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100 — 98
Kise looked at the scoreboard with wide eyes.
That last throw... sure, it had been Kagami, who dunked it in, but Kurokocchi had thrown it (and on top of it, Kurokocchi was back on the court after being injured, so this was yet another proof of the teal’s strenght in every meaning of the word).
Kise looked at the red numbers, somewhat numb and yet again, he was reminded of why the teal-haired teen had been his instructor, back at Teikō. Kuroko Tetsuya, the Phantom of the Kiseki no Sedai was much more than it met the eye.
So, after they lined up and thanked each other for the game, Kise lingered, watching as Kurokocchi plopped down on the bench and lazily started gathering his belongings, while Seirin celebrated their victory. Kise would have been calmer, more satisfied if Kurokocchi hadn’t left them — if Kurokocchi were with someone, who understood his skills perfectly. At the same time, Kise understood, why the teal had chosen Seirin.
Seirin was, in terms of spirit... what they had never been. (Looking back... Kurokocchi tried to teach him. Teach them all. And the more victories they gained, the less they paid attention to the one, who had been their glue and guide.) It filled Kise with sadness and shame.
“Hey, brat, don’t be so down this was just a....” Kasamatsu-sempai said, but Kise shook his head at his new Captain and headed towards Seirin a determined stride to his steps.
That action drew the attention of both teams — and resulted in a few raised eyebrows from Kaijō,— but Kise didn’t care. The Phantom stood slowly, probably guessing he was here to speak with him. “Kise-kun?”
Kise swallowed his pride and blinked, trying to stop the tears of shame, as he bowed deeply to the teal. “Gomen’nasai, Kurokocchi. You...“ Kise bit his lower lip, took a deep breath and tried again, “We should — I should have listened to you. You were right. You were always right. You taught me better than that... and you said I was someone, who’d outshone his teacher, but that’s not the case. You’ve always been better, than me and not just in basketball. I won’t forget what you taught me —what you tried to teach us all. Never again. You were always right...”
Kurokocchi shook his head. “No one is infallible, Ryōta and you know it. Not even Seijūrō ... and that’s something I’ll show him. Eventually. No one is infallible — not you, nor me, nor him. We’re all human, who make mistakes. I should have paid more attention to you all. But after... I was too caught up in that poisonous spiral myself and it became harder and harder to... to do what I should have. Tsuki was there, but...”
“But only Aominecchi ever listened to her and the stronger he grew, the less he listened even to her.“ Kise sighed, looking down. “I know. We should have listened. To her, as a friend. To you, as our...” he gulped and trailed off.
Even saying it out loud hurt, because he and Kurokocchi were no longer on the same team. Kurokocchi smiled, just a little as if he could read his thoughts. “Once of Teikō is always of Teikō, Ryōta. And... I wouldn’t mind playing with you all again. One day.”
Kise beamed and tackled the teal in a bear hug. “Thank you, thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyou Kurokocchi~! You’re the best! You taught me everything I know and I swear, I won’t forget ever again!”
Kurokocchi smiled and patted his back for a little, before slowly peeling him off. Kise took a step back, still smiling. “Won’t forget, you say?”
Kise shook his head. “Nope. Never.”
Kurokocchi eyed him seriously and then nodded, before glancing at Kaijō and then back at him. “You can start by attending practice again. And I shall leave my contact with your new Captain. If he calls me, that you skip more than two training sessions in a row...”
Kise’s eyes went wide. He knew what the punishment for skipping was...
“I swear I won’t!“ he flailed. “I swear! You’ll even forget Kasamatsu-sempai has your number because he won’t call you, so you don’t have to give him your number...”
The teal hummed and Kise slumped.
In the end, much to Kise’s horror, Kasamatsu still acquired Kurokocchi’s number with strict instructions when he should be called. Kise wasn’t surprised, when all Kasamatsu could do was nod and agree numbly. This was Kurokocchi, after all. He didn’t look much at the first glance, but Kurokocchi was (had been), who he was (had been) with a very good reason.
So, after Seirin left and they were changing Kise wasn’t all too surprised, when Kasamatsu brought up the topic. “Who’s this... Kuroko Tetsuya, Kise?“
Kise looked up and answered with a whistful smile on his face. “Kurokocchi had already been on Teikō’s First String, when I joined the Basketball Club, so the Captain asked Kurokocchi to help me settle in. In short, Kurokocchi had been my teacher and mentor... and everything I know, I’ve learned from him. After... after we won that Nationals... we started slipping apart. Kurokocchi was the only one, who hadn’t lost his sense to pride... because damn it, I’m not an idiot and we’d allowed ourselves to be consumed by pride and hunger for victory, but at the same time, we looked —look down on everyone, who’s not on our level.“ he sighed, looking down in shame, “Kurokocchi taught me better than that... but the stronger we grew, the more his lessons got banished into the back of my mind. Today... today I got reminded why exactly is Kurokocchi one of us.“
“From what I’ve seen...“ his coach spoke and Kise looked at the man, who was standing by the door. “The way he played... we could barely follow. Was he... is he this rumoured sixth player?”
Kise grinned. “Aye, he is. Our Phantom Sixth Man, our Shadow. The best of us all.”
“The best?“ Kasamatsu echoed, “He’s got some neat tricks, I give you that, but the best among you?“
Kise chuckled. “Maybe not in individual way, sempai. But Kurokocchi is Kurokocchi and he deserved — deserves the spot he held, holds on the team. We owe a lot of things to him, you know? And he deserves every drop of respect we have for him.”
Kise grabbed his belongings, bid his team farewell and stalked out of the room, aware of the thousand and one questions he’d left behind. But Kaijō didn’t need to understand, so that was alright.
82 — 81
Midorima blinked at the scoreboard. It had been a tight match, but in the end, Seirin had won. But then again... Kuroko was Kuroko. Even if Takao could follow him, Kuroko was an amazing player and he’d proved his skills through the match. Seirin, ignorant as they were, hadn’t even noticed, that Kuroko had sent his passes around the court to place each of them in a strategic position while giving Kagami space to move.
(Briefly, Midorima wondered just how much Seirin knew of the Phantom and how much was Kuroko holding back, not to permanently damaged his teammates...)
It had been Kagami, who stopped his shot... but Kuroko’s strategy had placed Kagami where he had been at the time. Besides, Kuroko had a good eye to catch players with potential and Midorima would have bet a year’s worth of red bean drinks, that the Phantom was dropping hints and tips for Seirin, trough matches and training, that took the team forward. And on top of it, no one in Seirin noticed, because Kuroko was a Phantom and no one ever noticed what he was doing, useless he wanted to be noticed...
After the parting words were done, Midorima watched the tired Phantom slowly retreat... and he realised, that he couldn’t let Kuroko go just like that . Not after this loss. He understood now and it was only fair he told as much to the teal. He owed at least honesty to the one, who’d guided them, ever since he’d made it to the First String. (Midorima had doubted him at first, but as days and matches went by, he understood, that Kuroko Tetsuya was wiser than anyone their age. He was as shrewd, as Akashi, but much, much wiser and it was something even the redhead knew, even if he never admitted.)
“Kuroko,” he called sharply. As the teal stopped, Midorima walked over.
“Midorima-kun.“ the other returned, ever-polite, but the glint in his eyes was one of curiosity. Curious and somewhat expectant, almost as if he knew , why Midorima had stopped him. But then again, Kuroko had that uncanny ability just like Akashi —to know things, he shouldn’t.
“It seems, I owe you an apology, Kuroko. Back at Teikō... you told us. You warned us and we’d ignored it.“ he sighed, “You’re wiser than anyone our age I’ve ever met. You knew that it, this mess might happen. You and Akashi... you were the ones, to whom we owe victory. And after even Akashi started slipping, like Aomine —like all of us — you still stayed where you were. You warned us, offered a hand to help us up so we wouldn’t slip... but we ignored you and laughed you in the face. We threw everything out the window. I... I’m not ashamed to admit I learned a lot from you, as a player and person, even if our style is very different. What I’m ashamed of... is that we — I forgot all those lessons. The more we won, the less I listened and while I told you it would never happen to me... that I wouldn’t fall for it... I did . It’s exactly what happened. I fell for it as we all did. I’m sorry. “
Then, to the shock of both teams (and even coaches) Midorima bowed to the teal.
Kuroko smiled, barely noticeable, but his eyes were glinting with happiness and maybe just a teeny, tiny bit of I-told-you-so look. Seeing that look made shame rise in him.
“Apology accepted, Shintarō.“ as those words left the Phantom’s mouth, Midorima breathed a sigh of relief, as Kuroko offered a hand. Midorima readjusted his glasses and shook hands with him. “I do look forward to facing you and your new team in the future.”
“I look forward to that, too, Kuroko.“ they let go of each other and Midorima took a step back. Kuroko nodded one last time and was about to leave when Midorima gathered his courage. They were still a team —or so, he would have liked to think. “Kuroko!”
The teal —and so, Seirin— stopped again, to look at him. “Yes, Shintarō?“
“I’d like to play with you sometime. On the same side of the court again.”
The teal hummed. “That’s arrangeable, once I knocked some sense into the others. The next one I’m teaching a lesson to is Daiki.”
Midorima shivered at the chilly tone and in that moment, Kuroko looked every bit like one of them. Powerful and intimidating — oh, that’s what Kuroko had always been, he just hid it well, as a Shadow. But now, that power was visible for everyone to see.
“Please don’t kill him, in the process,” he muttered, shifting from one foot to another.
These sort of displays of power were normal from Akashi. Midorima was used to them. But not from Kuroko, so whenever that power peeked trough his blank mask, Midorima found himself uncomfortable and shivering. He would much rather deal with a pissed off Akashi, than a pissed off Kuroko. If Akashi was pissed off, you had a chance to survive —if it was Kuroko... well, not so much.
“Don’t be overdramatic.“ the teal scolded softly, “That doesn’t suit you. I won’t kill him.”
Midorima nodded, satisfied with the answer. Kuroko nodded back and deeming their conversation done, he walked off. Midorima sighed and turned away, heading towards the locker. The team followed him quietly, throwing him a few looks.
“What was this about, Shin-chan?“
Midorima hummed. “Something that needed settling, that’s all.”
“Hey, who’s he? I mean... you were...“ Miyaji murmured and Midorima glared.
“Kuroko is Kuroko. Somone the Kiseki owe a lot to. He isn’t one of us for nothing. That’s all you’ve to know.”
And with that, he strode away.
101 — 100
The match had been hard, but Seirin won in the end.
Aomine stood there, watching the red numbers on the scoreboard. He was a numb and excited at the same time. He had found someone, who could keep up with him — well, somone who wasn’t Akashi or Tetsu. Those two had always been able to keep up with him. (Kagami Taiga wasn’t bad, it was exciting to play against him. A part of Aomine was convinced, that Kagami’s Light was still too weak for Tetsu... Tetsu wasn’t who he was, without reason. But Tetsu never did things without reason either, so there must be something in Kagami, if he’d drawn Tetsu’s eyes to himself.)
The teams lined up and thanked each other for the game, but before Tōō could leave, Aomine walked over to the Phantom Sixth, whom was being supported by Kagami. (Tetsu was amazing, when he trully let his restraints fall... but his lack of presence had that nasty side effect of low stamina.)
“Aomine-kun.“ Tetsu greeted, voice calm and a bit strained, but it still carried the same regality as always. Now that there was silence between the teams, Tetsu’s call drew everyone’s attention, like it always did. At times, Tetsu could not be found even if he stood next to you, but other times, his presence was just as unmistakable, as Akashi’s. Like now.
He sighed dipping his head to the teal, in a tiny bow. (Yet, he knew no one would mistake this action for anything else, but a bow.) “I owe you an apology... Tetsu.” Now, now even using that familiar nickname seemed out of place, but he knew that Tetsu could read him, like an open book. Tetsu knew what he meant, even if he did not say anything else, just walked off with Tōō. But he —they— owed too much to Tetsu for him just to walk off... Tetsu deserved more, than that.
Those words drew some disbeliving noises from Tōō, but he ignored it. Even Kagami was looking at him oddly, but for now, he ignored the redhead too. His focus was solely on Tetsu.
“We’re friends, nay brothers and I’d like to play with you again, on the street courts at least. There’s nothing to apoligise for.“
“There is, Tetsu.“ he insisted closing his eyes for a moment. “I — we all forgot the lessons you taught us in Teikō. I... I should have never forgotten it, as your partner... yet I’ve thrown it out the window. I’m sorry. Those... I hadn’t realised then, but those lessons of yours weren’t just about basket. More like life lessons. Gods know you deserved your spot on the team —you deserved it more, than any of us— and we... we shouldn’t have ignored you. We certainly shouldn’t have thrown respect out the window, when you taught us so much. You guided us...”
Tetsu hummed. “Stop right there, before you start rambling for real. I’m afraid I don’t have the energy to listen to that rambling right now.” Aomine grunted sheepishly and Tetsu raised his fist in a familiar manner. “I believe you learned the lesson now?”
Aomine nodded. “You bet, Tetsu. And I swear on the kami, I’ll never forget them again, as long as I have a basketball in hand. Nor after it.”
His Shadow (because Tetsu was still, first and foremost his Shadow) nodded. “Apology accepted... Daiki.”
Aomine grinned, just a little, as he heard his given name and bumped his fist to Tetsu’s. A moment later, he stepped away, looking at Kagami. “A hair out of place on his head, Kagami Taiga... and you’ll wish you’ve never heard of the Kiseki no Sedai or of Teikō. Are we clear?“ he growled.
Kagami blinked at him, somewhat taken aback. “I can take care of myself, Daiki.” Tetsu said, almost sounding petulant... but no, because Tetsu was never petulant. That was more Kise and Murasakibara’s style.
Aomine barked a laugh. “I know, Tetsu... But for once, let us take care of you. You did your share in Teikō.”
The teal hummed. “We’re still a team, in a sense, Daiki. Once of Teikō is always of Teikō and...”
“I know that, Tetsu.“ the Ace grunted. “But we owe you, so for once, learn to keep quiet and accept. Just this once.”
Kuroko smiled and nodded, leaning more into Kagami, but still making an effort to stay upright. “Then, just this once, I shall.”
Aomine shook his head in disbelief and turned to leave. “Rest Tetsu. You’re strong... but you’re the one dragging Seirin all over the place. Man them up a bit, if you want to win against Akashi.”
Tetsu hummed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Aomine walked off, aware of the odd looks the teams were giving them, but it didn’t matter. Satsuki beamed at Tetsu and signalled in their old Teikō code. A sign of happiness, gratitude and respect. Tetsu smiled at her and waved her off, before he let himself be helped off the court.
They were already in the locker, when Imaysoshi asked about it —but honestly, Imayoshi was Imayoshi, so Aomine didn’t expect anything else from his scheming Captain. “What was that conversation all about? What lesson could he have taught you? And... who’s this Kuroko Tetsuya, that you show him so much respect, hmm?”
Aomine stopped and shared a look with Satsuki. In the end, it was she, who answered. “Tetsu-kun is, who he is. Somone important and that’s all you have to know. Someone we owe a lot to.”
73 — 72
Murasakibra couldn’t help the numbness, that shot through him, as he realised they’d lost. And on top of that, it had been Kuro-chin, who’d stopped his last shot. But then again, perhaps that shouldn’t have surprised Murasakibara, as much as it had. He hadn’t jumped for the last shot and Kuro-chin was nothing, if not determined. And Kuro-chin had told him Yōsen will lose today.
Murasakibara hadn’t wanted to believe it... but after that basket... he knew the teal had been serious. And now, this was the end. Seirin had won.
Today, Murasakibara thought, he’d been taught another lesson. That he loved basketball and not winning itself.
Kuro-chin was still Kuro-chin, it seemed. Caring, determined and every bit like Aka-chin, without carrying around scissors. And that’s why they all respected Kuro-chin so much. Because the teal was the best of them all...
Yet, they’d thrown away respect and teamwork in Teikō even when Kuro-chin tried to get them to listen. Murasakibara still remembered the way he’d brushed the teal off, as the Phantom had followed after him when he chose to skip yet another practice. The memory now that he was past his tears left a sour taste in his mouth. Muro-chin’s blow had hurt, but nothing hurt more than the realisation, that Kuro-chin had been right.
Murasakibara stood up, just as his team was about to leave for their locker and sought the Phantom. He found the shorter player standing next to the redhead and Murasakibara crossed the court with determined, long strides. Seirin looked only mildly surprised when they noticed him.
“Kuro-chin?“ he called.
The teal looked up at him and nodded in greeting. “Murasakibara-kun.”
“You... you were right, after all. Not just about me loving basketball... but everything else. That day... that day when you tried to stop me from skipping another practice... I brushed you off. Do you remember?“ The blank mask didn’t change, but Murasakibara saw the glimmer of remembrance in the blue eyes. That was all he needed, to continue. “I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have brushed you off or left. You tried helping us — you were the first one, who’d gone after Mine-chin when he started to change. And you came after us all, trying to help, to make us see reason... but with how Aka-chin was... it was so easy to believe we could get away with everything, as long as we won.“ he sighed, “But that day, for the first time, Aka-chin was wrong and we should have noticed and listened to you instead. You... because that’s why Aka-chin chose you. To help him, because even Aka-chin realised he could sometimes lose his head and you kept us all... kept us all...“ he trailed off with a frown, looking for the right word.
“Grounded?“ Kuro-chin offered softly, the corner of his mouth turning upwards, just a little, in amusement.
Murasakibara nodded. “Yeah, that. You helped us, we just didn’t notice. I... the things I said and all that we’ve done, weren’t nice. I’m sorry, Kuro-chin.” and then he bowed.
Yōsen were staring at him, but Seirin didn’t seem too surprised. More like confused, curious and exasperated. Had the others apologised too? Maybe. And if they did, Murasakibara was glad he had decided to apologise too — he wouldn’t want to be the bad teammate, who didn’t notice what was in front of him, even now. Kuro-chin deserved more than for him to be rude, so the Center was glad he’d come over.
Kuro-chin smiled for real this time, that tiny, sweet thing that reminded Murasakibara of Aka-chin and reminded him of their better days. When they were still all happy together and all they wanted was to have fun and make Aka-chin and Kuro-chin proud, because making them proud was the last thing the four (five, because Sa-chin always tried her best too) of them could do, in exchange for all the two shortest members of the team had done.
“Apology accepted, Atsushi. I do hope you’ll keep today in mind, though.”
Murasakibara nodded. “I won't forget your lessons again, Kuro-chin.“ and then, he stepped closer, hugging the teal and he was glad when the Phantom returned the gesture.
“Wonderful. But... like I told Kise-kun and Aomine-kun, I don’t ever want to hear a whisper of you skipping practice again. Deal?”
Murasakibara nodded hurriedly, remembering all too well, how dangerous Kuro-chin was, if — when angered. And skipping practice would anger him...
“Okay, Kuro-chin. I swear, I won’t skip again. You can even ask Muro-chin about it. I know he knows...“ he nodded to the redhead, “Kaga-chin?“
The redhead gave him an odd look and Kuro-chin nodded. “Yes, Kagami-kun knows Himuro-san. Old friends, like you and me. And they’ll need some catching up to do, because they’re as bad, as we were, but once they get over that, I’m sure I can trust your new friend.”
Murasakibara nodded with a hum. “Sure, Kuro-chin. But... be careful. Aka-chin is... well, you know. Your team’s not that bad... but no matter how good you are, Kuro-chin, you can’t win against an entire team. Shape them up a bit.”
Kuro-chan's eyes glinted that... that devilish way, which always meant painful training and not even being able to stand up from the gym floor. Kuro-chin may have been the one, to have the least stamina, to slip first, but he trained thrice as hard, as the rest of them and Murasakibara still remembered the countless scoldings Aka-chin had given their Phantom about too much training being counter-productive. But the training Kuro-chin and Aka-chin had put them trough had been personalised and all of them, more often than not, found themselves worshipping the ground, just like the teal.
“Don’t worry, Atsushi. I won’t let the team lose now.”
Murasakibara nodded, throwing Seirin a look. “Hurt Kuro-chin just a little... and I’ll crush you all.“ he threatened.
Kuro-chin gave him a look and the giant shrunk. “They’re a good batch, don’t worry. And I can take care of myself.”
Mursakibara nodded. “I know. But you always said, that once of Teikō is always of Teikō and that means, us looking out for you too, Kuro-chin. The way you looked out for and taught us all. That’s what friends... are for, right?”
Kuro-chin hummed, patting his arm. “That’s what family’s for and you guys are my family.”
Back in Yōsen’s locker, his team gave him curious looks, but Murasakibara ignored them until his coach spoke. “Who’s the player you talked to, Atsushi?“
Murasakibara looked up and then shrugged. “Kuroko Tetsuya. Someone, who’s been very important for most Basketball Club members in Teikō.“ he looked away, “He... he was the best of us all. He never let our name and fame get to him. He’s the one who deserved his spot on the team, more than anyone else. People said that the Phantom Sixth didn't even exist... but if Kuro-chin hadn’t been there, in Teikō with us... we wouldn’t have been named Kiseki no Seidai at all. Kuro-chin is the one, to whom we owe everything.”
106 — 105
Akashi blinked at the scoreboard and his ex-teammate’s words flashed into his mind.
The teal’s eyes were dark and filled with so much icy, destructive fury that Akashi didn’t even know the quiet boy could have in him.
“Basketball is not about continuous victory, but the excitement of playing with others. Having a challenge from another team and playing with your own is what gives satisfaction. The knowledge, that you can move as you must and you don’t have to worry about who will catch a pass or who will guard a person, who can be a potential challenge. This is not basketball you’re playing anymore, Seijūrō. I don’t know what this is, but it’s not basketball and I want no part of this. This is not the team I’ve come to see, like my family.”
Akashi’s eyes narrowed. “If you walk away now, Tetsuya...“ he warned.
The other threw him a challenging look. “What then, Seijūrō?“ the teal shook his head, “I don’t know who you are... but you’re not the Akashi Seijūrō I’ve come to respect and love. But one day... one day I’ll show you. I’ll show you that not even you are infallible.” and then he walked away, the golden sun making his white Teikō uniform blinding.
Akashi blinked and then, the teal was gone and he stood in the First String gym completely alone
Akashi swallowed because today was the day. The teal’s words had rung with cold finality and now... now Akashi understood. He had been wrong and Kuroko... Kuroko had been right. He remembered choosing Kuroko so long ago because the teal had a tremendous amount of potential and he had even exceeded Akashi’s expectations. But somehow, during their days, Kuroko Tetsuya had become a guide to them all...
... and when they started slipping, even then, the Phantom stood tall and proud. Confident and proud, but not blinded by arrogance and hubris, like the rest of them. He sighed and walked over to his ex-teammate.
Kuroko smiled at seeing him and offered a hand to be shaken. “Akashi-kun... thank you for the game.”
The redhead paused for a moment, aware of the many eyes on them both — Rakuzan and Seirin were all staring, but Akashi didn’t care. He dipped his head to the teal.
“Seems I owe you an apology Ku— “ he noticed the sharp flash in the sky blue gaze and his lips twitched, “...Tetsuya. You were right from the very beginning. We were a team and we should’ve never stopped being one. I should have paid more attention. I let my pride blind me and we all paid the price for it. I... now I regret ever saying those words. We should’ve never split up.”
Kuroko hummed and nodded. “Apology accepted, Seijūrō. As for splitting up... I think, the old saying still holds. Once of Teikō...”
“...is always of Teikō.“ Akashi said smiling, as he took the offered hand and shook it. As they let go Akashi’s red gaze flickered to the stands, where the others were, close enough for their expressions to be seen — first row seats for them all, nothing less. He looked back at the teal. “I look forward to playing against you again. And... maybe on the street courts... we could play together again? The six of us. It would be calming to rely on your passes again, brother.”
Kuroko smiled, shaking his head with a tiny snort. “You relied on my passes as much as we relied on your ankle breaks. It was a team effort.”
“And it shall remain so, Tetsuya.“ he admitted softly. “You taught us a lesson and I shall never forget it. On the contrary. Every time I look at a basketball, I’m sure the first thing that will come to mind... will be your lesson.”
The teal smiled as they shared a brief hug. “I’m glad to hear.“
After the match, Akashi invited all six teams to spend the remaining day together and the coaches and Captains agreed, seeing the thinly veiled excitement on their Miracle members’ faces. So they hit the nearest Maji Burger, gave their orders and sat down. Just their arrival was enough to fill the place to the brim.
The seven ex-Teikō students claimed a table together and started chatting excitedly. That is until Kiyoshi spoke up, eyes trailed on the seven. “You know... after all this time... it’s hard to miss. I think, after the fourth one, we were even used to it and come to expect it.”
At those words, everyone looked up, glancing at Kiyoshi, before looking at the Miracles, seeing that the General was speaking to them. “Expect what exactly?“ Akashi asked.
Kiyoshi shrugged. “That you come over and speak with Kuroko. But...I don’t think I was the only one, who noticed, that all of you phrased your words similarly. Speaking about owing Kuroko and that he taught you things. But what exactly?“
Akashi hummed. “I may have been the one to teach him his current style... but in exchange, he taught us something else. For the world, the Kiseki is made of five members... they always forget about Tetsuya, but that’s not alright.“
“Ah, Sei—”
Akashi waved the teal off, giving him a sharp look. “Now, now, Tetsuya. You were — are a valued member of the team and anyone, who thinks less of you for how you play... they’re fools.”
“Yes, Tetsu.“ Aomine chimed up, “You took us to our first victories.”
“And there’s no one as passionate about basketball as you, Kurokocchi. It’s thanks to you and Aominecchi, that I’ve come to love the game so much.”
“And you led us expertly.“ Midorima chimed in, “We could always count on you.”
“Wait... led ?“ Hyūga called. “As in Kuroko?“
The Kiseki snorted. “Of course!“ Momoi chimed in cheerily, “Tetsu was the Vice-Captain of the team, after all. Well, had been chosen as the Vice-cap, after he was put on the First String and it was proven, that other than Dai, he worked best with Akashi-kun and was the fastest to catch up with his plans.“
There was a moment of deathly silence in the restaurant. And then, it all exploded.
“KUROKO WAS WHAT ?!” the teams roared, eyes going wide and several jaws dropping to the floor. Even the coaches seemed surprised by that information.
“Kuro-chin was — is our Vice-Captain. Didn’t you know?“ Murasakibara drawled lazily.
“Like Hell we didn’t!“ Kagami growled, glaring at his partner, “Why didn’t you say Kuroko?!”
Kuroko shrugged. “It wasn’t important...”
Izuki choked. “Wasn’t important?! You were the freaking Vice-Captain of the strongest Middle School team and you say it wasn’t important ?!“
“What else are you hiding, Kuroko-kun?“ Aida asked.
“Ah, nothing much...“ Akashi said, “Just about most of what he can do. And he’s been holding back on even what he had shown you. The pass I intercepted was his weakest. But then again... if he went all out, other than Kiyoshi and maybe Kagami... all of you would have snapped your wrists ages ago and he’s been certainly holding back on strategical knowledge and his dribbling tricks...”
“Seijūrō!“ Kuroko hissed irritatedly. “Don’t give them a heart attack, please.”
“But Tetsu...!” Aomine chimed in almost indignant, “If it weren’t for your strategical knowledge, they wouldn’t have even gotten to meet us in the Interhight and you know it! Take some credit! You should be their Captain, the way Akashi leads Rakuzan. Or at least, the Vice-cap!“
“Not to mention if you hadn’t placed your passes the way you did,“ Midorima added, “the teamwork would not have been so seamless. You kind of forced them into the situations, they were in, by passing to certain people at certain times. And don’t tell me you’ve left your coach’s notes on the team’s performance and drills unreviewed.”
Aida blinked. “Now that you mention it, I did have a few interesting conversations with you... Kuroko-kun... and... thinking back, you dropped more than a few interesting things here and there and I might have considered them and added this and that... without even realising. but there were odd notes on the sheets too. I honestly hadn’t paid much attention and thought it was Junpei who’d left the notes...”
Hyūga snorted. “I’m not an idiot! If I dared to touch your work, I would have lost my head the day after we met. No, I’ve never touched your notes on the team. I’ve seen them and considered them, but I hadn’t written anything into them.”
“Obviously, sempai.“ Kuroko noted amusedly. “Since I’ve done that.”
“I’m asking again, Kuroko. Why didn’t you say you’ve been the Vice-Captain?“ Hyūga probed.
Kuroko shrugged. “It wasn’t important. Besides, Seirin already had a stand-up and I didn’t want to seem an intruder, taking Izuki-sempai’s spot. Plus, most of you didn’t even know about the Phantom Sixth... and even after the coach made it clear I was from Teikō you all seemed sceptical. I didn’t want to brag and figured, that with time, I could work with and around the team well enough to take us to the win like I said I would.”
“And there’s the lesson again.“ the Teikō group murmured, a wistful smile on their faces.
“Lesson?“ Kagami asked, blinking.
“Kuro-chin taught us or at least tried to... to focus on the game and love it. But at the same time, he tried to tell us not to let our victories get in the way.“
“In the end...“ Aomine muttered, “despite all of Tetsu’s warnings and encouragings... we fell for it. We did not listen to him, when we should have. Too proud, too blind to notice what we’ve become. To notice that we no longer played as a team. To notice, that what we were doing wasn’t even game anymore, but destruction.“
“Every time we stepped on the court, we crushed the teams that stumbled upon us...“ Akashi closed his eyes, leaning back in his seat, “Tetsuya warned us. He stood tall and confident, even when we started slipping, blinded by our skills. He told us not to look down on others, because there will be a day, when our attitude and actions will come back and haunt us. He was right and we laughed him in the face for it.“
Kuroko hummed. “You’ve learned from this year’s tournaments and that’s all, that matters.“
The Kiseki shared a look and they all snuggled closer together, Kuroko and Aomine bumping fists across the table, as Kise leaned into the teal.
“We learned from it, Kurokocchi. But that’s because we have wonderful, wise Vice-Captain.“
The other five grinned and smiled in agreement and Kuroko found himself chuckling too. “And I’m honoured I could guide a team like yours.” the Phantom said, carefully draping his free arm around Kise, while his other remained on the table, still connected with Aomine’s.