at the corners of Tetsu's mouth, and the flatness faded out of his eyes. "Sometimes maybe it's good to be uncomplicated," he said blandly.

"Of course it is." Kagami frowned. "Hey, wait a minute."

Tetsu looked back up at Daiki. "Well?" he asked softly. "Shall we go win it?"

Daiki still wasn't sure he understood everything Tetsu was asking, but there was only one answer to that question. "Yeah."

And then they were out under the lights and there was no need to think about anything except the ball and the court, which was a relief after all the uncomfortable things he'd had to think about lately. He relaxed into the start of the game, the familiarity of other uniforms lined up across from them, the sound of the first whistle. The absolute presence of the boundary lines closed around him, and the basket was a weight in his awareness, pulling in the ball.

Or at least it would be, as soon as he could shake off Tsugawa, the persistent little bastard.

What Satsuki and Kantoku had said during the week they prepared for this match was true enough. Seihou were only human; they weren't miracles. And it wasn't like Daiki objected to having strong opponents, quite the opposite. But it still just annoyed him to see that creepy smile on Tsugawa's face, and the guy was even interrupting some of the pass combinations between him and Tetsu. It would be satisfying to grind him into paste, no question, but it wasn't being much fun. Tsugawa was strong, but the weight of him in the game was spiteful; it was like playing a shadow of Murasakibara or something, and Daiki hadn't liked doing that either, good training or not. He reminded himself he didn't have to enjoy someone's game to beat them, and pushed his pace faster, cutting sharper, skimming past his marker no matter how smoothly Tsugawa moved.

Or, at least, that was the plan.

Daiki scowled as he was called for charging again, and Tsugawa grinned.

"Aomine-kun," Tetsu said at his elbow, a whole paragraph of scolding about keeping his temper in just two little words.

"I know," Daiki snapped, irritated that he couldn't really open up his game without getting yet another damn foul. "We're still winning." Just not by as much as he'd gotten used to, and not in a way he especially liked. Well, it wasn't like that second part was actually anything new. He rolled his shoulders and focused. Ignore how annoying Tsugawa was, and the fact that none of Seihou's players really excited him, and it really didn't feel like he should have to work this hard against them. Ignore that this wasn't even as fun as teasing Kagami. All there was was the ball and the court and him, sliding around the stiffness of the other players to throw and let the ball drop into the basket like rolling down a hill.

And even Seihou had the same expression on their faces as everyone else did, who watched him or played him. Disbelief. Fear. He turned away, back to their own defense, feeling ruffled up and weighed down all at once. He'd had fun doing this, once, he knew he had, but it was getting hard to remember the feeling of it. Hard to remember what interesting opponents even looked like.

"Good." Izuki-senpai clapped him on the shoulder in passing, and Daiki looked up, startled. There was no relief in his voice, no smugness, nothing to say that what Daiki had done was anything out of the ordinary, no comments on how Seirin would depend on him. Just a moment of approval in passing. Just what any of his old team might have said. If Murasakibara had stopped intimidating the other team long enough to notice, or Midorima had stopped snarking long enough to say something so straightforward, or Akashi had, for some reason, stopped taking it for granted.

Okay, maybe not what any of them would have said, but... the same feeling.

"Stop sulking and come with me," Tetsu said quietly, at his elbow. "We'll take the ball back."

Daiki grinned wryly at Tetsu's familiar snippiness and shook himself back into the game. "Yeah, okay." Seihou was fast, but he was faster, and he liked their sheer indignation when he proved it. Their passing game was strong and smooth, and it probably worked against most people. But he was Tetsu's partner. Seihou's smoothness was nothing to that.

The smack of the ball square against his palm was a good feeling. Tsugawa's grimace when Daiki gave the ball to Tetsu and spun cleanly past to take it again floated a little bubble of laughter through his chest. And the sweep of the ball through the air into the net was always its own moment of perfect balance, where nothing else mattered.

Which made his annoyance all the sharper, when Tsugawa tried to walk through Tetsu and then freaked out over not having seen him. His oh-so-bubbly chatter about how many points down Seirin had been by this time last year made Daiki growl. He knew it was on purpose. He knew the kind of player Tsugawa was; this was a classic psychological attack. But the sudden darkness in Tetsu's eyes and the tightening of the second-years' jaws all across the court kind of pissed him off.

And, okay, he would admit that the pure arrogance of saying all that to a team that contained Aomine Daiki really pissed him off.

He probably should have thought about that more. Should have kept a closer eye on Tsugawa on his next drive down the court, should have realized that those weirdly smooth movements would throw his sense of velocity off, when he jumped to shoot. But he didn't, until he felt impact against his shoulder and heard the whistle and realized that Tsugawa had suckered him into yet another foul. His fourth.

He wasn't surprised when the coach called him off, but that didn't mean he was happy about it. He wanted to grind Tsugawa into the court himself. That would be really satisfying, right about now.

Hearing Tetsu called off, too, and seeing Koganei-senpai and Tsuchida-senpai waiting for them... now that surprised him. "Shouldn't it be Kagami?" he asked, startled. "He's the only other one who can really work with Tetsu."

Hyuuga-senpai shook his head, eyes distant. "No. We're already ahead by twelve points, that's enough. We decided this before the game started. We're only using any of the first-years in the first half."

Beside Daiki, Tetsu suddenly relaxed, and Daiki shot him a questioning look. Seirin wanted to win. He knew they wanted to win, as badly as anyone he'd ever seen. So why were they benching their two best scorers and their strongest supporting player?

"Why?" he finally asked.

Hyuuga-senpai snorted. "Think about it, Aomine. We'll need Kuroko against Shuutoku, no question; we need to conserve his strength. Same goes for Kagami. Seihou is already starting to be able to track Kuroko anyway. And you," he gave Daiki a brief glare, "have four fouls already. With Kuroko off, there's no one left you'll actually listen to about keeping your temper. You think I'm going to risk you on the court like that?"

That stopped Daiki short. It was true, he didn't really bother listening to anyone else, here, except maybe Satsuki. This was the first time he'd felt uncomfortable about it.

"I understand," Tetsu said quietly, and bowed. "We'll leave it in your hands."

Hyuuga-senpai's mouth quirked up and he rested a hand on Tetsu's shoulder. "Yeah."

"Tetsu, what..." Daiki started as his partner took his elbow and started to haul him off. Tetsu was smiling faintly.

"Our senpai have their own determination." Tetsu tagged Koganei-senpai, and Daiki absently held out his hand to do the same with Tsuchida-senpai.

Daiki frowned, but didn't ask again. When Tetsu was in a close-mouthed mood, you just had to watch and wait. So he watched as the game started up again. As Hyuuga-senpai and Mitobe-senpai scored with a very smooth combination. As Tsuchida-senpai slid in easily to screen. As the whole team drew in tight around Izuki-senpai's plays.

Seirin was holding the lead.

"They're better than I thought they'd be," Kagami muttered on the other side of Tetsu, only to collect a swat from the coach.

"Their pride is on the line," she snapped. "This is a revenge game, and it's one we've spent a year training toward. So shut up and watch."

Was that what Tetsu had meant? That their senpai wanted to win with their own strength? Daiki supposed he could respect that. If they could really do it. He frowned as Seihou's captain stole the ball from Tsuchida-senpai and sent it back down the court for a shot Hyuuga-senpai barely managed to block. Minutes ticked by as he watched, frown deepening. Seirin was pushing harder, wearing down. Seihou had taken six of their twelve point lead away. If they lost this game because of the second-years' pride, that would be incredibly stupid.

He meant to say so during the quarter break. If he went back in for the fourth quarter, there'd be no problem. He was used to Seihou's movement now, having watched from inside and outside the game. Tsugawa wouldn't catch him out again. But when he opened his mouth to say so to Hyuuga-senpai, the look in his captain's eye stopped him cold. It wasn't anger. It wasn't desperation, despite the pressure they were obviously under. Tetsu had said the senpai were determined but that was too pale a word for what Daiki was seeing. The force of it held Daiki silent while the second-years went back out again.

And somehow, even through they were wringing wet with sweat and panting for breath, they seemed to be pushing even harder. First Hyuuga-senpai and then Mitobe-senpai and then even Izuki-senpai broke past Seihou's blocks. At the end of the bench, Satsuki made a pleased sound.

"They've got it," she said, eyes intent on the game. "They've grasped Seihou's movements, Kantoku. I think we're clear."

Their coach blew out a long, relieved breath. "Good. I was worried for a while, there."

Satsuki flashed a bright smile down the bench. "It's always easier to see it than to do something about it in the middle of a game. But our DVD player didn't die in vain."

That was weird enough to pull Daiki's attention off the game for a moment. "Didn't what?" he asked Satsuki.

"It wasn't enough for me to analyze Seihou's habits and report them," she told him, matter-of-fact. "Their techniques are woven into every part of their game; no pre-made strategy would keep up. Our players had to be able to see the way I do, at least for this opponent. So all the second-years have been studying all the match videos we could find. It was Hyuuga-senpai's idea."

Studying Seihou, long and hard enough to burn out one of the DVD players, Daiki filled in, a little shocked. No wonder Hyuuga-san's focus had felt so heavy, had such a deadly edge.

And, slowly, Seirin was pulling ahead again. A lay-up that Izuki-senpai broke through for. A hook-shot from Mitobe-senpai, answered by one of those long, soft shots by Seihou's point guard. Seirin was seven points ahead and still pushing like they were behind.

On the other hand, maybe that was wise. Daiki watched Seihou's captain drive straight through a two-man defense to slam the ball in, and he could feel his shoulders pulling tenser. Only five points ahead and over three minutes to go. Seirin could still lose this. "Kantoku," he said, low, "you should send me back in."

"Have a little faith in your senpai, Aomine," she told him, but her voice was husky and a quick look showed her knuckles white on the edge of the bench.

"If you're worried about the fouls, send me in," Kagami said just as Daiki was opening his mouth to argue.

"I'm not going to risk breaking their momentum now," Riko-san snapped, not looking away from the court.

"Kagami-kun," Tetsu said quietly, "Aomine-kun. Just watch."

"Watch what?" Kagami growled, but a brief cheer from the onlookers snapped both their heads around toward the game before Tetsu could answer. Hyuuga-senpai was slapping palms with Izuki-senpai and the score was eight points ahead. Seihou's point guard went for another shot, but Mitobe-senpai was there this time, pressing him back, off balance, and Izuki-senpai stole the ball and gave it to Hyuuga-san for another of those rock-steady three-pointers. Seihou passed the throw-in around, just as fast and smooth as ever, and Daiki stiffened as he saw the pattern; the ball was going to come back to Iwamura, and no one on the court right now could stop a full power drive from him. The clock was ticking down, though, they would still be safe...

Tsuchida-senpai lunged for the ball like it was the last chance Seirin had and slapped it into Izuki-senpai's hands. Izuki-senpai to Hyuuga-san, well outside the three-point line, while Mitobe-senpai slid into Tsugawa's path. And, as the last seconds ran out, the ball sailed in a long, graceful arc and swished through the basket as cleanly as one of Midorima's shots.

Seirin won by fourteen points. Two more than the lead Daiki had left them with.

"Kantoku said it, didn't she?" Tetsu murmured at his shoulder. "Our senpai had their pride on the line."

"I guess so," Daiki muttered, still a little stunned that the second-years had gone that far to take their game back after a loss like the one Tsugawa had taunted them over. They could have kept him in and won easily, maybe even crushed Seihou as badly as Seihou had done to them if Daiki had kept his pace up once he'd found it. But they hadn't; they'd been that determined to prove their game to Seihou and to themselves. He'd never seen anyone else do something like that. Not his own team, who'd never had to go that far, and never had a loss to come back from anyway. Certainly no one he'd ever played against, no matter how much he'd wanted it and even, for the last few desperate months before he gave up on the hope, prayed for it.

Which was probably why the first words out of his mouth when everyone came back to the bench were not congratulations but rather, "Where the hell were you for the last three years?!"

Hyuuga-san slowly adjusted his glasses, eyes glinting, and Daiki resigned himself to a brisk cuff which, okay, he probably deserved for that. But Hyuuga-san's mouth crooked up at one corner and the hand that landed on Daiki's head was only a little rough, messing up his hair. "Learning how not to give up," Hyuuga-san told him. "It's something you could stand to do, too, obnoxious brat."

Daiki started to protest that, but his captain's eyes were still bright and hard with the thing that had driven the team so intensely to win in every way possible, and in face of it Daiki fell silent again.

"That's better," Hyuuga-san said quietly. "You need to learn how to gauge other players more accurately, Aomine. You make too many assumptions."

Daiki was unsettled enough to stop and think about what Hyuuga-san meant. About what might happen if he had been on the other side, playing against that diamond focus and drive he saw in Seirin today—if he'd been as slow to understand Seirin as he had been to come to grips with Tsugawa's tactics, today. It was a thought that unsettled him, made him think of a time when he'd paid a whole lot more attention to his opponents that he had been lately. The discomfort of that thought made him look away from his captain's level gaze.

Hyuuga-san squeezed his shoulder once and let him go, turning back to gather up the rest of the team and harry them off to the changing room. When Daiki turned to follow, he found Tetsu at his side again.

There was satisfaction in his partner's eyes.

Another day, another game, and Daiki was on the bench again. He slouched down with a sigh.

"Quit sulking," Riko-san told him, exasperated. "You knew you'd be out for this game. You're not ready to play hard for two consecutive days, yet."

"I'll sulk if I want to," he grumbled. "You gave Midorima to Kagami. That's so unfair." He'd really been looking forward to playing the others from Teikou. Midorima had had some fairly cutting things to say about the starting line-up, too, and Daiki frankly thought he was right. Riko-kantoku and Hyuuga-san were gambling by using Kagami alone with Tetsu.

Sure enough, Tetsu got the ball through to Kagami for the first shot only to have Midorima block it. Well, at least Hyuuga-san blocked the return shot. It wasn't a start to make Daiki feel confident, though. The slow minutes that went by while both teams fought for the ball and neither scored didn't make him any more relaxed, either.

He was more than half expecting it, when Shuutoku's point guard feinted hard for the basket only to pass the ball back to Midorima, well behind the three-point line. The basket that followed was a foregone conclusion, though Riko-kantoku's choked sound of disbelief made it clear that no one else had really understood what Midorima could do. Daiki kept his eyes on Tetsu, though, because he knew what his partner could do, also.

And he knew Tetsu's temper.

Sure enough, Tetsu was sending Kagami back toward Shuutoku's basket, and Daiki smiled slow and toothy as Tetsu caught Midorima's ball under Seirin's basket, stepped over the line and spun hard on one heel to fire the ball back down the full length of the court. He didn't even mind too much that it was Kagami who was there to catch it, since the resulting basket showcased Tetsu so beautifully. Daiki leaned back on his hands, smirking as players and audience made shocked sounds all around him. "Shuutoku's going to be in trouble if Midorima doesn't pull his head out of his ass and remember who he's playing," he told Satsuki.

"Stop gloating, Dai-chan, it's unbecoming," she told him, just as if she wasn't doting over Tetsu with hearts in her eyes. The next minute, though, her smile turned sharp again. "They'll set Takao Kazunari on Tetsu-kun, now."

Riko-san frowned at the court, fingers tapping against her folded arms. "How soon, do you think?"

"One more play," Satsuki said, serene in the surety of her predictions.

Sure enough, after one more basket for Seirin, the point guard moved to mark Tetsu. Daiki narrowed his eyes at the way the guy was grinning, all bright-eyed. He liked it when other players appreciated Tetsu, but not when they got pushy about it. Though he supposed this would make the counter Tetsu had suggested more effective, if Takao was that focused on him.

The rest of the first-years winced as Shuutoku scored again. "Are the senpai really going to be able to keep up with Shuutoku long enough?" Furihata asked Riko-kantoku.

She smiled, and it reminded Daiki so much of Satsuki when she'd lost her temper and was about to make someone regret the day he'd been born, that he edged away down the bench. Just to be on the safe side.

"Don't worry." Riko-san flicked a little bit of painted wood absently through her fingers. "I trained Hyuuga-kun very thoroughly in how to shoot under pressure."

"Who cares about this this 'King' bullshit?" Hyuuga-kun yelled, out on the court. "Die!"

"Though it maybe did some bad things to his personality," she finished quite calmly as the ball swished through the net.

Satsuki clasped her clipboard to her chest and sparkled. "Riko-kantoku is such a good trainer." The women smiled at each other in a happily bloodthirsty way.

"Why did I let Tetsu drag me here?" Daiki muttered. As if Satsuki wasn't scary enough on her own.

"It's about time for Midorin to try a longer shot," Satsuki murmured, ignoring him, eyes on the players again. "Tetsu-kun hasn't left him any choice, if he wants to avoid those long passes. I hope everyone remembers what I said about that."

"It's hard to really believe, but they'll remember." Riko-san rocked a step forward as Midorima got the ball again. "Here it comes."

Midorima shot from the center line, and Daiki nodded as the ball arced up. "It's in." And he'd give his senpai this much credit; despite the disbelief on every face but Tetsu's when Midorima went up to shoot, that was their only flinch. Izuki-senpai got the ball to Kagami fast, after the throw-in, and Daiki rolled his eyes as the jumping idiot shot from the outside and ran to dunk it himself when it missed. "His accuracy sucks," he muttered.

"So does yours, from the outside," Satsuki scolded, hitting him lightly over the head with her clipboard. "You shouldn't... there!" She went up on her toes, focused on Midorima like a predator. "It's coming! Kagamin challenged him, it's the end of the quarter, he'll use a full-court shot now!"

"Unbelievable," Riko-san whispered as they watched Midorima take a shooting stance under Shuutoku's basket. "You think he can really...?"

"He'll be able to do it, by now," Satsuki said, positive. The ball arced achingly high over the court and down, down, to drive cleanly through Seirin's net. And the buzzer sounded while everyone stood frozen.

Daiki frowned as he followed the rest of the team back to the changing room and watched them, during the half time break. Everyone but Kuroko and Kagami were shaken. He didn't think that would stop the second-years for long, not after what he'd seen them do against Seihou. But none of them were fast enough to stop Midorima before he could shoot. "You should put me in," he said flatly.

"You'd have to use too much of your speed to stop him on the ground, Dai-chan," Satsuki said, laying a hesitant hand on his shoulder. "Kantoku says you're not back in good enough condition. It has to be Kagamin, this game."

Daiki fired up at that; Kagami, to take his place against one of his own ex-team? "Kagami isn't good enough to stoâ€”" he broke off with an oof as Kagami stopped scrubbing a towel over his face and rammed an elbow into Daiki's side.

"Don't make decisions for other people! God you're an asshole when you don't get to play." Kagami look a contemplative swallow from his water bottle. "And when you do, now I think about it. Quit worrying so much, I can do it."

"I wasn't worrying you..." Daiki glowered, aware that the rest of the team was stifling laughter. Even Tetsu, who was perfectly straight-faced.

Hyuuga-san clapped Daiki and Kagami both on the shoulders and said, with a toothy smile, "Good, keep on not worrying. And stop arguing like toddlers, you brats, before I knock your damn heads together."

Both Kagami and Daiki hunched down a little and muttered agreement.

But maybe Daiki's remark really had gotten to Kagami, because when he went back out onto the court he focused on Midorima like Satsuki focused on her player-data. He jumped to block Midorima's shots again and again, and he was starting to actually do it, starting to pull Midorima back down the court so he didn't have to take so long to set up for the shot. Satsuki hissed with satisfaction the first time Kagami actually blocked a shot, and Daiki had to admit that Kagami was tipping the balance of the game. Every shot he blocked, the second-years were there to catch and make a come-back play with. And those jumps were getting higher. Watching Kagami advance like that in the course of a single game tugged at something in Daiki; he remembered how it felt, to do that. Riko-kantoku was starting to make disapproving sounds as she watched him, though, running and jumping and not stopping. She swore out loud when Kagami went to take the ball down the court again and stumbled on one of those jumps, losing the ball to Shuutoku.

Daiki, personally, kind of liked how Kagami wasn't stopping for anything. So he rolled his eyes over the scolding Hyuuga-san gave Kagami during the third quarter break for not paying attention to the rest of the team. Right now, he didn't even care if he was showing sympathy for a rival; he liked how Kagami was playing.

"This is the only way to do it," Kagami argued back, "I'm the only one who canâ€”" Abruptly he stopped talking, so frozen Daiki wasn't sure he was still breathing, and the whole team blinked at him. Slowly, stiffly, Kagami turned his head to stare at Daiki and then at Tetsu, who was standing beside the bench with that shadowed look in his eyes again. As they looked at each other silently, though, Tetsu's shoulders eased and fell out of their tight line, and the crease between his brows smoothed out again. Daiki straightened out of his slouch on the bench; he hadn't realized how tense his partner's silence was until just now.

"Was that... how it happened?" Kagami asked, a little hoarse.

Tetsu nodded. "It's all right, Kagami-kun. I won't let you play like that," he answered quietly, a quiet that Daiki recognized. That was Tetsu making a promise, and his gut clenched hearing Tetsu speak to Kagami that way.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay." Kagami took a slow breath and shook his head, hard. "Thanks." He gave Daiki a frankly disturbed look, and Daiki realized abruptly that Kagami and Tetsu had been talking about him, somehow. Before he could ask or protest, though, Riko-kantoku was standing in front of them and calling for attention.

"Okay, Kuroko's had a break, so it's about time to spring the trap on Takao. Also, we'll use the accelerated pass this quarter We're eleven points behind, people, it's time to push." She gave Kagami a narrow, measuring look. "You... you can block Midorima twice more, I think. After that stumble, though, they won't think you can do it again at all. We're going to bluff. Block his first shot in the fourth quarter, and then save your last jump in case you need to block a critical ball and turn the momentum. And then you're done, and you leave it to the rest of the team, got that?" Her glare intensified when Kagami flexed his legs thoughtfully, and he ducked his head.

"Yes, Kantoku."

"All right. Get out there, then."

Daiki grabbed Tetsu's shoulder as he stripped off his t-shirt and turned toward the court. "Tetsu, what the hell did you mean? You won't like Kagami play like what?"

Tetsu gave him a level look. "Aomine-kun. If you win with a team that still can't trust each other, if you win but no one's happy about it... is that really victory?" He shrugged out from under Daiki's hand, tugging his wrist-warmers up. "I don't think so."

Daiki watched him walk out onto the court, silent while the words echoed in his head. It was true enough that none of his wins had felt like a real victory for months. Maybe a year, by now. He wasn't even sure it would have felt like a real victory if he'd been the one out there playing Midorima. It wasn't a real victory if you didn't have to fight for it, and he didn't think Midorima could really make him fight.

Except... that wasn't what Tetsu had said, was it? He hadn't said "fight". He'd said "trust". And "happy about it". Daiki froze, staring blindly out at the court. Were those thing things Tetsu hadn't felt for a year? Tetsu's words, back before the start of preliminaries, when they'd fought that one night over dinner, echoed in his head.

Trust... if that was Tetsu's real victory...

"Fuck," Daiki whispered to himself, scrubbing a hand over his face. "No wonder he's pissed off."

He started when Satsuki hit him very lightly over the head with her clipboard, looking up to find her smiling down at him. "Now you're getting it."

Daiki hunched his shoulders a little. "Yeah, yeah." Satsuki had always been the one who saw what was in his own blind spots; she didn't need to rub it in.

And then the crowd roared, and he looked back at the game and smiled to see the ball canon into Kagami's hand from Tetsu's. In fact, he smirked, because as much as he had blind spots, so did Satsuki, and telling Kagami to save a play was like telling a glutton to save some of dinner. He watched Kagami jump to dunk the ball right past Midorima's block, and laughed.

Satsuki hit him harder this time.

"Oh, come on." Daiki rubbed his head, grinning up at her. "Tetsu will take care of things. And you can't say that wasn't a fantastic expression on Midorima's face." Riko-kantoku growled from his other side, and he subsided, still grinning.

The last two minutes turned the grin to a frown, though. Most of Shuutoku fell back to defend, and Seirin was still one basket short. Even Hyuuga-san's shots were only keeping even with Midorima's. Tension crawled up Daiki's spine as the score hovered, deadlocked, and the seconds ticked down. He wasn't the only one who let out a relieved breath when Hyuuga-san finally broke free and sank one more three-pointer to turn over the score in Seirin's favor.

Only he and Satsuki cursed, though, when the ball fell, because what the hell was the rest of the team thinking, why wasn't anyone guarding Midorima?! The ball was in Midorima's hands, Kagami and Tetsu were both closing on him, but if Kagami was past his limit already...

"Kagami!" Riko-kantoku yelled, loud enough to make Daiki's ears ring, up on her feet with her hands clenched. "Don't...!"

Kagami was already jumping, though, as high as any of his blocks during the game, and Daiki held his breath.

"It's a fake!" Satsuki shouted, on his other side, furious, and sure enough Midorima brought the ball back down and set his feet for another jump with a serene calm that ignored that last seconds slipping away. Kagami wouldn't even land soon enough to jump for this shot, never mind whether he actually could or not.

Daiki was still holding his breath, though. There was one person who could stop Midorima, still.

And there, Tetsu was there, striking the ball out of Midorima's hands, and the buzzer sounded just as Kagami's feet hit the court again, one second after the ball. Daiki breathed out.

And when the rest of the team came off the court to be piled on by everyone else and, in Kagami's case, shoved down onto the bench for a fast examination by a furious coach, Daiki just looked down at Tetsu. "I knew you'd be there," he said quietly.

Tetsu cocked his head, still panting for breath. "Did you know Kagami-kun would? Midorima-kun knew."

"Midorima believes in a lot of things I don't." Daiki's mouth twisted and he sighed. "I've only played with him for a few months, Tetsu, give me a little time." He folded his arms, looking down at them, and offered, "Knew Hyuuga-san would make the last shot we needed, though."

Tetsu laid a hand on his arm, and when Daiki looked up he was smiling. "We'll just keep playing until you know for everyone, then."

"Okay," Daiki agreed, low. For Tetsu, he would try. And maybe for that tug of familiarity Kagami's game had given him today.

"I can't believe you!" Riko-kantoku was sputtering over Kagami. "Just look at this! Definitely muscle strain, maybe even torn muscles! I'm taking you to the hospital immediately, and who knows whether you'll be able to play against Kaijou next week?! Basketball idiots!"

Satsuki came to drape her arms over Tetsu's shoulders from behind and murmur, "And now he says..."

"I'll be fine, I can still play!"

She mouthed the words along with Kagami, and Daiki had to laugh.

Maybe he was a little glad Tetsu had dragged him to this school, after all. Just a little.

This Moment to Arise - Stumbles

Kuroko gets a chance to play the way he wants to, again, with Aomine against Kaijou. When he has to play without his partners against Touou, though, he finds himself hitting a wall. Drama, Action, Angst, I-3

Tetsuya was starting to feel that it was somehow fate: if one of his partners wasn't sulking, the other would be. Kagami had been sulking for a solid week, in fact, starting from the moment the doctor had informed him he had put micro-tears in the muscle of his calves and strictly forbidden him from playing for two weeks. He wasn't even allowed to practice, only to do very gentle stretches up on the stage, glowering at thin air under the coach's stern eye. Like the other end of a see-saw coming up, Aomine had become cheerful again. In fact, he was grinning as they lined up to board the train out to the arena hosting this year's Interhigh tournament.

Aomine would be the only ace who got to play against Kaijou, for their first round.

He was so cheerful he was nearly whistling, and he took the seat next to Kagami's, most likely so that he could keep waving his cheerfulness in Kagami's face. Tetsuya rolled his eyes a little and took a seat against the back of theirs so he didn't have to watch it. They were like a couple of little kids sometimes.

Momoi settled next to him, humming to herself, which was a better sign. "You're confident?" he asked quietly.

She smiled, the distant, calculating smile she wore during matches. "Ki-chan is always the hardest to predict because his progress depends so much on who else he's played recently. But Dai-chan is back in condition, now, and he'll be playing his best since it's against Ki-chan." Her smile turned rueful as Kagami and Aomine's muttered exchange devolved into a brief wrestling match, behind them. "And Kagamin and Dai-chan still distract each other sometimes, when they play together. Maybe it's best, for this match, that it's only Dai-chan." She leaned against his shoulder. "And you."

He gave her the tiny smile that only his teammates ever seemed to learned how to spot. "And you."

On the way to a match, she was in a serious enough mood to not indulge in any over-the-top public affection, and just looked back at him, eyes sparkling with the wicked edge of her own determination. "Of course."

This year's venue was down the coast, a town that catered to beach-goers, and a brisk breeze off the water blew through the open streets and snapped the pennons that marched up the steps to the arena. Tetsuya breathed it in, tasting the electric edge in the atmosphere. Knots of other students in school uniforms ignored the gathering crowd around them, aware only of each other. Everyone was here to win, and everyone knew they might lose, and the eyes of the players were bright with that tension every time glances crossed.

Tetsuya loved this. He loved the uncertainty and need and excitement. He knew exactly what it was that drove Kagami against Tetsuya's old team. He knew what it was that Aomine missed so desperately it turned his eyes dark and dull. And even though he'd ignored Akashi's plans and orders for the two of them, and followed his own judgement instead, he hoped that Aomine would find what he needed again today, facing Kise as an opponent. Aomine was smiling, which he really hadn't, yet, through all the preliminaries. There was a manic edge in that smile that made Tetsuya's spine crinkle, though. He thought he wasn't the only one to notice, because Kagami watched Aomine from the corner of his eye as the team got changed, not sulky any more but frowning just a little.

"All right," Hyuuga-san called, waving them to gather close. "We've played Kaijou once, but don't let that make you overconfident. I doubt they were going all out, not in a practice match, and Kasamatsu knows what we can do, now. Stay sharp." He nodded as everyone chorused agreement, and then reached up to wrap a hand around the back of Aomine's neck. "Except for you," he added. "You need to calm down." He shook Aomine a little, holding his rather startled gaze. "Kaijou isn't running away, and you don't need to hunt them down for pity's sake. Breathe."

Tetsuya was actually the one who followed that order, breathing out as one thread of tension uncoiled down his back. He had been right, so right, to bring Aomine to Seirin.

Even if Aomine was currently looking at their captain with that manic edge fading back into shadows. "They probably will, after this," he said, low and so matter-of-fact it made something twist in Tetsuya's chest.

Out of that tight twist, he said, "Kise-kun never runs away. Especially not from you."

Aomine hesitated, and finally lowered his chin. "Yeah. He doesn't."

Hyuuga-san shook his head at them, mouth quirked. "And now the we've had the moment of brooding that seems absolutely required for you two, get out on the damn court and play!" He gave Aomine a little push.

"Yes, Captain," Tetsuya agreed blandly over Aomine's indignant sound, and gave his partner a much firmer shove toward the door with a hand in the small of his back. Aomine pouted at him but went, and Kagami followed after them, rolling his eyes. Fortunately it only took a few steps for Aomine to remember that Kise was waiting for them, and then he picked up his pace.

Momoi touched Tetsuya's shoulder, just before the team went out onto the court. "Tetsu-kun. Are you all right with this, too?" She glanced over at Kaijou, at Kise, who was already smiling that sharp little smile he wore when he let the rest of the world fall away and just played. The one he only ever wore when he played Aomine. Tetsuya watched Aomine's smile start to sharpen in answer and sighed softly.

"Being unnoticed is my specialty, Momoi-san."

She bit her lip at that, and he touched her hand lightly, shaking his head. He couldn't say he didn't mind; sometimes he got really tired of it. But the fact remained, this was his specialty. His strength. So he stepped out onto the court in Aomine's shadow, and took what amusement he could in watching Aomine and Kise exchange jabs, and didn't interject to mention that, even if Kise could beat Aomine this time, Kaijou would not defeat Seirin.

Because Tetsuya was here, also.

Kaijou clearly intended to test that, though. Kise got the ball at once, and only Aomine's raw speed struck the ball out of his hands and into Hyuuga-san's for the first basket. Just as Momoi has predicted, Kasamatsu-san gave Kise the ball again, and Hyuuga-san growled audibly when his own three-point form was repeated. Aomine was there again to deflect it, and Mitobe-senpai got the rebound, but Kasamatsu-san stole the ball from Izuki-senpai as soon as he went to pass it and took a basket of his own with beautiful speed and precision.

"Don't think we're nice enough to just let you take control of the game," Kasamatsu-san told Izuki-senpai with a tight smile.

Tetsuya nodded to himself, watching. Momoi was right; Kaijou believed that Kise could stop Aomine, and were covering for him while he tried.

They might be right.

He watched Aomine and Kise bare their teeth at each other and scuffle back and forth with cuts almost too fast to follow. He could hear Izuki-senpai's hiss of indrawn breath when Kise leaped to block Aomine's shot cleanly. Kise was developing his game fast, at Kaijou, maybe even faster than he had at Teikou. And he had a team prepared to support him, a team led by someone who made Momoi's eyes burn brighter when she talked about his strength and how to oppose him.

But that was all right, because the more Kise and Aomine drew the eye, the stronger Tetsuya's own counter-move would be.

Tetsuya flexed his knees, watching his marker out of the corner of his eye. They'd chosen the hyperactive one, the one who went up for all the rebounds. This one would respond fast when he lost sight of Tetsuya. He hadn't been part of the practice game, though, and would be surprised the first time he experienced it. As soon as Aomine closed again to mark Kise, Tetsuya took the moment of distraction when his own marker glanced at his captain for direction to fade to the side, behind, around, each step smooth and easy, sliding one step ahead of the path of the other player's gaze as he jerked around, looking for Tetsuya. Who, of course, was now in exactly the opposite direction, closing on Kasamatsu-san. He caught up just as Kasamatsu-san spun to the side to evade Izuki-senpai, and tapped the ball out of his hands, sending it singing back down the court to Mitobe-senpai to take the next basket.

"I'm sorry," he murmured in answer to Kasamatsu-san's ferocious glare, "but we're not nice enough to let you have control of the game, either."

Kasamatsu-san snorted, eyes glinting as he straightened. "Uppity first-year brats everywhere," he declared, and spun back to re-deploy his team.

Tetsuya bent his head for a breath, storing up the satisfaction of having such a strong player count him in with Kise and Aomine, to hold back the bitter edge of watching Kise and Aomine focus on nothing but each other. Of watching Aomine forget, again, that he had a partner on this court. He'd known it would probably happen, after all.

By the end of the first quarter, Kaijou was ahead and his senpai were getting tense. But Tetsuya could see Aomine's focus tightening on the challenge Kise presented. When Aomine stood back up from the bench, the weight of his focus was heavy in the air, and Kagami snorted softly, leaning back on his hands. "Nothing to worry about, huh?" he asked.

Aomine didn't look around. "Of course not."

Tetsuya looked over at Momoi, questioning, and, at her nod, sat back down himself.

"Tsuchida," Kantoku called, "you're in. Make sure you get the rebounds, because that Hayakawa they've put in for the tournament games has way too good a record at that. Watch everyone's backs!"

Beside Tetsuya, Kagami made a startled sound, looking down at Tetsuya with raised brows. "But aren't you more of an advantage than him, while the misdirection lasts? Why are they pulling you out already?"

"Because Dai-chan is getting serious," Momoi said softly, behind them. "If we need to bring Tetsu-kun in at the end, he's going to need all the rest he can get now, to keep up with how fast Dai-chan will be going by then."

Kagami looked a little skeptical, but turned back to the court, elbows on his knees as he watched the game start up again.

By half-time, he wasn't looking skeptical any more. Aomine was moving faster and faster, pushing against every advance Kise made, sliding around him like water, blocking his shots. Most of Kaijou's baskets were coming from Kasamatsu-san, now, while Seirin had both Hyuuga-san and Aomine making points. They were pulling ahead.

"All right," Kantoku said, hands on her hips as she stood in front of the bench. "This is the breaking point. Either they'll go with Kise or they won't. Aomine-kun, will you be ready, if Kise can really complete his copy of you?"

Aomine's lips peeled back from his teeth, and his eyes were fixed on the empty court. "Of course I will."

Riko-kantoku sighed and leaned forward to grab him by the ear. "You will not enter the Zone, understand? You're back in reasonable condition, but that would put too much strain on your body, still. Now use your brain to actually think and answer me: if Kise can complete his copy of your techniques, can you still deal with him?"

"Ow, shit, okay already!" Aomine rubbed his ear, nearly pouting up at their couch. "Yeah, I'll be okay; Kise isn't as fast as me."

Kantoku raised an eyebrow at Momoi, and her shoulders straightened in response to Momoi's firm nod. "All right, then, no player changes yet. You all know the strategy, if they don't go with Kise: Mitobe will join in to double mark Kasamatsu. Now get out there and play!"

When play started again, it was tense. Kaijou was pushing hard, but Kise always passed the ball when it came to him. "You were right," Kantoku murmured to Momoi. "Look at how Kise-kun is always on Aomine-kun. He's not just marking tightly, is he?"

"No," Momoi agreed softly, clipboard clasped tight to her chest. "He's going to try it."

"Will it really work, even if he sees it?" Kagami wanted to know, glancing up at her. "I mean, Aomine's kind of a freak, just physically; can Kise copy his moves?"

Riko-kantoku hummed absently, eyes on the game. "Kise's physical condition is at least as good, and his potential is equal to Aomine-kun's. He might not have quite the edge of speed, but he comes very close." She glowered down at Kagami in a forbidding manner. "You're still working up to that level, and you'll be working harder as soon as your legs are healed, believe me."

Kagami snorted, apparently unconcerned by the 'triple drills' glint in her eyes. "Of course. That's why I'm still with Seirin."

Momoi caught Tetsuya's eye and they smiled at each other, wry and tilted. Kagami really was a great deal like Aomine used to be.

And Aomine was looking a little more like himself, as he watched Kise watching him, teeth glinting in a sharp, eager smile every time Kise broke away to try one of Aomine's moves against another player. He started up on his toes every time that happened, and his return baskets came fast and hard. "Aomine-kun wants Kise-kun to do it," Tetsuya noted, quietly.

"Well of course he does," Kagami answered, at the same moment Koganei-senpai said, "Aomine is weird." Koganei-senpai grinned a little, and added, "Kagami, too."

"It is not weird," Kagami insisted, indignant. "I'm not saying he's not an asshole, but he just wants a game worth playing, that's not weird." And then he frowned at Momoi and Tetsuya. "Why are you laughing?"

Momoi wiped her eyes, still giggling. "This is why Dai-chan loves Kagamin."

Tetsuya smiled faintly out at the court while Kagami turned red and sputtered. The shift in Aomine's stance pulled him forward on the bench, though. Aomine had been making more and more daring formless shotsâ€”daring for anyone who wasn't Aomine, at leastâ€”but he'd just fallen completely out of stance, ball in one hand, other hand planted on his hip. He slung the ball over Kise, careless and hard, and it smacked off the backboard and through the net, leaving silence behind it. They could hear him on the bench when he said, "Quit screwing around, Kise. If you don't hurry up it'll all be over. I'm not patient enough to wait until you're all ready."

Hyuuga-san dragged a hand over his face. "Aomine, you little brat..."

Kasamatsu-san barked a laugh. "You think that matters? Who the hell cares about your patience?" The throw-in smacked into his hands and he spun free of Izuki-senpai, and sent a three-point shot sailing through the hoop. "Know your place, first-year. You're not the only player on this court!"

Tetsuya shivered a little, watching. Kaijou seemed to take those words as inspiration, tightening up their defense even more. The next time Hyuuga-san shot, Moriyama was there to block it. The team pulled in around Kise, guarding the score unwaveringly while he prepared. And Tetsuya saw the moment Kise understood what his team was doing, saw the tiny, true smile that curved his lips before he sank into a taut, familiar stance, facing Aomine.

And broke past him like lightning.

The whole bench were on their feet as Aomine gave chase, Momoi shouting a warning just as his feet left the ground that bit too forcefully, driving him into Kise's back. And Kise completed the shot with a hook behind both of them that sank through the net as though rolling downhill.

"He did it!" Kagami yelled, pounding on Tetsuya's shoulder, wonder and excitement in his voice just as though it wasn't the opponent's ace he was talking about.

"Yes," Tetsuya agreed, fingers curling tight. Aomine was standing under the basket, blank and shocked by the actual experience of being passed, but the blankness was slowly fading into a burning focus Tetsuya hadn't seen in over a year. It made his chest tighten, seeing it again, but there was a chill settling around him as well. This was what Aomine wanted, needed, but would he forget the progress they'd made this year, now he had it? Would he forget Tetsuya completely again?

The next ball was stolen when Tsuchida-senpai passed it back to Hyuuga-san, and Kise cut past Aomine again only to have Aomine slap the ball out of his hands, right at the hoop, so hard it landed in the stands.

The other first-years were making shocked sounds, but Tetsuya just nodded to himself. This was more like Aomine, far more like him than all the lazy slouching and drawled complaints of the past year. Aomine blazed through the Kaijou team and faded back almost parallel to the floor to make his shot over Kise's block.

"He really likes that one," Kagami grumbled, and Tetsuya smiled a little. Kagami had been on the receiving end of that move more than once, to be sure. It was one of the things that made him think Kagami might be the answer for both Aomine and himself.

Kise's next shot was the one Aomine had just used, and the ball went in just as smoothly.

Momoi whistled softly. "Ki-chan really has done it. He isn't as fast, but he's adjusted his movement for that. His change of pace has just as much impact, and his flexibility is already equal." She frowned. "Riko-kantoku, this might be a problem."

"Mm." Kantoku shot a glance at the scoreboard, where Seirin was only two points ahead. "I was hoping to have more of a lead, yes, but... Kaijou is a very strong team, under Kasamatsu-san. Kuroko. Make sure you're warmed up."

Tetsuya nodded quietly. "Yes, Kantoku." He started stretching his legs out, eyes steady on the flow of the game. Or, perhaps, the rocking of the game, back and forth between Kise and Aomine, basket after basket. They raced furiously after each other, up and down the court, teeth bared, burning fiercer than Tetsuya had ever seen them, before.

Of course, there was a reason he'd never seen them stretched all-out against each other.

There were only a few minutes left to go in the last quarter when Kise faltered and the whole court froze, watching his ball circle the rim, around and around, before it finally fell in.

"That's it," Riko-kantoku snapped, and signaled for a time-out. As the players came in, she clapped Tsuchida-senpai on the shoulder. "All right, Kise-kun's finally reaching the limit of his endurance. We're putting Kuroko-kun in. Aomine." She latched onto his ear again, hauling him down eye to eye. "You and Kuroko will double-team Kise to get the ball away from him or past him. We need to open up the lead, because Kaijou won't just let us go." She nodded toward the other bench, where, sure enough, the Kaijou players were gathered around Kasamatsu-san, still focused and intent.

"Not like you have to tell me," Aomine complained, rubbing his ear, and then he slanted a sharp, wild grin at Tetsuya. "You ready?"

The tightness in Tetsuya's chest loosened all at once, and he smiled back, tugging his wrist-warmers to settle them just as he liked. "Of course."

He was better than all right. He wanted to laugh. He felt relief sparkling through his veins. This was the partner he remembered.

And when they stepped onto the court, it was the combination he remembered, his partner's casual, perfect awareness of him as Tetsuya slid into the path of the ball and struck it back towards Aomine, turning his movement jagged and unpredictable. They shook Kise loose once, twice, and Kise caught them the third time but faltered again, stumbling on his landing from blocking Aomine's shot. Tetsuya caught the wild-flying ball, spun, sent it scorching back to his partner, and Aomine slammed it home. It was hot, fast, incredible play, and Tetsuya gloried in it. Kaijou wasn't giving way against it, though. Kasamatsu-san stole the ball back for a three-pointer, hauling Seirin's lead back down to three points, and Aomine bared his teeth.

"Full court, Tetsu," he breathed. "You can do it for me, can't you?" And he was gone without waiting for an answer, sprinting down the court toward Kaijou's basket.

That was all right. Aomine obviously knew what the answer was already. Tetsuya stepped over the boundary line, took the ball, and whirled the weight of it around himself until he could fire it back down the court, hard and heavy.

"Kurokocchi!" Kise yelled, and he was already nearly on top of Aomine; he'd known it was coming, too. Despite the danger of having the last ball they'd have time for stolen, Tetsuya smiled a little. Aomine. Kise. They both knew what he could do.

It was such a good feeling to have again.

Both Aomine and Kise went up, Aomine to dunk and Kise to block it, struggling against each other, each with a hand on the ball. For a long second, they seemed to hang there, perfectly balanced against each other, but then the balance tipped, broke, and Kise's hand slipped as Aomine slammed the ball into the net.

The buzzer sounded.

Tetsuya's mouth tightened as Kise stumbled again on landing and went down. Playing so hard against each other, the way they'd never been permitted to do before... he wasn't surprised. Nor was he surprised when Aomine hesitated, standing over Kise, hand twitching uncertainly at his side. In that hesitation, it was Kise's new captain who shouldered past Aomine and bent over Kise to give him a hand up. To lift him, when his legs gave out. Aomine turned away quietly to meet Tetsuya and the rest of his own team.

"You sure you don't want to say anything?" Hyuuga-san asked, mopping his face as they went to line up. "I mean, it's not like you have to forget you knew each other, even if you're opponents, now."

"There's nothing the winner can say to the loser that would do any good," Aomine said, low, and Tetsuya stepped up to his partner's side, brushing his shoulder in passing.

He'd always wondered if maybe Aomine hadn't really thought through the consequences of splitting the team the way Akashi had demanded (and Tetsuya had re-interpreted for his own purposes). If Aomine really did keep winning, he would have to face his teammates after they'd taken a true loss at his hands. He'd have to see Kise's face twisted with the tears he was trying, for once, to hold back, and see someone else's hand ruffling Kise's hair, steadying him. It wasn't in Aomine's nature to think ahead like that, not like it was in Tetsuya's. Tetsuya met Kasamatsu-san's eyes as Kaijou's captain supported Kise to face them, and bowed soberly.

He had known this was coming, and resolved himself to it months ago. It still hurt a little.

It wasn't until they were leaving, until Aomine stubbed his toe on the stairs down from the arena and almost tripped, and Kantoku's voice sharpened with concern, that he realized there were implications he hadn't thought through enough either. Or maybe just hadn't believed. When Kantoku and Aomine came back from the hospital, though, Kantoku's face set and Aomine's dark, he felt the true weight of those implications land like a rock in the pit of his stomach. A chill ran through him, like a cloud had crossed the sun and cut off the light.

"A week and a half off the court," Kantoku told them, flat and grim.

"Are we going to use Kagami next week, then?" Hyuuga-san asked.

Riko-kantoku's hands clenched hard for a moment. "No," she ground out.

Kagami jerked upright from where he'd been leaning against the stage. "But...!"

"I said no!" Kantoku barked, rounding on him. "The doctor said two weeks, and it will be two weeks! I'm not letting anyone who's injured set foot on the court!"

Kagami stepped back, eyes a little wide, hands raised, and Hyuuga-san rested a hand on Kantoku's shoulder for a moment. "We'll deal with it," he said firmly.

Tetsuya took a slow breath and held on to the firmness of his captain's words, to steady himself. They would deal with it. As a team.

Even if it was a team that didn't include either of his partners.

Both Tetsuya's partners were sulking when the team got to the Interhigh venue a week later. At least they were doing it quietly now, since Riko-kantoku had shown no tolerance for whining and actually made Koganei-senpai bring her a paper fan to smack both Kagami and Aomine with whenever they complained out loud. Momoi had looked enchanted with the idea, and it had been a lighter moment in the middle of the week's frantic training toward today's match.
Momoi was looking a lot more serious, now, as she did last-minute briefing while everyone got changed. "...so all of Touou's players are strong, this year, and they have a real reputation for individual play, but you absolutely must keep your eye on their captain. Imayoshi-san is unquestionably the one who's shaped Touou's recent play style, and all of my sources agree that he's frighteningly good at grasping the one thing you least want him to figure out." She flipped her notes closed and finished, "Tetsu-kun. If he targets anyone, it's most likely to be you."

Tetsuya shrugged to settle his shirt over his shoulders. "There's nothing to do but deal with it, if it happens."

A hand landed on his head, ruffling his hair firmly. "Quit stealing my lines," Hyuuga-san told him. "You can panic a little if you want to, you know. All four of you are way too calm to be first-years."

"Yes, Captain," Tetsuya agreed, calmly. All his senpai rolled their eyes, which amused him; someone, some time, had taught his current team how to tell when someone was teasing with a straight face. He wondered who it had been.

"All right, people," Hyuuga-san said, louder. "Don't lose your focus just because there isn't a Miracle on the other side. Let's go!"

It was so familiar, stepping out under the weight of the lights, week after week, to meet whoever faced them. Familiar and also not, because this time, every time, victory was uncertain. The uncertainly pulled Tetsuya's nerves tight and made his breath faster.

It was part of what he played for.

Touou's captain, Imayoshi, smiled as he shook Hyuuga-san's hand, running an eye over the team. "Leaving both your aces on the bench? That's a little overconfident, don't you think?" Without changing his pleasant expression in the slightest, he added, "Or maybe just careless. I suppose you're still a young captain. Perhaps you'll learn, today, to take better care of them for the winter."

Tetsuya could almost see the moment Hyuuga-san's temper, always chancy during a game, snapped. He smiled back at Imayoshi, toothy. "I don't need some snake-eyed bastard on the other side telling me that." He turned on his heel and stalked to his position, glaring the shortest Touou player out of his way, and barked at his team, "Let's go!"

Imayoshi actually clutched a hand to his chest. "So cruel!" Tetsuya saw the way he looked after Hyuuga-san, though. Measuring. Calculating. Perfectly cool. A little shiver went through him. Momoi had been exactly on target, as usual; this was their most dangerous opponent.

Indeed, even though Momoi had warned them to be on guard, Imayoshi still managed to intercept the tip-off and, when Hyuuga-san blocked him, passed the ball too high for Tetsuya to catch. It went to Touou's outside shooter and left his hands again almost as fast as the one of Tetsuya's own redirections. The first basket was Touou's, and it was a three-pointer. Tetsuya's team exchanged grim looks. This was going to be every bit as hard as Momoi and Riko-kantoku had projected.

Touou was fast and strong. The center who guarded their net on defense wrestled with Tsuchida-senpai for every ball. Their shooting guard looked even slighter than Tetsuya, but he shot fast enough that, even warned, Hyuuga-san had to fight to block even some of his balls. Their captain, their point guard, had a sharp eye for the flow of the game and always sent the ball toward a weak spotâ€”the extra moment Izuki-senpai needed to get turned around, the instant Hyuuga-san was distracted by the threat of a pass to Sakurai, the opening behind Mitobe-senpai's back the moment he stepped forward to screen.

Tetsuya took a breath and sank himself into that flow also, hearing the murmur of Momoi's analysis in the back of his head. Their center had good accuracy up close but not at any distance; when he was away from the net, he always passed. Tetsuya slid into the path of the ball and turned it toward Hyuuga-san's hands. Touou's shooting guard was blindingly fast but that meant he never had as firm a grip on the ball as another player might. Tetsuya faded away from his marker and sprinted to strike the ball out of Sakurai's hands. He could feel his team settling around him, settling in for a long fight, but always poised to receive the ball. Poised because Tetsuya was on the court, and they expected it of him, trusted him to intervene. Part of him basked in that feeling, in the reliance of his team.

But part of him was aware of Imayoshi's eyes catching him, over and over again, like an unexpected hand dropping onto his shoulder from behind.

Still, they were holding on. By the middle of the second quarter, when the rest of Touou started being able to find him, too, Seirin was eight points ahead. Tetsuya tagged Koganei-senpai at the side-lines and dropped onto the bench between Aomine and Kagami, breathing hard.

"I will never get how you can be so calm in the middle of such a hot game," Kagami told him, shaking his head.

"Tetsu? Calm?" Aomine stared at Kagami like he was crazy. "Tetsu's never calm, he just doesn't actually, you know, yell about things."

Tetsuya huffed into the towel he was scrubbing over his face. "I can't keep track of the game if I'm one of the ones yelling," he pointed out, hanging it around his neck and reaching for his water. It was true; he had to pay close attention to what was happening to keep up with everyone else, to be in the right place for his passes. However much passion he brought to the game, he had to observe everything carefully, even himself.

He knew that wasn't how his partners played. But he wasn't like his partners. He wondered, sometimes, what it would be like to play hot and thoughtless the way they did. He knew it wasn't how his game, his strength, would ever work, but sometimes he wondered.

The second-years were playing pretty hot, themselves, now, pushing to keep Seirin's lead. Touou was pushing back, though, and Momoi made an annoyed sound between her teeth as Imayoshi feinted around Izuki-senpai and faded back for another three-pointer. "That man is entirely too good at faking opponents out," she declared, clearly offended that even her scouting beforehand wasn't quite enough of an edge to close Imayoshi down.

"He's the one who's making their individual plays work, too," Kantoku agreed, mouth a little tight. "We'll just have to tighten up our own coordination to stop them."

Aomine had been watching the game with his elbows on his knees, head cocked a little as Kantoku moved down the bench a little, tracking play with a frown of concentration. "There's something a little weird about Seirin that way, don't you think?" He glanced over at Tetsuya and then back at Momoi. "About the second-years. I mean, they're tight, yeah. Really tight. But, being as tight as that, shouldn't they be able to make more advanced plays?"

Tetsuya made a thoughtful noise, considering his senpai's play. Touou's center back-cut around Mitobe-senpai. Hyuuga-san wasn't quite close enough to interfere properly, and the center threw one of those ferocious passes to their shooting guard. "Mmm." He had to agree; even knowing Seirin wasn't a defensive team, he'd have expected someone as experienced as Hyuuga-san to catch that.

Momoi was nibbling her lower lip. "It's..." She hesitated, which was uncharacteristic enough to make Tetsuya brows rise.

"Shut up, Aomine." Kantoku didn't look away from the court. "I know already, you don't have to rub it in."

"It isn't your fault, Kantoku," Momoi said softly, while Aomine was blinking.

"No, but it's my responsibility, now." Their coach took a slow breath and glanced down the bench at the suddenly questioning looks of every first-year on it. "I'm this team's coach, yes, but my experience is in training, not strategy. Our strategist is... away right now." Her hand clenched on her knee, and her voice fell. "Just a little longer. If we can just hold on a little longer; he's almost ready to come back."

Tetsuya tucked this new information away; it sounded like their team would be bolstered even more than he'd thought, if they could just win this round. He looked back at the game, focusing like he was out there himself, watching the pattern of the second-years' plays. This was where he put his own fire, where almost no one ever really saw it, into his focus on his team and opponents. This was what he had to strengthen, to support, to make shineâ€”the absolute solidity of Hyuuga-san's outside shots, Mitobe-senpai's steady judgement under the basket, Izuki-senpai's grasp of position.

He could do it.

The second-years were wringing wet and panting when they came in for half-time, and fell on Mitobe-senpai's honeyed lemons like wolves. Tetsuya was absently grateful that Kagami had brought a batch of his own, and offered them around to the first-years. Even, reluctantly, Aomine, though they got into a brief wrestling match over it when Aomine smirked and tried to take four at once.

"You know, I'm not even sure I'm joking about Dai-chan liking Kagamin," Momoi said to Tetsuya, not all that quietly. "He acts just like a little boy pulling a little girl's hair because he likes her."

That had the effect Tetsuya had no doubt she'd intended, as both Aomine and Kagami broke off fighting with each other to protest. He smiled back, faintly, at her tiny grin, but most of his attention was still on the game—on what he'd seen, and how he'd need to play in the last quarter.

It was, he thought, a good thing he had stayed focused, because when they got to the fourth quarter, Seirin was down twelve points. Kuroko took a breath as he stepped out under the lights of the court and slid straight into the game as though he'd never left; in a way, after all, he hadn't. He shadowed Izuki-senpai, following the quick signals of his glances to take the ball at unexpected angles and relay it to its true target. He stole passes to Touou's Sakurai and fired them to Mitobe-senpai instead, in the moment no one was watching. He could hear the shouts from Seirin's bench, hear the enthusiasm of both his partners. And he could feel his team shifting around him, pushing into a higher gear.

This was what he lived for, this feeling, this triumph of his game, of the strength he gave his teammates, over the opposing team. When the score turned over again, he thought the lightness of the moment might lift him off his feet.

When Imayoshi stepped up to mark him, he felt a chill cut through that glow.

"Will you listen to that?" Touou's captain said, conversationally, waving a hand at the stands. "'Can we stop Seirin's energy' indeed. You think they'd know better." Imayoshi smiled, slow and predatory. "Did you know? There are some things you can only see in a mirror."

Tetsuya frowned to himself and waited for the ball to go to Izuki-senpai, for Imayoshi's attention to split so he could fade away and cut free. But Imayoshi stayed on him, close up, close enough to...

...close enough to watch his eyes.

Tetsuya pulled in a hard breath. Every time he glanced at Izuki-senpai, Imayoshi looked away from him. Looked at Izuki-senpai, too.

...only see in a mirror.

It happened again when Tetsuya tried to move to relay a pass between Hyuuga-san and Mitobe-senpai. Again, when he went to screen Hyuuga-san's next outside shot. He couldn't shake Imayoshi off, and the clock was ticking down. The score turned over in Touou's favor. Again in Seirin's favor. And Tetsuya didn't have anything to do with any of it. He was blocked at every pass, and he could feel the team stumbling; it was worse than if he hadn't been on the court at all, because they kept starting to rely on him and having to pull up short.

"It's a double-edged sword, isn't it?" Imayoshi murmured, still smiling. "The way you strengthen them. The way they rely on you. Very double-edged indeed."

Tetsuya's mouth tightened hard, and he met Imayoshi's eyes, direct and intent. This time, he didn't look away, stayed focused on his opponent and just moved. He had to hope Izuki-senpai would see and understand. And, sure enough, there was a flicker of movement at the corner of his eye, and Tetsuya spun away at the last moment to reach for the ball coming toward them.

Imayoshi's hand slid in front of his, and he cut between them, fading back and back and finally going up for a three-pointer neither Izuki-senpai nor Tetsuya were in place to block. The ball arched through the air, slow and high, over the heads of the frozen players, and swished through the basket, giving Touou a two-point lead.

The final buzzer sounded.

Imayoshi looked back at Tetsuya again. "It was obvious they'd rely on you at the last," he said, almost gently. "Seirin is a young team, and your strength conceals your weaknesses. Too bad, hm?" He turned away toward his team.

Cold slid through Tetsuya like a knife. Was he actually bad for his team, when Aomine or Kagami couldn't be on the court? Had he led them to overestimate him, just because he wanted so badly to be acknowledged as a useful player? He went through line-up and the retreat to the changing room in a chill fog of wondering what he could possibly do now.

Everyone was silent in the wake of their loss, and the silence plucked at Tetsuya's nerves. He was almost grateful for the metallic bang when Aomine punched one of the lockers.

"What the fuck good is it being a genius and all that shit, when I can't use it?!"

Momoi roused at that, though her voice was quiet. "Dai-chan, you know why. None of you are developed enough to use your full strength for too long."

Aomine growled.

"Don't be silly, Satsuki-chan." Aida-kantoku stood briskly from testing Hyuuga-san's calves and ankles, and put her hands on her hips. "Now that I have a better gauge for just how much strain it does put on you, you bet your ass you're going to be training to use your full strength for a full match, Aomine-kun."

Aomine blinked at her like she'd suddenly turned on all the lights in a dim room. "...I am?"

"Of course you are!"

"But Riko-kantoku," Momoi started, half hopeful and half alarmed.

Kantoku waved an impatient hand. "In middle-school, of course their bodies couldn't sustain that kind of play for long! And it would have been crazy to try to train them up to it while they were still growing. But now..." she eyed Aomine thoughtfully, "now, I think you have all but an inch or two of your height, and that's the important part. Now that your muscles and tendons aren't constantly under the strain of growing longer, we can take all that effort and energy and pain and put it toward your training." She gave Aomine a sunny, ruthless smile, and he grinned back the way Tetsuya hadn't seen in a while, bright and excited.

Tetsuya started a little when that smile was turned on him.

"Hear that, Tetsu?" Aomine reached out and mussed his hair, through Tetsuya's towel. "I won't leave you alone out there again. You'll have all the light you need."

Tetsuya stilled, caught between relief and a twist of fear. This was what he'd wanted, what he'd worked for, but was it really enough? For the first time, he doubted it. Aomine promised him light. As much light as he needed, to play the way he always had. Enough light to bring out his strength.

Enough light to conceal his weakness?

Kagami's snort broke the circle of his thoughts. "What makes you think someone like Kuroko, the one who hauled your ass to Seirin and dragged your head out of it too, will be satisfied with stopping there?" He tied his shoe with a rather ferocious jerk, set both feet firmly on the floor, and braced his hands on his knees, elbows stuck out aggressively. "We need to be stronger, yeah. So Kuroko can rely on us, the same way we rely on him."

"I told you you rely on him too heavily," Aomine jibed at Kagami. "I, on the other hand, have the perfect balance already."

Momoi coughed meaningfully into her fist, and Aomine added, "Back again."

"Oh, nice save." Kagami applauded sarcastically, and Aomine jumped him, and their corner dissolved into wrestling again. The second-years groaned and rolled their eyes, and the whole room lightened a little.

Tetsuya just sat, not quite seeing what was in front of him, while Kagami's words rolled through his head. Kagami, his other partner, thought he wouldn't stop with the goal he'd just barely regained. Thought he'd keep going, keep building up his game. The idea unfolded slowly, like a flower opening up, until his chest felt full and tight with it. To be more, to want more... could he? Could he really? The memory of a hundred quiet moments of irritation or resignation, playing as Teikou's shadow, came back to him.

Hadn't he always wanted more?

Tetsuya took a long, shaky breath, feeling like he was looking up after staring at the ground for so long he'd forgotten there was anything else to see.

"Tetsu-kun?" Momoi's hand was on his shoulder, and she was looking down at him with a shade of worry behind her smile. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes." Tetsuya shook himself and looked up at her. "I think Kagami-kun is right," he told her. "I... I need to be more, too. Will you help me?"

Her eyes turned wide and surprised. He supposed that wasn't something she'd been in the habit of thinking, either. The surprise melted slowly into familiar determination, though. "Tetsu-kun. Of course I will." She smiled, bright and fierce, the way she hadn't since they'd come off the court today. "I'm Seirin's analyst, aren't I? I'll find a way."

Tetsuya nodded back firmly, feeling that determination settle into his thoughts and bones, heavy but comfortable. Yes. They'd find a way around his weaknesses, until his team could rely on him without danger.

He wouldn't let his game end like this.

The new thoughts tugged at him, as Seirin gathered themselves up and started for home. He'd thought he came to Seirin, and brought Aomine with him, to prove the worth of the way he played the game. He had a team, here, that needed him and knew how he strengthened them. He had a team that wouldn't let Aomine molder in apathy, that demanded he train properly and play properly. There was even Kagami, to spur Aomine out of his slump, to remind him that there were other strong players, to show him how a decent partner acted.

He'd thought that was all he wanted.

But when Kagami had spoken, so confident that Tetsuya wouldn't be content with just that, wanting had flared up instantly. So instantly that Tetsuya knew it had to have been lying in his heart all this time, waiting for a spark. It had taken Kagami to make him see, to make him remember his old hopes from before Akashi had found him and told him his strength was a shadow's strength, from before he'd gotten used to shadow victories.

Maybe it wasn't just Aomine that Kagami could show how to play again. And when Tetsuya remembered how deliberately he'd set out to use Kagami to make Aomine jealous enough to wake up, he wondered, with a twinge of guilt, whether it wasn't just Aomine that needed Kagami to show him how to play again.

When he and Kagami waved good night to Aomine and Momoi, and parted ways at the station, his thoughts finally spilled over into words.

"I'm sorry."

Kagami glanced down at him, brows raised. "What for?"

"I used you for my own ends, to make Aomine-kun remember how to be a partner. And even so, you still have that much faith in me."

"What, that?" Kagami snorted, stuffing his hands further into his pockets. "Don't worry so much about it. Everyone plays for their own reasons; it's not like you made me play the way I do. That's just me." He gave Tetsuya a sidelong look. "As for you, are you going to tell me you will let it end like this? Your game? Seirin's game?"

Tetsuya's response to the mere question straightened his spine in a rush of hot denial. "Of course not," he said firmly.

Kagami was grinning a little. "Thought not."

"Being smug makes you look like Aomine-kun," Tetsuya observed, and smiled just a tiny bit as Kagami's vociferous objections echoed off the yard walls around them.

He walked on through the warm spring night, dwelling on the old, faint taste of playing for himself.