Chapter Text
Choosing Shuutoku over every other school in Tokyo was what Midorima considered fate. He’d spent weeks with his research, putting emphasis on possible team dynamics and potentials to narrow down which school would fit him the most and ended up torn between the Three Kings of Tokyo - only to eventually pick solely based on his lucky color of the day (which happened to be orange). For Midorima, it was the only way of enacting the words ‘Do everything you can and God will do the rest’.
But once he started his journey, fully prepared to dedicate the next three years on a sport he started off as a simple way of exercise, only to slowly grow fond of it in a way he could never explain to someone else, Midorima soon found himself facing his recent past in a cold, almost brutal way when he stood in the middle of the hallway, eyes locked with neutral blue ones that belonged to a certain phantom sixth man.
It wasn’t the fact that Kuroko was there but the fact that Kuroko was there after disappearing that made Midorima both exasperated and pondering. Surely he had thought about this possibility, although it would’ve been naive to think too much about this off-chance of an unknown variable changing his perfectly calculated plans and forcing him to play on the same side of the field again. It might not change Midorima’s goal: He would still become the best of the Generation of Miracles and show them that hard work and dedication were key to be victorious. Still, Kuroko’s mere existence would change the flow because that was what he always did; just that Midorima wasn’t so sure if he liked it.
He had no idea why Kuroko even considered Shuutoku as a place to join this battle. If anything, during their time at Teiko it became evident that along many other reasons, there was no way their stars would ever align or their play styles ever find common ground. In fact, he would've guessed that Kuroko was holding a deep grudge and not even bother talking to him until they'd meet on the field.
So what has changed since then? And why did he feel those blue eyes still watching him long after he was back in his classroom?
As much as he would've preferred to get some answers right away, it seemed as if fate was still deciding on the moment for it to happen. It didn't matter for the time being, but Midorima couldn’t keep himself from still dwelling on it for the rest of the day - and when Kise texted him, asking why "his Kurokocchi" went to him from all people, he started to somewhat feel annoyed.
His utterly short reply to the blonde that got him a string of crying emojis was what others might consider one of his classics: DIE.
It was after their first regular practice when Midorima was still at the gym working on his threes. Everyone else had left a while ago, but the shooting guard appreciated the solitude and calm to let his thoughts wander just a little bit, sorting the new impressions in peace. There was a lot to adjust to, new strategies, new faces and possibly new playstyles, but becoming part of a new team and also being someone from the Generation of Miracles meant being pushed into the spotlight and having to hone his skills even more than others. His new coach had made it clear that they'd focus on his talent for the next three years and honestly, Midorima didn't mind. It was always clear to him that he’d take the key role and he was fully prepared to fill it to the best of his abilities.
What he did mind was just the glimpse of someone suddenly standing nearby, almost making him lose focus while he aimed for another three-pointer. His green eyes didn't need long to find the intruder although he wondered just how long Kuroko was already watching him without bothering to announce his presence. As much as Midorima’s level of irritation wanted him to blurt out something sharp, he took a deep breath instead.
“Tell me,” Midorima said as he picked up a ball and held it in his hands. “What did you expect coming here of all places?” Why did you choose me?, he wanted to ask but it felt too private, and maybe he also wasn’t ready for the reply.
He could feel Kuroko’s neutral eyes lingering on his shoulders. It was only a faint presence he learned to acknowledge in middle school but months of being separated were enough to decrease his awareness of him when he wasn't actually trying. Whether it was a good thing or not was yet to be determined.
There was a long pause, almost uncomfortably long even for someone like Midorima.
“I thought that Midorima-kun already knew.” Pushing his glasses up Midorima looked over his shoulder, his face giving away slight anger. He opened his mouth to give him a snippish reply when… “I’ve decided that I want to face them as Midorima-kun’s shadow.”
As ridiculous and outright bizarre that announcement was, something about the way Kuroko was talking made Midorima not doubt his resolution. If there was one particular thing about Kuroko then his decisiveness that barely left ground for arguments. In some aspects, it had similarities with Akashi’s absoluteness, yet there was something about it that Midorima couldn’t entirely describe. Still, he knew one thing for a fact: It wouldn’t matter if Midorima turned him down or told him that - in a sense - working with Kuroko was like trying to mix in two liquids of different polarities and expecting them to suddenly end up homogenous.
“Don’t be foolish.” Midorima turned back and aimed, shooting a clean three-pointer from his position. “We might’ve played together at Teiko, but that doesn’t mean that your style will work at this level of basketball. It certainly won’t work against any of us.” And not with someone like me, he added in thought. He wasn’t like Aomine, someone so bright among the players on the field that when combined with a shadow would turn into an unstoppable force (it was really his own fault for throwing away everything because of his fragile state of mind). Someone like Midorima might possess the talent of an exceptional player too - he was a member of the Generation of Miracles after all - but he wasn’t the kind of light properly supporting Kuroko’s style. At least, he couldn't see the benefit for either of them.
“I am aware of that.”
Midorima stood still as he watched him move across the field, stopping right underneath the basket. For a second he thought Kuroko would pass him the ball but he lingered and looked up. In this light, his expressions looked soft and Midorima wondered if maybe this was supposed to happen. Maybe in order to beat the others, he needed someone who knew him and his weaknesses (and vice versa).
Maybe this was fate.
“I don’t expect you to understand my motives. But I’ll show you. I'll make this team the best team in Japan.”
He jumped, the ball leaving his hand and–
It misses.
“At least don’t miss the basket if you’re trying to act cool!” Midorima yelled, almost busting a vein. With a heavy sigh, the shooting guard picked up the ball that came rolling from the basket. A second later, the swishing sound echoed through the hall but Midorima didn't bother looking at the basket.
"If that's your plan, you better be prepared to work for it."
There was a lot more he wanted to say but Midorima was already out of the gym to catch some fresh air. He could've sworn he'd heard Kuroko reply but his face was feeling warm when he finally stopped in his tracks.