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This was the first time he had felt cursed to have the emperor eye. It was hours after Rakuzan’s match with Shuutoku and he stood out at the front of the stadium. He was hidden from sight from any passerby but he had a fine view of them. He had ordered his team to return to school without him and now standing here listening to the rain fall around him, he didn’t know what he was trying to accomplish. He felt numb.
He was a liar on so many levels. What was he thinking saying that to Shintarou? Maybe it was a part of him that simply wanted to keep him at arms length. Maybe its because he hoped that Shintarou would keep trying, keep aiming higher to knock him off his high horse, maybe because he would continue being Shintarou’s object of admiration. Or maybe because he was trying to avoid shaking Shintarou’s hand, because under his emperor exterior he was a coward and he was afraid.
Afraid that the voice inside him would demand for more, more than the spark he used to feel. The spark he knew he still felt because somewhere deep inside him where his other personality lay dormant was the spirit of a man with an overpowering sense of love waiting to be set free. To feel the nostalgia of late afternoons spent in clubrooms seated across from Shintarou with only a shogi board separating them and the late afternoon sun washing over them, creating a world of their own.
He wanted to feel the spark like he used to. The tingling at his fingertips and then the spreading warmth up his arm and across his chest, the buzzing in his bones and the joy of these fleeting touches coursing through his veins. But he wouldn’t allow it, not when it was too much and not enough at the same time.
Akashi lifted a hand up, palm to the sky and let the rain fall between his fingers. It was cold. Good, he could still feel. He let the cold droplets soak into his skin as his eyes slid over to look at the entrance. The rickshaw was still there, which meant that Shintarou hadn’t left yet.
He must have jinxed himself because the next second Shintarou was walking out of the stadium. The bag slung over his shoulder was taken off and placed into the back of the rickshaw before he himself got in. Akashi watched as Shintarou settled into his seat and proceeded to tilt his head up and watch the rain fall. He looked peaceful.
Akashi’s hand clenched into a fist and he moved to take a step forward but he stilled. What was he even going to do? Ambush him and ask for a handshake? Where had all his pride gone? Winning was everything and he shouldn’t hesitate to knock down whoever was in his way even if it was Shintarou.
When his second personality had surfaced in his third year at Teikou he knew it was a sign. He couldn’t lose, not in basketball, not in academics and not in this life, not as long as he was an Akashi. He’d never lost and he wasn’t about to start.
He wouldn’t allow thoughtless things such as romantic relationships hold him back. The fleeting glances stopped and his fingers no longer felt the sparks, and that’s when everything fell apart.
Aomine didn’t need his shadow anymore. His talent blossomed and everyone soon followed. Teikou’s victory was always certain but they got arrogant. It didn’t change the fact that they would win because no one was willing to put up a fight but it changed their state of mind. They reached far beyond anyone’s expectations and they couldn’t see that the people right next to them was the pillars that held their minds together, united as one. It gave them the strength to fight and it gave them a place where they belonged.
So together they rose, higher above the rest and divided they fell, into their own pits of isolation. The ones they dug themselves.
Suddenly the entrance to the stadium flew open, a dark haired boy barreling through yelling at what probably wasn’t the top of his lungs, considering the amount of energy he seemed to carry. “Shin-chan!” It was Shuutoku’s point guard, Akashi realised. The brunet’s attitude was a lot cheerier than he had seen him last, on the court with tears streaming down his face and stinging from a brutal loss just hours ago.
Takao bounced over to the rickshaw and leaned over the side, pressing a can of red bean soup to Midorima’s face.
Akashi wished he could be like him, getting all up in Shintarou’s personal space without any reason or having an excuse. He knew he couldn’t though, he doesn’t need anyone telling him he was wrong for discarding everything he had built. Not with the hole in his heart constantly reminding him. But he was strong so he pushed it away, instead filling the hole in his heart with basketball and schoolwork and student council activities and just about anything he was capable of doing.
But the emptiness always came back. Clawing its way back into his thoughts as he lay in bed wishing he had worked himself harder throughout the day so he would’ve collapsed right into a dreamless sleep. He hated staring into the darkness, he hated the way it made him question every choice he had ever made in his life.
He felt like he was staring into darkness right now.
The thing he missed the most was probably the normality of what they had. Honestly speaking he’s not entirely sure what they had but he remembered the way his heart thumped noticing the way Shintarou’s eyes dilated as they settled on him. The way his eyes would light up and sparkle even though the expression on his face would remain the same. It told him more than anything else in the world could. After the first few times of using his emperor eye on him he knew that Shintarou’s heart would also falter and then speed up, just like his own.
Akashi wished he would see it again, and he did. He could see it from where he was standing.
He watched as Shintarou grabbed the can from beside his face and popped the tab as Takao cheered and dumped his bag into the rickshaw, beside Shintarou’s own bag. He then said something Akashi couldn’t hear over the rain and hopped onto the bike at the front. Shintarou’s muscles relaxed as he took a sip from his can of red bean soup, a small smile gracing his lips.
Akashi could see the sparkle in the green haired man’s eyes, it looked like he was looking at a world full of possibilities, and he really wished that he hadn’t seen it because this time it wasn’t directed at him. And he had a feeling that it wasn’t ever going to be again.
Akashi Seijuurou always prided himself about never losing. He was a man who always won but this was a game he couldn’t win.