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Third Year, Nationals Preliminaries: Teikō VS Dōjimazaki

Kuroko gripped a handful of his uniform. He was beyond restless today. Ever since late last year, when the fire of passion seemed to die from his best friend and Light… Nothing was the same.

The more and more Aomine skipped, the more Kuroko was worried. The more he worried, the more desperate he was to get Aomine to practise again — subtle as the attempts were — but Aomine didn’t budge.

The Phantom Sixth took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes to try clearing his head. The tournament didn’t pose any problems — he was a member of the First String. He was long used to matches with high stakes. They were Teikō — they always played with high stakes.

It was Aomine who worried him most. His attitude, more like — not only towards basketball, but school. In the past month, his grades began dropping, and he’d never been a top student to begin with.

Of course, Momoi did her best to help him. Kuroko tried to help him — hard as that was with the ace forever dismissing him. Or to be precise, with forever avoiding him.

“Tetsu.”

Baby blue eyes darted upwards and Kuroko found their manager standing a few steps away, clutching her clipboard like a lifeline. 

Worry flashed in the magenta gaze. “We’ll start in a few minutes. Are you… alright?”

Kuroko nodded, composing himself with a deep breath and pushing away from the wall. “Hai, Momoi-san.”

The manager hummed, the analytic gaze lingering on him. Kuroko thought she might say something, but she just ducked her head and turned around. They walked back towards the lockers just as the rest of the team came out. 

Akashi gave him a brief glance, and the Phantom nodded, trying not to think of the blank, haughty look in the redhead’s bi-coloured eyes. ‘Once they’d been red and filled with passion and love…’ he thought sadly.

“Tetsuya, you’re in for the third and fourth quarter,” the Captain ordered without giving him a second glance.

“Hai, Akashi-kun,” he agreed quietly, as they walked out, taking their position by their bench. 

Kuroko’s baby blue gaze lingered on Aomine. The once exuberant ace was now quiet, a scowl on his face. He wanted to tell him something… but… what was there to tell, when Aomine was losing himself in the darkness? In the loneliness of his immense skill?

Kuroko’s hand briefly brushed his Light’s, but Aomine’s answering glance was… almost like a knife to the gut. The Phantom swallowed hard, gazed into the navy eyes and let the Power Forward go. His grandmother’s words rang in his ears. 

(“So… your friend’s in a dark place, you say, Tetsuya-chan? Then… be patient, be there for him and even when he tries to drive you away and stand your ground. Be strong for the both of you, when he cannot be strong for himself.”)

Kuroko sat down on the bench and folded his hands together, gaze trailed on his team, watching, analysing.

As I descend, I see the end
It's reaching up to pull me in

By the time of the third quarter, when Kuroko switched with Kise, the point gap was sizable enough for them to win, with none of the Miracles having to score again. 

Aomine frowned, his eyes distant yet focused. As if the only thing that existed in the world was the court and anything beyond the lines was but emptiness. Despite that, the words that left the ace’s mouth were bored and laced with so much poison that it would have been enough to kill dozens. 

“They’re not even trying. They should try…”

Kuroko swallowed, his eyes briefly flickering to Dōjimazaki’s bench, just as the buzzer sounded. “Aomine-kun,” he called, as the rest of the team took their positions on the court again.

“What?” the Power Forward asked, glancing at him.

Clear cerulean blue met turbulent navy. “Know that no matter what, I’m here,” he whispered and without a word, he jogged to the court.

Aomine didn’t try talking to him, but it wasn’t necessary. Kuroko knew the dark-skinned teen better than Aomine knew himself, even if the ace was unaware of this yet. He’ll learn, eventually.

His passes upped the speed and flow of the game, wrenching any semblance of hope from Dōjimazaki, for a dignified going down. For Teikō, nothing but winning mattered — nothing but utter and complete domination of the game would suffice for the school. And the Kiseki no Sedai were the perfect tools to achieve that goal.

Kuroko’s gaze didn’t waver from his Light. While he had to coordinate with all members of the team, he’d long developed an extra sense, just so he could know Aomine’s exact position on the court at all times.

He stood unmoved in the shadows, water licking at his feet, a massive gate behind his back. And while outside the court, he was barely detectable and during a game, even harder to follow… right now, Kuroko was the light. He was the tiny pinprick of light before the massive golden Gate, waiting… watching… ready to guide, to whisper advice and encouragement. He had no place to go. The Gate was his to guard and he would until the one worthy of opening it approached…

Nothing but silence surrounded him in the darkness. It was perfect serenity, yet charged with unimaginable energy…

And suddenly, that serenity was pierced by something crashing through and screaming for help.

The bowels of Hell, a prison cell
It’s decorated with my sin

The longer the game lasted, the more Aomine felt it. He felt alone. The opposing team was giving up already, and it was just the third quarter.

He tried to remember what it was like to enjoy the game. To enjoy the thrill of the chase, as the other players marked him, chased him, trying to stop his scoring. The further the game went, the more he felt the persistent, low burning of his muscles. Then, the pain of the exertion dulled and his attention narrowed to nothing but the court.

He was aware of where the hoops were and where the other players were. But even the previously irritating cheers of the spectators fell away. The ball bounced on the polished wooden floor in rhythm with his heartbeat. His shoes squealed loudly in rhythm with his breathing.

The shoes. His breathing. His heartbeat. The ball. He dodged another player, continuing down the court, unhindered still.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The world was out of focus in a blink, just between two heartbeats. Aomine fell in the emptiness, colours dulling around him, the world ceasing to exist even as he felt his body’s movements. Yet, it was almost like he’d become a spectator in his own body — like he wasn’t the one to control the steps, the dribbles, the throw.

It was cold and dark. He couldn’t see his teammates anywhere. He was falling as his lungs burned. Where was Tetsu? Why was he falling?

Navy eyes snapped around, but he couldn’t see anything. Only the colourless, dark void.

“What… What’s this? Help!” he cried, panic seizing his heart, like nothing before. Suddenly, his back hit something solid and hard… no.. not solid.

It was water.

And with the same speed he fell, he drowned beneath the waves. The water changed colours between two blinks. Clear blue, navy… and then murky blackness.

“HELP!” he cried, not understanding anything at that moment. The ace’s mouth was open, both gasping for breath and in a silent scream for help, but all it did was make his body jerk with pain. Water rushed into his mouth and lungs. Dark currents, almost like sticky tentacles, reached for him, wrapping around his legs.

Electricity jolted through his nerves and joints.

The darkness jerked at him roughly, pulling him further down.

Aomine needed only a split second to realise — his senses were still too sharp, even though he couldn’t grasp where he was. A moment ago, he’d been on the court, playing a Nationals game, — and now drowning…

His eyes caught the briefest flicker of orange. A basketball was floating on the surface of the water, shrinking more and more, as Aomine drowned rapidly.

Pull me from the void
Trapped beneath the tired noise

Momoi knew her friends were talented. But the glaring red numbers on the scoreboard made her almost dizzy. She’d never seen her childhood friend play like this — in fact, he’d been faster and more focused than before. Tetsu kept up with him, somewhat, but the rest of those on court seemed to have been completely caught unawares.

109 — 5 

As the boys returned to the bench, she heard Sanada-kantoku say something about another glorious game, but she didn’t care. She only had eyes for her two closest friends.

Kuroko looked shocked and worried as he stole subtle glances at Aomine… and her childhood friend looked… haggard. In a way, she’d not seen him before, after a game. Especially not after one they’d won so easily. The alarms in her mind went off almost immediately as she noticed the haunted look in the ace’d dark eyes.

“Aomine-ku…”

Aomine turned to her so fast she almost dropped her clipboard in fright. “Urusai, Satsuki,” he hissed through clenched teeth, almost as if he knew what she wanted to ask — what she wanted to say.

Surprised and cowed for the moment, the manager snapped her mouth shut and remained quiet for the rest of their day.

A dying dream, unspoken being

Kuroko felt numb.

He… wasn’t sure what to do. First, Aomine… had just skipped a few practices. But now he never even saw the First String’s ace near the gym and it frightened him. The way Akashi allowed the others to skip too, as long as they won…

It wasn’t to the Phantom’s taste. What the First String was doing now wasn’t basketball. It was just destruction. They weren’t even a team anymore, and perhaps that was what hurt the most.

He’d tried talking to Akashi, of course, to persuade him (gently, Akashi was not himself now, the person who stood in his place was… not his mentor) that the course the First String had taken was the wrong one. But his words fell on deaf ears. The answer he received still gave him chills.

(“We’re champions, Tetsuya… and as long as we remain so, I care not where Daiki is or what Ryōta is doing instead. Probably shoots, but as long as we win the matches, let him pursue modelling. We’re victorious, after all.”)

He had not sought Akashi since and instead buried himself in his share of work, as the Captain of the Lower Strings.

Currently, he was sitting on the bench, going through the individual notes of the players, provided to him by Shimizu-san, the manager of the Second String and one who helped Momoi with her work. Momoi had her fair share of duties, so Shimizu-san helped her out whenever Kuroko himself couldn’t afford to do so. (Akashi and Midorima only ever did the required things these days, and even most of that was directly related to the First String. And… the coach let them get away with it, because… well, because they were the Kiseki no Sedai, the stars of the school.)

The constant squeaking of shoes quieted occasionally, but the noise was ever-present. Kuroko had learned to work like that — he’d even learned to be aware of his surroundings in… a way that a stray basketball wouldn’t hit him in the head ever again. (Should he have thanked Kise-kun for forcing him to develop that extra sense?)

He huffed and flipped a page, his gaze expertly scanning through the numbers. ‘It looks like we’ll have to change the game lineup for the next match or Hashira-kun won’t…’

Someone cleared their throat, cutting off the Phantom’s thought process. “Uh, Captain.”

Kuroko’s eyes darted upwards to find a dark blonde-haired male standing a little away from him, his hazel eyes searching his face, seeming worried. “We’re done with the exercise. What’s next?”

Kuroko glanced at his training notes and then hummed. “Please split in half and do the ball-handing…” he was cut off as the door opened. All members looked up and Kuroko’s eyes widened ever so-slightly, when Momoi rushed in, tears shining in her magenta eyes.

“What’s wron — ?” Before he could finish the question, the usually bubbly manager threw herself at him and all the Phantom could do was wrap his arm around her. Kuroko sighed, and let Momoi bury herself close. He didn’t need to ask what was wrong. He had a good guess.

Kuroko’s eyes settled on the other students, who all looked up, some coming closer at seeing the Head Manager in their Captain’s arms, crying.

“Please continue with training,” the Sixth Miracle ordered, tone level. “You should proceed with ball-handling and while I talk with Momoi-san,  Tachibana-kun overlooks you. Anyone who’s found slacking gets extra exercises at the end of training time and can only leave once those are done. Am I clear?”

The lower String students shared a few spooked looks and they all nodded. “Hai, Captain!”

Kuroko sighed and nudged the sniffling manager towards the gym’s door. “Outside, please,” he prompted gently. Momoi swallowed hard and nodded, disentangling herself from his arms.

She ducked her head and hurried out, the Shadow hot on her heels. Once they were outside, Kuroko closed the gym door, turning to her. “What’s wrong?”

Magenta eyes pooled with tears once more. “I… I don’t know what to do anymore, Tetsu. Dai… he doesn’t… he doesn’t even touch a ball anymore, outside of matches. His grades… everything’s slipping. Even his mother noticed his dark mood, but Dai refuses to accompany his mother to see a doctor.”

Kuroko pressed his lips into a thin line. “Unfortunate. But maybe you’d try telling him…”

More tears spilled from despairing eyes. “He doesn’t listen. Just… keeps muttering about… not wanting to drown… Whatever that means.”

Kuroko went rigid for a millisecond. ‘Drown? So… he was there, like I was… But… why couldn’t I reach him, then? I had felt his panic…’

The passing specialist breathed out and nodded towards the gym door. “Please gather yourself and wait for me inside. Watch over them, if you can. I’ll talk to Aomine-kun.”

Momoi nodded, hugging him like a vice. “Arigato. Arigato , Tetsu.”

He breathed out slowly, rubbing calming circles on her back. “There’s nothing to thank me for. We’re… in this together and I’d like to see him smile again the same way you do.”

A few minutes later they pulled apart and after a fortifying breath, the manager darted back into the gym, as the Phantom of the Miracles headed for the roof, seeking his Light. He’d let this go on long enough. Aomine spurning the team… the game was one thing, but to ignore even Momoi… That was one step too far, especially since Kuroko knew she loved him like the brother she never had.

The trek to the roof was long, yet almost woefully short, as he found himself drowned in thoughts. Kuroko faltered before the door leading to the roof, listening to movement outside. There was nothing, but he knew his best friend. Ever since Aomine skipped so much, he had a habit of coming here, hiding from coaches and teachers alike. (Well… it wasn’t like Sanada cared all too much.)

His fingers wrapped around the handle and Kuroko stepped out to find his best friend, his brother (in all but blood) sprawled on the warmed tiles of the roof.

“Oh, for kami’s sake, Satsuki, I told you to leave me—” the ace grumbled, not even looking up.

Kuroko stopped two long strides away, studying his partner. “I’m not… Satsuki .’

Navy eyes flew open upon hearing the name, and Kuroko’s icy gaze met the bored dark ones. Aomine stiffened ever so-slightly, but then relaxed, a scowl settling on his features. “Tetsu.”

Kuroko took a step closer, the icy aura seeming to multiply around him, ever-so-slightly. “I understand you’re skilled, Aomine-kun, but doing this…”

“The more I train, the better I will be,” he drawled, tone bored and haughty. “There’s nothing to go from the top.”

“There’s always a place to go,” Kuroko said, tone steady. The voice of one who coordinated the bigger portion of their club. The voice of one who’d learned under the Emperor. One, who stepped up to be his left hand and became a Captain in his own right.

“Not if you drown,” Aomine murmured under his breath. “I don’t… want to drown…” he said, tone even quieter, so that the Phantom had to strain his ears to hear him.

Kuroko stood thoughtfully for a moment and then walked closer. “Drown? Not if you swim, Aomine-kun.”

Aomine shook his head and turned to look at Kuroko. His eyes were sharp, but beneath the apathy lay so much despair that it was soul-wrenching. “I… can’t. Not… like there. Not then. I can’t do it, so it’s better if I don’t even try.”

Kuroko’s eyes blazed, glaring icily at his partner as he took another step closer. “So you’ll run like a coward , Daiki ? When they wanted to kick me off the Third, you told me to gather the courage to fight for what I want. To fight my fate. If you… so believe your fate is to drown… will you just let it happen? The Gates lie beyond the currents.”

Aomine stiffened, eyes flying open in shock, as the Phantom stood up and turned away. Aomine stared after him for a long moment, breath hitching.

“You talk like you know the feeling of drowning!” he spat at last. “The more you fight it, the deeper it pulls you!”

Kuroko  turned to look at his friend over his shoulder. “Then, do not fight the current, Aomine-kun. Find an anchor and endure it.”

Aomine stiffened again, but then rage darkened his eyes and pulled his muscles taut. He looked like a bloodthirsty panther ready to snap the neck of its prey. “What anchor is there, in the dark?!”

“The anchor is created by those you believe have the will and power to hold you. You just have to trust them, the way they trust you.”

Before Aomine could retort, Kuroko was gone.

Pull me from the void
Pathetic world I must destroy

The current was cruel, dragging him down, down and further into the rigid darkness. The more Aomine fought, the stronger the waters seemed to be. His limbs grew heavy with exhaustion and the more he fought.

He sank faster than ever before, but… in a brief respite from darkness, he noticed glimmering lights. His eyes went wide, when he realised it was Satsuki, offering her hand with a sad, but hopeful smile.

“Come on, Dai-chan! You’d just have to at least come to classes. And occasionally drop at practice,” he heard her voice from somewhere. High-pitched and pleading, but also with a note of sadness in it.

It… was numbing to know her sadness had been caused by his attitude.

Aomine gasped for breath, more water pressing around him, pushing him further from her. But he fought the current, trying to reach her. To save her or to save himself from the water, he wasn’t sure…

“I don’t have to do anything. Leave me be, Satsuki,” he heard his own voice echo in the water, as if an answer to her voice and the shadows dragged him further down, stronger and more cruel than ever before.

His scream for help echoed in the water, unanswered, but in a tiny corner, he glimpsed a sliver of pale blue. 

If you… so believe your fate is to drown… find an anchor and endure it.

Aomine jolted upright in bed, bathed in sweat, breath coming in brief gasps. Navy eyes darted around and the teen groaned, falling backwards, when he realised he was at home, in his bed.

‘Just… a dream,’ he thought. But… was it? It definitely felt real. His body was heavy like lead and his mind muddled, like it used to be after games, when he’d still found challenge on the court.

Still, the words echoed in his mind. Could… Did Tetsu know of the Gates? How… did he even know of what the currents felt like? Had… Had Tetsu…?

‘No… Tetsu’s a different sort of player…’

But… what if… What if Tetsu had a way?

Please, pull me from the void
An uphill battle I must climb

First Year, Interhigh Finals: Tōō VS Rakuzan

For the first time since Momoi joined Tōō, their locker room was deathly quiet. The Interhigh Finals would start in half an hour and her team was quiet. But Aomine’s tense silence was the one that shocked the team most. It was very unlike the prideful ace — his gait, on and off the court, always screamed power and confidence.

“Tetsu.”

The sudden call of the Phantom’s name startled the team and the passing specialist looked up from where he sat next to Sakurai.

“Hai?”

Aomine looked up, his eyes stormy in a way the team had never seen before. Momoi, however, knew that look. It was the look her childhood friend sported for a long, long time after their Nationals Preliminaries, where he’d scored over 200 points.

“I…” Aomine seemed to falter for a moment, closing his eyes. “I want to try it.”

The passing specialist leaned forward. “Try what?”

“Do you… remember? When you told me to withstand the current, instead of trying to swim?” he whispered.

“What?” Wakamatsu asked in confusion, brown eyes darting between the two Miracles.

“I remember,” the Phantom confirmed.

Aomine swallowed hard. “I think… I understand what you meant. And I can do it. But… I need you. I need you to help me.”

Tōō paused, staring at their prideful ace, befuddled. They’d long known that the two blue-haired teens had been playing together since the First Year of Middle School, but up till now, a sort of rift seemed to be between them. Aomine, while playing around the team and showing something akin to teamwork with the Phantom, was a loner. A prideful panther stalking the court alone, preying on the opposing team’s members, game after game.

Kuroko hummed, tilting his head to the side. “Why now , of all times? This is far from our first match with the new team.”

The Power Forward stood up. “Because… we’re facing Akashi.”

(“You’re all going to different schools. We’ll go to different teams and see who’s the best. All out. Let the fight begin.”)

“That’s it, Aomine-kun?” the Phantom asked. “If so, then you’ll find yourself falling woefully short of— “

“Iie, Tetsu. I have a bone to pick with Akashi.”

(“You cannot go with them, Tetsuya,” the redhead drawled. “I’ll only allow Satsuki to go, because they’re inseparable, anyway. Go and you’ll break the rules. Something I will not stand for. And you’ll regret, if you challenge me.”)

The Phantom raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “That’s… not something I was expecting. Why would you have anything against him?”

Aomine stepped closer, looking the Phantom in the eyes. “Because that day… on the roof… you gave me the answers I was looking for. I needed time to realise how to use those answers… but I have them now. And Akashi… wanted to take those answers from me. He wanted to hinder me.”

Icy eyes widened. Aomine’s dark gaze was burning with passion and protectiveness. A sort of drive and fire Kuroko hadn’t seen in a long time. He’d… almost forgotten what that look was like on his Light’s face.

“I had my answers, but I was a coward to talk about it. Now… Now’s the time to face it. So… I need you. Get in during the second half, so I can shove those words down his throat. He wanted a fight… I’ll give him a fucking war .”

“Now, now Aomine…” Imayoshi called, but before he could finish, Kuroko chuckled.

“Alright, Daiki. Second half then… I’ll be waiting.”

I smash the shackles

When halftime came, Rakuzan was leading with ten points. Not too big a gap, but still enough to win the match and it had been constantly present ever since the match started. Every time they tried to close the gap, the Generals and Akashi just scored more.

Their coach looked thoughtfully at the scoreboard. “They’re definitely good. If we don’t block them, they’ll win this…”

“Kantoku,” Aomine called, once his bottle was drained.

Harasawa turned to the Miracle. “What is it, Aomine?”

The dark-skinned teen looked at his Shadow. “We… we have a way to shut them down. It’s something Akashi doesn’t expect, because I’d never been able to do it properly, back in Middle School and…” he frowned. “I… just stopped trying after a while. He knows it as… a weakness of mine and he’ll…”

“He will exploit it the moment he has the chance,” Kuroko finished for his partner.

The team was silent, staring disbelievingly at Aomine. It was unlike the proud Miracle to admit to having a weakness, much less that one of his former teammates could exploit it…

“And what does that weakness have to do with the second half of the game, Aomine-kun?” Imayoshi asked.

Aomine looked at the Phantom, who nodded once. “Once Tetsu is on the court, that weakness is irrelevant. Once he’s there, we can shut them down. Just… let Tetsu coordinate the game.”

Wakamatsu’s eyes narrowed a little. “You’re both First Years. Why would we…”

“Because,” Aomine growled. “Tetsu knows how Akashi’s mind clicks. And he’s a game maker, like Akashi. A manipulator. And… as a Captain of the biggest Middle School team, Tetsu’s got his own tricks, even if you hadn’t seen them so far.”

The team stared. Kuroko sighed, nodding towards the court. “Don’t take their minds off of the game, with unnecessary revelations, Daiki. We have a match to win,” he murmured, stalking towards the court, with none of the older players saying a word.

“Captain…?” Wakamatsu asked, glancing between the manager and the ace.

Momoi smiled sweetly, dangerously. “The club was over a hundred members. There was one Vice-captain and two Captains. Akashi-kun and Midorima-kun handled the First String. And the Captain of the Lower strings was also chosen from the First String, a third person, who had the skill and the support of the rest of the First String to be elevated to the position. No one questioned us, when we nominated Tetsu for the spot.

Aomine’s eyes glinted. “And he earned the spot a hundred times over… the best of us…” he whispered, stalking after his Phantom partner, leaving the rest of the team gaping.

Revelation
Liberation
Revelation

Rakuzan wasn’t giving an inch, but Tōō was both skilled and stubborn. (Especially the two Miracles on the team.)

“What do we do…?” Sakurai asked with a frown.

“Give an inch, take a mile…” Kuroko said, gaining his team’s attention. “Daiki… are you ready?”

The ace nodded. “I am.”

“Then… let’s give them one last basket before we show them the beast…” the Phantom murmured, running towards their own side, shocking the team.

Aomine smirked, taking a deep breath and clearing his mind, as he came face to face with the blonde General.

It didn’t take too much effort to sink again. Water filled his lungs again and electricity sharpened all his senses. The rush of water took him through the first Gate, which groaned under the pressure. This time, the feeling was even more prominent, than it had been in Middle School, those two times he’d nearly drowned, right in the middle of a tournament.

 Panic filled Aomine’s mind once more. This scene, this feeling, was way too familiar and overwhelming to ever forget.

“Help!” he cried, as the water pulled him down further, the currents stronger with every rapid heartbeat. Shadows like invasive tentacles trapped him…

“Daiki,” the call was soft and echoing through the water, as impossible as that seemed to be. It was a voice he knew well. His eyes darted around in the clear darkness. He couldn’t see the Phantom… but he could sense him.

If you… so believe your fate is to drown… find an anchor and endure it.

The words came back involuntarily and Aomine remembered he had asked his friend to try again. He let his body relax, to be carried by the current, deeper and deeper.

“I trust you, Tetsu. Guide me. Anchor me,” he whispered, eyes closed.

Suddenly, a hand snapped out from somewhere in the shadows and wrapped around  his wrist. Aomine saw a basketball floating atop the water as it drained away, leaving his skin wet.

A pale hand adorned with black wrist warmer grasped him, keeping him anchored before massive golden gates as the water continued to rush around them. He looked up, eyes widening ever-so-slightly, when he noticed his Shadow.

“T-Tetsu.”

So… he’d been right.

“Stand up, Daiki. You’ve earned this. Step past and guide the team to victory.”

“And you?” the Power Forward asked, springing to his feet, his hold on his partner tightening.

The Phantom smiled, as the second massive Gate cracked open, blue-white light accented with gold spilling out. “I’ll be right behind you, brother mine.”

“I…”

“Shadow and light cannot exist without one another,” Kuroko said softly. “Lead them from the frontline and I’ll guard and guide from behind.”

Aomine smiled, letting go of the Phantom. “You better, Tetsu. I don’t trust easily.”

Aomine stepped through the Gate, the feeling flooding his body and he felt a gentle tug from behind. Or rather, several tugs. Something was trying to pull him back. He stepped forward and yanked at the pull, turning around.

His eyes widened when he saw his teammates stumbling into the chamber in response to his tugging, Tetsu lingering behind them with a gentle smile, right where light and shadow met and melded into one.

Aomine grinned, bright and free, and Tetsu returned it just as enthusiastically as they steered their team towards a victory.