Chapter Text
Sometimes, at certain times in the future, a certain red-haired teen at the time of his diagnosis would close the eyes tightly and coming to recollect these pieces of arrays leading up to the events.
When Vorpal Swords had just finished slaying the Jabberwock, there's childlike dream spilled by of the youth of minds.
At that time they’d drowned themselves fully enveloped by the melody of the present, once in a while forgetting the thoughts and anxiousness of the future, enjoyed simplicity of the each other’s presence. Splash of buzz that filled their ears. Chant of cheeriness that sung into the air. Heavy weight in the shoulder being lifted like bird being released freely into the sky. Relief that followed soon after into another level of bliss of victory. An unreplaced happiness that comes from something simple, yet supposedly unimaginable in consideration of their histories with each other, free from old resentment that perch in the hearts of some of them. And the indescribable joy that sinks deep into their chest.
They feels the way their colorful orbs reflect back on each other’s as it synchronized, their hearts and of the teal blue haired boy uncontrollably has nothing more than to yearns for one simple thing: in the future they would be able to stay together, perhaps playing together as team again, feelings completely free as the birds that are flying in the sky without the weight of the chain, as free and happy as what they feel in that second.
It's a very sweet dream, they recollects, not yet tainted by what they would be facing from the point onwards, unseparated by vivid stab of their own past long doing before the point.
On one room, there's a little memo embedded on the white wall of hospital, untouched but seen by a stranger of patient under the care of Midorima's father when he was still about to pass his 2nd year of high school. He who have seen it and the other boy who hears memorized it clearly later in life. The words burned deep down as the circumstances set in by both of the fate and their own hands. It reads:
___ grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change
Courage to change the things I can
Wisdom to know the difference
Slip of Memories #1
Akashi clicked out the vending machine in front of him. Continual clang noises of the bouncing coins and bottle quickly disrupt the quiet air around the silent night before stopping right at the scene of the fallen product. In his hand stood an aromatic green tea with the uniqueness of Kakegawa flavor. It sits down elegantly into his throat. Rhythm of familiar footsteps draws closer and he finds himself unable to resist the changing direction of his head and staring at the person.
Both of the emerald and the ruby eyes meets each other at the point blank of the reflection.
“Midorima.” He effortly put his nerve to smiles, mouth heartfeltly curved upwards.
The green-haired 3p shooter stares at the red-hair’s heartfelt smile, unsure how to pick up the early part of communication. He's walking up closer, arrives at the point nearest him. There's mixed thoughts palpable. Akashi recognizes these on his expression. The two-year of separation never erase their abilities to recognizes the detail in each other's manners.
Silence fills the world around them.
There's still a visible gap in the air despite the better state of their current relationship, their recent teamwork just hours ago, and his subsequent effort to close the gap of that bridge to all of the other miracles afterwards. Their old barrier still has the weight, though slowly melting. The renewed handshake on the opposite of the rejection still imprinted in both of their chest.
After all, he's the kind of person that can't tolerate form of injustice, while his recent means still can't match the amount of errors that he made along the way with his selfish-ness in all of honesty.
Then there's also others, unspoken things he inflicted.
In the end, the red-haired can only acknowledge, as the first step he try in his attempt to change, instead of giving own self the undeserving authority beyond what the teen actually have and forcing his way by befalling others like his other self, or rather he, used to be. Indescribable feelings both washed over them.
“You’re not here just to follow me, aren’t you?” He advertently teases, trying to break the ice.
The guilty one must take the first step to make amend.
The teasing caught the teen off-guard. He looks at him in slight disbelief, “Don't be ridiculous. When am I the type?” he pushes his glasses upward, try to control the old emotion that resurfaces. There's the tiny curves on his mouth that can’t be hidden. Akashi hides his desire to chuckle.
“You can claim it’s tentative. Personally I think you seem to be the type.” The tea is dancing inside the bottle as he converses these recent lines. There's feeling for instigation that appears uncontrolled and unexpected for himself that he had predicted, perhaps, because his hands still feel somehow longing and burning from the passes that he gave and the nostalgic old memories.
His former current teammates predictably prefers to not address nor refute, preferring to divert the focus into tiny little details. Another clanging sound of a falling bottle filling their ears, and he watches as the green liquid sips in and out of the captain's throat. The awareness of his rosy complexion washes him like stampede.
“I assume your decent alcohol tolerance was about to run out?” comments him as he watches the green liquid sips inside the point guard’s mouth.
The cat-like red eyes sheepishly glances, "Maybe?"
Emerald eyes narrowed at the choice of word.
In the past, Akashi's words were as if above social etiquette, never to be doubted, not considering any doubt nor other possibility. However on recent months the different words he used suggest nothing but the willingness to change from the other side, letting the opinion of others being put into platform instead. It's noteworthy, no other than thanks to Kuroko, Kagami, the Seirin, or his own certain Rakuzan teammate. He's trying, he acknowledges, and he's open to it. However Midorima mostly prefers muting his mouth on the subject. Flake of other spiral thoughts and realistic considerations become the causes.
The truth is that the green-haired doesn't have the same big capacity of forgiveness that the blue-haired Phantom has, but still has enough of amount. The red-haired simply recognize it. Kuroko's forgiving nature which exist simultaneously with his strong self-preservation and headedness have brought them to swear on an oath for the future.
Minds wanders to the event, leading up to the scene holding the magnitude of emotions washing over.
Slip of Memories #2
This moment occurred two hours ago. The feeling is nothing but farcical as rest of scenes can be summed up with Kagetora that loudly screaming at the top of world with pink hue by alcohol drunkenness adorned both of the cheeks, in his hands the liquid dances inside the bottle, Seirin Captain Fellow Vorpal Sword senior Hyuga Junpei being embarrassed and scolded his coach's drunken stupidity, the facepalm of Seirin Coach their current coach Aida Riko who utters her outright wish in desperation for family disassociation, and the world that follows them in a frenzy.
One hour after that, they all made an oath, a promise. The shifting atmosphere from the previous mood is still residual in his chest.
Akashi at the time wonders how the everyday went for the Seirin team, briefly contemplating the factor of its existence on his first defeat and his strange sensation of relief and freedom. Those moments were accompanied by the indescribable chaos of the never-ending rivalry between the not-so-intelligent of Kuroko's Lights, the habitual bawling and wailing of the blonde model, the seemingly forever yawning of the now sleepy giant, and the rare laughs of their certain sixth phantom man. It’s very amusing and strangely nostalgic, blissfulness he rarely felt flutters in his heart.
In the background, he remembers Midorima pouring him half a quarter of the alcohol liquid.
“Is it alright for you to drink a little?” ask the green-haired.
“I think I have a quite decent alcohol tolerance.” Akashi smiles amusedly, his eyes slightly narrow in melancholy, “Not recommendable by my father.”
Midorima narrowed his emerald eyes at the mention, recognizing the sensitivity, ended up not saying anything at the moment. The sensation of his smaller hand grasping his former vice-captain’s taped fingers still both gentle yet firm at the same time. The redhead's own sincereness to compensate for his past sins can only bring much of his honest commentary, not yet fully as of present time. Despite that, once its drops, it's deep buried inside his chest, giving him the warmness.
“We both know that no amount of words I could give can erase my past mistakes.” he remembers his head went downcast at the end of the split road, basked by the long day of sunset after weariness of recent newly-made team training. Both of their shadows conjoined like it used to do in the past, near the middle road of Teiko. At the time, they're talking about things that he and his former recent teammate still recognized it vividly. It's the first time that they both ever acknowledge things to each other more openly despite meetings many times after the Winter Cup.
The iniquity he inflicted upon others in regard to this person. Takao Kazunari and the rest of his teammates that break under his own. The outright rejection. The unreciprocated handshake. Both of them remember it all too well.
These are not even counted the other wrongs he has done to Kuroko's friends. To his own teammates.
He and him always both similar and opposes to each other in the paths they've walked on in life. He's a person left his faith and life to the force of fate, Akashi is the one who attempt by desperation to control his fate. Midorima’s habitual knit attachment to the past juxtaposed against Akashi’s general future vision. But even him, precisely in this exact moment, is more capable of opening up to his future redemption than he was to his own self.
“Well, I suppose it's always better to start it with an action, correct? Fixing on the past wouldn’t change a thing.”
His ruby eyes expanded a little, then his thin lips couldn’t help but form an upward curve only composed with the utter sincere feelings of gratitude.
They’re all, after all, different people with different upbringing, tied by their mutual love for basketball. When mending the old knots, form the new ones, maintain the current, they, and he himself will try so hard to keep bridging the existing gap. Even with everything on the lines, they will at least fight for the effort. He sincerely hopes for these are enough for now.
“I suppose so.”
Slip of Memories #3
It’s supposed to be. It’s one of the main things that the unrivaled light and shadow pair is able to fix on the way of their irreplaceable and most valued course of journey, along with their dreams of achieving the dreams of their Seniors, become the best team and player in Japan, and most importantly, showing them the way of Basketball truly is. Teamwork, bonds, the sincere laughter, the home to feel belong into, free from the suffocation of pressure and the facade of perfection. Their passion and unyielding unmatchable effort ignites the miracles in a way they needed the most. Each pieces of shōgi were gathered to stand together again. They're finally being this family again.
Aomine finds the passion of life and the most valuable rival that he desperately needed. Murasakibara found that he actually does love basketball. Kise found the place he could belong to. Midorima and Kuroko, the people the red-haired boy personally destroyed the most during the weakest point of his life, find the home they feel belong to. And Akashi finds both his home and his own self again. It’s the thing that he is both regretful and grateful for.
The end of the Winter Cup and their losses brings both joy and secret lingering wish of atonement, the triggers of their multiple meetings after, and a few of baby steps to acknowledge on the subject of some few of the wrongdoings.
However the latter topic solely circles about the things they've done to each other, but not the matters they've done to others outside them.
"Well don't mind it." dismissed the tiger casually, hamburgers filled most of his mouth and stomach, "At least you're not like that anymore right."
But then just like that, they begin to realize, even if they don’t want to admit it sooner — that hey, they can try friendship again. They can make it work this time. They can be good again, can form new healthy bonds with others. They can’t be the same as in the past, but they can be better than yesterday. They all can be better people. Perhaps, they can be a team again.
The last part is the thing that some of them are reluctant to admit, even when their colorful orbs meets on each other’s. But the depths of their hearts really urges them otherwise as Kuroko’s warm hopeful voice breaks the synchronized mute of their mouth that they try to keep.
They all sat in a circle reminiscence to the way they were basked by the light at their old gym, right in the middle of the room. The phantom player wasn't there last time, caressing his the pale hands on the petal of Amaryllis that surrounded. Neither was the presence of a certain light, who was just recently molded to create his own passionate dream to be the best player in the Japan. All six generations of miracles and the miracles who didn’t become one of the miracles. The ghost of Teiko still forming the familiar image, though a certain new presence of light slowly melted the strain. The sound of his own old voice under the half gold-colored orbs still echo across the room, declaring the old oath that officially announcing their separation. He felt nauseous at the remembrance.
However the new oath is echoing its antithesis, almost like a mockery. The presences of the rainbow paint the colorfulness to the room, accompanied by the presence of the childhood friend and a certain new shadow of the other only light-shadow pairing aside from Seirin's. It’s rather a silent night when a certain promise is born. Behind them lies Riko, Kagetora, Hyuga, and Wakamatsu, sleeping soundly after the long day of work and the intoxicating taste of alcohol. Red apples in the basket from the drunk purchase celebration was both left touched and untouched, the bitten part scattered on the floors and one abandoned was intact, flakes shine beautifully like an unattainable dream.
“Can we be get to be together as a team in the future?" He asked. The asker is never the naive type. His only tone is only filled by both awareness and hopefulness.
Some of them at first don’t want to admit, citing the other dreams and circumstances as excuses, “My family wants me to go on another profession.” he pushes his glasses up, eyes closed, instantly prompted the teasing of his partner, "Shin-chan is as embarrassed as ever when it comes to honest feelings." Kise still hesitate between modeling and basketball. Murasakibara still struggles with this passion in both food and basketball. Akashi was silent most of the time, unsure of what to say. In the end, Aomine and Kagami are the only ones who blatantly have loud confession in regard to their dreams of becoming NBA professional, at the same time their answers are the ones who support Kuroko the most, in the process drawing the happy smile of the pink-haired girl. It's the chekhov’s gun to their admittance and the agreement at the end.
“I can’t promise you the exact details of when” the owner of the ruby orbs began to speak, in his orbs lies the sincere smiles of both extremely genuine hopefulness and unreadable other emotions, wider of smiles filled the room that night “However I can assure you this. In the future we would still playing together”.
Just like that, their newfound dream is born.
‘
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(And one of the piece of shōgi is left hanging at the edge near the end of the way to fall faster)
Slip of Memories #4
The shooter’s reflexes moved faster than his own comprehension, “Akashi be careful–”. The sound of matters falling makes its slightly loud echo in the balcony. The emerald eyes widened in matters of sec during the moments.
In the next perception, green hair then is seen sitting in the middle of hallway’s floor with the red hair slumped on top of him, with the teen’s hands supporting the weight of the heir’s back and waist and his laps supporting his lower body from touching the tiles hard. The mood shifts from dissonant serene to wary. Akashi stares at his sprawled legs, eyes somewhat widening, in the next shift at his arm wrapped around him to sustain his uncontrollable lower body.
“What has gotten into you?” He asks, tone is in linger with slight shock.
The red-head blinks blankly, quickly assessing the situation. He gazes at his right palm, examining its movement. The joints between it moves easily. Shock removed itself from his face and displaced itself with calm assessment. “I guess only a numb due to overextension.” He shifts his attention to the legs and finds it’s light to move as normal.
His eyes are still wary. Akashi just lets out a little chuckle.
“Or it must be the alcohol. I guess my tolerance is lower than I thought.”
The Emperor Eyes sees the way the green-haired ’s fiber of muscles revert back into its relaxed state. The green-haired fixes his tilted glass, its angle in shambles due to the sudden fall, “Hmph..” They both standing their legs up after. Akashi first, holding out his hand for the latter to prop himself up.
They both quickly fell into comfortable silence next to each other right after the encounter. The breath of wind largely escorts their quiescent presence, and the red-haired breathing rhymes with the pace of the ticking clock in the distance. The sounds fall pleasant in his ears, unsure of the main factor. There's a peaceful feeling that red haired’s presence gives in the present. A contrast to the mixed tone his recent past presence inflicted. It's better than before at least, he think for now. The older self before that brings rather similar feeling to the former, but he remembers it more enclosed than the current. Perhaps because that him lacked more willingness to change.
Wasn't he changed because everything change first though? The word never taste accurate in his tongue.
He slowly takes his breath, and the comfortable stillness that's up for an amount of time rightly disrupted by the force of his own distant thought.
“Akashi”. The familiar face turns.
“What do you think- ” Midorima finds his voice ripples the tranquility that envelops the night, “-become of us in the future?
Akashi looks at him, eyes in ambiguity. He lets out a small smile in thoughts of the question.
“Hm.. let’s see…” His sound of little chuckles greets the air.
“I will talk about the obvious one. Aomine and Kagami breathes their lives on basketball. There’s no doubt they will secure their places as the future aces, Japan or in NBA. Murasakibara will have one of the best prospects. Kise will be the irreplaceable jack of all trades. Kuroko is an irreplaceable game-changing asset and our forever Sixth Phantom Man. As for you and I…” his voice trailed off. The alteration catches Midorima’s attention in the span of seconds.
The emerald eyes capture the shifting from amusement to melancholy and the eyelids that drop low, unintentional by the owner. He gazes at him deeply, inspecting it instantly. The ruby eyes turn his head to him and give him an unfeigned smile, the lines behind the lips hiding a wistful emotion.
“You will be the most valuable player. And I'm going to be the best point guard that draws out the best of all of you."
He gives a very sincere one, captures him slightly off-guard. Midorima slightly turned his face to the side, voices turning into a whisper. After all, they both understand it, even Kuroko himself.
“Do you think you can be there in the promise?”
He’s greeted with a little laugh, there's a sense of somberness palpable through it, “It’s the thing me myself can even sure of, even if I wanted, am not I?”
The red-haired then falls silent, his emperor eyes gazing at the distance.
The shooting guard peers at the captain drowning in his own muse. His ethereal ruby orbs went into the state of withered in regard to the previous vivacious one. The gaze holds a threnody that immediately catches the acuity of the guess of the green-haired shooter of what’s in the red-haired's mind right now.
He thinks of their relationships in these recent times, and the red head's small actions to reform reflected back to his own old self before the storm came at the later second year of Teiko. The miracles's recent conversations on these past few months circling mostly at the current lives, save for small nods of acknowledgement of the past actions on here and there, mainly when it comes to Kuroko. The subjects of deepest honest feelings and private life (and especially, of Akashi) remains glass cannon. Neither of them rarely tried to touch the broken pottery. Perhaps they fears the red one will easily be swayed by the changing of the wind. He recollects the way he and the red-haired used to connect deeper than in the current state before their estrangement at the later last of their junior school year, insufficient, but better.
They talked about many topics, he remembers. Kanjis, calligraphy, Schubert, Shogi, Oha-asa, and the topic of fate. They'd once, or perhaps twice talked on the topic of their families, of how they acquire basic information about each other's: his sister, their fathers, his butler, which he shares some to the others later on their casual hangs-out, both being the most well-off of the group. He always left out his mother, never sticking that subject to the red-haired either after one exchange. The rest of others miracles are of middle class, bloodlines not connected to ancient noble families. His of the new money by the toil of his father's work as the head doctor, building unmatched reputation in the society of best neurologists and radiologists, while Akashi is of the noble line Meika, holder of higher class in the bloodline class establishment. He remembers bringing up the topic of his father once, accidentally be the witness of the short interactions between the father and the son in the rare moment of Akashi Masaomi dropping by to 'pick up' his son. He recalls of himself being quickly shut down.
What happens when you decide to delicately roll the sensitive subject now? He wonders. He feels his own feet that about to take its first footing above the air.
“I take that your father is still as uncompromising as ever?”
The lids that frame those ruby cat-eyes unfold larger in an instant, hints of dispiritedness slipped amongst the few words entering both of his senses.
“Ah…that.” The smaller teen steps a little, leaning the front of his small body against the back of the balcony. The back of the red hair and slightly hidden face is now the only thing occupied within the frame of the emerald eyes. “It’s nothing new really. He’s slightly more rigorous after my Winter Cup loss last year. But that’s all there, really.”
Both see the futileness of the cheap lie. Even with the limited information, the father-son’s estranged relationship is apparent enough through the scrap of pieces.
He can only snorts at his inclination “That’s an understatement.”, he objects. “If it’s so trivial, wouldn’t be the biggest thing that weighing your mind.”
Midorima's deep breath is taken very weighted, aware that by touching it, he could possibly open the pandora box instead. However he's already made up his mind. The road is rocky, he thought. There have to be some first steps taken. He looks up at the deep red of the ruby orbs, examining the face inside it.
He meets with only little giggles instead. The shooting guard slightly gritted his teeth, “What’s so funny?”
Akashi’s pale hands finish covering his small hoots of laughter. His alluring face is filled with hue similar to the point guard’s own hair and his distinct voice presents in its familiar elegance to Midorima’s ears, “No, it’s nothing.”
He sees the smile of the owner of red hair grow slightly wider, “It’s just that you’re as sharp as ever, Midorima. You and Kuroko both in that regard.”
The Emperor Eyes sees the detail of a slight pink tinge that slowly decorates. There's a crack in that barrier. The shooter murmurs in the next sentence, “When it’s you.”
Akashi smiles faintly, "I guess it's better to satisfy attest the old curiosity, isn't it?"
A blink of memory of that moment returns back clearer, serving as his own limited identification of the past and present contrast.
'Midorima, I would appreciate if you mind your own business instead' He said half in warning tone at one morning basked by the spring's sunlight.
The green-haired looks as the red-haired takes a deep breath, long enough catching back the shooter’s attention. His eyelashes low drop as the orbs went back into melancholy contemplation, drowning in woe and worries.
Akashi was never intimate, he buried that knowledge deep. It's what makes him appreciate him starting to crawl even if it's only in this moment. He hopes that the red-haired can maintain this in the future too. Both of them are uncertain to what to expect in the outcome, and unsure of the result or whether they can maintain this level without brushing each other too deep. But 'worth a try' caught them earlier for the current.
“He greeted me with such a silence that night, only reprimanded me for the necessary lesson in the future. His voice was both lower and louder, and his gaze was a lot colder. The emphasis on my perfection doubling.” he laughs a little, his fingers unconsciously rumpling the tip of his shirt. "Honestly it frightens me more than anything else." voices him.
To the other teen, it almost sounds like wail, unusual under ordinary circumstances however recognizable to him.
“It’s just repeated warnings of that deadline. My tasks in handling matters of the company increased greatly. He didn’t speak any words most of the time. But we both know what he means. We both know that I should comply with what he wants. It’s an unspoken indisputable obligation of mine. He never completely approved, but definitely was more lenient than before that event . I’m not even sure our current win will ever change his mind.”
He knows that weight, he bitterly thinks. Of the well-off families, the majority within the role will feel that certain pressure despite the smallness or the bigness. Even the most kind head of households unintentionally bring press on their heirs on the subject of inheritance of the job. One of the most influential business conglomerates of Japan and such a long-life ancient lineage of aristocratic family indisputably need that indisputable pattern and the necessity to impose such an obligation for their only heir. It’s a compel, past beyond the line of a mere demand. After the heir achieve the needed education, they will, forced or unforced, take up the mantle of the role that had been groomed for since birth. Mere tool for the vision of ancestor fossil, stripped of their freedom and own being as an individual. A single heir of such a prominent family whose patriarch focuses solely on tethering his own bloodline to a certain indisputable chain.
A chain that's an obstacle to them, to their wishes, to their future, to Akashi as his own person, his path to redeem and gaining the peace he wanted. Ego of father being triumphant upon the happiness of the son.
In the end, the teen that received it can only lets a little laugh of bitterness, "I suppose he understands very well that mental punishment is better than ruining a hand, isn't it?"
Lamenting is the only thing he can give as an answer right now. The huff from his mouth is rough, and his white knuckles from the hard grip are hidden by the taped fingers who now attempt to cover the breath filled with a wrath.
The road is rocky, he reprimands. Let's try to take a step first.
“You wouldn’t let such a thing hold you down easily, don't you?
The ruby eyes gazed at him slightly startled.
“What happened to Akashi that knows how to win?” He emphasizes, the tone is rolled in deeper pitch accidentally. Both of their gazes locked at each other's.
He’s still staring at him with wide-eyes, before blinking a few times and then going back to a little laugh. In the next moment of his answer, Midorima then can't help but let out a rare characteristic of the smile at the answer. Akashi laughed, “You know me." He smiles. It's wide and painted with a genuine expression of gladness that he has ever seen graced the red-haired's face.
"I’m Akashi Seijūrō. Of course I wouldn't go without a fight.”
The road is rocky indeed. It hopes that the words is of long-lasting endurance.