Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

If it didn’t count as strange that Kuroko, with his perfect attendance to after school practice—even when he wasn’t actually present at school—had actually skipped practice for the first time (something which the team didn’t realize until half an hour in, rubbing their eyes and darting their heads around to make sure that yes, Kuroko was not being exceptional at erasing his presence, but was actually not there) then it was definitely strange that he had skipped the day after, and the day after that— the current day—giving the team a mild panic attack that launched a series of theories and speculation on Kuroko’s “highly-probable” and sudden attainment of the actual power invisibility, or his entrapment in the world of shadows, or Kagami’s inhuman appetite rendering him unable to distinguish friend from food.

“Are you serious,” Kagami growled, actually pausing his attempts at trying to start practice. “I’d at least notice if I were eating Kuroko—he’s practically skin and bones! Gyudon has more meat than him!”

The coach smacked him behind the head with a paper fan. “As opposed to being able to distinguish between what’s actually human and what’s cooked?!” she gritted, squinting. Kagami chuckled sheepishly. “’Ehehe’ my butt! These discussions have been disrupting practice since yesterday!”

“But coach,” Koganei offered, stepping forward. “Aren’t you a little bit curious? I mean, this is Kuroko we’re talking about, he never misses practice.”

Riko considered this for a few beats, and crossed her arms. “Well, it is pretty weird that he’s skipped not once, but thrice in a row now, but it’s not like it’s forbidden—and in any case, instead of coming up with stupid theories, why don’t you just go and ask Kuroko yourselves!”

“Ask me what?”

“Ask Kuroko why he’s been—eh?” Riko glanced to the side, discovered that someone had suddenly appeared there, and instinctively spun around and smacked Kuroko upside the head with the paper fan, squealing. The rest of the team jumped, yelping octaves higher than can be considered manly.

“Ack! Kuroko!” Riko drew back her weapon, wincing. “S-sorry, it was a reflex.”

“You’re late!” Hyuuga pointed out, pushing his glasses up. “And what’s up? You haven’t shown up to practice the past few days!”

“Sorry,” Kuroko said, slightly bent in pain, two hands on the sore spot on his head. He straightened up slightly to meet the captain’s eyes. “I’m sorry I skipped without any notice for two days. And sorry for being late, but I actually just came here to return Furihata-kun’s notebook. I have to leave early today, too.”

“Wha—eh?”

Kuroko fished out a notebook from his bag and walked towards Furihata, handing it to him. “Thank you for lending me your notes,” he said to him, bowing slightly.

Furihata blinked. “Oh, ah, sure! No problem!” he said, taking the notebook and somehow bowing slightly too. Kuroko’s mouth quirked up faintly before he stepped back, glancing over at Kagami, who blinked at him. Kuroko seemed to consider something as he looked at his partner, but then turned to his team. He bowed again, almost hesitantly. “Sorry,” he repeated. “I’ll be taking my leave for today, then,” and he turned on his heel and slipped out of the gym.

Seirin’s basketball team was somehow set on pause, not quite processing what had just happened. The lot of them blinked a couple of times before Hyuuga spun around, “Kagami!” he yelled, pointing a finger at the redhead. “What did you do?!”

Kagami shook his head, snapping out of his pause. “What?! Why me? I didn’t do anything!”

“What just happened?” Kawahara asked, head cocked to one side.

“I—Kuroko’s skipping again?” Fukuda said, confused.

“Well, like they say, third time’s the ch—”

“Shut up Izuki!“

“Gah!” Koganei cried, gripping the sides of his head. “We weren’t able to ask him!”

The coach let out an exasperated sigh, her groan laced with the resignation of being so done with all the goldfish-level attention spans she’s had to deal with since Kuroko’s unexpected absences. “That’s it!” Riko started, patting the paper fan over her palm. “Let’s go find out what he’s up to!”

Shuutoku High School, same afternoon

It had just occurred to Takao how seldom he actually saw Midorima without a shirt, and how even less often he saw him showering. Without a shirt. In the shower. It probably looked rather suspicious how pointedly he was staring over the low shower cubicle divider at his half-naked partner, trying to decipher why the image of ‘Midorima Showering’ was somehow not right, but all of his fellow teammates had one after the other started doing so as well, not quite understanding what was wrong with the picture.

“Wait, what,” Miyaji said, halfway into a cubicle, squinting at the now-rinsing Midorima.

Takao’s arms felt a tingle of strain when he realized that he hadn’t dropped his hands from shampooing his head ever since seeing Midorima get in the cubicle next to him to shower. The pang made him blink and realize rather belatedly that Midorima was showering. With them. After practice.

“Shin-chan why are you here?” Takao blurted, the words spilling out clumsily.

Shin-chan ruffled the last of the shampoo suds from his green hair, bowing slightly under the shower. Afterwards, he closed the shower and turned to look at Takao. “Why shouldn’t I be? I have to shower before changing, Takao.”

“No no no,” Takao chanted, gathering himself. “I mean, you’re not going to do your shooting practice again?”

Midorima seemed to think about it, glancing away. After a moment, he ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back over his forehead, and locked eyes with his partner. Takao swallowed, staring back, realizing just now that Midorima wasn’t wearing his glasses. And that he looked really different with his hair pulled up. And that his lower eyelashes were thick, with water droplets dotting them. And that he was close enough to count them, and he was actually trying.

“No,” was all Shin-chan said after the pause, regarding Takao’s gaze with a look that Takao knew was different but couldn’t quite figure out how. Midorima turned around to leave, wrapping a towel around his waist and picking up his glasses, popping them over his eyes. “I’ll be taking my leave now.”

He bowed slightly at the exit of the showers and turned, stepping out. A few beats passed before Miyaji repeated more confusedly, squinting and frowning, “Wait, what?”

“Takao, what did you do?!” Ootsubo accused, turning sharply to their point guard.

Takao jerked out of his daze, sending drops of soap and water flying from his hair. “What?! Why me?”

“He’s been leaving earlier than all of us these past few days! He hasn’t done his shooting practice either, there’s something wrong!” Miyaji scolded, vigorously scrubbing at his hair.

“And why would it be my fault?!” Takao defended, getting under the torrent of the shower as he rinsed his head. The team seemed to be in a frenzy, showering furiously as if to make up for not finishing before Midorima, who usually stayed later than anyone to do his routine shooting practice.

“Guys!” Kimura suddenly burst in from the entrance, half-dressed in their school uniform. “I—Midorima—he—”

“Yeah, he left early. Again. This is weird.”

“No, no!” Kimura swallowed, catching his thoughts. “That is weird but today he’s leaving with a small bouquet of flowers in hand!”

There was a pause, and then:

“WHAT.”

“Are you sure?” Ootsubo asked, eyes wide.

“You sure that wasn’t his lucky item?!”

“Then what’s the big-ass eggplant he’s been carrying all day for?!”

“Nah, the eggplant is his lucky item for today,” Takao said, leaving his cubicle and fumbling with the towel around his waist. “Kimura-san, did you see which way Shin-chan turned after leaving the locker room?”

“Huh? Uh, right?”

“That’s the wrong side,” Takao said, a hand under his chin. “The left exit of the gym leads to the rickshaw, where we usually park because it’s the closest entrance to the road we take from his house.”

“Hm,” Ootsubo thought seriously, the last to leave the showers as the team filed into the locker room to change. “He can’t have taken a wrong turn. Maybe he had an errand to run?”

“But what’s with the flowers?” Miyaji asked, somehow almost fully dressed.

“It couldn’t be—”

The Shuutoku team had a simultaneous thought, all of them freezing and turning to look at each other in shock.

“A girlfriend?!”

A beat passed, then everything seemed to spill out in a rush.

“Nonononono. No way. Not our Midorima….right?”

“Maybe he’s giving the flowers to his mother or granny or something!”

“Then why has he been leaving early since Monday?”

“…He was growing the flowers?”

“Dumbass! What kind of explanation is that!”

“He can’t have a girlfriend before me!”

“That’s not the point!”

“Let’s—” Takao started, not quite sure where his train of thought was going, or why there seemed to be a lump at his throat. “Let’s go follow him!”

The team looked at him, and the idea seemed to settle into their thoughts hesitantly, albeit agreeably. Takao was smirking crookedly, features pricked with an edge of panic. There was a tentative bead of sweat rolling down the team’s collective wariness, and they all seemed to nod at the same time, Miyaji the first to break the silence.

“Let’s do it.”

“Ohh!” The team boomed, much like their energetic roar before every match. They swiftly collected their belongings and slunk out of the locker room, jogging out of the gym in the direction Midorima was last seen. They had filed out and collected themselves as a team, switching gears and positioning themselves so that Takao was in front and had the best field of vision for his Hawk Eye to quickly spot their green-haired shooter. The other members positioned themselves strategically behind him, ready to shift their formation to instantly hide in case Midorima’s seen.

“Alright, look out for green hair and a stupid huge-ass eggplant.”

“And flowers.”

“All in one tall arrogant brat with glasses.”

He wasn’t hard to find.

“There!” Takao announced, shifting his heels to veer to one side away from Midorima’s field of vision. The team responded instantly, falling quickly behind him. Midorima had just rounded the second corner near the end of the road to their school, and Takao waited until he disappeared from their sight, then shifted to move towards the road before the one Midorima took, detouring to end up behind Midorima as he reached the next road that led downtown. When they saw Midorima cross the street, they waited a bit before following after him, keeping away some meters behind him.

Just as Midorima was about to cross another street, he abruptly paused, sending the team to a skittering halt when he switched his hold on the eggplant and flowers and fished out his phone from his pocked, suddenly turning, his side facing his stalking teammates who scrambled to hide in the nearest open store next to them. They panted, pulses racing at almost having been caught stalking their tsundere teammate.

After a few beats, Miyaji was first to move, pulling out his phone and sticking it out into the sidewalk, angling it a certain way before clicking, taking a picture. He pulled his hand back, and the team huddled around his phone, examining the photo. In it, Midorima still had his side towards them, the eggplant and flowers in his right arm, his cellphone held to his ear with his finger-taped left hand.

“Who’s he talking to on the phone?”

“How would I know?”

“You don’t think—”

“—the girlfriend??”

“We don’t know that yet!”

“But who would call him?!”

“I barely even see him use his phone.”

“Wait! There was one time he got a message during the opening ceremony of Inter High!”

“You’re right! He even left afterwards! Who was it?”

“I don’t know! He just excused himself, saying he was ‘being summoned’.”

“Arf!”

“…Arf?” The team paused, looking down. Near their feet stood a black and white dog with big round eyes, wearing a black, red and white jersey, that looked very familiar.

“Dog?” Miyaji craned his neck forward, squinting at it. “Hmm? Doesn’t he look familiar?”

Takao regarded the dog with his own squint, a pang of familiarity nudging at his brain. “I know I’ve seen this dog before.”

“It’s wearing a jersey, isn’t it? Number 16?”

Just then, the dog’s ear twitched, and it gave a small bark before trotting away, in the direction of Midorima.

“…Huh. Random.”

Takao was about to agree when he realized something. “Wait!” He spun around and practically leapt out in the open sidewalk. He blinked once before frantically announcing, “Shin-chan’s gone!”

The team followed him, running out into the sidewalk to see it devoid of eggplant-holding tsunderes. “Quick! Let’s catch up!” Ootsuba barked, jogging forward. The team followed, turning the corner Midorima was about to turn before taking the phone call. When they cleared the turn, they skidded to a halt when they didn’t find their shooter in sight. They quickly scanned the area, Takao surveying it more times than any of them, before they all groaned.

“He’s gone!”

“How could he disappear like that?! Has he been taking lessons from Seirin’s Number 11??”

“Seirin’s—ah! I remember now!” Takao announced, fist smacking his palm in realization. “The dog a while ago was Kuroko’s!”

“What, really?” Miyaji asked, then considered it. “Well, come to think of it, it did look like the kid.”

“Arf!”

“Arf again?”

The Shuutoku boys turned to the sound of barking, and saw that passersby seemed to avoid a certain spot across the street from them, right at the intersection. They straightened up to see that there were two people, one cat-like male and one shorthaired female, hoisted up on tall men’s shoulders, facing opposite directions, hands over their brows as if they were searching for something far away. Around them, in a circle, were a number of pretty tall highschoolers looking in all directions and completing the ridiculous formation. The black and white dog from earlier bounded towards them, barking affectionately, and one of the tall men—a readhead—yelped at the sight of it near his feet, jumping so incredibly high despite having a tall guy sitting on his shoulders. His passenger leaned heavily to one side, flapping wildly, losing balance as the two crashed against the other guys around them, sending half of the formation into a tumble of long limbs and thrown-around curses.

“Wow, that was a high jum—wait, aren’t those the Seirin guys?!”

True enough, the mess of flailing limbs and tumbling bodies looked to be Seirin’s basketball team, with their coach hoisted on the shoulders of their bespectacled captain, who was trying to dodge the thrashing limbs of his teammates on the ground (and having a really hard time doing it, since his passenger was gripping his head in a tight hug, trying to keep balance and effectively blinding the captain). One of the long limbs got him behind the knees, making the captain double over and sending the coach flying towards the ground. She caught herself and twisted around just in time to land squarely on the back of Kiyoshi Teppei, who’s breath was knocked out of his lungs, deflating him until he went slack.

The Shuutoku regulars gaped at them, actually somewhat amazed at how well the Seirin guys generated continuous team chaos. The people around them had actually stopped steering away and laughed, some flipping out camera phones to document the epic battle of limbs.

“Oh my god, this is ridiculous,” Miyaji groaned, stomping across the street towards the chaos of a team. The rest of Shuutoku’s guys followed him, trying to make sense of what was happening with the regulars, their coach, and a dog. Takao had barely gotten there when an elbow came swinging at him, narrowly missing his face when he jerked away, stumbling backwards into Miyaji, who lost his balance when a foot somehow appeared at his side. Ootsubo caught them both, pulling them away from the mess, all of Shuutoku’s regulars staring in bewilderment after.

“Holy crap,” Takao breathed. “These guys are dangerous. It’s like their chaos has an area of effect.”

“More like their stupidity,” Miyaji scowled, breaking free of Ootsubo and straightening Takao up.

Somehow, suddenly the dog and a paper fan were flying in the air, and not realizing how that had happened, the Seirin guys panicked into a scramble to catch the dog, spreading out impressively quick and coordinating so that Kiyoshi was the one to catch the dog, jumping forward at the same time Kagami leapt across his side, snatching the paper fan from their coach’s outstretched hand, quickly passing it to Hyuuga, who tossed it over to Izuki on the other side, who swiftly packed the fan into his bag, making the coach scowl and squint at them. “I don’t know if I should be mad or proud that your coordination just now was top-notch just to keep me from getting that,” she said.

“And to catch Nigou!” Kiyoshi pointed out, just as his eyes spotted the Shuutoku regulars. “Oh! It’s you guys! Hi!”

The Seirin team followed his line of sight, recognizing the Shuutoku team. Kagami perked up, “Hey! You guys are Midorima’s—”

“It’s Shuutoku!” Miyaji snapped.

The coach blinked at them, then bowed slightly. “Hello. Fancy meeting you here.”

“Uh, yeah, you too,” Takao said as his team bowed a little as well. “We were passing by when we saw you—what were you guys doing? You know, before the chaos ensued.”

“Oh, the Shadow Formation?” Koganei chipped in, raising a finger.

“The what?”

“Please ignore the stupid name,” Hyuuga said, grunting. “Our team decided to go and follow Kuroko out today, but as you probably know, he’s really good at disappearing.”

“We lost sight of him when we turned to this area so we switched to a circular formation to cover all directions,” the coach continued. “And got a good vantage point. On these guys, at least,” she jerked a thumb at Hyuuga and Kagami, who served as her and Koganei’s ride.

The Shuutoku guys nodded, seeing the logic behind the ridiculous formation. Seirin’s coach snapped her fingers, face lighting up. “But wait! This is perfect! Can we borrow your point guard?”

“What,” Takao started, but the agreement of the Seirin guys had him by the arm in an instant.

“Whoa, wait, why do you need Takao?” Miyaji asked, grabbing Takao’s other arm, as if to play tug-of-war with him as the rope.

“He can spot Kuroko! We haven’t been able to find him at all this past hour and a half.”

“Hu—wow, he’s probably gone by now!” Takao cried, staggering against the tugging in his arms. “Besides, we’re out looking for Shin-chan!”

“Shin-chan…? Oh, you mean Midorima?” Kagami said. “I saw him and his eggplant pass by just a while ago.”

“Where?” the Shuutoku team barked.

“Went right past us, straight ahead,” Kagami said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. “What’s up? Why are you looking for him?”

“He’s been acting pretty weird lately too,” Ootsubo explained. “We just started following him a few minutes ago, after practice, but we lost him at the intersection, then saw you guys.”

Takao had already run around them to look at the road Kagami pointed to, eyes scanning the area wide. He squinted when he saw a smidge of green in the distance, a few blocks ahead, and yelled when he saw a flash of eggplant. “I think I see him!” He then noticed a lower smidge of sky blue following behind the eggplant. “And I think Kuroko’s with him!”

“What? Really?” both teams turned to look, squinting. A beat passed, then Izuki piped up, “Wait, I think I see them! They’re turning the corner to the right!”

“Yeah, let’s go!” Takao said, jogging forward, Izuki right beside him. The remaining guys followed after, smirking at each other and their bird-eyed point guards.

It wasn’t long before they caught up and saw that Midorima was walking briskly together with Kuroko, who had taken possession of the small bouquet of flowers.

“B-b-b-boyfriend?!” Kimura stammered, suddenly flushed.

“What are you talking about,” Kagami said, side-eyeing Midorima’s team, striding enough to keep up the pace but still lag far enough behind. Kuroko and Midorima seemed to be in half a rush, sharply turning again.

“Where are they even going?” Hyuuga grumbled. It was getting late.

They continued stalking the two for quite some time before the destination slowly became clear to them. When they saw Midorima and Kuroko push through the glass doors of their town’s biggest hospital, the questions and suspicions of both teams cleared somewhat, each side somehow not feeling the need for explanations anymore.

“The hospital, huh?” Takao said, exhaling. Neither group seemed to feel like following their former-Teikou teammates anymore.

“Man, that was unexpected,” Hyuuga sighed, leaning back against the tree they hid behind, looking up. “So they’re visiting someone.”

The members of Seirin’s basketball team seemed to share a knowing look, glancing at their captain and Kiyoshi, the pillars of their team who’ve had enough dealings with the hospital in the past. A solemn look briefly passed Kiyoshi’s expression before he flashed a mischievous, beaming grin. “I’m curious about who they’re visiting though!”

The others turned to look at him, already about to voice out their arguments when suddenly, a flash of black and blue dashed past them and their “hiding spot” (a tree and bench at the entrance of the hospital that did very little to conceal more than a dozen high school basketball players).

Kagami was the first to recognize the jogging figure, just from seeing his back, which he had gazed at in awe more times than he’d openly admit. “Aomine?!”

Through the glass doors of the hospital, they could see that it was indeed Touou’s Aomine who ran past them, turning in the same direction Midorima and Kuroko did once inside.

“Okay,” Kagami stood, determined. “I’m really curious now.”

He maneuvered out of the cluster of basketball players and started for the hospital entrance. A shallow guilt seemed to wash over the others, but curiosity got the better of them, so they all stood and made to follow.

[tbc]

Chapter Text

The afternoon’s mysteries hung over the two unlikely grouped teams, and as they slunk around the white halls of the hospital, more mysteries seemed to pop up from what they had managed to put together. The first was the question of why Kuroko skipped practice as opposed to Midorima simply leaving early afterwards—with a time difference of at least one and a half hours—alongside why they had started doing so at the same time, and for three consecutive days. The second had been where they were going to consistently whenever they left, which for that day had turned out to be the hospital, which then begged the question of who they were visiting there. The appearance of Touou’s Aomine following after them made it even more curious of a mystery, and they vaguely wondered if any of the remaining members of the Generation of Miracles was hospitalized, given that formerly being on the same monstrous team was a common denominator among them.

The more disheartening mystery was the reason whoever it is they were visiting was hospitalized, more so that it was for at least three days. The thought settled grimly on the group of basketball club members: being hospitalized for three days meant that something serious might have happened, and Midorima, Kuroko, and Aomine visiting made it seem very likely.

It should have also been a mystery that Aomine wasn’t either being dragged or followed around by Momoi Satsuki, seeing as they were almost always together, but it didn’t occur to the group until Momoi had all but crashed into Kagami as he rounded a corner, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

“Ack!” Kagami yelped, elbows shooting out from under him to break his fall. Momoi squealed and brought her hands out, landing on top of him, face to face.

“S-sorry—“ Momoi blinked. “Ah, Kagamin!”

“Momoi!”

“Ahem!”

Kagami turned his head to find his coach glaring at him, paper fan at the ready. He raised his eyebrow, confused, and then realized the rather scandalous position he and Momoi were in. They both promptly blushed and clambered to stand, flustered.

“Sorry about that, Kagamin!” Momoi said, and then grunted. “I was in a rush because stupid Dai-chan left me.”

“Dai-cha—oh, Aomine Daiki?” Takao laughed, muffled under his hand. “I see we have similar nicknaming sense.”

Momoi just then realized that about a dozen basketball players were clumped together at the hall beside them. “W-wah—Seirin and Shuutoku!” The other guys lit up from their glaring at Kagami’s ‘lucky’ fall. Momoi smiled at them. “Are you guys worried about Midorin and Tetsu-kun?”

“Eh? How did you know?“ Riko asked, tucking the paper fan under her arm.

Momoi chuckled lightly, though her smile was edged with worry. “I was expecting something like this to happen.”

“What’s going on, anyway?” Kagami probed. “Who are you guys visiting?”

Hyuuga elbowed his ribs. “Bakagami! Try to have more tact!”

Momoi giggled, waving her hand. “It’s okay, that’s what Tetsu-kun likes about Kagamin.” She was about to continue when a flash of crimson flittered into her vision from the corner of her eye, and she jerked in surprise, suddenly shoving at Kagami and the other highschoolers into the hall. “Gah, sorry, you guys have to hide!”

“What? Why?” Kagami flailed, stumbling as everyone else staggered backwards behind him.

“Err, it’s hard to explain,” Momoi hissed, putting a finger over her mouth to signal them to be quiet. Seeing her cute expression made the others comply. “But I promise you’ll understand eventually. Just wait here until I pass by okay?”

She left with that, ducking out of the corner, leaving the group with questioning looks. Momoi turned the corner and left their view, and they heard her call out, “Ah, you’re here!”

From somewhere they couldn’t see, the others heard a sharp voice answer her. “Satsuki.”

Somehow, the voice sent shivers down everyone’s spines. There was something very familiar in that piercing, almost stately tone, and a few of them started trying to peek around the wall to check who it was when Momoi passed by them again, surprising them back into hiding. Her eyes flickered to their group as she walked by them, speaking to her new companion at her side.

“Akashi-kun, it’s at the fourth floor, right?” Momoi said, glancing at the Seirin-Shuutoku group when she said ‘fourth floor’.

The group gaped. Beside her, Akashi Seijuuro, freshman captain of the formidable Rakuzan, walked, strident, mismatched eyes staring straight ahead. He strode forward and gave a small nod. “Yes. Room 409.”

The group seemed to shrink into the shade of the hall as he passed by, somewhat understanding why Momoi wanted them to hide. When a couple of minutes ticked by and they were sure that Momoi and Akashi were gone, they relaxed, slumping against the wall.

“Why is Akashi Seijuuro here?” Takao hissed under his breath.

“Hell if I know!” Kagami answered. “Isn’t Rakuzan all the way in Kyoto?”

“Why are you guys whispering?” Kiyoshi butt in, leaning over their hunched forms. “They’re probably on an elevator by now.”

Takao cleared his throat, then spoke normally. “Right. Well, looks like the Generation of Miracles is having some kind of reunion.”

“Fourth floor, right?” Kagami said, already slinking towards the elevators.

The others gingerly followed him. “We’re still planning on following them, aren’t we,” Ootsubo grimaced. “I feel like we’re snooping on something we’re not supposed to be snooping in on.”

Hyuuga grunted beside him in agreement. “Can’t say I’m not curious myself, but I’m getting increasingly guiltier about this.”

“Ahh, lighten up!” Kiyoshi boomed behind him, smacking him on the back. “Visits are happier when there are many people!”

“Yeah! Like they say, ‘the more the many-er’!” Izuki beamed.

“Oh look, we’re in a hospital. Want to get on a stretcher, Izuki?”

Izuki flinched, hiding behind Kiyoshi while sticking out his tongue at Hyuuga. Everyone else felt lighter, chuckling at the antics as they waited by the elevators.

“You look kind of worried there, Kagami,” Takao said, poking Kagami. “What are you thinking about?”

The redhead glanced at him, and then shook his head. “Nothing. It’s just—if the Generation of Miracles is all gathering here, who exactly are they here for? Momoi, Aomine, Kuroko, Midorima, and even Akashi have shown up, so that just leaves—”

“Kise and Murasakibara,” Hyuuga finished.

“But Murasakibara’s supposed to be all the way in Akita,” Miyaji said. “The closest to here would be Kise then.”

Kagami bit his lip. “I hope that idiot didn’t get himself injured again.”

Hyuuga gave him a solid pat on the shoulder. “He should be fine, stubborn idiot that he is,” he said. “Besides, we’re not sure who it is they’re visiting yet.”

The elevators dinged open, and the highschoolers clambered to cram inside it, grunting against the little space they had to breathe. They had just started trying to wrestle each other when the doors slid apart, sending half of them stumbling all over one another into the hall. After managing to pull themselves together, they walked along the corridor as silently as possible, following the arrangement of numbered doors until they reached the corner which would lead to their target room. Seirin volunteered Izuki to peek at the connecting hall, and a second after he stuck half his head to check, he reeled back to the safety of their wall, slightly spooked.

“What? What is it?” Hyuuga asked, fighting the urge to take a glimpse around the corner.

“Sorry, I just panicked a little,” Izuki whispered, sighing out his panic. “Room 409 is really close to here, it’s just right across—so keep your voices down or we’ll be heard. Also, the giant kind of surprised me.”

“The giant?”

“Murasakibara, I mean,” Izuki said. “He and the rainbow gang are standing by the door.”

“The rainbow gang?” Takao tried to stifle his laugh. “So they really are having some kind of reunion.”

“Was anyone missing from the group?” Kagami chimed in.

“Um, Kise, I think,” Izuki answered. “I didn’t spot any yellow.”

A worried look passed Kagami’s expression, and he made to go into the hall when familiar voices started talking.

“Atsushi, what did the doctor say?”

Kagami froze, and his Seirin teammates dragged him further back. The voice of Akashi, even from a distance, made them all stiffen behind their hiding spot, and the others craned their necks to try to hear the conversation.

“He said we’ll have to wait outside first while they do a check-up,” the familiar lazy drawl of Murasakibara sounded from the hall.

“Were you able to talk to him?” A darker voice spoke up.

“That’s Shin-chan!” Takao whispered, moving closer to the edge of the corner.

“Just a little.” Murasakibara sounded slightly annoyed. “It’s just like you said, Aka-chin. He started talking about going to work so I had to give him some of my snacks to stall him until the doctor came.”

“Good call on that.” Aomine’s voice went.

“You might have had to wrestle him if the doctors were any longer.” A female voice—Momoi—spoke up, giggling lightly.

“Yes, that would have been very likely.”

“Ah, that’s Kuroko!” Kiyoshi noted, and around four guys had to grab him and pull him back as he tried to turn to the hall.

“Why are you trying to go there??” Hyuuga hissed.

“Why not? They’re all our friends right?” Kiyoshi whispered back, an innocent look on his face.

“What will they do if they find out we’ve been stalking them!” Hyuuga said, bonking him on the head. “Akashi looks like he’ll stab anyone who gets near him.”

“That’s true,” Kagami grunted, remembering his encounter with Akashi and his scissors.

The sound of a door opening interrupted any further conversation for both the Seirin-Shuutoku group and the Generation of Miracles members present on the adjacent hall. The stalker group went silent and pressed closer to hear for the new developments, and they heard an older, darker voice speak.

“Ah, Akashi-kun, hello. I see you and your friends are here to visit again.”

“Good afternoon, doctor,” they heard Akashi respond, formal. “How did the check-up go?”

“He’s getting better, but he needs more rest. He was in a pretty dangerous spot when he first came in.”

“Can we go in the room now?” Aomine butt in, sounding slightly impatient.

The doctor simply chuckled. “Yes, go ahead. He’s still awake, but the medication we just gave him should start making him feel a bit sleepy. Don’t take too long, and don’t tire him out.”

“Of course,” Akashi said, and there was a hint of softness in his usual sharp voice.

There were sounds of footsteps shuffling further away, followed by the clicking of a door being closed. The stalker group scattered and tried to act like they were going about some form of official business when the doctor, flanked by two nurses, passed by, and he raised an eyebrow at them before shrugging and heading towards the elevators.

The group gave a collective sigh of relief, relaxing. Kagami and Kiyoshi immediately started heading towards room 409, keeping their footsteps silent as they rounded the corner, the rest of the group following. They faintly heard the sound of people talking inside the room, and as they crept closer, the nameplate by the door became clearer.

The whole group could only blink at the name written on it:

Nijimura Shuuzou.

[tbc]

Chapter Text

It wasn’t as though there was any reason to doubt Akashi’s words—there was something about everything that he did and said that commanded absolute certainty—but the Seirin-Shuutoku group found it very disconcerting that the hospital’s room 409 was the room of someone who they wouldn’t readily name as the recipient of such unusual and colorful visitors. Heck, they didn’t even know who this Nijimura was.

“Nijimura…Nijimura…” Miyaji chanted, rubbing his chin with the utmost concentration on his face. “I swear I’ve heard that name before.”

“Niji…as in rainbow?” Takao said, pressing his ear against the door to try to eavesdrop. Beside him, Kiyoshi, Koganei, and Izuki were doing the same.

“Looks like it,” Hyuuga answered, squinting at the characters on the nameplate. “You know, I think the name’s actually familiar.”

“Never heard it,” Kagami muttered, pulling out his phone. “I think I’ll go text Kuroko.”

“Idiot, don’t text him now!” Hyuuga snapped, snatching Kagami’s cell phone. Kagami opened his mouth to protest when suddenly a voice called out,

“Taiga?”

Everyone and Kagami spun around to the newcomer, who turned out to be Yosen’s Himuro Tatsuya, armed with a plastic bag filled to overflowing with snacks and candy bars.

“Tatsuya?” Kagami exclaimed, scooting away from the door. “What are you doing all the way here? In Tokyo?”

Himuro recovered from his surprise, blinking confusedly at the large group of highschoolers gathered before him. “I’m—here to visit a the guy hospitalized in that room you’re blocking. Are you guys doing the same?”

“N-No,” Kagami stuttered, glancing at the door. “Wait—you know who this Nijimura is?”

“Well, yeah,” Himuro said, adjusting his hold on the snacks. “I met him in LA a few months back. We became friends after a series of uh, certain events. Which involved gangs. You know, normal LA business.”

Kagami nodded, but looked even more confused. “But how is he related to Kuroko and the Generation of Miracles?”

“Ah, you don’t know?” Himuro cocked his head to one side. “He’s a basketball player too. Or used to be. Are Atsushi and the others inside? I’m bringing these snacks in for them. Or just Atsushi. He could probably finish this all.” He looked thoughtful. “Maybe I should pay a visit to the vending machine around the corner.”

“Wait wait,” Kagami put his hand out to block his brother. “Basketball player, you say? Was he formerly in Teikou?”

“Ahh!” Miyaji burst out, smacking a fist into his palm. “That’s right! Nijimura Shuuzou! He used to be the captain of Teikou middle school’s basketball team!”

“Ahh! Right!” exclaimed Hyuuga. “Right, I remember now! He was the captain before Akashi!”

“What?” came the simultaneous outbursts of a number of highschoolers.

“Pipe down everyone!” Takao hissed, ear still pressed on the door. “We’re right next to the room! They’ll hear us! Or actually wait—” the hall went silent, and they could hear a muffled voice from behind the door. “Wait—I think they did hear us! Shit, let’s scram!”

Takao had barely backed off from the door when it silently swung open, revealing a blank-faced Kuroko behind it, who stopped and stared at the mess that was his team and Shuutoku’s regulars scattered around the door.

“Remember to get some of those cheesy croquettes!” Aomine called out from inside.

“I’m going with Tetsu-kun!” Momoi bounced, coming into view at the half-opened door. She saw a glimpse of the clutter of high schoolers on the outside and made a very obvious effort not to jump back in surprise, and then suspiciously looked into the room. She started trying to sneak out without drawing attention to the door when she bumped into Himuro, who had apparently gone past Kuroko and entered the room.

“Watch out there, Satsuki,” Himuro said, smiling at her. “You heading out?”

Momoi blinked up at him, and then glanced at Kuroko, who stayed silent, not moving from his position to probably shield the others from being seen. Himuro followed her line of sight, eyebrow raised, and completely missed the hint. “Hey, Midorima, your team’s here,” he said, looking to the side and pointing towards the opening.

Everyone outside groaned, falling into the ground and slumping in defeat. They heard Midorima’s outraged “What?” and Kuroko’s trounced sigh as he swung the door fully open. Midorima staggered into view, still clutching his eggplant plush, eyes widening as he processed the sight of his teammates out the door.

“Heya, Shin-chan,” Takao called, waving sheepishly.

Midorima promptly smacked a hand over his face, defeated. “I…suppose I should excuse myself,” he announced grimly.

“No, wait,” another voice from inside—Akashi—called. “Your team, is it? Then Seirin’s with them?”

Momoi grimaced. “So you noticed?”

“It would be more of an enigma if I didn’t. Invite them inside.”

Kuroko stepped aside and gestured at the others. “Come on in, then,” he said, looking like he was somewhat sorry for them.

“Yeah, come in, Taiga,” Himuro called, stepping further into the room. “I’ll introduce you.”

“Ah, Tatsuya.” Another voice spoke up, and this time no one recognized it. The voice didn’t sound anything like Murasakibara’s lazy drawl, or Aomine’s low and dark speech, or Akashi’s sharp and commanding tone. When the stalker group filed into the hospital room rather awkwardly, they were met with the sight of the Generation of Miracles gathered around a hospital bed, and lying on it was a dark-haired teen with sharp, steely eyes and a sleepy scowl. His torso was slightly inclined so that he wasn’t laying flat on his back, and he wore a light hospital shirt and had a blanket draped over his lower body, arms lightly folded over it. His left hand was connected to an IV drip standing at the side of the bed, and a finger clip linked to a heart rate monitor pinched an index finger.

“Hey, Shuu,” Himuro said, smiling sweetly at the bedbound patient. “Glad you’re awake.”

Nijimura nodded, a corner of his lips quirking up. “Nice to see you,” he spoke, voice laced with weariness. He regarded the arrangement of highschoolers standing behind Himuro. “Who’re your friends?”

“Are those snacks?” Murasakibara lit up.

“Yes, I brought them for you,” Himuro said, handing the bag of snacks to the giant, who looked at him with complete gratitude and admiration. Himuro pat Murasakibara’s head and then gestured to Kagami and the others. “This is Taiga. Kagami Taiga, my brother that I told you about. The people beside him are his and Kuroko’s teammates from Seirin High, and the others in orange are Midorima’s teammates from Shuutoku High.”

Nijimura looked them over, blinking as if to wake up. He gave a small bow. “Nice to meet you. I’m Nijimura.”

The stalker group all awkwardly bowed in response, murmuring “Nice to meet you”s almost incomprehensibly, effectively at a loss on what to make of their current situation.

“Oi oi, stop that,” Aomine spoke up, grabbing Nijimura’s hand as it started fumbling with the needle end of his IV drip.

Nijimura scowled. “Seriously, you guys have to let me go. I’m fine already.”

“No, you’re not,” Kuroko said, and the firmness of his tone made Seirin blink at him in wonder. Midorima scooted to the other side of the bed and tugged at Nijimura’s crinkled blanket, pulling it up and smoothing it out higher over his torso. To the other side, beside Aomine, Murasakibara popped open some kind of granola bar and offered it to Nijimura, who blinked, considering the bargain.

When his stomach made a rumbling growl, he relented, accepting the snack and weakly chomping on it, grumbling some kind of complaint as he chewed.

The brief exchanges had the Seirin-Shuutoku group gaping, not quite wrapping their heads around what they had just witnessed. Takao felt a pang of incredulity and awe at Midorima’s open care, and Kagami was blinking in wonder at Aomine’s fingers lightly brushing over Nijimura’s wrist, wary of the needle connected to it.

“I’m serious though,” Nijimura said, halfway done with his snack bar. “I’m fine. Stop keeping me from leaving.”

“When you’re leaving isn’t exactly your call right now,” came Akashi’s piercing voice. “The doctors will decide that.”

Nijimura frowned at Akashi, openly hostile. The others felt a tense air flow around the hospital bed, stiffening in disbelief at beholding someone who was directly opposing Akashi.

“I said I’m fine,” Nijimura growled, his sleepy eyes getting sharper.

“You need rest,” Akashi responded, curt.

“I’ve had that. Three days of it, apparently.” Nijimura was moving to sit up higher, but Aomine put a hand on his shoulder, pressing him down.

“Hey, you shouldn’t get up, senpai,” Aomine said, a flustered worry in his brow. (Kagami gaped, muttering under his breath, “Senpai?” because he wasn’t sure he heard that Aomine speak in any way that resembled polite).

“Three days is too much,” Nijimura said, giving up his struggle against Aomine’s solid push. “I need to get back to work. And school.”

He was staring directly at Akashi, determined, and the others were amazed at how he held eye contact with those intense mismatched eyes without flinching. Akashi squinted. “I told you,” he started, voice even and firm. “We’re taking care of that. The doctors have ordered that you remain hospitalized for at least a week, and that’s barely even the minimum. You were in serious condition for a few days, and I don’t believe you have any authority to say when you get to leave confinement. Obviously not against a doctor’s word.”

Nijimura’s brows furrowed, and opened his mouth to argue when Akashi continued, “But,” he said, raising a hand, and then gesturing to Kagami. “If any time before you’re due to be released do you manage to win against Taiga in an arm wrestling match, I will personally consult the doctors and recommend your discharge.”

“What,” Kagami blinked.

“What,” everyone else repeated.

Nijimura raised an eyebrow. “And how are you going to convince them to discharge me?”

Akashi smiled, proud. “I believe you know the considerable influence my family has over various industries and establishments,” he said. “This hospital is one such establishment, and my word can be as good as a director’s, if properly supported.”

“Fine.” Nijimura huffed. He turned to look at Kagami, who flinched backwards. “Kagami right? Let’s have a match.”

“What,” Aomine jerked. Nijimura was shifting to sit up again. “Hey, right now? You just woke up!”

“I said I’m fine,” Nijimura scoffed. “If I win this it’ll prove it.”

“W-wait, I can’t—” Kagami panicked, not sure what to do.

“You’re still weak and you haven’t had a proper meal,” Midorima added.

“You brought me those lucky items, right?” Nijimura said, gesturing to the bedside table that contained a white maneki-neko, a stapler, a small cactus, and the small bouquet of flowers from earlier. “Maybe I’ll win by luck.”

Midorima pushed up his glasses, flustered over being found out. Nijimura had already figured out how to get his bed to incline his back higher and was pulling the over-bed table towards him. Aomine seemed to give up trying to stop him and glared at Kagami instead, who was visibly panicked.

“Are you sure about this, Akashi-kun?” Kuroko said, glancing at Kagami.

“You know how he is,” Akashi said, his brow only very slightly crinkled as Nijimura clenched and unclenched his fist. Akashi turned to Kagami. “Go, Taiga. He may be bedridden right now but don’t go easy on him.”

“But—” Kagami started, stepping back.

“That’s reckless!” Riko blurt out. “I don’t know what kind of sickness he’s just gone through but he’s obviously not in any condition to arm wrestle! And with Kagami, of all people!”

Momoi hugged Riko’s arm. “You’re not wrong, Riko-san, but there’s no stopping any of them when they’re like this,” she said, grimacing.

“But—i can’t possibly—” Kagami was looking at his fellow teammates, who were backing off. Even the Shuutoku guys were at a loss. “Why me?”

“Because you wouldn’t be easy to beat,” Hyuuga muttered, giving Kagami a pat on the shoulder. “I think you’re supposed to win the match so that he’ll stay hospitalized a day longer.”

“That’s right,” Kuroko said. “If you win, then it’s no problem.”

“Tch,” Nijimura spat, leaning his elbow onto the desk. ”You say that like I’ll easily lose.”

“Hey, Bakagami,” Aomine snapped. “If you hurt him I’ll punch you.”

Kagami groaned. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Just win,” Himuro offered, giving Kagami a push towards the bed.

Kagami turned to his brother. “Why don’t you go against him?”

Himuro smirked. “I’d like to say I could, but even though he’s hospitalized and all, I’m not sure if I could win against him.”

This made Kagami look at him in disbelief. Himuro chuckled, giving his brother another push. “He might not seem like it, but he’s strong. Although if it’s you, you can do it,” Himuro said, and Kagami stumbled towards the foot of the bed, completely thrown.

Up close, Kagami could see how pale Nijimura was, making the circles under his eyes seem darker. Despite that, under the hood of his eyelids, he had sharp, piercing eyes with a determined set to them, and Kagami noticed how Nijimura was well built and athletic, with the smell of someone who was undoubtedly strong, and for more reasons than just sports.

Nijimura raised his forearm, fist stretched open. Kagami gulped. Normally he would welcome any challenge of strength, but this was a hospitalized patient for crying out loud! Much more was that he was a friend of Tatsuya and Kuroko and the Generation of Miracles. Kagami silently cursed his impulsive curiosity and settled his elbow over the desk.

This is what I get for snooping around, Kagami thought grimly, glancing around. To the side, Aomine was glaring at him, looking like he was ready to pounce at any moment. Beside him, Murasakibara had actually paused his eating, staring at them. On the other side, Akashi had his arms folded over his chest, looking over them blankly, and Midorima stood next to him, trying to hide his very concerned expression under his glasses.

Kagami glimpsed at Kuroko, standing with the other Seirin people and Tatsuya, who gave him a nod. He felt cold fingers wrap around his hand, and then turned to see Nijimura’s sleepy eyes light up in determination, concentrated on their hands.

“Alright,” Akashi announced, formal. “On three.”

Kagami swallowed. The glares he was getting from Aomine and Murasakibara made him hesitate.

“One.”

But he gripped Nijimura’s hand in a tight hold. He had to win this one, so that this guy could rest. He obviously needed it.

“Two.”

Except he has to make sure not to hurt him, at least not anymore than he might have already been. Nijimura’s been hospitalized for more than three days, if the lucky items at the table weren’t indication enough. He may have a good build, and looked like he had strong arms, but he was undoubtedly weakened and tired. Plus, as confident as Kagami was in his ability to take a punch, he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of one of Aomine’s—Haizaki’s cracked jaw after being just that was a pretty good warning against it.

“Three.”

Their arms locked, caught in the middle of their starting position as they both pushed. They tensed, and Nijimura’s brows furrowed in concentration. Slowly, Kagami’s arm started bending backward, and he was caught off-guard by Nijimura’s strength. Kagami set his jaw and gripped tigher, putting more of his strength in his arm. Nijimura’s lead made it difficult to pull back, and Kagami started to panic when the back of his arm started getting closer to the desk.

“Oi, Kagami!” Aomine hissed, bent on the edge of his seat.

Nijimura grunted as Kagami fought back, his arm locked inches away from the table.

“Taiga,” Himuro spoke, alarm in his voice.

“Kagami-kun…” he heard Kuroko from behind him.

Kagami grumbled, pushing against Nijimura’s hand without restraint. Gradually, their arms moved, but Nijimura was steady. It seemed like they would stay stuck in that position when Kagami felt the pressure on his arm lessen, and he took that opening and drove inward. The pressure only continued to decrease as Kagami pushed further, reversing their positions until Kagami growled and surged forward, and he breathed a sigh when the back of Nijimura’s hand landed on the desk, defeated.

Nijimura let out a gasp, panting lightly. His cheeks were faintly flushed, and he sat back on the bed with a sigh, closing his eyes. Kagami released his hand and breathed out in relief, and everyone else seemed to do the same.

“It’s my loss,” Nijimura huffed, rubbing his eyes. “You’re strong.”

“Ah, no, I actually thought I was going to lose for a moment there,” Kagami said, scratching the back of his head.

“It’s because your stamina’s shot,” Akashi spoke up, pulling the over-bed table away from Nijimura. “If you were anywhere near your normal self, you’d have much more stamina than Taiga, and maybe you’d have a chance. So just lie down and recover your strength.”

Nijimura scowled at him, but yielded, sighing, eyes falling droopy again. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll give it a shot again later.”

“You mean tomorrow,” Midorima offered. “Or maybe after a week.”

Nijimura huffed. “Later, tomorrow, same difference. I’m not going to stay here for a week.”

Akashi fixed him a look and tugged on his blanket, and Nijimura sighed at him, eyes fluttering closed.

Aomine bonked Kagami upside the head. “That was fucking close, Bakagami!”

Kagami reeled back, clutching his head. “Shut up! I didn’t expect him to be that strong!”

Aomine grunted, but sat back on his chair. “Yeah, well, now you know.”

Kagami sighed and walked back to his teammates, who patted him sympathetically for his misfortune of getting dragged into another mess that involved the Generation of Miracles. Kuroko gave him a nod, lips quirking up slightly, and said, “Thank you.”

Kagami looked at him, then smiled, ruffling Kuroko’s hair. “Yeah, anytime. I guess.”

Kuroko gave him a wider smile, and then moved towards the hospital bed where Akashi was pulling up Nijimura’s blanket over his stomach.

“Ah, he fell asleep,” Murasakibara noted.

“Fucking finally,” Aomine sighed, pressing a button to get the bed to sink back.

“The effects of the medication took longer than expected,” Midorima quipped, setting aside the over-bed table.

The Seirin and Shuutoku group looked in wonder at the musings around the hospital bed, feeling like they were seeing something private and wasn’t meant for them to see. On the bed, Nijimura had fallen alseep with more color in his cheeks than before. His striking, sharp expression softened into one of peaceful slumber, falling into a deep sleep that he undeniably needed. To one side, Akashi had smoothened out the blanket over his chest, and gently lifted Nijimura’s drip-connected arm over it, letting it rest comfortably over his stomach. Aomine did the same with Nijimura’s other arm, and across him, Kuroko refilled a glass of water on the bedside table. Murasakibara, already halfway through with the bag of snacks, burped and then handed the half-full bag across the bed to Midorima, who took it and placed it atop the table, in between the glass of water and clump of lucky items.

No one in the Seirin-Shuutoku group knew what to make of the very unexpected sight they beheld. Never did they imagine that they’d get to see some semblance of teamwork from the former-Teikou lineup, and yet they were very obviously cooperating with each other to care for this Nijimura Shuuzou—their former-captain. Shuutoku was very visibly surprised at Midorima’s open fretfulness and worry for the senior, evident just from the lucky items sitting at the bedside table. They were also taken aback by Aomine’s subdued manner, and Murasakibara’s sudden generosity with his snacks—complete opposites of what they were used to seeing.

The most surprising was Akashi. Although he was stern and imposing towards everyone, even his predecessor, he seemed to treat Nijimura with an unexpected amount of care and concern. Even without knowing him all that much, they just had a sense that Akashi wasn’t exactly the gentle, caring type, and that much was true from hearsay and their own experiences—though they were clearly seeing a different side to him there.

“Tetsuya,” Akashi spoke, straightening up. “You were supposed to go with Satsuki to Ryouta before the others came in, yes?”

Kuroko blinked at him. “Yes, that’s right.”

“Go ahead, and take Shintarou, Daiki and Atsushi with you.” Akashi regarded the three. “You haven’t eaten proper dinners yet, so go together to where Ryouta is. I’ll be the one to stay here.”

“But—”

“Go,” Akashi said, sharper. “I’ve already taken dinner. I’ll take responsibility for tiring Nijimura-san out.”

Kagami was about to point out that he was the one who did that, but Akashi gave him a pointed look, and he promptly shut his mouth.

“Give Ryouta an update as well,” Akashi continued. “I imagine he’d be very anxious to hear about what’s happened around here.”

Aomine snorted, standing up. “No doubt about it,” he said, then smirked. “Well it was his fault for losing against me.”

“One-on-one?” Himuro mused.

“Rock-paper-scissors,” Aomine looked very proud about it.

Himuro chuckled, and Murasakibara went up to his side. “Come with us too, Muro-chin,” he said, holding onto Himuro’s arm.

Himuro was about to protest when his stomach growled. “Right. Okay, I guess I’ll go with you guys. Might as well help Kise out.”

“Help Kise out with what?” Kagami asked.

Aomine smirked, shrugging on his jacket and ushering the bumbling group of high schoolers towards the door. “With his ‘job’.”

“Job…?”

“Do you want anything?” Midorima asked Akashi, who shook his head, a small smile on his lips.

“No, I’m fine. Go. Take your team with you. I can hear their stomachs from over here. It’s the least you can do in exchange for their concern.”

Midorima looked flustered, and then followed after his team, nodding at them. “Let’s have dinner,” he said.

“Eh? Will it be your treat, Shin-chan?” Takao perked up, grinning.

“That depends,” Midorima muttered, hiding under his glasses. The other seniors laughed, ruffling his hair, and the group bowed slightly at Akashi and Nijimura before leaving the room.

Kuroko lagged behind, and then nodded at Akashi. “Get some rest too, Akashi-kun.”

Akashi waved him away, smiling.

Once outside, the group seemed to have been released from the tense atmosphere of the hospital room. They walked together silently, and they had reached the line of elevators when Kiyoshi piped up.

“Well that was fun,” he said, bouncing. “And kind of exciting, don’t you think?”

“No.” Kagami grumbled, ducking his head.

Kiyoshi merely laughed and fluffed his hair.

“Where exactly are we all having dinner at?” Takao chimed in, turning to Midorima and Momoi.

“It’s a restaurant nearby,” Momoi answered, smiling.

“Kise’s working there?” Kagami asked.

“Well sort of,” Aomine said, scratching the back of his head. “It’s kind of hard to explain.”

“Well, now you have time to explain,” Kagami said. “There’s still too much I’m confused about here.”

The others nodded. There wasn’t exactly a significant decrease in their questions and mysteries. All that was answered was who the rainbow gang was visiting, and none of why Kuroko skipped practice or why Midorima left early, or even why Nijimura’s been hospitalized for so long. And now there was the question of Kise missing from the group apparently in the middle of a ‘job’, and then there was Kagami’s stomach, which was gurgling up some feral sounds as he walked.

“But first, let’s eat,” he announced, clutching at his stomach. He looked at Kuroko. “Explain everything then.”

It would have been a serious command if it weren’t for Kagami’s stomach sounding like it was trying to communicate with monsters. Kagami flushed as the others laughed, and despite everything, they felt lighter.

Kuroko smiled, nodding at his partner. “Of course.”

Chapter Text

Kise was someone who had a lot to be proud of, but one thing in particular that he personally took special pride in was his stamina. Back in his middle school days, Kise had pretty good endurance to get him through numerous sports until he found basketball, and once there, the Spartan training he and his teammates had to go through upgraded their level of stamina to last them a whole tournament season, and then some. Because of his ability to copy moves and his Perfect Copy, Kise had also learned to efficiently conserve energy and survive rigorous physical activity and effectively last longer than most people, even Aominecchi.

There was no doubt that Kise was one who could endure long bouts of mental and physical work, and he was fully open to welcoming Seirin and Shuutoku into the restaurant he was working in as they entered, but when he spotted Kagami entering behind them, he had to put his foot down right there.

“No,” Kise snapped, blocking Kagami from entering. “You will not eat here.”

Kagami frowned at him. “Why not? I’m coming in as a customer.”

“You mean food vacuum,” Kise grumbled, fists on his waist.

An arm suddenly went around Kise’s shoulders, making him stagger. “Hey, one Kagami is equal to a whole team. That’s really good business, right?”

“Aominecchi!” Kise exclaimed, and then tried to elbow Aomine’s face. “You unfair little—”

“Whoa!” Aomine ducked under Kise’s arm, and then smirked at Kise’s scowl. “Hey, I won our game of rock-paper-scissors fair and square. And that was after you lost to me on our one-on-one. I am super fair.”

Kise huffed, straightening himself up. He looked like he was about to smack Aomine for good measure when a voice called out, “Oi, Kise! We need refills over here!”

“Ohh!? Kasamatsu-san!” Takao jumped, head popping out from behind his teammates.

“Ah, it’s Kaijo!” Hyuuga pointed.

“Oh, Seirin and—Shuutoku?” Kasamatsu Yukio, seated on a table, exclaimed.

Everyone turned to find Kaijo High’s regulars having dinner together at a table to the side, apparently with Kise serving as their waiter. Takao bounced towards Kasamatsu, clearly delighted to see him.

“What are you guys doing here?” he asked.

“Kise told us he was working part-time at a restaurant,” Kasamatsu answered. “So we’re paying him a visit.”

“Are you all here for Kise too?” Moriyama asked, squinting.

“We’re here for food,” Kagami announced, clutching at his stomach.

“How did you somehow end up together?” Kasamatsu quipped, noticing Midorima, Murasakibara, Himuro, and Aomine.

“It’s…complicated,” Takao chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “We and the Seirin guys sort of got together to stalk fellow teammates. And one thing led to another and we ran into these guys.”

“Stalk…?”

“It’s a long story,” Miyaji said, raising a hand. “We can talk about it while we eat.”

“Why don’t you guys sit down,” Kise grumbled at the group—or more like Kagami. He stuck out his tongue when Aomine passed by him, and then glared at Kagami as they sat at a table beside Kaijo’s, grumpily refilling his teammates’ drinks. Takao positioned himself nearest to the aisle next to Kasamatsu, and Midorima sat across him. Seirin’s group occupied the rest of the table, flanked by Shuutoku’s table and another table with Aomine, Momoi, Murasakibara and Himuro. Kise took a moment to process the amount of work he was looking at, and then gave up after a few seconds.

“Ohh? More friends of yours, Kise?” an elderly man chimed in, suddenly appearing beside Kise. The group looked up to see a pot-bellied old man wearing an apron, one hand armed with a very sharp-looking knife.

“Yeah, boss,” Kise said, smiling crookedly. He gave Kagami a solid pat on the back. “You’ll love this guy. He’s gonna tire us out tonight.”

“Hmm? Really?” the old man said, beaming at Kagami. “Big appetite, eh? We’ll make sure you’re filled up, no problem!”

Kagami grinned, his eyes lighting up. “I’m looking forward to it.”

The old man smacked him on the back. “Good lad!” he bellowed, and then looked at the gathering of large high schoolers. “Looks like it’s good business tonight!”

The group laughed as Kise handed them the menus. The old man passed out a few when he noticed Aomine, and surprisingly went to ruffle his hair.

“Ohh, Aomine!” the old man boomed. “Seems like you got off lucky tonight!”

Aomine smirked, ducking away from his hand. “Yeah, Kise sucks at winning.”

A menu crashed down Aomine’s head. “Oh, sorry,” Kise spoke, pulling back the menu in his hand. “Your head was so big, the menu got caught up in it.”

Aomine punched Kise’s side, making him gurgle. Kise smacked the menu over Aomine’s head again, and they all but started beating each other up when the old man laughed, loud, grabbing both Aomine’s and Kise’s heads and bonking them together, the impact making a very audible THUD that sounded rather painful.

“Gah!” Kise reeled back, clutching his head.

“Fucking hell—” Aomine cursed, similarly ducking under his arms.

The old man turned to the group of highschoolers, smiling triumphantly. “I’ve discovered that this is the most effective way to cease their endless bickering,” he lectured, and the basketball teams nodded. “Hard-headedness is useful when used together.”

The others laughed again, and Momoi patted Aomine’s head sympathetically. The old man pushed Kise to take their orders, and he grudgingly complied. When it got to Kagami’s turn, Kise had started trying to negotiate a less abundant selection of meals, and the old man gave him another one of those shuddering smacks to the back as he made Kise take every order Kagami made—which more or less comprised of at least half of the menu. After taking up more than four sheets of paper, Kise rattled off their orders, and then grunted in defeat as he started for the kitchen, rubbing his throbbing head.

“You know the chef, Aomine?” Kagami asked, trying to distract himself from his grumbling stomach.

“Huh? Yeah, he’s also the boss here,” Aomine replied, arms still curled up around his head.

“How do you know him?” Kagami pressed.

“Why did you say Kise’s ‘sort of’ working here?” Takao joined in.

“My head hurts,” Aomine simply grumbled, poking at a bump that was probably swelling on his head. “I don’t want to answer your questions.”

“It’s related to Nijimura-san,” Kuroko offered.

“Are you talking about Nijimura-senpai?” Kise suddenly appeared, and the others gaped in amazement at the collection of food atop large trays that he was balancing rather masterfully on his arms.

“Holy crap, that looks delicious,” Kagami breathed, drooling.

“Aw yeah, I’m finally gonna be able to eat this stuff,” Aomine sat up, eyes sparkling.

“As if you haven’t sampled every meal you were supposed to be serving,” Kise huffed, setting the meals down. Aomine simply grinned at him and picked up his chopsticks.

“What do you mean by that?” Kagami poked, peering very excitedly at the meals Kise was distributing.

“Eh? They didn't tell you yet? Aominecchi and I both work part-time here,” Kise said, and then scoffed. “But today he got off lucky on our shift.”

“What?”

“This is what we meant by things being complicated,” Midorima grumbled.

Kise had somehow disappeared and then came back with a new set of meals, going rounds along the tables and dispersing the food at an impressively efficient manner. The others somewhat applauded, and consequently started feasting.

“I’ll be back again with the rest of your offerings,” Kise groused at Kagami, who proceeded to stuff his face with very open appreciation.

It wasn’t long before the large assortment of basketball players leaned back in contentment at finishing their dinners. Some ordered light desserts, and the others settled for extra drinks, while Kagami was still in the middle of his gorging the last of his meals, and Murasakibara was going through some gigantic dessert mountain. Kise had retreated to the counter to make sense of the bills and how they were split up, dragging Midorima with him to help out with the math.

“So,” Takao piped up, picking his teeth with a toothpick. “Let’s hear the story.”

Kuroko looked thoughtful. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” Kagami mumbled, mouth occupied with various slices of meat.

Hyuuga smacked him. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“I suppose I have to start from the top,” Kuroko said.

“If you have to,” Riko remarked. “Just don’t take too long.”

Kuroko gave a small smile. “It’s not that long, really. Nijimura-san was hospitalized four days ago, starting Saturday—”

“Why?” Kiyoshi blurted, visibly concerned. “What happened to him?”

“I guess you could say this restaurant was one of the reasons he got hospitalized,” Kuroko answered. To the side, Aomine, Murasakibara, and Momoi looked downcast, going quiet.

Just then, Kise and Midorima returned, looking harassed and disoriented. Midorima sank down into his seat across Takao, and Kise pulled a chair from a vacant table to sit in the middle of Seirin and Kaijo’s tables, plopping down on it with a tired sigh.

“You okay?” Kasamatsu patted Kise’s head.

“Yeah, just fine,” Kise mumbled, leaning back. “I finally got a break. Are you still talking about Nijimura-senpai?”

“Yes,” Kuroko said.

Kise huffed. “How is he? I heard he woke up.”

“He’s okay,” Aomine replied. “He tried to leave as soon as the doctors left.”

Kise chuckled at that, looking lighter. “Just like Akashicchi said. He’s the one looking after him right now, right?”

“Yes,” Midorima nodded. “He switched with Murasakibara.”

“What exactly happened?” Kagami butt in, down to his last two meals. “Is he really okay?”

“Supposedly,” Kuroko answered. “The doctors said if he stays in the hospital for at least a week or so, he should be able recover fully if nothing comes up.”

“You see,” Momoi chimed in, regarding the group. “Nijimura-san is the one who actually works here.”

“Here? In this restaurant?”

“Yes,” she bit her lip. “He also has two other jobs.”

“What?” Kagami exclaimed. “You mean he has three part-time jobs?”

Momoi nodded, grave. The Generation of Miracles and Kuroko were quiet.

“Nijimura-san is the eldest of his family,” Kuroko spoke. “And he’s the one supporting them. So aside from school, he’s juggling three jobs, being a waiter at this restaurant included.”

The others seemed to take it bit by bit, processing what they had just heard, and already finding Nijimura’s position incredibly daunting.

“Damn,” Kasamatsu breathed, slumping back on his chair. “That’s gotta be hard.”

“I already have a hard enough time with the school part,” Hyuuga said. “I can’t imagine juggling not just two, but three jobs on top of that.”

Kise nodded, looking down. “Yeah. When we found out he was hospitalized, we decided to help however we could.”

“How did you find out?” Riko questioned.

“Akashicchi’s family partially owns the hospital, and he instructed the people there to tell him if ever a ‘Nijimura’ gets hospitalized.”

Kagami raised an eyebrow. “Why? Sounds creepy.”

“Nah, it’s nothing like that,” Kise waved his hand. “Nijimura-senpai’s father was once hospitalized there, but he got better after a while and was discharged. Akashicchi wanted to be informed if he did get hospitalized again, so that he’ll get proper attention and treatment. It just so happened that this time it was a different Nijimura that got hospitalized. It was worse.”

The tables were silent, a grim air settling around them.

“But hey, he’s alright now!” Kise said, perking up. “We’ll just keep up the work until he gets better!”

“So you’re filling in for his jobs while he’s hospitalized?” Kasamatsu said, looking like he was proud of Kise.

“Yeah,” Kise answered, smiling more happily now. “Aominecchi and I are filling in for him in this restaurant, while Kurokocchi and Midorimacchi take shifts at a fitness center.”

“Fitness center?” Takao cocked his head to one side.

“Nijimura-san’s other job is at a fitness center,” Kuroko said. “He takes appointments for physical training and sometimes mans the front desk.”

“Is that where you’ve been going during practice?” Hyuuga asked him.

Kuroko nodded. “Yes. Nijimura-san has scheduled appointments during practice hours so I had to skip basketball practice to attend to them. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s alright,” Riko spoke. “It’s a valid reason. We understand.”

Kuroko blinked at her, somewhat surprised, and then smiled. “Thank you.”

“Then what does Midorima do there?” Miyaji inquired.

“We take turns with the appointment hours,” Kuroko said. “Since sometimes there’s more than one appointment a day.”

“How do you decide who takes what?” Takao said, eyebrow raised in suspicion. “I don’t expect that you’d volunteer to take the shifts during practice hours.”

Kuroko answered determinedly. “Rock-paper-scissors.”

At that, Takao burst out laughing, patting Kuroko on the back repeatedly. “I know how you feel, man!” he sniffled in between laughs. “I’ve never won against Shin-chan at that!”

Kuroko grimaced, but looked determined. “Someday,“ he declared.

Takao laughed again. “Tell me when that someday comes. I’ll treat you to a drink when it does.”

Kuroko smiled. “I’ll hold you to that, then.”

The two freshmen shook on it, forming a new bond of kinship against Midorima’s rock-paper-scissors prowess. Midorima scowled at them, pushing up his glasses and hugging his eggplant closer. The restaurant boss then came back with the bills in one hand and a bowl of noodles in another. He handed the bills to the captains of each table, and gave Kise the bowl of noodles.

“Here’s a treat for your hard work,” the boss said, beaming at Kise. “Specially made for you!”

Kise looked like he wanted to cry. “I love you.”

The boss cackled and gave him a heavy pat on the back, then ruffled Aomine’s hair, sitting at a chair between the tables.

“So,” he said, leaning back. “How’s Nijimura?”

“He’s getting better,” Aomine grunted, rubbing his hair. “He keeps trying to leave and get back to work.”

Boss frowned, eyebrows scrunching. “That Nijimura’s always such a hard worker. Tell him that there’s no problem if he takes his time to recover. He’s got good kouhai helping him out, so he has to come back fully healed.”

Kise smiled. “Thanks boss.”

“You can go ahead and visit him, Kise. Since Wakana’s offered to take Nijimura’s shift tonight, you can leave early. Oh, tell him that some regular customers of his have left extra tips just for him,” the boss grinned, standing to return to the kitchen. “They’re worried and want to see their favorite waiter again.”

Kise chuckled. “I will, thank you.”

“Nijimura-san seems like a nice guy,” Takao smiled.

“He’s a stubborn guy, that’s what he is,” Aomine huffed. “Akashi too.”

“Speak for yourself, Aomine-kun,” Kuroko sighed.

“I was surprised by Akashi, though,” Hyuuga said. “I didn’t think he would compromise like that.”

“Out of all of us, Akashi knows Nijimura-san best,” Midorima pondered. “The deal he proposed is the best possible agreement in this situation. Nijimura-san is stubborn, but he’s smart and sensible, so he obviously knows that he’s not strong enough yet. He’s just too responsible for his own good.”

“But why me,” Kagami groaned.

Midorima shrugged. “Akashi probably expected you to visit at some point. Since you don’t personally know Nijimura-san or the details of his hospitalization, there’s less risk of you losing in a match as compared to us going against him.”

“A match? What match?” Kise was looking around in confusion.

“So keep it up for at least a week, Taiga!” Himuro yelled.

“Why,” Kagami groaned again, finally setting down his chopsticks. “Aren’t you concerned? You just said that since you guys know why he was hospitalized, you won’t win if you wrestled with him.”

“Wrestle?” Kise’s eyes went wide.

“Arm wrestle,” Kuroko poked him.

“Hey,” Aomine growled at Kagami, rising from his seat. “We are concerned. I know your team has some kind of history with hospitalizations and shit but this is different. He almost fucking died and he’s treating it like it’s nothing, and I hate the fact that we’re leaving it to you of all people to keep him from ending up like that again.”

“A-Aominecchi…” Kise muttered, hand tentatively raised as if to reach out to him.

Aomine let out a ragged sigh. “But if even Akashi resorted to something like this shit, then it’s your responsibility, you got it? You can complain to us all you want about owing you afterwards, but you better as hell do your job because we’re trusting you with it.”

He gave another huff, and then skulked away from the table, grabbing the back of Kise’s collar. “Oi Kise,” he grumbled. “You wanted to visit him right? Let’s go.”

“A-ah? Eh? What?” Kise stammered, flailing at getting dragged backwards. “Wait—ack—Aominecchi!”

“H-hey! Dai-chan! Wait!” Momoi spluttered, clambering from her seat. She rushed to follow but paused to bow. “Sorry Kagamin!” she grimaced. “I know he’s being a jerk but that was his way of saying ‘please’. And he’s always a total buttface about it, but he actually really cares, he just doesn’t know any decent way of being honest. Sorry!”

She gave another bow and rushed to follow the two out, Kise’s disoriented wails fading as they left the restaurant. The remaining people gaped at the wake of their departure and at what Aomine and Momoi said, and Kagami blinked before groaning again.

“What the hell,” he exhaled.

“Sorry, Kagami-kun,” Kuroko said. “You’re probably confused as to what to feel about what they said.”

“Sure as hell am,” Kagami grumbled, looking down. “What did he mean by Nijimura-san almost dying?” he asked, a strain in his voice.

Kuroko’s eyes shifted. “He was exaggerating a bit.”

“But it could have happened,” Midorima said glumly, his lips drawn in a thin line.

“Tell me about it,” Kagami said, expression grave and serious.

“But—”

“Hey, it’s in the past, right?” Kagami pushed. “And you guys are putting me through this so at least let me know.”

“I’d also like to hear about it,” Takao said, nodding at Midorima. “If that’s alright.”

Midorima averted his gaze, hiding his eyes under his glasses. “It’s not like I really care if you know.”

Takao and the other Shuutoku regulars just laughed, ruffling his hair.

“Same here,” Kasamatsu spoke. “Anyone who Kise and the Generation of Miracles is fussing over is someone I’d like to hear about.”

“Yeah, me too,” Kiyoshi smiled.

Beside him, Hyuuga snorted. “I can actually relate to Aomine,” he griped, flicking a pointed glare at Kiyoshi. “So I want to help out with hospital idiots like him.”

Kuroko gave a small smile, feeling a warmth bloom in his chest. “Alright. Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Kagami said, smirking. “But before you tell us, let me order some more food.”

Kuroko sighed.

Four days ago, Saturday

It was a peculiar thing, Nijimura thought, to stay up at night long enough to see the sun peeking through your curtains. There was a solace in the silence of ‘today’ quietly and seamlessly blending into ‘tomorrow’, making ‘today’ turn into ‘yesterday’, and ‘tomorrow’ take its place as ‘today’. Yesterday didn’t seem so far off, and time didn’t feel like a flowing line that you followed. The past felt like so long ago and yet just a while ago, and tomorrow was just a sliver of light away. When it grazed his hand, Nijimura paused his work to watch the sunlight trying to crawl into his room, seeping from under the curtain and poking warmth wherever it reached.

He didn’t realize that he forgot to sleep that night. At least he had finished all his schoolwork for the next week, and had completed most of his advance study notes to give him some free time during the weekdays. He set his pen down and quietly stood up, slowly blinking as he felt a strange weight settling over his body—something he’s been experiencing more often recently, but started learning to get used to. Nijimura rolled his shoulders and shrugged it off, going to the kitchen to put together some meals for his siblings, and grabbing some granola bars for a quick breakfast. He packed his bag as he ate—in a couple of hours, he had work at the dojo, and after that, he had at least four hours before his restaurant shift: he could catch up on sleep then.

He felt his eyes trying to lose focus as he walked out, and decided to jog lightly the rest of the way to work, at least to get his body energized. He greeted his seniors and fellow instructors upon entering the dojo, and some of the students started filing in by the time he went back out after changing.

Nijimura was put in charge of some of older elementary school and middle school kids, and he was going around as usual correcting stances and movements when he felt his chest throb. He winced, breathing deep, and forced himself to exhale it out. It had happened a few times in the past month, and he supposed he should get that checked out, but it always slipped his mind. He made a mental note to visit the school infirmary on Monday.

“You alright, Nijimura?” his partner instructor asked, forehead creased with worry. “You’re looking a little pale there.”

“I’m good,” Nijimura said, pulling on a small smile. “I was up late studying is all.”

“Always so diligent,” the man smirked. “We’ll go into some sparring rounds later, so get your brats ready.”

Nijimura waved a hand. “Don’t worry about them, they’ll beat your side no sweat.”

The instructor barked a laugh and ruffled Nijimura’s hair, lighting up at the challenge. “Hey, you may have that intense Spartan training you picked up from middle school, but my brats are tough.”

“We’ll see,” Nijimura grinned.

“Alright, time for a break!” the head instructor called. “Ten minutes! We’ll do some sparring afterwards!”

Training slowed to a stop, and Nijimura’s partner instructor dropped onto a bench by the wall as the students shuffled to their packs to drink. Nijimura gave another huff, his head somehow feeling light. The lack of sleep was probably getting to him, he thought. He pinched the bridge of his nose while breathing deeply, eyes closed, feeling a muted throbbing at his chest crawling up to his head. When he opened his eyes, things seemed brighter and more faded, but he grunted and bent to pick up his water bottle.

His vision blurred again, and his breathing hitched somewhat. He dropped on a knee without really thinking, and felt the cold touch of his water bottle and focused on that. He faintly heard someone to the side talking to him, and he truly wanted to understand what that person was saying, but it all sounded muffled and he felt like he couldn’t breathe—

“Nijimura? Did you hear what I said?” his partner instructor glanced at him from the seat. “Hey, are you really alright?”

Nijimura wanted to reply, but he was trying to figure out what to clear up first—his vision, his head, his breathing—it felt like everything was throbbing and that his lungs had closed up—

“Nijimura? O-oi!Niji—!”

And he felt the world shift, and vaguely registered that he was lying on the ground. He thought of trying to get up, but something heavy settled over him, and he couldn’t feel his arms—just the faint chill of his water bottle’s moist. And he forgot about his ragged breathing when everything went black, and his eyes fluttered shut, welcoming the darkness that came with it.

[tbc]

Chapter Text

Saturday

Akashi was never the superstitious type—no, that was Shintarou’s particular foible—but there was something quite ominous in the way one of his teacups cracked and fell apart at the handle. The subsequent ringing of his phone a second later had him raising an eyebrow, and he set aside the broken ceramic to answer the call—it was from one of their branch hospitals in Tokyo.

“A-Akashi-sama?” a tentative voice came. “We understand that you have requested that we inform you of a specific patient to be admitted here—”

Akashi squinted at his shattered teacup. Tokyo was where Tetsuya, Shintarou, and Daiki stayed. Or maybe Nijimura-san’s father—

“—so I’ve called to inform you of a Nijimura Shuuzou that was brought into the emergency room roughly…thirty-five minutes ago.”

He stilled, his grip on the phone tight. “Could you repeat that? The name of the patient.”

“N-Nijimura Shuuzou.”

Akashi tensed, his voice going sharp as he muffled the urgency he started feeling. ”What happened? What is his condition?”

An audible gulp could be heard from the other end. “He apparently collapsed during work and was rushed to the ER. He’s running a high fever and is having difficulty breathing, so we’ve put him on a respirator. We still don’t have full details on his condition so we’ll be running some tests first before getting the final diagnosis.”

Akashi was mentally putting together the scarce bits of information he was told and ran a list of the possible conclusions that could be drawn. He shut his eyes and gathered his thoughts—he can’t be certain of anything until he hears from the doctors themselves. As of the moment, only one thing needed to be assured of. “Is there any danger to his life?”

The caller hesitated. “H-he’s in serious condition but we’re bringing in our best nurses and doctors as you previously requested—”

“Is there any danger to his life?” Akashi repeated.

“N-no. No. He’ll make it. We’ll make sure of it.”

Akashi released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Good. Contact me if anything comes up. I will be there as soon as possible.”

“Y-you’ll what—”

Akashi ended the call and immediately dialed another number, keeping the phone to his ear as he moved to the wall phone and pressed a finger over the call button.

“Seijuurou-sama?” a man’s voice spoke.

“I need a ride to Tokyo,” Akashi simply announced.

“Understood. The car will be waiting at the front gate.”

“Thank you.”

On his cellphone, the receiver picked up, and a low voice answered. “Akashi?”

“Shintarou,” Akashi said, pulling on a coat as he headed to the door. “I need you to pay a visit to the hospital.”

A pause. “What happened?”

“It’s Nijimura-senpai,”Akashi answered.

“Nijimura—not his father?”

“No. He was rushed to the emergency room after collapsing at work. I’ll explain the details later. It’ll be at least an hour before I get there.” Akashi found his car humming at the front gate, and nodded to the driver as he went in.

“Alright,” Shintarou said, swallowing. Akashi could hear the rustle of clothes on the other end. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. I’ll tell the others, too.”

“Please do. I’ll inform Atsushi. I will also tell the staff that you’re coming.”

“Okay. I’ll see you.”

After he had swiftly called all he needed to call, Akashi settled against the cushion of the seats, leaning his head back and exhaling. Something heavy seemed to have seeped under his skin, and he was only vaguely aware of a growing dread weighting over him, making his body tense with anticipation. He had hoped he wouldn’t hear anything come up with Nijimura-san’s father, but he had prepared for it just in case. He just didn’t expect it to have actually been Nijimura-san instead of his father, and not in the way that he came in.

The ride was far too long, so Akashi busied himself with more calls, and by the time they were rounding the corner to the hospital, he had already gathered enough information to more or less understand Nijimura’s situation, and stubbornly narrowed out a list of diagnoses from what he’d put together. He was ushered and filled in on details he already knew—Nijimura had collapsed unconscious at the karate dojo he was working as an assistant instructor in, and was brought to the emergency room while under a high fever and difficulty breathing. Fatigue seemed to be the primary suspect of his collapse, and he had apparently continued overworking himself for consecutive days without paying attention to a growing illness. The test results were incomplete, but they had hooked him up to an IV drip and respirator and kept his condition from getting worse, although he wasn’t out of the woods just yet.

Akashi felt a tinge of anger at Nijimura-san’s lack of a sense of self-preservation, thinking about how he filled in for his co-workers and put out extra time to train his karate students and supported his family practically all on his own. Akashi let out an exasperated sigh and made a mental note to bring it up with Nijimura-san later. But first: he has to recover.

At the waiting room, Shintarou, Tetsuya, and Daiki had gathered, and all looked up as he approached, worry creasing their brows. There was small relief upon seeing their faces, and Akashi had half a mind to sit beside them but thought against it—he felt like he may crumple at the seat under the weight that had settled over him. Instead, he remained standing, and regarded them all with a nod.

“The doctor says its pneumonia,” Shintarou spoke, tone grave and strained. “And fatigue.”

Akashi briefly closed his eyes. Pneumonia. It was one of his top guesses, and one he had hoped wouldn’t be the case. “What’s his current status?”

“Stable, but still not well enough. They say it’s actually lucky he collapsed,” Shintarou grimaced. “Or else it might have been too late.”

The dread that was barely hanging over Akashi felt like it had dropped right there, and it was the heaviest feeling, realizing that he had been so close to—to losing someone, and almost as abruptly as the call that had brought him there.

To one side, Daiki was bent down on his seat, elbows resting on his knees, fingers entwined together so tight that his fingertips were white. Tetsuya stood nearby, and looked at Akashi with solemn eyes, quiet. Akashi moved to stand beside him, closest to the door of Nijimura-san’s hospital room, and crossed his arms over his chest as he waited. Ryouta appeared not long after, and both Akashi and Shintarou explained the situation to him. He understood immediately, and huffed out a breath as he sat beside Daiki in a slouch, covering his eyes with his forearm. And it was the first time since Akashi came that Daiki had moved when he put an arm around Ryouta’s shoulders—but for whose comfort exactly, Akashi wasn’t sure.

The sliding of the door snapped them all out of their stillness, alert. Two nurses and a doctor stepped out, and bowed slightly when they saw Akashi.

“How is he?” Daiki was first to speak.

“He’s still running a high fever, but we’ve given him some medication,” the doctor said. “We’ve also given him some sedatives since we’ve put him on a respirator, and so that the pain in his chest eases a little bit. It looks like he’s been in bad condition for a while, but right now it all depends on how strong he is for him to recover.”

Daiki gritted his teeth, Shintarou clenched his fists, and both Tetsuya and Ryouta just stared. Akashi gave a stiff nod, and a beat passed before he spoke, “Can we see him?”

The doctor flinched under Akashi’s gaze, pursing his lips. “I’m afraid not. He’s different kinds of contagious right now, and he’s asleep—probably will be for a few hours—so I think it’s better to visit when he’s better, and safer.”

Akashi nodded again, slowly, and fought the urge to argue. “Alright. Thank you, doctor. Please inform me if there are any developments.”

The doctor let out a breath, and then pulled his expression into an accommodating smile. “Will do, Akashi-san. If you’ll excuse me, then…”

He gave a rather confused bow and left, nurses shuffling behind him and bowing to Akashi agitatedly. When their footsteps faded into the elevators, Akashi moved towards Nijimura-san’s door.

Shintarou pushed up his glasses. “The doctor just said—”

“I know,” Akashi said, and he sounded stronger than he felt. “I’m just taking a look.”

He leaned against the door and peered through a small gap he pulled open. Inside, lying slightly inclined on the hospital bed, Nijimura-san slept, a faint knot on his brow as he breathed through a respirator mask, chest rising and falling more heavily than normal. He was pale, and despite his muscular build, he looked limp and weak, especially with an IV drip attached to his left hand. Akashi watched the rise and fall of his chest for a few more beats before pulling away and shutting the door. He closed his eyes and sighed, and then turned to look at his companions, all of them looking stressed and tense with anxiety. Akashi hoped he didn’t look as worn out as he felt, and straightened his back to regard his former teammates.

“You heard what the doctor said,” he announced. “We can visit again tomorrow. For now, we have to do what we can.”

“What do you mean?” Ryouta said, eyes ragged around the edges.

“I’m sure you heard—that Nijimura-san collapsed during one of his part-time jobs,” Akashi stated. “He has a total of three part-time jobs, so we’ll have to do something about that while he’s hospitalized.”

“Three?” Ryouta exclaimed.

“What the hell,” Daiki muttered. “That dumbass.”

“I share the same sentiments,” Akashi said, finding Daiki’s remark rather appropriate, despite everything. “But in any case, he has a shift at a nearby restaurant in a few hours. I’ll go there and sort things out.”

“I’m going with you,” Shintarou said, straightening up.

“Me too,” Daiki stood up.

“You said three jobs right? Then we’ll need as much people as possible,” Ryouta let out a sigh.

Akashi stared at them, then felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to find Tetsuya looking straight at him, with that unwavering gaze that shined with a kind determination that didn’t take no for an answer. “We’ll all go.”

Akashi thought of arguing, but rather felt more relieved. He gave a nod, glancing at Nijimura-san’s door, and then turned, the others following behind him.

They ran into Atsushi and his teammate—Himuro Tatsuya—at the entrance to the hospital. Himuro was apparently a friend to Nijimura-san, having met sometime after middle school in Los Angeles. Akashi nodded at him, remembering how Nijimura-san had moved to LA briefly because of his father’s treatment there. They told them what they knew, and Akashi explained the details of Nijimura-san’s situation—that he had three part-time jobs: after school hours at a fitness center serving as a personal trainer and occasional front desk receptionist, a night shift at a restaurant nearby, and an assistant karate instructor on weekends. At the same time, he was a second year high school student, and took care of his younger siblings while his father was getting treatment abroad.

They had heard it already, but they still grimaced at the weight of all of Nijimura’s burdens. They tackled the restaurant first, explaining the situation to the boss, who was fortunately accommodating enough to understand. Ryouta volunteered himself to fill in for Nijimura-san, which the boss wasn’t too keen on—though when Ryouta displayed his copying abilities, he changed his mind shortly. Daiki stepped up and volunteered himself for the job as well, explaining that he lived closer, and would rather be able to get to the hospital if anything came up, while still having either him or Kise to do the job. Akashi was taken by the logic in Daiki’s decision and pushed for it, giving his own arguments that left more benefit to the restaurant than disadvantages, and had the boss agreeing fully in no time.

Tetsuya and Shintarou had a match of rock-paper-scissors to determine the appointments they’d fill in for at the fitness center, arguing against Akashi that Kyoto was too far away for him to take any of Nijimura-san’s jobs. Shintarou emerged as the victor in taking the hours that didn’t overlap with basketball practice, and they went through a crash course and tour of the center, the managers somehow unable to fight back against Akashi’s persuasion.

The group had argued over who would watch over Nijimura, and when. Himuro and Atsushi asserted their concerns over that issue, and Akashi did not accept any opposition against doing the same. They managed to come up with some form of shift schedule for the task, and both Himuro and Akashi agreed to handle the school-related bits that Nijimura will likely miss.

They ended up returning to the hospital after the sun had set, getting word that Nijimura was stabilizing and breathing more normally, albeit still running a high fever. Momoi showed up then, and told them that she’d gone to Nijimura-san’s place and worked things out with his siblings. They had another debate on who would stay at the hospital for the night, and Himuro asserted his seniority, but neither Daiki nor Akashi let up, and luckily Akashi’s influence (and probably his piercing glare) had allowed for it to happen that the three of them would stay.

They had settled into the hospital room after taking a light dinner, and Shintarou and Ryouta tiredly left, making promises to visit again as soon as they could. Tetsuya lagged behind them, and fixed both Akashi and Daiki a look, regarding them with a firm yet gentle stare.

“Get some rest, Aomine-kun, Akashi-kun.”

Akashi noticed Daiki’s eyes soften, and they both nodded. “You too.”

Tetsuya slowly nodded, bowing slightly to Himuro. “You too, Himuro-san.”

Himuro smiled at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Tetsuya gave a small smile, and then quietly closed the door as he left.

Akashi let out a sigh, allowing himself to relax his shoulders and slump. Across him, Himuro was staring at Nijimura, and how the fog of his breathing faded in and out against the respirator. Beside Himuro, Daiki was watching the rise and fall of Nijimura-san’s chest, and Akashi found himself doing the same, feeling greatly comforted over the assurance that Nijimura-san was right there, alive.

It was a strange thing, Akashi thought, for him to have encountered Nijimura-san again in this manner. It had been more than a year since he’d last seen him, not since he’d graduated from Teikou and the basketball club after they had won their second championship in a row. Akashi didn’t put much thought in seeing him again—although he had hoped that it would be on the court someday—and it struck him now that he had come so close to never seeing him again—his scoff or quick temper or heedless violence, and those determined and unrelenting eyes that never wavered. Akashi vaguely realized that it meant something to him if that would happen, and wasn’t sure he understood the feeling.

Akashi busied himself with trying to figure it out, watching Himuro and Daiki’s somewhat distant concentration. He followed Himuro’s gaze, which landed on Nijimura-san’s face, and he felt a strange prick in his chest at seeing his brows furrowed in pain, breaths coming in both weak and strained. It was different from seeing people injured in the court—this was someone he realized he didn’t want to see hurt, just as he’d felt anger when Tetsuya was elbowed in the head by one of the Kamata West twins, or when Shougo pulled that stunt against Ryouta during their Winter Cup match. This was someone he’d once called ‘captain’ and followed for years, one of the few he would openly respect, and for more reasons than just basketball.

When Nijimura’s breathing deepened and his eyes fluttered just barely open, the puzzle in Akashi’s head snapped into place as he stood in alert. The heart rate monitor to the side was beeping more noticeably, and the three of them in the room had snapped up and watched, anxious. Nijimura’s eyes were glazed, flickering between staying awake and succumbing to sleep, and his body tensed as he shook, shivering against a shaking chill that swept over him. Akashi moved without thinking, pulling up his blanket and solidly resting his hand on his shoulder, not sure of what else to do. The shaking faded slightly, and Nijimura’s head moved just a bit, his steely eyes peeking from under his lashes, glassy and yet looking straight at Akashi. His breathing evened out somewhat, though his chest rose and fell heavily, and Akashi felt tethered to their locked eyes, and after a moment, Nijimura’s eyes fluttered shut, body shaking again against an inner chill. Himuro held Nijimura’s tense hand, concern washing over his features, and exhaled when the shaking ceased. Daiki did the same, collapsing back on his seat beside him.

Akashi stood frozen where he was, watching the rise and fall of Nijimura-san’s chest. He felt strained, and forced himself to sit back. “Shaking chills,” Akashi spoke, pulling out a handkerchief. “It’s going to happen quite often, at least until his fever goes down.”

Himuro sighed, resting his head on the hand that held Nijimura’s. “That scared me.”

He didn’t say it out loud, but Akashi felt the same. He looked at Nijimura again and found comfort in his rhythmic breathing, and lightly dabbed his handkerchief on his former-captain’s forehead, clearing away the sweat from his face. He just continued to watch him, almost counting the beats of his breaths, until he’d felt his eyelids go heavy. He heaved himself up and closed the room lights, finding that Himuro had fallen asleep with his head next to Nijimura’s hand, his own just lightly resting on top of it. Beside him, Daiki was quietly snoring, arms crossed over his chest. Akashi tugged on his jacket and pulled it over Daiki, shrugging off his own jacket to roll it up into a small pillow and put it behind Daiki’s head, letting him rest more comfortably and keep his neck from going stiff.

Akashi settled back on his seat and exhaled, rolling his shoulders to release the tension that had built up. He went back to watching Nijimura-san breathe, letting it dawn on himself that what he’d rarely felt was something he experienced with his former teammates, and something that made him move almost on instinct, even without thought for any recompense. As he found comfort in seeing Daiki’s softened expression, and in Nijimura-san’s gentle breathing, he felt himself feeling protective over them. He realized that he cared for them, at least in his own way. And as he closed his eyes, feeling at ease at knowing that, he fell asleep to the sound of breathing.

 [tbc]

Chapter Text

Sunday

Akashi didn’t know exactly when he fell asleep—Nijimura’s chills had kept snapping him awake throughout the night, and he’d at one point decided to just stay up—but when a sliver of light peeked through from under his arms, and he’d realized that he was resting his head on them, atop Nijimura-san’s bed, he found that it was morning.

He shifted slightly, tilting his head to peek over his arms, a ray of sunlight grazing his vision, making him squint. He rested for a few moments, when suddenly he felt something warm press onto his hair. He turned his head to find Nijimura-san quietly patting his head, fingers gently threading through his red hair. Nijimura’s eyes were half-open as he peered at Akashi, who raised his head, feeling more awake.

“Nijimura-san,” Akashi said.

The fog of his breathing against the respirator was soft, and Nijimura’s eyes seemed sharper and more focused. He was still pale, and was sweating slightly, but his chest wasn’t rising and falling as raggedly as the previous night. He looked at Akashi with contentment in his eyes, and ruffled Akashi’s hair lightly, as if to say ‘Good morning.’

Akashi just looked at him, feeling relief over seeing him awake and moving voluntarily. He didn’t move from Nijimura’s patting hand when he said, “Good morning.”

Nijimura-san ruffled his hair again and then set his hand to his side, and Akashi vaguely thought of doing what Himuro did when he held onto Nijimura’s hand, but he didn’t know why he would think of doing that now, so he dismissed the idea. He realized that across him, both Daiki and Himuro were missing, and that the jacket he’d made into a pillow for Daiki was sprawled behind his back. Akashi wasn’t quite sure of what he felt about it, so he simply smiled as he pulled it from his back and folded it on his lap.

“Nijimura-senpai!”

From the doorway, Daiki had appeared, Ryouta’s head poking over his shoulder. When they saw Nijimura-san turn his head to look at them, their faces lit up, and they all but sprinted to the bed, nearly stumbling over each other.

“How are you, senpai?”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Does anything hurt?”

“Are you hungry?”

“Calm down,” Akashi snapped at them, sighing. On the bed, Nijimura sighed under his respirator. “Give him some space.”

“I’ll—go get the doctor,” Daiki offered, shoving a plastic bag towards Akashi. “Here. Breakfast.”

Akashi blinked at him, taking the bag. “Thank you.”

Daiki gave a nod and turned to leave, quietly closing the door behind him. On the other side of the bed, Ryouta kneeled on the ground and laid his arms on the bed, exhaling into them as he looked up at Nijimura-san with visible relief. He pulled on a smile, and Nijimura brought his hand over Ryouta’s head, ruffling his hair like he did to Akashi. Ryouta chuckled, looking brighter, and Akashi found himself smiling.

Daiki returned shortly with a doctor and a nurse in tow, and the three of them stepped out into the waiting area as Akashi ate the breakfast Daiki brought. Himuro appeared then, Atsushi eating behind him, and greeted them.

“Good morning,” Himuro said. “Why are you outside?”

“Nijimura-san woke up,” Akashi explained, and Himuro lit up. “The doctor is checking on him right now.”

“Right,” Himuro smiled. “That’s good. How is he?”

“Better,” Daiki spoke. He accepted a snack that Atsushi offered him. “At least the medication’s working. I think.”

Himuro gave a nod, and then yawned softly. After a few moments, the door cracked open, and they all stood as the doctor and nurse walked out.

“Hello,” the doctor said, regarding their group.

“How is he?” Daiki asked.

“His fever’s gone down,” the doctor remarked. “And his breathing is better, so we took him off of the respirator. It wouldn’t have been good to keep him on it for too long anyway.”

“Is he going to be alright?” Ryouta asked, brow furrowed in worry.

The doctor smiled. “Of course. We’ve got him on good medication, and your friend is strong. Though he’s just very fatigued, so he needs a lot of rest. If he’d gone on like that any longer, he might be worse off right now.”

The others looked downcast, making the doctor flail. “But that isn’t what happened!” he flapped. “Like I said yesterday, it was lucky he was brought to the hospital before he got any worse, so he’s been saved from the worst of it.”

Himuro gave a small smile. “Thank you, doctor.”

“Just doing my job,” the doctor grinned. “In any case, he still has to remain confined for at least a week. He may be responding well to the medication, but he’s still not well enough to leave any time soon.”

Akashi nodded. “I understand.”

“Alright then, I’ll be attending to other patients,” the doctor said. “I’ll be visiting regularly to check on his condition, but if anything does come up, there’s a call button by the bed. A nurse will come by if you press that. Nijimura-kun will likely be sleeping a lot, but do watch over him as much as you can.”

They nodded, and the doctor waved as he left. They filed back into the room to find Nijimura free from the respirator and asleep, and if it weren’t for the beeping heart monitor to one side and the IV drip connected to his hand, he would have looked like a random teen that just dropped onto the bed to take a nap.

“He must be really tired,” Himuro said. “That idiot.”

The others nodded. “Damn right,” Aomine agreed.

“I—heard that…”

They jerked in surprise, seeing Nijimura move to rest the side of his head on the pillow. His eyes fluttered half-open, and he gave a huff, weakly pulling up his arm to reach out to the bedside table.

Akashi moved without thinking, grabbing the glass of water on the table and pressing it into Nijimura’s hand. He pushed on a button to get the bed to incline his back higher, and kept a hand hovering over Nijimura’s as he helped him drink.

Nijimura downed the whole glass in a few gulps, and gave a sigh, flaccidly releasing the glass as Akashi pulled it away for a refill. He finished the whole second glass more steadily, and then breathed out again. He looked at Akashi, eyes still lidded with tiredness, and sleepily asked, “How long have I been here?”

“Over a day,” Akashi answered, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Gotta get back—to work,” he said, shutting his eyes for a moment.

Akashi stared at him, feeling a surge of irritation for his senior. “No,” he said tersely. “We’re taking care of your work for now. Focus on recovering.”

Nijimura gave him a sharp look, muted slightly by his heavy eyelids. The austerity of Akashi’s eyes brought him short, and he grunted, shifting slightly.

Akashi put a firm hand on his shoulder, keeping Nijimura from sitting up as he pushed a button to lower the upper half of the bed almost flat. “You’re still weak. Rest.”

Nijimura groggily glared at him, but his eyelids gave up the fight against falling, and he fell back to sleep. Akashi sighed and pulled his hand back, grabbing the edge of Nijimura-san’s blanket and pulling it higher over him.

“It’s just gonna get harder to keep him there the more he recovers, huh?” Daiki spoke, sitting back against a chair beside the hospital bed.

“Undoubtedly,” Akashi said, watching to make sure that Nijimura-san was sleeping soundly. “I’ll come up with a countermeasure against that, somehow.”

Fortunately, Nijimura-san practically slept throughout the rest of the day, just barely waking up to eat dinner that night. He once again voiced his stubborn will to leave hospitalization and get back to his duties, but luckily, Tetsuya and Satsuki had brought over Nijimura-san’s younger siblings for a visit, and he was completely defeated by their near-crying faces.

“Shuu-nii,” his younger sister whimpered, her little hands holding onto Nijimura’s in a tight grip. “Please don’t die. Don’t leave us.”

Beside her, a younger brother Nijimura, a little older than his sister with the same steely eyes, made an obvious effort of not crying, biting his trembling lower lip and standing rigid at her side. “Nii-san,” the little boy spoke. “I—I won’t ask for extra melon bread anymore. Or—or the cheesy croquettes. So you don’t have to work to buy those anymore. Just don’t die.”

“Don’t leave us like papa!” the younger sister wailed, burying her head into the bed, sniffling.

Nijimura was crushed right there, and he held his sister’s hands tighter. “I’m not leaving,” he said, his voice the kindest Akashi and the rest have ever heard from him. “And I’m not going to die.”

His sister looked up at him then, large eyes full of worry and sparkling with tears. “Really?”

Nijimura smiled. “Really.” He looked at his brother, who was clenching his fists at his sides. “I’ll get better real soon and get you those croquettes you love, Shin. Let’s all eat them together.” His brother looked up at him, and his tears spilled over, and both Nijimura-san’s siblings launched themselves at his bed while their cries and worries tumbled out of them like waves. Akashi and the others in the room sighed in relief as they gave the siblings their space, feeling triumph over the night’s struggles against Nijimura-san trying to leave, and feeling a warmth bloom in their chests at seeing Nijimura’s tender smile and gentle hug. The feeling only grew when they came back to check on them, and found that the Nijimura siblings had fallen asleep tangled together on the hospital bed, Nijimura-san holding them close with the most serene sleeping face he’s had since getting hospitalized.

Akashi had praised Tetsuya and Satsuki for their work, and gave the younger Nijimuras grateful pats on the head for sternly telling their older brother to stay hospitalized until he’s better, to which he almost grudgingly agreed to on the morning that the kids returned home.

They found that they didn’t have to worry about Nijimura trying to get out of the hospital soon after, because they were otherwise faced with other concerns: his fever shot back up, and his body struggled against the fatigue that had piled up against it. He had intermittent chills and coughing fits and flashes of ragged breathing, and more or less slept terribly for the next three days, waking up only a few times, and just very briefly. It wore out the others more than the work they had to do—the worry was eating at them, and they hated seeing their senpai in pain. They barely slept during the times they watched over him, and they were growing increasingly more tired the longer Nijimura-san stayed hospitalized.

Over those three days, Akashi had busied himself with compiling the notes for the classes Nijimura was missing, and Ryouta and Daiki fell into the swing of being waiters at the nearby restaurant with ease. Tetsuya and Shintarou constantly fought over the time slots to take for their jobs, but overall did well on them. Akashi, Himuro, and Atsushi took turns watching over Nijimura-san, whose sickness had faded gradually, though he’d slept continuously for hours upon hours because of his fatigue, and while they wanted him to rest, they wanted to see him awake (there was a growing dread that maybe, just maybe, Nijimura-san wouldn’t wake up. They only had the beeping of the heart rate monitor and the gentle rise and fall of his chest to reassure them, but it didn’t dissuade their worry).

On the afternoon of Wednesday, Akashi received a message from Atsushi that Nijimura-san was awake and sitting up and trying to leave (and please come quick I’m running out of snacks). Akashi dropped everything he was doing and excused himself from practice—one of the very few times he ever did—and rushed back to Tokyo. It took him over an hour to get there, and he ran into Satsuki upon entering. She fidgetted as they walked together, and Akashi raised an eyebrow when he noticed a rather curious mess of highschoolers trying to hide behind the shadow of the halls. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t expect something like that to happen, and he was going to ignore it when an idea occurred to him—if Nijimura-san was growing more awake from his long bouts of sleep, then he’d undoubtedly try to leave hospitalization. And as much as Akashi wanted to see him standing, he had to stay. At least for a week.

He rounded the corner and found Atsushi, Shintarou, Tetsuya, and Daiki waiting outside. Satsuki started scolding Daiki over leaving her, and Akashi glanced at the door before asking, “Atsushi, what did the doctor say?”

“He said we’ll have to wait outside first while they do a check-up.”

“Were you able to talk to him?” Shintarou said.

“Just a little. It’s like you said, Aka-chin. He started talking about going to work so I had to give him some of my snacks to stall him until the doctor came.”

“Good call on that,” Daiki smirked.

“You might have had to wrestle him if the doctors were any longer,” Satsuki chuckled.

“Yes, that would have been very likely.”

Akashi gave a sigh and pondered over the strategy with which to keep Nijimura-san from escaping. His siblings were an option, but they might just be more open about their older brother getting up from the hospital bed than Akashi, and may end up encouraging him to leave even more. Akashi’s commanding glare and persuasion never seemed to work that well with him either. Maybe sedation—

The sound of the door opening interrupted his thoughts as the doctor stepped out. “Ah, Akashi-kun, hello,” he spoke, smiling. “I see you and your friends are here to visit again.”

“Good afternoon, doctor,” Akashi spoke. “How did the check-up go?”

“He’s getting better, but he needs more rest. He was in a pretty dangerous spot when he first came in.”

Akashi nodded. He knew that all too well.

“Can we go in the room now?” Daiki blurted, impatient.

The doctor gave a light chuckle. “Yes, go ahead. He’s still awake, but the medication we just gave him should start making him feel a bit sleepy. Don’t take too long, and don’t tire him out.”

“Of course,” Akashi gave a small smile.

The doctor nodded at them and turned to leave, and the group filed into the room to find Nijimura-san pulling himself up and fiddling with his IV drip.

“What are you doing,” Shintarou barked, exasperated.

“I’m getting out of here,” Nijimura-san said simply.

“No,” Akashi snapped, resisting the urge to groan. “You still need to recover.”

“I can recover at home,” Nijimura answered back. “And at work.”

“Your work was what got you here!” Daiki fought.

Nijimura scowled. “I’m fine now, I’ve had enough rest.”

“No,” Akashi repeated, stepping to block Nijimura from getting out of his bed. “The doctor clearly said that you need more rest or else your sickness will come back.”

“Why don’t we eat?” Atsushi offered.

“Yeah, why the hell not,” Daiki said, quickly switching gears. “You’ve gotta be hungry, right, senpai?”

Nijimura made to argue, but his stomach betrayed him, rumbling. He frowned.

“Here, have some water,” Satsuki spoke, handing Nijimura-san a glass of water.

He seemed to have realized his thirst and downed the whole glass, mumbling his thanks as Atsushi pulled out a snack and held it towards him. He grudgingly accepted the offering and finished the whole bar in a minute, and Atsushi was shooting panicked looks at Akashi as his snack reserve was slowly dwindling down.

“I’ll—go get some more food,” Tetsuya proposed, walking towards the door.

“Good idea,” Daiki remarked. “Go to where Kise is!”

Tetsuya nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

“Remember to bring some of those cheesy croquettes!” Daiki called.

“I’m going with Tetsu-kun!” Satsuki followed, bounding towards Tetsuya. Akashi noticed her freeze in her tracks momentarily, and then make an obvious effort of trying to sneak out without drawing suspicion, when there was a soft thud and Himuro’s voice suddenly sounding.

“Watch out there, Satsuki,” they heard him say. “You heading out?”

“Ah, Muro-chin’s here,” Atsushi commented, looking brighter at the prospect of more food.

“Hey, Midorima, your team’s here,” Himuro called.

From outside the door, they could hear simultaneous groans and tumbles of defeat. Shintarou staggered to the side to gape at the doorway, hissing “What?” as they heard Tetsuya sigh. Another voice greeted Shintarou (calling him “Shin-chan”), and Shintarou deflated.

“I…suppose I should excuse myself,” he sighed.

Akashi supposed that he had no better options at the moment. “No, wait,” he said. “Your team, is it? Then Seirin’s with them?”

Present time

The tables had been cleared away and Kagami fully satisfied—after gorging down inhuman amounts of food—when Kuroko and Midorima finished telling their week’s struggles. The group comprised of Seirin, Shuutoku, and Kaijo took a moment to digest the story, and they all found themselves somewhat brought short at the parts where the Generation of Miracles were working together.

“I know you told us everything and all,” Kasamatsu said. “But I can’t quite picture the bits where you rainbow lot were taking care of Nijimura. Especially Akashi.”

“I actually feel the same,” Ootsubo commented. “But we saw them at it a while ago.”

“I couldn’t believe my eyes,” Takao remarked.

“I suppose it seemed off to you all,” Kuroko said, a small, sentimental smile on his lips. “But it actually feels similar to our time back in middle school.”

“Really?” Kasamatsu asked, raising his eyebrows. “Hm. He was your captain.” He pondered over the idea, and then shuddered. “Wow. He was your captain. The captain of the Generation of Miracles.”

The others seemed to get on his train of thought, and they all paused to process it.

“Holy crap, I can’t imagine how it might have been,” Miyaji blurt. “To have been in charge of those brats when they first got in the team.”

“No kidding,” Moriyama grimaced. “All five of them.”

There was another pause as everyone seemed to get thrown into a pit of imaginary despair.

“What’s so hard to imagine,” Midorima scoffed. “He was our captain since he was a second year, and—”

“No, see, that’s the point,” Hyuga pushed. “He wasn’t even in third year and he was already captain of Teiko’s basketball team. Captain of the Generation of Miracles.”

“And?” Midorima raised an eyebrow, not quite getting what they were all becoming so bewildered over.

“It’s just—how?” Ootsubo grumbled, brows furrowed at Midorima. “I have a hard enough time with you.”

“What—”

“And we’ve got Kise,” Moriyama pointed out.

“Touou also has Aomine,” Hyuga added.

“He was Akashi’s captain,” Takao breathed, and it was a reminder that brought them all into silence.

They let the statements slowly settle into their thought-processing, eyes wide, looking completely baffled at the position that was once Nijimura’s.

“That’s it. I’ve decided,” Kasamatsu announced. “I have to meet this guy. I need to know how he did it.”

“Same here,” Ootsubo said. “We didn’t properly meet earlier, so I’ll definitely come back.”

“Why,” Midorima slumped. Kuroko gave him a pat on the shoulder.

“I have a feeling I’ll be coming back there soon, anyway,” Kagami sighed. “So what the hell.”

“Tomorrow then,” Kasamatsu stated.

“Tomorrow,” Ootsubo nodded. And the two captains shook on it, determined.

Chapter Text

Kise didn’t exactly consider himself to be a revengeful kind of guy—he was more of the go-with-the-flow sort of person, and on the competitive side—but he felt a very rewarding and rather evil feeling of satisfaction when he saw Aominecchi’s blood completely drain from his face as his Touou teammates walked into the restaurant where they worked.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Aomine groaned, crouched as if to hiss like a threatened cat.

“Looks like we’re all having some kind of weird reunion,” Kasamatsu, already seated at a table with the other Kaijo regulars, mumbled as he chewed.

Just at the doorway, the four Touou regulars stood, looking like they were preparing to torture a felon instead of eating dinner—which was probably exactly what they were there for, in a sense. Imayoshi grinned, wicked, and regarded the collection of fellow highschoolers in the establishment. To one side, Kaijo was halfway through their meals, with Kise serving as their waiter. The Shuutoku regulars—sans Midorima—sat at a table beside theirs, in the middle of ordering their dinner. Aomine was standing to one side, balancing two trays of meals on one arm, very visibly hostile towards the new customers.

“Why the fuck are you here,” Aomine snarled, venom dripping every word.

“We got a tip that our precious ace was working part-time,” Imayoshi smirked, thin eyes mischievous. “So we came over to pay you a visit.”

Aomine squinted, growling, complete irritation wrinkling his features. Sakurai shrunk behind Wakamatsu, squealing, “I’m sorry!” while Wakamatsu looked like he had won the lottery.

“More friends?” a big booming voice suddenly came.

Kise lit up, cheeks aching from smiling so widely. “Yeah, boss! These are Aominecchi’s teammates!”

“Teammates you say?” the large boss beamed. “Give them a table then, Aomine! You be their waiter!”

Aomine actually hissed, teeth bared, and if it wasn’t for the rather bloody-looking butcher’s knife that the boss wielded, it seemed like he would have attacked him right there. The boss gave him a thunderous smack to the back, winking, and spun the knife around as he pulled a chair and gestured at the Touou regulars to sit.

“Sit, sit!” he grinned. “Aomine will be here for you lot for whatever you need!”

“Oh, we’re looking forward to it,” Wakamatsu beamed, his complete joy and elation very ill-concealed by his full, ear-to-ear grin. Aomine growled, and a large, strong hand on his shoulder brought him just short of stabbing his teammate right there.

To the side, Kise was practically choking on his stifled laughs.

Aomine grudgingly took his teammates’ orders, and if it weren’t for the utter joy shielding them (and the boss hovering nearby), his glare would have punched holes right through them.

“Want anything else, assholes?” Aomine grumbled.

Wakamatsu ignored the cuss with utmost delight. “Maybe an extra iced tea, waiter. Oh, and remember to bring us water, waiter.”

Aomine’s eye twitched. The sharpening of various knives at the kitchen was the only thing that kept him from strangling Wakamatsu where he sat. “I will murder you in practice,” Aomine loomed, stiffly stepping back to walk to the kitchen.

“Well that’s one way to get him to go to practice,” Imayoshi smiled.

At the other table, as he merrily tended to his teammates, Kise chuckled, looking just as happy as the Touou regulars.

“Excuse me, Kise-kun,” Imayoshi poked. “Would you mind making sure that Aomine won’t try to poison our meals?”

Kise laughed, nodding. “No problem, senpai!” he chirped, walking to the counter just in time to swat Aomine’s hands away from ingredients and condiments that had no business being in his teammates’ meals—and drinks.

And apart from various attempts at poisoning the Touou regulars or dumping various beverages onto their heads, the dinner went normally—or as normally as a basketball-team-packed restaurant could go. The teams of Kaijo, Shuutoku, and Touou more or less bonded over the food—and torturing the freshmen waiters—and shared stories of some ‘Great Nijimura, Former Captain of Teiko and the Rainbow Gang’, which Aomine wanted to stab a fork at and Kise just chuckled after.

When the boss gave his freshmen waiters a break a tad earlier than usual (apparently to give them some rest because of serving so much people—though it seemed more like because of fear of possibly getting reviews regarding poisoned and/or mangled customers), it took Kise and his Kaijou teammates’ combined efforts to stop Aomine from launching himself at his team. He cooled down when the boss handed him some croquettes, with some for Nijimura. Aomine huffed, shooting glares at his team, but relaxed.

“I’d really like to meet this Nijimura-san,” Imayoshi said, leaning back after paying the bill.

“We’re on our way there right now,” Ootsubo told him, standing up with a basket of fruits in hand.

To the side, Kasamatsu had a similar basket. “I hope he’s awake.”

“Don’t stress Nijimura-senpai out, alright?” Kise said, already waving as the teams stood to leave.

“Don’t fucking visit at all,” Aomine groaned, then eyed the bag of croquettes in his hand. “Or wait, just give these and leave.”

Imayoshi accepted the bag with a smile. “We’ll tell him you said hi.”

Kise grabbed Aomine before he got to attack his team, waving happily as they left the restaurant.

On the way to the hospital, the group ran into Kuroko, with some Seirin regulars in front of him, holding two baskets of treats and looking like they were going to offer them to a shrine.

“I’m sorry, but why are you all here?” Kuroko asked, staring blankly at the collection of basketball team members gathered before him.

“Yesterday was a mess, so we wanted to properly introduce ourselves” Ootsubo said. “And we all want to speak to Nijimura-san.”

Kuroko tilted his head to one side. “Why?”

“We’ve got a bunch of things we want to ask him,” Takao chimed in. “Especially the captains. We want to know how Nijimura-san managed to be the captain of Teiko’s basketball team. And the Generation of Miracles.”

“Well, he’s a very strong player,” Kuroko remarked. “He was considered to be the strongest power forward back then, at least until Aomine-kun. He was also a good leader, although he was a different kind of leader compared to Akashi-kun.”

“He seems like the serious, quiet type,” Miyaji commented.

“He’s different on the court though,” Kuroko said immediately.

“I’m sorry, I still can’t imagine someone like Aomine following that guy,” Wakamatsu huffed. “Or anyone, for that matter.”

“Aomine-kun—no, everyone was different back in middle school,” Kuroko said, reminiscing. “And Nijimura-san was someone we respected ever since our first year.” Kuroko looked thoughtful. “Teiko was very strict and competitive, and Nijimura-san constantly reminded us of that, but he was a senpai to us—the closest thing to a big brother to all of us, although none of the others would ever admit it.”

The horde of basketball members looked at him in wonder, feeling a sense of awe frame the picture of Nijimura, former captain of Teiko’s basketball team.

“Aomine-kun, in particular,” Kuroko added. “Was someone who looked up to Nijimura-san.”

“What,” Wakamatsu gasped.

Kuroko gave a small smile. “Nijimura-san was a strong power forward, like I said. Aomine-kun also had a hard time against him, and very intently watched Nijimura-san’s plays, until he overtook him. But even then Aomine-kun looked up to Nijimura-san, though he probably didn’t realize it fully.”

“I’m really having a hard time believing all of this,” Wakamatsu slumped.

“It is in the past,” Kuroko remarked. “But it’s all true. Nijimura-san was a very good captain and senpai. Although he was a bit strict. And sometimes violent.” Kuroko almost shuddered. “And he had incredible stamina, so he was able to handle both practice and being a senpai and captain.” Kuroko recalled the time when Aomine-kun started skipping practice, and lost his smile while playing basketball. And how Nijimura-san patted his head after they’d won their second championship in a row, telling him that it was okay to be honest with himself. He had made Aomine-kun smile, which was something even Kuroko couldn’t do at that time, and Kuroko was very grateful for that.

The group had to take three elevators to get them all up, and when they filed out into the fourth floor, Murasakibara and Himuro were ahead of them, and gaped when they saw the mess of high schoolers.

Reflexively, Murasakibara extended his long arms at his side, blocking most of the path to Nijimura’s room.

“Too many,” he said. “There’s too many of you. Go away.”

Himuro pulled his slack jaw closed, swallowing. “Wow. Yeah. What is this, a basketball tournament?”

“We brought food,” Kuroko pointed out, and that seemed to do the trick.

“…Alright,” Murasakibara lowered his arms, eyeing the food. “But don’t be too messy. Mura-chin needs rest.”

Himuro shrugged, opening the door and walking in, Murasakibara behind him. Seirin entered first, followed by the other teams. At the bed, Nijimura was inclined to sit up a bit, eating some hospital grub he didn’t look like he wanted to eat, and he blinked when he saw them.

“We weren’t able to properly introduce ourselves last time,” Hyuuga started, bowing slightly, handing one of the baskets from his team. “I’m Hyuuga Junpei, from Seirin. This is Aida Riko, our coach, and then Kiyoshi, Izuki, and Koganei. You’ve already met Kagami.” He gestured to his teammates, and then gave another bow. “Thank you for taking care of Kuroko.”

Nijimura gave a small bow, awkwardly accepting the baskets, which Murasakibara helped out with. “Yeah, uh, no problem,” he said, smirking slightly. “I hope he isn’t giving you as much trouble as he gave me.”

Kuroko pouted, and Kagami laughed. “This guy gave you trouble?” he chuckled, patting Kuroko on the head.

“Oh, definitely,” Nijimura said. “He was a special case from day one. He took a little getting used to, for everyone.”

“I wonder how that was like,” Hyuuga smiled, ruffling Kuroko’s hair. Nijimura smirked.

“I was also here yesterday,” Ootsubo stepped forward, clearing his throat. “I’m Ootsubo, Midorima’s captain from Shuutoku. This is my team.” The Shuutoku regulars gave small bows, handing their basket over, which Murasakibara also took and then set on the bedside table.

“Thank you,” Nijimura bowed his head again. “I trust that Midorima’s always practicing dilligently?”

“Longer than any of us,” Ootsubo smiled.

Nijimura nodded, approving. “I hope you haven’t been tripped up by any of his bigger lucky items.”

“It’s happened at least once to each of us,” Takao chuckled. Nijimura sighed, smiling.

Kasamatsu cleared his throat, stepping forward. “I’m Kasamatsu, from Kaijo,” he started.

“Ah, Kise’s team, then?” Nijimura said, turning to look at him. “So you’re the captain, and then there’s Moriyama, Hayakawa, Kobori, and Nakamura.”

“I—yes. You know us?” Kasamatsu blinked.

“Kise doesn’t shut up about you guys,” Nijimura grinned, shrugging. “But, well, Kise doesn’t really shut up in general.”

The Kaijo guys laughed at that, nodding in agreement. They offered their basket to a sheepish Nijimura, and Himuro relieved him of the gift to put it on the table.

“This is from Aomine,” Imayoshi spoke up, presenting the bag of croquettes. “We’re his teammates from Touou.”

Nijimura’s eyes lit up at the sight of the croquettes, and he gratefully accepted, almost immediately pulling one out to unwrap it. “Thank you,” he said meaningfully. “I’m Nijimura. You’re lucky to have that brat.”

“He’s an amazing player,” Imayoshi nodded, and his teammates grimaced, nodding as well. “But a brat, yes. Such a handful, that one. How did you deal with him when he was even more of a brat, Nijimura-san?”

“How did you deal with all of them,” Kasamatsu added, leaning forward.

“You mean the previous team?” Nijimura cocked his head. “What’s there to know?”

“Like—” Kasamatsu was gesturing with his hands. “How did you handle the Generation of Miracles, as captain? You weren’t even in third year yet!”

“I barely did much, really,” Nijimura said. “They were—are—outstanding players.”

“Well in basketball, sure. But what about the brat part,” Wakamatsu pointed out, finger raised up. “We all know they’re monsters, but they’ve got weird-ass personalities to boot. How did you captain that?”

“Well for one, they weren’t ‘monsters’ back in middle school,” Nijimura remarked. “Or now, really. They’re just brats. Talented brats.” He looked thoughtful, remembering his time back in Teiko. “I guess I watched them grow.”

“So—they were actually normal at one point?”

“Like I said, they’re just brats,” Nijimura smiled. “They were all talented to begin with, but they became as strong as they were—and are—because of hard work. They went through Spartan training back in Teiko. They even had stamina problems during their first year. They felt pressure.” At that, Nijimura looked serious. “Being in Teiko’s basketball club entailed a lot of pressure, but the team with the ‘Generation of Miracles’, as they started to call them, including us third years, got way more attention than anyone. And it bore down on us all.”

The others took it all in silently, the thought of the pressure of excellence having escaped them, at least when it concerned the Generation of Miracles. Sure, they knew what pressure felt like, especially with people cheering behind you and reputations you had to uphold, but the position of Teiko and the Generation of Miracles was one they never reached. They never knew what it was like to have been the best. To have been called ‘Miracles’, and have everyone expect you to win every time—and by large margins. It was a different perspective, and they were slowly coming into terms with it, hearing it from Nijimura.

“It seems like they revert to their middle school selves when they’re with you,” Kiyoshi commented.

“Hah, yeah, it doesn’t feel like they’ve changed much,” Nijimura scoffed, glancing at Murasakibara, who was vacuuming up his bag of snacks.

“It’s a side that we never really expected to see from them,” Miyaji added.

Just then, the door to the hospital room opened, and in walked Kise and Aomine, looking exhausted and dirty with stains all over their clothes. Behind them, Midorima followed, and he froze when he saw the familiar orange of his Shuutoku teammates, deflating to a slump afterwards with a groan. Aomine growled when he spotted his teammates, shooting them stabbing glares as he moved to the side of Nijimura’s bed.

“Nijimura-senpai, are these guys bothering you?” he grumbled, dropping into a chair next to Murasakibara.

“Senpai?” Wakamatsu hissed, and Kagami pat his shoulder.

“I know,” he sighed.

“Nah, they brought food,” Murasakibara mumbled as he chewed.

“So why don’t you get out already,” Aomine spat at them.

And Nijimura flicked him on the forehead, so strong that it actually sent Aomine reeling back with a yelp. “That’s not your call, idiot,” Nijimura scowled.

Aomine rubbed at his forehead, and his Touou teammates tensed, expecting some form of violent reaction from their ace, but Aomine just pouted, sitting back on his chair.

“Oh my god,” Wakamatsu muttered under his breath. “I don’t believe it.”

By the entrance, the door suddenly creaked open, and Akashi swiftly slipped in, immediately spotting the large group of guys meshed around the room. He paused to take in the chaotic sight, when suddenly the door jerked forward, snapping Akashi back alert as he instantly pushed against it, keeping it from opening any further.

“Sei-chan, come on!” a voice from outside wailed.

Akashi grunted, struggling to push the door closed. “I said no,” he barked, stern.

“Please Akashi please please please—” another voice called out from outside.

“We brought food!” a booming voice came, giving the door a knock.

“Aka-chin, what’s happening?” Murasakibara stood, peering at Akashi’s very strained effort at trying to shut the door.

“Atsushi, I need your assistance,” Akashi grumbled, eyes flitting towards the room as he put all his weight into pushing the door. “And the others too—”

“Alright, you leave us no choice,” someone called from outside.

Akashi’s eyes widened, and he was about to call out to Murasakibara when the door heaved open, pushing Akashi a whole foot back into the room as large hands appeared on the door’s edge.

“We’re coming in—!” the booming voice sounded, and the door shoved open further, pushing Akashi back.

“Pardon the intrusion~!” a cheery voice came, and in stepped Hayama Kotarou, speedily slipping in from behind Nebuya. Holding the door open, Nebuya cackled, pushing inside while dragging Mayuzumi with him, Mibuchi following close after.

“R-Rakuzan?” Koganei gasped, stepping back.

Akashi sighed, giving up on the door as his teammates filed into the room, no less intimidating than they were on the court.

“You should have locked the door,” Mayuzumi told Akashi.

“I was going to. Though Nebuya might have broken it down anyway,” Akashi sighed, quickly stepping in front of his teammates as they walked in.

“Whoa whoa why are there so many people!” Hayama bounced, peeking over Akashi’s shoulder. “Your ex-captain’s famous!”

“I told you that you shouldn’t have come,” Akashi scolded, and everyone shuffled to give him and his team some space. Hayama cheerily greeted Izuki and everyone else he got close to, and Nebuya gave a friendly—though unnecessarily strong—smack to the backs of Ootsubo and Kiyoshi, greeting them with a gigantic smile while carrying a basket of meat. Mibuchi smiled at Hyuuga, who shuddered, and winked at Midorima, who also shuddered. Mayuzumi lagged behind them, quietly nodding at Kuroko when their eyes met.

They stood at the foot of Nijimura’s bed, and Akashi made a small gesture towards his teammates. “This is my team,” he introduced. “From Rakuzan. Mibuchi Reo, Hayama Kotarou, Nebuya Eikichi, and Mayuzumi Chihiro.”

“It’s nice to meet you Nijimura-sama!” Hayama burst, leaning forward on the bed frame.

“There’s so much we want to talk to you about, Niji-chan!” Reo gushed, pressing close to Akashi as he eagerly leaned towards Nijimura as well.

“I brought meat to help with your recovery!” Eikichi beamed, stepping forward and lifting his basket of meat.

Nijimura raised an eyebrow. “What—‘-sama’? Niji-chan?”

Akashi grunted at his teammates shoving, pushing them back. “Stop pushing,” he snapped. “And don’t bother Nijimura-san.”

The three Uncrowned Kings looked at their captain, then erupted in squeals and bellows of disbelief, crowding over Akashi.

“What what! You use keigo when you’re talking about him!”

“Sei-chan you’re so cute!”

“This guy’s amazing huh? Huh?”

“Is it because you like him, Akashi?”

“Oh my god, our Sei-chan?”

“I can’t believe this. Wow.”

“You mean Reo-nee is contagious?”

“What do you mean contagious.”

“No no no Akashi’s pure and precious, there’s no way he’ll get infected.”

Akashi sighed, covering his face with a hand. To the side, Aomine and Kise were clutching their stomachs in the epic struggle to suppress their laughs, and across them, Midorima was looking away, hand clamped over his mouth and shoulders shaking with obvious strain at doing the same. Kuroko was in a similar position, fist pressed against his lips as his cheeks puffed, and beside him, Mayuzumi sighed.

“Pfft—” Nijimura snorted, a hand drawn up to cover his mouth. Akashi looked at him, making a light chuckle escape Nijimura’s lips, and the rest of the Generation of Miracles stared.

When a small smile tugged at Akashi’s lips, Aomine and Kise lost it, bursting into laughter at the side, Murasakibara chuckling beside them. A muffled sound cracked out from Midorima as he turned to hide his face, and Kuroko huffed, a small laugh floating out his mouth as he hugged his stomach with shaking arms.

By the bed, Nijimura grinned, shoving at Aomine’s head and ruffling his hair, almost knocking his head onto Kise’s, the two freshmen just laughing like idiots. Nebuya guffawed, presenting his meat basket towards Nijimura, and Mibuchi gave a small bow, chuckling under his breath. Hayama was laughing brightly, head thrown back with an arm around Akashi’s shoulders, and Akashi was smiling.

Once again, the rest of the teams gaped at very unfamiliar sight that they beheld, feeling like they were seeing something that was extremely rare and precious. Without really thinking, Mayuzumi snapped a photo with his phone, giving a smirk. Everyone suddenly felt lighter, smiling and chuckling along with them, and it was a welcome burst of happiness to all of them.

“Thanks for the food,” Nijimura said, eyebrow raised. “You’re all lucky to have Akashi. I trust he’s leading you well?”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Mibuchi cooed, looking like a proud mother hen. “Sei-chan’s a great captain. He’s even the student council president at Rakuzan!”

Nijimura snorted, smirking. “That’s actually not surprising.”

“But you were once his captain right?” Hayama chirped, leaning his torso over the footboard. “That’s amazing! What was it like? How did you do it? You have to tell us stories!”

Akashi had retreated to the side of the bed, refilling a glass of water. “Give Nijimura-san some rest, Kotarou.”

“Aw, but he looks fine!” Hayama pouted. “You’re fine right? You’re okay now?”

“Yes,” Nijimura wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or amused at Hayama. “I’ve been telling these brats for days now that I’m fine already.”

“No, you’re not,” Aomine barked.

“You slept like the whole day, Mura-chin,” Murasakibara frowned at Nijimura. “And you had those chills a few times. And you still have a cough. You’re still sick.”

“Shut up, I said I’m okay,” Nijimura scoffed, his last words getting rough around the edges, followed by a short fit of horrible-sounding coughs. His hand went up to his chest as a stinging pain pricked at his lungs, and Akashi brought the glass of water towards Nijimura. He laid a weak hand over Akashi’s as he tilted the glass up, slowly letting Nijimura drink. He swallowed a few gulps, then pushed away to cough once, then continued drinking until the glass was empty.

Nijimura exhaled when he pulled away, leaning his head back onto his pillow. “Talk about bad timing,” he wheezed, shutting his eyes to calm his breathing, feeling a muted pain throb at his chest.

“I think my heart skipped a beat,” Mibuchi breathed, eyes sparkling at Akashi and Nijimura.

“See, you’re not fine,” Aomine huffed, tugging at Nijimura’s blanket with a pout.

Nijimura sighed. “My throat was just dry,” he scowled, lifting his head up again. “Fine. Kagami,” he called out, making Kagami stiffen in attention. Nijimura pushed away the food tray at the over-bed table, pressing a button to incline the bed up. “Let’s have another match.”

Kagami paled, feeling himself flinch. “What, now?”

Nijimura nodded, fixing him with a piercing stare that made the others shudder as they saw his indomitable expression, feeling right there the presence of someone who was once called captain of Teiko’s basketball team. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Akashi stared at him. “Nijimura-san, you need rest,” he said simply.

“I’ve had rest,” Nijimura snapped. “Besides, you were the one who suggested this.”

“But that doesn’t mean that you should—”

Akashi was stopped short by a flick to the forehead, and Rakuzan’s Uncrowned Kings gasped, literally scandalized and completely shocked over someone actually flicking Akashi on the forehead.

“No ‘buts’,” Nijimura rebuked, drawing his hand back. “I’m gonna try every time I can. You knew that when you suggested this, for sure.”

Akashi’s hand lightly hovered over his forehead, feeling the spot throb. He looked at Nijimura, and the Rakuzan members collectively gulped, looking like they were ready to throw themselves out the window. But to their surprise, Akashi just squinted, sighing, and simply replied, “Fine.”

He looked at Kagami, who staggered back, feeling everyone else’s eyes land on him.

“What’s happening? What’s Kagami gonna do?” Wakamatsu whispered.

“Kagami-kun, I don’t think you have a choice,” Kuroko poked Kagami.

“You just have to win, Taiga” Himuro said, pushing Kagami’s shoulder.

Kagami groaned, feeling like he was getting sizzled under the gaze of the Generation of Miracles. Both Himuro and Kuroko nudged him forward, and he cautiously walked towards the bed, almost shrinking under Nijimura’s stare as he bent forward.

Up close, he could see that there was more color in Nijimura’s cheeks as compared to before, and a sharper shine to his eyes. He definitely looked better, and the air around him felt stronger and more pronounced, but Kagami sensed that Nijimura was still blunt around the edges, still a bit muffled by sickness. Nevertheless, there was no mistaking his strength, especially after almost losing the first time, so Kagami resolved it in himself to not hold back this match.

“Don’t hurt Nijimura-senpai, Kagamicchi,” Kise warned.

“If you hurt him I’ll punch you,” Aomine barked, squinting.

Kagami groaned. “I know. You said that already.”

“On three,” Akashi announced.

“What? What? What’s happening?” Hayama looked as confused as he was excited. “What are they doing?”

“I think I understand,” imayoshi smirked. “This is interesting.”

Kagami clasped Nijimura’s hand, instantly feeling that Nijimura was definitely stronger this time. He swallowed, setting his jaw, and met those sharp, steely eyes.

“Arm wrestling? Whoa why are they arm wrestling—”

Nebuya barked out a laugh. “I don’t really get it, but this is definitely interesting!”

“This has Sei-chan written all over it,” Mibuchi chuckled.

Akashi ignored them. “One.”

“This is intense,” Takao piped up, looking amused.

“I feel sorry for Kagami,” Kasamatsu said.

“But there’s no doubting he’s a perfect fit for the job,” Imayoshi remarked.

Kagami wanted to throw something at them, feeling Nijimura’s fingers tighten around his hand.

“Two.”

“You can do it, Taiga.”

“Don’t go easy on him, Kagami!”

“Three.”

Kagami pushed, fully intending to take the initiative this time. But their arms were locked in their starting position right off the bat, and both their arms were trembling with strained effort at trying to overwhelm the other.

Nijimura tsked, clearing his throat and fighting back a cough. Kagami’s eyes flickered towards him, and at that split-second distraction, Nijimura pushed harder, jerking Kagami’s arm back. It seemed like he wanted to end it quickly, and Kagami felt beads of sweat starting to form at his temples when his arm lowered further.

“O-ohh! Nijimura-san’s got the lead!” Wakamatsu half-cheered.

“Oi oi Bakagami,” Aomine growled.

“Shut up,” Kagami grunted, pushing back with a surge of strength. He moved about an inch up, and Nijimura supressed another cough, grumbling as he tried to keep his lead. Kagami remembered what Akashi had mentioned before—about Nijimura-san’s not yet recovered stamina—and started to seriously wonder how much stamina Nijimura really has at his best condition. Being the captain of Teiko’s basketball team and the Generation of Miracles called for serious energy, and having three part-time jobs alongside being the man of the house was probably even more exhausting. Going against him, even just at arm-wrestling, made Kagami conclude that Nijimura probably had more stamina than him, if he was already this good while in the middle of recovering.

From the corner of his vision, Kagami saw Akashi move to refill another glass of water. Kagami thought that It was definitely weird that Akashi entrusted his former-captain’s hospital confinement to him, but he realized just then that rather than just simply trusting him to keep winning against Nijimura, Akashi trusted Nijimura more to recover at his own pace and at his own time. And as weird as the whole deal might have been, Kagami respected that—and he had gone and gotten involved anyway, so he was at least going to see this through.

He pushed, focusing his energy into his arm. Their positions shook, and Kagami adjusted himself to lock his arm right where it was, constantly pushing against Nijimura’s with measured force enough to make sure that Nijimura’s lead wouldn’t go any further. After a few beats, he felt the pressure on his arm lessen, just slightly, and Kagami knew that his ‘strategy’ was working.

When he felt the pressure against his arm lessen even more and heard Nijimura’s grunt, he knew that he had found the right answer: beat him back with stamina. Akashi had mentioned that Nijimura’s stamina was shot, and though he was obviously strong and probably had more endurance than Kagami, he hadn’t recovered enough to be able to beat the amount of stamina Kagami had. And though Nijimura was really hard to push back, it wasn’t long before he had weakened enough for Kagami to reverse their positions and win.

When Nijimura sighed and leaned back, Kagami felt his arm go limp as they let go. Kagami slumped, giving a huge sigh of his own, and shook his arm weakly. The others around him were a mix of sighs of relief and cheers, and the Generation of Miracles relaxed, getting back into both scolding Nijimura and taking care of him.

“Let’s have a rematch,” Nijimura told Kagami.

“Tomorrow,” Akashi said sternly, handing him a glass of water. Nijimura frowned at him, but relented.

“Good job, Kagamicchi!” Kise perked up, flashing Kagami a sparkling grin.

Kagami grunted, stepping back towards his teammates and getting sympathetic pats on his back. By the bed, Nijimura had started chomping on another croquette, and he offered Aomine one of them, which he gratefully accepted.

“I’ll go get some drinks,” Kuroko announced, weaving through the small crowd around him.

“Ah wait, I’ll go with you,” Aomine stood. He turned to look at Nijimura. “Want a sports drink?”

Nijimura nodded, looking grateful. “Please.”

“Ooh me too, Aomine-kun,” Imayoshi called.

“And me!” Wakamatsu tried.

Aomine glared at them. “Shut up. Get them on your own.”

He snarled at their evil laughs and turned, Kuroko following behind him. Aomine swiftly opened the door and made to go out, but stopped short before stepping outside, making Kuroko stagger to a sudden stop.

“Aomine-kun?” he asked, trying to peer past Aomine’s side.

“Fucking hell—Daiki?” someone outside said, and the voice was one that Kuroko knew all too well.

Aomine straightened up slightly, glaring suspiciously at the newcomer out the door, and he sounded almost content when he replied, “Haizaki.”

Chapter Text

In any other circumstance, a gang of tall, athletic, bordering-on-threatening high school adolescents would have been a natural, if not homely sight and setting for Haizaki. Even the backdrop of a hospital was one that the notorious basketball player was well acquainted with—at least in terms of the number of people he’s sent there (and to a lesser degree, the number of times he’s needed to go there).

This time though, aside from the fact that he was in the hospital completely unharmed, the gang of tall high schoolers he was faced with was not a welcome sight for him, and though he should have expected them to be there, the appearance of his colorful middle school teammates caught him off-guard.

Then again, the fact that he was visiting was unusual in itself.

“I’m out,” Haizaki simply said, already turning to leave.

“Oi oi, what’s with that,” Daiki barked, putting a solid hand on Haizaki’s shoulder.

“You came here to visit Nijimura-san, didn’t you?” Kuroko asked, his expression blank but his eyes almost sparkling.

“What?—No—why would—”

“Aominecchi, Kurokocchi, wait I’m coming with you—” Kise announced, walking into view of the doorway. He stopped when he caught sight of Haizaki, then surprisingly lit up. “Ah! You came!”

Haizaki flinched, feeling the firm weight of Daiki’s hand on his shoulder, and a ghost pang on his jaw. He gulped, “Ryouta.”

The other basketball players crowded around the room looked towards his direction, and Haizaki felt his temples start to sweat. He did not expect to be so horribly outnumbered like this, and the shift in expressions of Kise’s teammates flipped a switch in him that warned him of complete danger.

“Who else came?” a voice then called out.

And that voice seemed to pierce through Haizaki’s brain, sending a wave of nostalgia through him, reminiscent of a past long gone and yet seemed like just yesterday. Despite the various alarms that went off in his impulses, Haizaki felt like he couldn’t leave—he had come there on his own to visit someone.

“It’s Haizaki!” Kise beamed. “He’s come to visit you, Nijimura-senpai!”

Haizaki froze after hearing that name, feeling like it had grounded him to where he stood. He didn’t know what to think or feel of his past seemingly trying to bite him in the ass, so he barely put up much resistance when Daiki and Kuroko (who had somehow appeared behind him) pushed him into the room. Haizaki did not mean to be there, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn back.

“Hai—?” he heard Nijimura say, pausing before he said: “No. Really?”

Haizaki felt all the gazes of the basketball crowd fall on him, settling over him like a heavy air that threatened to crush him with sheer pressure. He felt like it was going to poison him when Ryouta approached him with a smile, open and friendly and definitely not what Haizaki expected to be greeted with—his teammates from Kaijo seemed to zone in on him, glaring at him and watching his every move. When he got out of the short hall and into the room, he instantly picked out the distinct colors of Midorima, Akashi, and Atsushi—and other familiar faces like the redhead from Seirin, and the prettyboy with the mole. But what completely froze him on the spot was the hospital bed where his former captain sat, and seeing him felt like a punch in the gut. There was an IV drip connected to his wrist, dark circles under his eyes, and all the indications of being sick and exhausted, but it was—is—Nijimura. Right there on the hospital bed, surrounded by all the people who’ve come to visit him and smother him with gifts, was the one guy who managed to consistently beat Haizaki up without restraint and toss him into basketball games fully expecting him to perform. He could practically feel the strength of Nijimura’s hand firmly smacking down on his head and locking it in a vice grip, and he was sure his indignant glare had faded when their eyes met, and all at the same time Haizaki felt relief.

Nijimura looked at him straight on, a hint of surprise on his face, and blinked. “What did you do to your hair?”

Haizaki’s eye twitched, feeling a nerve flare up. To the side, Daiki and Ryouta snorted, holding back their laughter. “Hah?! You got a problem with it?” Haizaki spat.

Nijimura’s eyebrow twitched. “Looks like you’re still an insufferable brat, punk,” he growled, and it was all so familiar to Haizaki that he flinched back. The others blinked in disbelief at how tame—and…scared?—Haizaki was when faced with Nijimura: they were so sure he’d start picking fights at every turn, especially against someone snapping at him.

Then again, they never expected someone like Haizaki to visit anyone.

While the others regarded Nijimura and Haizaki with wonder and disbelief, Kuroko and the Generation of Miracles looked smug and content.

“T-tch, looks like you’re still a reckless overworking idiot,” Haizaki snarled, finding it safe to bite back while Nijimura’s stuck on the bed.

“Aw, you do care,” Ryouta snickered.

Haizaki flushed, staggering back. “Why you—”

“Hey,” both Daiki and Kaijo’s captain suddenly snapped. Haizaki stiffened, remembering his cracked jaw at Daiki’s blow and how badly surrounded and outnumbered he was, and he gritted his teeth. He may be good at fighting, but he wasn’t stupid. Besides, it took him most of the week to manage to haul himself over there, and he had decidedly thought ‘Fuck it’ and trudged to the hospital, determined to—to visit. He just hadn’t really thought of what he’d do when he actually got there—nor did he expect to find a horde of basketball players waiting inside.

“Ngh,” Haizaki grunted, eyes darting around and finding Kuroko’s expectant stare, Midorima’s ill-concealed care, and Akashi’s straightforward and confining watch. Nevermind the fact that there was some muscular giant behind Akashi, or Atsushi chomping down on snacks to one side, or Ryouta’s teammates looking like they each wanted to step on both his feet for revenge.

All Haizaki’s half-panicked thoughts were interrupted then by a fit of ragged coughing, and he almost winced at how rough and raw it sounded. Everyone else’s attention shifted to Nijimura, who clutched his chest painfully, expression struggling to keep from crumpling. Haizaki’s hand jerked forward, involuntarily reaching out and stepping forward before he caught himself and froze, and instead watched as Akashi swiftly handed Nijimura a glass of water while Midorima’s hand flew to Nijimura’s back, rubbing gently to calm his cough. Kuroko and Daiki had somehow disappeared and reappeared with a refilled pitcher of water, and both Ryouta and Atsushi tugged on the blankets to loosen it away from Nijimura’s chest.

The reactions of the former-Teiko players all happened so simultaneously, so naturally, that it looked like, well—a team, Haizaki included. Their movements looked like an old habit, like muscle memory, all when it concerned their former captain, and it was then that the rest of the crowd felt like they were seeing a past that was happening in the present—something that they all thought the former-Teiko members had lost, yet now seemed to have simply just buried deep in their pasts and hearts. Being together in one place, and with their former captain, seemed to revert them back to that past, as if it were just yesterday.

“Ugh,” Nijimura groaned. “This sucks.”

“Like we keep telling you, you’re not fine, see?” Ryouta scolded, rubbing one side of Nijimura’s back at the same time as Midorima. “So stop trying to leave, please?”

“Fucking knew it,” Haizaki blurted out, feeling his annoyance stepping over his uneasiness. “You almost die and you try to get out of confinement, huh?”

Nijimura’s eyebrows furrowed. “I didn’t almost die—”

“Like I’d believe you,” Haizaki snarled. “I heard you were out for days. Saeko and Shin are fucking stressed out with worry over you.”

“Saeko and—you saw my siblings?” Nijimura shifted when he heard their names.

“Tch, they saw me,” Haizaki grumbled. “Wouldn’t stop nagging me to go here and tell you off.”

Worry creased Nijimura’s brow. “How are they? Are they doing fine?”

Haizaki felt another pang of annoyance and—he didn’t know what else, but it felt something like a muffled understanding. Respect. “They’re fine, dammit. Worry about yourself for once, useless-captain.”

Haizaki almost smacked his hand over his mouth, mentally kicking himself for letting slip something he hasn’t said in more than a year, but came out so naturally that they just spilled over. The others noticed, and got even more befuddled—they definitely did not expect Haizaki to act like he was then.

“I’ve been here to long,” Nijimura grunted, thinking of his siblings and his work and his school. “I need to go—”

“What, go back to work and then overwork yourself to death?” Haizaki snapped, irritated. “Are you an idiot?”

“H-hey, hey,” Ryouta started, looking back and forth between Haizaki and Nijimura. “Calm down—”

“All you ever fucking do is think about others and forget about yourself, and look what that’s done,” Haizaki clenched his fists, his whole body going tense, almost shaking. “You were lucky now, but if you don’t fucking learn then who’s going to take care of Saeko and Shin when you’re not as lucky, huh?!”

“O-oi,” Daiki mumbled, but he couldn’t stop Haizaki. None of the other former-Teiko players could, not when they felt the same way (albeit a little less angrily, perhaps), and seeing their hesitation made the others stay silent as well.

Nijimura looked serious, and he let out a breath. Haizaki grit his teeth, looking Nijimura straight in the eye. “Have you heard of karoshi?”

The former-Teiko team all turned to look at Haizaki, eyes filled with a hidden understanding known only to them. On the bed, Nijimura flinched, not breaking eye contact with Haizaki. He inhaled before setting his brow straight, expression serious and straightforward.

Haizaki continued. “It’s ‘death by overwork’, and it’s fucking real here in Japan.”

Nijimura’s eyes turned downcast for a moment, and then he looked back up at Haizaki. “…I know.”

There was a pause before Haizaki huffed, looking at Nijimura and remembering all the times he’d been smacked, pummeled, punched, dragged, kicked, and all sorts of other damn painful and violent attacks because Nijimura had it out for him. But Haizaki knew that Nijimura just cared too much. Despite being in a place like Teiko’s basketball club, he wasn’t selfish, and Haizaki knew that that was what made him the captain of such a team that only valued victory—it’s what set him apart, and made him a worthy captain.

“You kept beating me up in my dad’s place,” Haizaki said without really thinking, looking down. “And now you’re gonna end up just like him.”

Nijimura looked straight at Haizaki, a tinge of realization in his expression. After a pause, he spoke, “I won’t. I’m not leaving.”

Haizaki’s head snapped up, eyes meeting Nijimura’s in an instant, and for a second, Haizaki looked hopeful. He took it as a promise, and he believed it to be true. It was only a brief passing of hope in his expression before his face crumpled up into an annoyed glower, and he looked away, unable to keep eye contact. “Tch, do what you want,” he grumbled, stuffing his hands into his pockets and turning around. “I don’t care.”

Nijimura’s expression softened, the corners of his lips quirking up just slightly. Haizaki trudged away from the hospital bed, ignoring the others around him. When he reached the hall leading to the door, Nijimura called out, “Haizaki.”

He paused, not turning to look at his former captain, and not wanting to see the smile that was undoubtedly on his face.

“Thanks.”

Haizaki stayed silent, jaw set, and he gave a small nod before walking out.

The room was silent for a few moments until Nijimura gave a sigh. “Man, he hasn’t changed.”

“Nope,” Kise smirked. “He’s an even worse tsundere than Midorimacchi.”

“What,” Midorima pouted.

“I didn’t think Haizaki would care so much,” Moriyama noted, stroking his chin.

“He’s still got a crap attitude about it though,” Kasamatsu grunted.

“He’s only like that with Nijimura-senpai,” Kise pointed out, grinning at Nijimura. “I think I saw tears in his eyes.”

“He looked really concerned.”

“What was that about his dad?” Hayama butt in, to which Mibuchi instantly elbowed into his stomach for.

“Have some tact, stupid,” Mibuchi scolded. “It isn’t something you should just ask lightly!”

“It’s alright,” Nijimura said, leaning back on his pillow, eyelids getting heavy, feeling a weight settling over him. “I was a lot like Haizaki once. Probably even worse.”

The others looked at him in shock. “What, really?” Takao said, surprised.

“Yeah, you can’t really tell, huh?” Himuro commented, giving a chuckle. “When I met Shuu—Nijimura in LA, he was surprisingly used to fighting.”

“Why was there fighting in the first place,” Kagami squinted at his brother, who grinned sheepishly.

“It’s a long story,” Nijimura huffed, scratching the back of his head. “But yeah, I was a lot like Haizaki once. Had a rough, hot-blooded phase and everything. It was my dad who got me out of that rough spot.”

“And well,” Nijimura continued. “Haizaki reminds me of myself from back then, so I couldn’t just leave him alone. Especially because he doesn’t have a dad.”

“And his dad…” Hyuuga said, looking thoughtful. “Died from—”

“Overwork,” Akashi finished. “Officially, it was a stroke, but it was due to stress from work.”

Silence fell over the room again, and even the Generation of Miracles stared at Akashi in surprise.

“So it’s true, about his father,” Midorima said, looking troubled.

“I didn’t know about the overwork part,” Aomine added.

“Well yeah, I was your captain, so I found out eventually,” Nijimura sighed. “And like I said, I just couldn’t leave it alone.”

“So you’re the one who sets him straight,” Imayoshi finished.

Nijimura nodded. “Yeah. At least, I tried to. I know I couldn’t do it in his father’s place, but I tried to be someone close enough. He has a crap attitude, but he isn't a bad kid.”

“Hah, if it weren’t for you, I don’t think he could have graduated middle school,” Kise commented, chuckling.

Nijimura smiled, sighing with a nod. “I don’t know if I was any help at all. And now look at me, giving all of you trouble.”

“There’s no trouble at all!” Kiyoshi piped up. “You’re a good person, Nijimura-san.”

“Yeah, like Haizaki said,” Aomine poked. “Don’t worry about us, you’re the one hospitalized.”

“Let others take care of you for once,” Kise grinned.

Nijimura opened his mouth to gripe, but Akashi spoke first, “No ‘buts’, we’re all here because we chose to be.”

Nijimura let out a breath, deflating, and simply looked them all over. He gave another sigh and smiled, defeated. “Yeah. Thanks. All of you.”

His former team grinned at him, Aomine giving him a light punch on the shoulder, and Kise laughing at the side, poking at his middle school captain. Midorima huffed, smiling, Murasakibara dumped some food over Nijimura’s lap, and Akashi’s expression softened. Nijimura laughed along with them, and all the tension in the room had gone as the team seemed to relive their pasts.

“Hey, where’s Kuroko?” Kagami noted, squinting around the room.

“He’s—wasn’t he just here?” Takao said, confused and kind of annoyed that he didn’t notice.

“Did anyone notice him leave?” Hyuuga asked, sighing.

“I see Kuroko’s still good at doing that,” Nijimura chuckled.

“Doing what?”

“Disappea—uwah! Kuroko!” Hyuuga exclaimed, almost jumping. By the side, Kuroko had somehow appeared, making the others around him jerk back in surprise.

Nijimura laughed, almost coughing. “Ah, I actually missed that.”

“I’m sorry?” Kuroko tried, looking innocent.

“Where did you go?” Hyuuga sighed, trying to calm his surprise.

“I just went out for a bit,” Kuroko answered, eyes flickering for a moment.

Hyuuga and Kagami raised their eyebrows in suspicion, but let it go. “Okay then,” Hyuuga just said.

“Ah, it’s getting late,” Ootsubo noted, noticing the dark skies beyond the window. “We really shouldn’t keep troubling you, Nijimura-san.”

Nijimura shook his head. “No, no. It’s fine.” Nijimura said, looking around the room at the mess of people who had come to visit him. “Really. Thank you. For visiting. And for the food. And thanks for taking care of these brats, I guess.”

“You ‘guess’?” Kise complained, laughing. “Do you know how physically abused I get at Kaijo?!”

“Good job,” Nijimura gave a thumbs up to Kasamatsu. “Don’t let any of those fangirls interrupt practice.”

“Yeah,” Kasamatsu nodded, giving his own thumbs up. “So long as I avoid the face, I’m good.”

“That’s the way to do it,” Nijimura nodded, approving.

“Senpaai,” Kise wailed, slumping. Kasamatsu and his teammates laughed, ruffling their ace’s hair.

“Well,” Akashi announced. “It’s been a rather…confused mess of a day, so I’m sure Nijimura-san’s tired. We should give him some rest.”

“..Yeah, sorry,” Nijimura huffed, leaning back on his pillow. His voice was rough, laced with sleepiness and a tiredness that still latched onto him. “I’m beat.”

“Please, don’t mind us,” Imayoshi said, nodding at the other captains, who all shared the same sentiments. “Focus on recovering.”

“Yeah. Thanks. Again.” Nijimura gave a small grunt, wincing slightly. To the side, Murasakibara lowered the bed’s inclination. “I’ll just be here this week, so I can tell you about the brats if you’d like.”

The former Teiko regulars looked at each other, all thinking what they think Nijimura just implied, and they shared a small, knowing smile.

“Oh, that would be great,” Imayoshi grinned, glasses sparkling with intent.

“Very great,” Wakamatsu added, his eyes also sparkling, tinted with wonder and hope.

Nijimura chuckled. “Just visit anytime. I know how hard it is to handle those talented brats.”

“Oh yeah, we believe you,” Miyaji commented. “After all, they were all in one team under you.”

“I still can’t imagine how you managed to do that,” Kasamatsu muttered, letting out a breath.

“Seems like magic,” Wakamatsu snorted, glancing at their own ace.

“What,” Aomine grumbled. Wakamatsu and Imayoshi just shook their heads, sighing.

“I still can’t get over how Haizaki was like that with Nijimura-san,” Moriyama almost groaned, touching his head like he was straining it just thinking about it. “He’s such a thug—I really didn’t expect it.”

“Yeah, I can’t seem to stay mad at him like that,” Kasamatsu huffed.

“What did Haizaki even do to you guys?” Nijimura raised an eyebrow, looking suspicious. “Did he pick a fight with you again?”

“Er, well, he targeted Kise’s injury during a match once,” Kobori offered.

A nerve seemed to flare up. “That punk—” Nijimura growled, brow furrowing as he made a move to sit up.

“No it’s fine!” Kise flailed, putting a hand on Nijimura’s shoulder to keep him from getting up. “It’s okay! It wasn’t that bad!”

“Yeah, I punched him before he tried anything worse,” Aomine quickly added, and then he smacked a hand over his mouth, realizing what he just blurted out.

“You what?” Kise turned to him, surprised.

“Nothing,” Aomine snapped.

“Well, good job,” Nijimura snorted. “I’ll go and talk to that punk again sometime.”

“I’m sure you will,” Kuroko smiled, clearing away the over bed table and setting the water by Nijimura’s bed.

“But for now, get some rest,” Akashi told him, pulling on the blanket.

Nijimura nodded, his eyelids getting heavier by the second. “Yeah.”

“We’re sorry for the bother,” Ootsubo said, bowing slightly.

“Not at all. Really, thank you. Come by again if you want.” Nijimura breathed a bit heavily, feeling a muted throbbing at his chest and abdomen. There was a pang on one side, but he ignored it, feeling a warm grogginess wash over him.

The other teams smiled at how Kuroko and the Generation of Miracles busied themselves with caring for their former captain, bowing and saying their goodnights and goodbyes as they made promises of visiting again. Eventually, Kise, Aomine, and Himuro stayed over, promising Akashi (who was taking his teammates back to Rakuzan) to keep an eye on Nijimura.

The night sky was completely dark when everything had settled down. Still not asleep, Nijimura stared at the ceiling, feeling a muffled throbbing in his head and torso. His body felt warm, almost feverish, but he paid little attention to it, instead thinking of those who had stayed to keep him company, and those who had visited him. It dawned on him how messy it was just a few minutes ago, and how there were so many people who had come. How all his junior brat teammates did so much for him the whole time he was there. How even that punk Haizaki came, and did a damn fine job of telling him off. It made a warmth bloom in his chest, and his vision blurred for some reason. He brought his forearm over his eyes and found that they were wet, and he gave a huff as he shut his eyes, breathing deeply, feeling the feverish heat spread throughout his body. He vaguely registered that something felt painful, but his head felt heavy, the weight settling all over him and making him unable to move.

He noticed the room darken—someone had turned the lights off—and breathed out, settling on the bed and relaxing as he allowed himself to drift off. And as Nijimura closed his eyes, ignoring the strange heaviness and stifled pain that he felt, he saw the faces of his friends behind his eyelids, just as they were today, and just as they were back in middle school.

And he fell asleep, feeling comforted in knowing that he’d see them again tomorrow.

[tbc]

Chapter Text

“Haizaki-kun.”

“Fu—agh!” Haizaki almost squealed, stumbling forward and smacking hands over his mouth, almost tripping and falling on the ground. If he hadn’t had a number of experiences like this back in middle school, the sound that almost came out of his mouth would have thrown him into an endless pit of embarrassment. “Goddammit Kuroko—!”

To his side, Kuroko merely blinked. “I’m sorry if I surprised you.”

Haizaki grit his teeth, glaring at Kuroko while he tried to calm his heartbeat. It had been a really long time since he’d last gotten a surprise from Kuroko like that, and damn it was never good for the heart. “What do you want?”

Kuroko, who still had a hand on the door of Nijimura’s room, quietly pushed it open. “Come back inside for a bit,” he said softly.

“Hah?” Haizaki hissed, finding himself half-whispering. “Why? I just left—”

Kuroko slipped into the room, still inviting Haizaki in. “You don’t have to talk or anything, just come in.”

Eyebrows scrunched and eyes squinted, Haizaki gingerly followed Kuroko back into Nijimura’s room, and he was barely past the door when he heard someone say:

“I didn’t think Haizaki would care so much.”

Haizaki blinked, squinting even more, trying to keep himself from being seen, though Kuroko’s misdirection seemed to rub off on him.

“He’s still got a crap attitude about it though.”

“He’s only like that with Nijimura-senpai,” he heard Ryouta say. “I think I saw tears in his eyes.”

“Damn that Ryouta…” Haizaki grumbled, forcing himself to keep his back close to the door.

“He looked really concerned.”

“What was that about his dad?”

“Have some tact, stupid. It isn’t something you should just ask lightly!”

“It’s alright.” Haizaki heard Nijimura speak, making him freeze. “I was a lot like Haizaki once. Probably even worse.”

Haizaki felt his hands twitch at his sides, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about what he’d just heard, feeling like his feet were glued to the ground.

“What, really?”

“Yeah, you can’t really tell, huh? When I met Shuu—Nijimura in LA, he was surprisingly used to fighting.”

“Why was there fighting in the first place…”

“It’s a long story.” It was Nijimura again. “But yeah, I was a lot like Haizaki once. Had a rough, hot-blooded phase and everything. It was my dad who got me out of that rough spot.”

Haizaki unclenced his fist, huffing. He had heard of something like that—stories of his former captain getting into all sorts fights and striking fear into the hearts of many. When he met Nijimura for the first time, even before he’d joined the basketball team, he knew there was something formidable about him. Haizaki wasn’t one to get easily spooked, but after Nijimura’s eyes had looked straight at his, just by chance, he was intimidated. He was stopped by those steely eyes with nothing but fire in them, yet filled with so much life that it felt like Haizaki was hit with adrenaline, and despite being daunted by his senior, he saw him as a challenge—someone he wanted to reach (and, though Haizaki would never admit out loud, or even to himself: someone he wanted to become).

Those feelings never waned when he’d gotten to know more about Nijimura—how he’d win every fight he was involved in, how he was practically a black belt in karate and very effectively kicked ass, and how he’d joined the basketball club and was promoted captain in his second year. A halo seemed to veil the silhouette of Nijimura, and Haizaki could barely follow in the shade. But Nijimura would always pull him back—always beat the shit out of him and drag him to practice or matches or even school. Haizaki didn’t expect that side to Nijimura, and even more that he—he felt happy about it.

“And well,” Nijimura continued. “Haizaki reminds me of myself from back then, so I couldn’t just leave him alone. Especially because he doesn’t have a dad.”

A jolt went through Haizaki, making him look forward, eyes widening, imagining how Nijimura was lying on the hospital bed and not marching around smacking his hand over Haizaki’s head or flicking his finger at Daiki’s forehead or being their captain. Former captain. Their senior. Big brother.

“And his dad…” someone said. “Died from—”

“Overwork.” It was Akashi who spoke. “Officially, it was a stroke, but it was due to stress from work.”

Haizaki remembered it well. How his dad was juggling multiple jobs, but always found time to bring over some snacks that he and his brother loved from the convenience store. How he’d once given Haizaki a basketball and tried to teach him how to play despite being swamped with work. How he’d always ruffle Haizaki’s hair when he’d come home, with his big, warm hand—

How one day, he didn’t come home.

“So it’s true, about his father,” Midorima said, somber.

“I didn’t know about the overwork part,” Daiki spoke.

“Well yeah, I was your captain, so I found out eventually,” he heard Nijimura sigh. “And like I said, I just couldn’t leave it alone.”

“So you’re the one who sets him straight.”

“Yeah. At least, I tried to. I know I couldn’t do it in his father’s place, but I tried to be someone close enough. He has a crap attitude, but he isn’t a bad kid.”

Haizaki didn’t know when he’d turned his back to face the door, or why his vision got blurry all of a sudden. His fists were clenched at his sides, and he exhaled heavily, clamping his eyes shut.

“Haizaki-kun?” he heard Kuroko say.

“Shut up,” Haizaki snapped, and it was barely a whisper. He opened his eyes and reached for the door. “I’m leaving.”

Kuroko looked at him, something soft in his eyes, and gave a small nod, the corners of his lips curved gently upward. “Alright. Thank you for coming.”

Haizaki silently pulled the door open, avoiding Kuroko’s gaze. He huffed. “Yeah, whatever. See you.”

He wasn’t looking, but he was sure Kuroko was smiling when he said, “See you soon.”

The next day, Friday

Even though it had been almost a week since filling in for one of Nijimura’s jobs, Midorima felt relief when he received a message telling him that he and Kuroko were free for the afternoon. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help his former captain—it just turned out to be a lot more tiring than he had expected. It was only one extra responsibility to take on, but it ate up a lot of both Midorima’s physical and mental energy, and it was something that took adjusting to.

(Midorima would also wonder, a little awestruck, how Nijimura-san managed triple the amount of responsibility while just being a year older. Nothwithstanding the fact that he’d been hospitalized, it was something not many could do).

Normally, Midorima would stay behind after practice to do his regular shooting rounds, and on that afternoon he would have made up for the days he wasn’t able to if it weren’t for the day’s horoscope: Gemini was in last place. He only did a third of the number of shots he needed to do before deciding to wrap up and go look for Gemini’s lucky item, a task which Takao volunteered to take part in.

“So what are we looking for?” Takao chirped, skipping lightly at Midorima’s side.

“I didn’t ask you to come with me,” Midorima said, pushing up his glasses. “For Gemini it’s a basketball keychain.”

Takao sniggered, his eyes lighting up. “Ah, I think I know where we can get one!”

Midorima side-eyed his partner. He knew a few places that could have the keychain, but there were no guarantees of it’s availability, and they were far away. “Where? Is it nearby?”

Takao grinned. “Yeah, just ‘round the corner, actually.”

“Hmph,” Midorima huffed, averting his eyes.

Takao gave a light chuckle, putting his hands behind his head. “You alright Shin-chan?”

Midorima looked downcast for a moment. “I have a bad feeling.”

“About Nijimura-san?”

Midorima gave a small nod. Takao smiled, then smacked Midorima’s back.

“We’re getting his lucky item for today right?” Takao reassured. “And Nijimura-san’s a strong guy, I’m sure he’s gonna get out of there in no time.”

Midorima adjusted his glasses, looking away. “Yeah.”

Another light chuckle escaped Takao’s lips, and it calmed Midorima, easing away some of the dread that clung to him. He did think of maybe becoming a doctor someday, but it wasn’t a pleasant feeling, knowing that someone he knew—a senpai, even—got so close to never waking up again. It came as a painful surprise, and something of a reminder, but it came so abruptly that it was hard to fully adjust.

Midorima focused on arranging his thoughts, and he felt like he was doing well up until Takao yanked him to the side, making his glasses slide off of his nose. “What the—”

“Try watching where you’re going Shin-chan,” Takao snickered, snorting. “You almost ran into that post.”

Squinting, Midorima repositioned his glasses and looked over his shoulder at the post that was just inches away. He blinked, stepping away from it, while beside him Takao sniggered some more.

“That’s so cute, Shin-chan,” he laughed. “You’re so worried.”

“Shut up,” Midorima hissed. “I’m not worried.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Takao smirked, eyebrow raised. He turned right and made to enter a small building. “Here. The arcade on the second floor gives out keychains for a few dozen tickets. Last I checked, there was a whole tray of ball keychains.”

Midorima followed him inside and up, feeling a wave of nostalgia hit him—back in middle school, he and the team (minus Akashi) had gone to an arcade in search for a new flavor of snack for Murasakibara, and by the end of the day, they managed to get a photo together, at least after a couple of tries where Kuroko would actually be noticeable. It was a weird feeling, Midorima thought, how time passed so quickly and yet feel like so long ago, and how now it was as if that day just happened yesterday. It wasn’t something Midorima thought of that often, but in the past week, he’d been hit with so many pangs of nostalgia to the point that he actually somewhat missed it, those days.

Although right there, looking at stupid Takao enjoying himself with a ball game in the arcade, he felt content with his current place.

He made a small smile, watching Takao fail horribly at the timing of dropping a ball into the 100-ticket jackpot hole and instead getting just two. With a wail, Takao pulled out the tickets and turned to hand them to Midorima.

“You’re rather successful at this, aren’t you,” Midorima said, smug.

“Oh shut up,” Takao fussed, pouting. “Let’s see you do better.”

“Hmph, I can earn a hundred times more than you in the right game,” Midorima bragged, walking towards a corner of the arcade which he’d spotted upon entering.

“Aw that’s unfair!” Takao cried, running after him. Midorima simply inclined his head, proud, and inserted a token into the game, and a small gate released four basketballs down a ramp in front of Midorima, who pushed up his glasses, picked one up, and shot it towards the basket.

The ball hit the rim before tumbling into the net, and Midorima tsked, stepping back some more and adjusting himself to shoot without putting too much strength—the balls were lighter than regular basketballs, the hoop was almost eye-level to him, and the ceiling was way too low—he almost hit it with the high arc of his shot. He tried another shot and did hit the ceiling then, and although the ball still went in, it bounced around the rim before falling through.

Behind him, Takao tugged on his shirt with a chuckle. “Move back some more Shin-chan,” he said, grinning. “I’ll pass them to you.”

Midorima looked at his partner once, and then took a few steps backwards, putting a bit of a distance between him and the mini basketball shooting game. He glanced at Takao, who picked up a ball and swiftly passed to him, and in one smooth motion he took the shot, and it went into the hoop perfectly. Takao gave him a huge grin, and continued passing to Midorima, who made shot after shot and effectively beat the high score of the game by a stupidly large margin, eventually hording an abundant roll of tickets which he used to trade almost a dozen basketball keychains with.

Content, Midorima stuffed the remaining tickets in his bag, carrying in another hand a plastic bag of clinking basketball keychains. Beside him, Takao was fighting back his laughter, practically wheezing as they left the building and headed for the hospital.

“That was fun,” Takao said, wiping a tear in the corner of his eye. “Let’s do that again sometime.”

“We can do that in practice,” Midorima pointed out. “With a better hoop. And more basketballs.”

“Aw, but we don’t get prizes there,” Takao whined. “In fact, we might even get hit by pineapples.”

“Only if your passes are bad.”

“When have they been bad!” Takao laughed. “And hey, I helped you out with those keychains, didn’t I?”

Midorima gave him a sidelong glance, squinting, and simply pulled out a keychain from the bag and practically shoved it at Takao.

“Huh? What? What?” Takao blinked, automatically putting out to hands. “Are you giving this to me?”

“Just take it,” Midorima muttered, turning away. “There’s too much in here anyway.”

Takao stared at him, eyes wide and mouth ajar, and snorted. “Uwah! I’m touched, Shin-chan.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re welcome.”

Midorima squinted at his partner again, then strode forward. “Hmph.” Behind him, Takao’s light laughter followed.

The sky was getting dimmer as they neared the hospital, and they were still a few blocks away when a dark car pulled up beside the sidewalk they were on. The two Shutoku regulars paused, squinting, then a window rolled down to reveal Akashi sitting inside.

“Shintarou,” Akashi nodded, then looked at Takao. “And Takao Kazunari, yes?”

“Yessir,” came Takao’s immediate reply, to which he did a double take at (did I just say ‘yessir?’ he thought, almost laughing at himself).

Midorima gave him a look before turning to Akashi. “Are you going to the hospital?”

Akashi nodded. “Yes. Come in. Let me give you a ride there.”

“What—”

“I insist.”

“Ngh,” Takao grunted, flinching slightly at Akashi’s strong eyes. Midorima shrugged and opened the door, tugging at Takao to follow. Takao silently felt like shriveling up where he sat, and focused instead on the basketball keychain in his hand.

The silence almost became awkwardly drawn out when a phone rang, and it was Akashi who pulled out his cell to answer. He took a look at the caller before flipping it open.

“Who is it?” Midorima asked.

“It’s Daiki,” Akashi answered, eyebrow raised suspiciously as he put the phone next to his ear.

“Akashi?”

Daiki’s voice sent a pang of unease through Akashi—the way it was rough and laced with urgency and anxiety, all evident even after hearing just one word.

“What is it?” Akashi asked, trying not to let his mind jump to assumptions.

“It’s—Nijimura-senpai.” It was obvious that Daiki was forcing himself to stay calm. Across him, Shintarou and Takao looked at him with concern, sitting straight and alert.

Akashi gripped his phone tighter, his mind already racing. “Did something happen?”

He tried to brace himself for the reply, but it seemed like no amount of prior preparation could have lessened the weight of dread that dropped at the pit of his stomach when Daiki answered,

“He’s not waking up.”

[tbc]

Chapter Text

It was a strange thing, Haizaki thought, to have had to wait a whole week before getting off his ass and going over to visit Nijimura in the hospital, and now finding himself sprinting back without hesitation the very next day. Much more that Kise was running beside him, despite the fact that he looked worn out and feverish (and that last they checked, they were on crappy terms with each other). Although neither of them could very well think about how exactly that happened when they were rushing to the hospital, their panic almost boiling over as they ran without pause feeling like their clothes were soaked with the weight of their worry and dread.

It had felt like multiple bricks dropping down the pit of Haizaki’s gut, so much sharper and heavier than the first time he was told that Nijimura was hospitalized. He’d finally seen him after so long and felt like he was in middle school again, and now it was like he was a kid all over again, standing by the doorway waiting for his father to come home, and instead getting greeted with the news that he wasn’t going to walk through their door again.

He shook his head—he didn’t want to think of things like that. Or of what could be waiting for them at the hospital. He could only hear the rapid footfalls of their running, and their hurried panting. When Kise’s breaths started coming out as ragged gasps, Haizaki skidded and slowed, glancing at his former teammate. He would never admit it out loud, but they were once part of the same team, and they did play together. They never got along all that well, but they weren’t enemies—you could call it a code of sorts, delinquent or no.

Haizaki huffed, matching Kise’s pace and bringing out a hand over the blonde’s chest, blocking him. Haizaki gave a soft push as he slowed, seeing Kise’s flushed face and tired eyes. “Wait,” he said.

Kise slowed to a stop, panting heavily and crumpling down with his hands on his knees, face twisted in pain. “Shit, sorry.”

Haizaki raised an eyebrow, hand hovering over Kise’s back. “The heck are you apologizing for,” he said, pulling his hand back and tucking it into his pocket. “Don’t run if you can’t keep up.”

Kise ran a hand through his hair, and Haizaki couldn’t help but notice (and feel annoyed at) how he even had that stupid model look despite the tousled hair, sweat, and what looks like a fever. There’s got to be a limit to how good someone can look in any situation, dammit. “I know,” Kise huffed, heaving himself up. “I’m good. Let’s go.”

“Cut the crap,” Haizaki spat, walking towards a bench and grabbing the back of Kise’s collar, dragging him and dumping him to sit there. “You’re gonna be mistaken for a patient if you go the way you are now.”

Kise looked at him with a small hint of surprise, and then bent to rest his elbows on his knees, hiding his face with his hair. “Sorry. You can go ahead.”

“Stop fucking apologizing,” Haizaki barked, getting a couple of drinks from a vending machine behind the bench. He put one bottle on Kise’s head and flopped to sit next to him. “We’ll go when you catch your breath.”

Kise fumbled with the bottle, and stared at it before turning to look at Haizaki. “This is..?”

“Hah?!” Haizaki growled, fixing Kise a look. “You blind? It’s a sports drink, moron. You drink it.”

“But you’re—” Kise started, wide eyes squinting. “You—what—” he blinked a few times, and then felt a warmth at his chest, looking away. “Thanks. Sorry.”

“I said stop fuckin’ apologizing!” Haizaki groaned, making Kise only laugh. He gave him another look as they both drank. Beside him, Kise had some pretty dark eyebags, and was undoubtedly tired out and probably running a fever. He still pulled off the fresh, handsome model look, but you could see that he was worn out. “You look like crap.”

Kise sighed. “Yeah, yeah. I didn’t think that filling in for a job was gonna tire me out this much. Though I think I’m mostly just stressed out with worry for Nijimura-senpai.”

Haizaki understood the latter bit, but he wondered about the former. “Job?”

Kise took another sip from his bottle. “Yeah, I’m filling in for Nijimura-senpai’s job at a restaurant. With Aominecchi.”

Haizaki had heard about Nijimura’s ridiculous amount of part-time jobs, and looking at Kise now, finding out that he was helping out in such a way, Haizaki felt both a pang of annoyance and softness towards the model. “That stupid captain’s way too responsible for his own good,” was all he could manage to say.

“Damn right,” Kise nodded, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. He moved to stand up, partially wobbling. “We have to go, after all.”

Haizaki smacked a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down. “I said rest up first, dammit,” he snapped, glaring at Kise. “We won’t be of any help whatever time we get there. And like I said, you look just about ready to get confined in there, so don’t make things worse.”

Kise groaned, but relented, his breaths still coming up a bit short and his cheeks running red. “I’m just—really worried.”

Haizaki looked towards the small gap in the surrounding buildings and spotted the glint of the setting sun. His expression softened, serious and grave. He let out a breath, “I know,” and it was barely a whisper. “Me too.”

It wasn’t long before Kise forced himself up and determinedly made to go, and as much as Haizaki felt like he should have rested a bit longer, he couldn’t wait either. They went from walking to jogging to almost running again when they neared, and Haizaki couldn’t pay much concern to how Kise was roughly panting—nor could he find it in himself to stop him again, not when his gold eyes were dead on serious and resolute.

When they’d hurried through the reception and rushed to the fourth floor, it was at the worst possible timing that they could have reached there. Right then, rounding the corner, came a hospital bed being wheeled towards the service elevators, surrounded by nurses and doctors rattling off all these medical terms that didn’t register to either Haizaki or Kise. All they could focus on was Nijimura lying there, shock-still and unconscious, breathing through a mask, scarily pale and limp. The two of them froze, eyes wide as they just watched the rush of medical staff along the bed.

“Nijimura-senpai…” Kise breathed, leaning forward, yet unable to move. Beside him, Haizaki felt like his heart was hammering in his chest, and he felt stuck. They vaguely noticed that following close by the bed were Aomine and Akashi, and behind them were the tall figures of Murasakibara and Midorima, worry sprawled all over their features.

Without really thinking, Haizaki went into the elevator after the hospital bed, and Kise followed alongside the others. The service elevator was large enough to fit the lot of them, but their closeness to Nijimura gripped at their hearts, making their minds race with worry and fear and anxiety. To one side, Akashi was speaking to a doctor, serious and grave. Haizaki couldn’t process what they were talking about so quickly—something about some kind of rupture and an operation, something urgent and dangerous—all he could really register was that Nijimura wasn’t awake and something bad was going on with him.

Across him, Akashi seemed to have nothing else to say then, and turned to look at Nijimura, staring intently at his face. His mismatched eyes were stark with concern, and there was a slight furrow to his brows. Seemingly on impulse, Akashi’s hand went towards Nijimura’s, and he held it, his fingers lightly pressed on Nijimura’s wrist. His eyes flickered briefly on where he held Nijimura’s wrist, and Haizaki followed his gaze.

Akashi was checking Nijimura’s pulse, he realized, but he saw how it wasn’t just that. Haizaki was the same once—he wanted to have something to hold onto, to ground him. Something to reassure him that Nijimura was there. Alive.

And when briefly, just slightly, Nijimura’s hand twitched, giving Akashi’s a small, weak squeeze, waves of relief came surging through them. Akashi snapped his head to look at Nijimura, eyes wide, and just stared, as if waiting for him to wake up. Haizaki did the same, then looked at Akashi’s hand on Nijimura’s and saw that Akashi had gripped their senior’s hand tighter—and this time, he really meant to.

The elevator dinged and slid open, and without pause, Nijimura was wheeled straight out. They all still followed, but after rounding a corner and reaching the end of a hall, the doctor put a hand on Akashi’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, you can’t follow in there,” he said, glancing at all the others. “But I promise, we’ll do our best.”

There was a short pause before Akashi released his hold on Nijimura’s hand, then looked straight at the doctor. “Take care of him,” he spoke, the usual firmness of his voice weaker. “Please.” And he gave a small bow.

“Please,” came the echoes of Aomine, Kise, Midorima, and Murasakibara, all of them bowing. Haizaki followed suit, bowing his head slightly, unable to say anything.

The doctor gave them a look, swallowing, and then nodded as the doors to the operating room closed.

The silence afterwards stretched out into anxious moments, and it felt like a heavy air stretched around their necks, constricting and edgy. Nearest the doors, Aomine stared, hand hovering in the air as if he were still trying to hold onto Nijimura’s hospital bed. Behind him, Midorima and Murasakibara were silent, serious eyes trained in the same direction. Akashi stood still, straight and solid, and there was a tension in his shoulders that seemed to make him look smaller. It was Aomine who moved first, exhaling a rough sigh as he ran a hand through his hair.

The tense air loosened, and Akashi bowed his head, closing his eyes, breathing slowly. To the side, Midorima clenched his fists, and everyone else seemed to snap out of their paralysis as they tried to pull themselves together.

Aomine spoke first, noticing Kise and Haizaki. “Kise. Haizaki.”

Kise blinked, inhaling a rough breath, as if he’d forgotten to breathe when they got there. He wobbled a bit, putting out a hand to the wall at his side to keep himself steady, running a hand through his hair with a shuddering sigh.

“Are you okay?” Aomine asked, finally moving from where he stood. He pocketed his hands and walked towards Kise, who shut his eyes, trying to keep from losing balance.

“Yeah, I just—” he started, voice rough. He coughed. “Just a little tired.”

Without pause, Aomine slid a hand under Kise’s bangs, pressing his palm against his forehead. Kise blinked, tottering slightly, and after a beat, Aomine tsked.

“You’ve got a fever, stupid,” he grumbled, pulling back his hand. “You ran all the way here, didn’t you? You shouldn’t have pushed yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Kise answered. “We took a break along the way.”

Aomine looked at Haizaki with a pleased sort of surprise. “You…”

Kise let out another breath, fighting down a headache. Akashi turned towards him and checked his forehead as well.

“I’m fine,” Kise grunted, staggering back a bit, pouting at Akashi.

“No you’re not,” Akashi said sternly. “Don’t be stubborn.”

Kise gulped, realizing what Akashi meant. He deflated, sheepish, and Aomine gave him a pat on the shoulder.

“I’ll take your shift tonight,” he said, walking past Kise. “So rest up. Don’t be more stupid than you are now.”

Kise sneered at him, glaring. “You little—ah!” he blinked in surprise, noticing someone in front of Aomine. “Kurokocchi! Kagamicchi!”

Aomine huffed, noticing Kuroko and Kagami, panting lightly as they approached, clear worry all over their faces.

“Tetsu,” Aomine nodded, seeing Kuroko’s furrowed brows and obvious effort at trying to keep calm.

“Everyone—” Kuroko said, looking them over, his voice barely steady. “We went to Nijimura-san’s room but no one was there, even Nijimura-san. What happened?”

“Is Nijimura-san okay?” Kagami asked.

“Yeah, Daiki” Haizaki snapped. “What the heck happened? What was that?”

Aomine’s expression turned grave, his eyes shifting down. Akashi and Midorima were the same.

“We’re not too sure,” Midorima spoke. “They say it’s something with Nijimura-san’s appendix—they needed to operate immediately or else—”

He stopped, and no one needed to hear what he meant to say. Haizaki gritted his teeth, clenching his fists at his sides. Kise furrowed his brows, face crumpled in anxiety, and Kuroko looked downcast. Behind him, Kagami was just as worried, his jaw slightly ajar.

“Dammit,” Haizaki grumbled, feeling useless all over again. Everyone else felt the same.

“…What’s that you’re holding, Tetsu?” Aomine pointed out, noticing something Kuroko had in his hand.

Kuroko looked down at it. “Ah, this?” It was a small, slightly wrinkled piece of paper. He unfolded it as he stepped forward. “I found this in Nijimura-san’s room. It was on the floor by the side table.”

The others moved closer to look, and found a familiar scrawl written on it.

“This is…” Kise started, looking like he was about to cry.

Kuroko gripped the piece of paper a little harder. “It’s Nijimura-san’s handwriting.”

“Yeah,” Midorima muttered, turning to look away, covering his eyes by pushing up his glasses. “He probably dropped it when he was brought out...”

“Tch,” Haizaki grunted, turning away, gritting his teeth and digging his fingers so deep into his palms that they were white. “That idiot.” He strode off, leaving, feeling his eyes prickle as he walked away.

“Ugh,” Kise groaned. He pressed his forearm over his eyes as drops started threatening to escape from them, his cold starting to act up.

Kuroko stayed silent, and he saw how Haizaki left, and how Aomine had set his jaw, clenching his fists. Murasakibara’s stomach was grumbling, but it looked like he didn’t notice, and Midorima stepped away from them, bowing his head and keeping a hand over his glasses. Akashi continued to stare at the piece of paper, gazing at the writings on it until he closed his eyes, and then looked at Kuroko. He curled Kuroko’s fingers closed around the paper, and gave him a small smile.

“Keep this for now, Kuroko,” he said. “Until Nijimura-san comes back.”

Kuroko looked at Akashi for a moment, then nodded, giving the redhead’s hand a very small squeeze before pocketing the piece of paper. Akashi gave him a nod, his sad smile widening just a little, and he tucked his hands into his pockets, trying to be as composed as he could despite the fact that they were shaking.

Chapter Text

“Once again, congratulations on making the first string.”

Under the hood of the first gymnasium, those words echoed, sharp and grounding, brimming with expectation. The coach looked them over seriously, nothing but a dead-set strictness about his gaze, with the banner hung over their heads boldly saying: ‘One hundred battles, one hundred victories’.

“From now on you will be training together as the team’s vanguard, and I expect you to perform at your best always,” he continued. “And to remember our school’s motto: ‘Ever-Victorious’. Be guided by that, and embody it. Take pride in your position as the leaders of this club, and win.”

Each member of the first string gave a resounding agreement, voices sharp and ready, charged with an electricity of purpose and superiority. The coach nodded, regarding the team, and stepped aside.

“And, for the new members especially,” he said, looking over the miraculous freshmen additions to the first string. “A few words from your captain.”

From the front of the group, a tall, black-haired second year stepped forward, turning to the team with strident eyes and a strong set to his broad shoulders. There was a fire in those steely eyes and a strength in his stance that felt real, and though he was just like them, even younger than the others, something put him apart from the team—something that placed him in front of them as their leader.

“I’m Nijimura,” he said, voice firm. “Apart from what coach has said, all I really have to say is: don’t forget your first resolution. Always move forward. If you have the time to look back on yesterday, run forward. From now on, we’re a team.”

With those words, a warm fire was lit, just as blazing as the light in Nijimura’s eyes. After a breath, the team gave a loud, resolved assent, and their captain smirked, looking determined and confident. Within the lines, the four freshmen newcomers felt electrified, the looming sight of victory clear in their minds, strong enough they felt they could almost touch it.

Still shorter than most of them, Aomine clenched his fists, teeth gritted in an excited grin, and together with Akashi, Midorima, and Murasakibara, they easily melded into the blaze of Teiko’s first string. The four of them shone brightly, their intensity only growing more brilliant and sharper than the rest as time passed. Aomine, in particular, was a force to be reckoned with—his speed and agility were on par with their captain’s, and as they went against each other on a three-on-three just a few days before their first practice match, their clash all but halted everyone else’s training, their eyes fixated on the play that was levels higher than normal.

The two forwards locked eyes, and the fire in them completely held the attention of the rest of the members, breaths bated in anticipation: the strongest power forward in the middle school level against the formidable first year already being whispered about as a ‘miracle’. No one could predict the outcome.

It was only a short moment that they froze where their paths crossed, and then they moved. After a feint, Nijimura spun around in the other direction, but Aomine had changed gears the moment he realized the fake. Loud squeaks screeched against the court floor as they wove through each other’s moves, and it was when Aomine brought out a swift hand to steal the ball that Nijimura switched to a lightning-fast pass to his teammate behind him, already halfway into the lane the moment the ball reached his hands, and then went through the hoop in a smooth and precise lay up.

The crowd erupted in cheer, but it was a short-lived exhale of joy: Aomine had reacted fast enough to speed past Nijimura and reach the hoop right as the ball went through, snatching it before it bounced a second time. Another of Nijimura’s teammates was already on him in a flash, slowing Aomine down. He skidded, the ball travelling right and left around himself in a flurry akin to streetball play, and in his speed almost immediately got through his opponent’s defense.

As he picked up his momentum, Aomine easily sped through the third player of Nijimura’s team, but was met with the captain himself, right at the three-point line. Aomine’s momentum staggered again, finding little openings in Nijimura’s defense. He stepped back in near full speed, and just as quickly veered to one side and launched himself in the air before Nijimura could react.

It was by pure reflex that Nijimura managed to jump in time to block Aomine’s shot, and it would have thwarted Aomine’s shot if the freshman didn’t, at that moment, shift gears and held back on throwing the ball, and instead delaying his shot to the point that his side was almost parallel to the ground. All he could see was the corner of the backboard from over Nijimura’s shoulder, but it seemed to be enough: Aomine gave a growl, flinging the ball diagonally up near Nijimura’s side, away from his blocking arm, and with one hit to the backboard, the basketball went through the hoop.

Aomine landed on the ground with a thud, side first, and gave a yelp of both surprise and pain. The onlookers stared, amazed and confused all the same, slowly processing what had just happened—what looked to be a lane up turned into an unbelievable formless shot from a falling position, and that was after Aomine had gone past three opponents with pure speed, agility, and eclectic ball-handling. After a beat, everyone seemed to breathe out cheers of awe and disbelief, some clapping, some still bewildered, and the scorer took a moment before announcing: “It’s a draw!”

“Ow ow ow,” Aomine groaned, rolling around on the ground. He had landed on his shoulder and back, and felt his shoulder blades and lower body hit the ground hard. The adrenaline flowing through his veins dulled what he knew was going to hurt later, but the exhilaration pulsing through him was going to overpower all that, he was sure.

“Oi, you okay?”

Wincing, Aomine turned to look up, finding Nijimura crouching beside him, sweating and panting lightly. Aomine stared for a moment, amazed that Nijimura was still full of stamina and energy, while Aomine was panting hard and really needed some water. Without really thinking, he grinned, feeling a new kind of excitement and wonder start to boil in him: their captain was strong, and apart from other mixed feelings of rivalry and admiration, Aomine knew that he wanted to play basketball with him.

“Is your side okay?” Nijimura asked, squinting at where Aomine had landed.

“I’m good,” he smirked, rolling to his side. Nijimura gave a huff, standing up, and stuck a hand out to Aomine, who blinked once before gingerly taking it. His captain pulled him up, and the strength of it almost sent Aomine tumbling forward, and again Aomine felt a jolt of energy fuel his drive. He felt Nijimura’s hand grip his in a firm hold, giving it a single, fervid shake, strong and determined. Aomine blinked at it, looking up at his captain with bright eyes.

“That was a good match,” Nijimura told him, smiling a small, proud smirk. “You’re getting better each day.”

Aomine’s eyes widened a little, and a smile tugged at his lips, feeling a confidence make his hold on Nijimura’s hand tighter before he let go. Aomine gave a small nod, a sheepish grin spreading out across his features as he started to feel the throbbing of his side, when a sudden thundering chop hit him upside the head with a force that rang through his skull and sent him reeling down with a cry.

“Yeow!!” he yelped, hands flying to the top of his head on reflex.

“But you’ve still got a long way to go, brat,” Nijimura spat, the hand he used to karate chop Aomine’s head still hovering in the air. “Did you forget what a ‘pass’ was? You were only able to take back that point after I passed it to Suzuki. You had too much close calls during your drive where you could have passed to your teammates instead of risk getting the ball stolen.”

Aomine grimaced, feeling his side and his head throb. The others looked both amused and sorry for him, and they all got into their own training as Nijimura told him off.

“That last shot too,” Nijimura stated, and Aomine winced, knowing that that shot was something that just…happened, and he didn’t know how he would explain that. For that one shot at least, he knew it was too spontaneous, too risky, and he didn’t even know exactly how he did it. His streetball habits always had the tendency to resurface when he was against a strong opponent, but that kind of dicey play wasn’t consistent, and might confuse teammates more than reassure them. It made passing awkward, especially across a web of opponents—if only passes could curve, Aomine thought.

“It was risky, but I’ve never seen something like that before,” Nijimura continued. “It was a good shot.”

Aomine jerked up to look at Nijimura, who was honest and serious as he spoke to Aomine. “I can see that it was something you came up with on the spot, but it feels like your style,” a smirk tugged at Nijimura’s lips again. “Along with your speed and your streetball skills, you should develop that formless, free-flowing style you’ve got going on. You’re gonna be one hell of a basketball player, I’m sure.”

Nijimura stuck out his hand and ruffled Aomine’s hair as the freshman gaped, wide-eyed, and felt his grin start to creep back. “Got it,” Aomine said, straightening up. He winced slightly as he felt his side protest, and Nijimura gave another fluff on his head before pushing him lightly.

“We’ll have a short break in a bit,” he told him. “Get your side checked for bruises. Try to figure out a way to not collide with the ground every time you try that kind of shot.”

Aomine scratched the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly as he nodded. He almost expected Nijimura to get annoyed at being overtaken like that, with risky moves and little teamwork—Aomine had had enough dealings with sore losers in the past—but instead Nijimura encouraged him, and didn’t even look the least bit sour about almost getting beaten. The respect Aomine had for Nijimura only grew, and he felt like the first time he had entered the first string: like a fire was lit in him all over again, energizing his body and making him hell-bent on playing some more.

Nijimura smiled. “You really love basketball, huh?”

Aomine blinked. “What?”

“It’s all over your face,” Nijimura sighed. “You look like a kid about to open Christmas presents.”

“Ehh?” Aomine drawled, but he couldn’t smother the grin from his face. “Well, yeah. I love basketball. I want to play some more.”

Nijimura smirked, already turning to announce a break to the team. “Don’t forget that.”

Aomine stared after him, nodding. “Can we have another match? Please?”

Nijimura flicked his forehead, and it was so sudden with a force that made Aomine jerk back. “Gah!”

“I said get your side checked,” Nijimura snapped. “Also your stamina sucks. That’s another thing you should work on.”

Aomine pouted. Sure, he was panting heavily after the first hours of training plus the match, but he was someone who had quite a bit of stamina already. Just not as much as Nijimura, Aomine thought grudgingly: their captain had way too much endurance.

All of a sudden, a glistening sports drink came flying at him, and Aomine barely caught it in time, fumbling with it as he stared, surprised.

“Drink that, and take a break,” Nijimura told him, grabbing a towel from the nearby bench. “We can play again any time.”

Aomine’s face lit up, and he was half pummeled again for launching himself all over the place while ignoring the whole idea of a break and bouncing around trying to get to play again. The others sighed in his wake, but smiled, Aomine’s excitement and drive motivating, his laughter infectious. And despite the pain from getting smacked upside the head and crashing into the ground, the hand that ruffled his head didn’t feel like a senior’s. Aomine was an only child, but he felt that the warmth in those big palms encouraging him was just like a brother’s.

“…omine. Aomine.”

“Nuh?” Aomine grumbled, forcing his eyelids open in a squint. He vaguely registered that he was seated, head slumped over a soft ledge, and that something was nudging his side. “Wha…?”

He turned his head to find a pair of glasses staring down at him. “Oi,” Midorima spoke, trying to push Aomine up from where he was leaning. “Can you still feel your arm? You look like you’re crushing it.”

Aomine grunted, heaving himself up and jerking at the sudden feeling of numbness at his side. The pins and needles started prickling under his skin when he managed to sit up. “Nngh,” he garbled, curling up again and dropping his forehead on the ledge—a mattress—trying to get the feeling back in his arm.

“That’s what you get for just flopping asleep like that,” Midorima sighed, nudging Aomine’s side again. “Sit up, it’ll help more.”

Aomine grudgingly straightened up, twitching at the prickling at his arms. Midorima prodded at his chair, meaning to pass behind him. “Move over a little,” he said, and Aomine gave a grunt, dragging his chair forward with his good arm. Midorima squeezed through the space and placed a some small item on a side table, rearranging the other items beside it and picking up the glass of water sitting in the corner. “Stetch your neck on each side,” he suggested, going back behind Aomine and walking towards the sink. “It’ll loosen up the bundle you got your nerves into and get rid of the prickling.”

Aomine tried just that, feeling how stiff his neck had become as well. In moments, the pins and needles on his arm eased, and he rolled his shoulders, exhaling against a groggy tiredness that he was trying to shake off.

“Huh. It worked,” he remarked, blinking his weary eyes awake.

“Of course it did,” came Midorima’s reply. He returned with a refilled pitcher of water which he set on the table opposite Aomine’s side, and it was then that Aomine stretched his long arms and back, reclining against his chair. He felt something shift behind his back, and when he reached for it, found that a jacket had been put atop it. He took a look at it and raised an eyebrow—that wasn’t his jacket. Aomine thought hard about it while he folded it over his lap, and just then registered where he was when he saw the white of the hospital bed’s sheets, and Nijimura under them. Aomine was brought short by it, and a solemn expression passed his features as he looked at his former-captain, still asleep and unmoving on the bed, save for the thankfully steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. The night before, the last thing he’d seen before leaving the hospital was Nijimura being wheeled off into an operating room, and the sounds of rushed speaking and erratic beeping still seemed to ring in his ears upon remembering what went on. He didn’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t tried to shake Nijimura awake, like he’d done a couple of times already, and if he hadn’t felt that knot form in his stomach when he wouldn’t stir. The past few times, it didn’t take that much to wake Nijimura up, and without thinking, he’d called Satsuki and Akashi afterward. It seemed to have been the right call, since some of the best doctors had come rushing in after the nurses, and Aomine could only step back and watch as they bustled around the bed.

-

When Nijimura shifted, Aomine had instinctively jerked forward, and in between the nurses and doctors, he saw Nijimura’s face twisted in pain, eyes screwed shut still; a quiet, strangled moan barely flitting through his gritted teeth. His fists were clenched around the sheets of the bed so tightly, his fingertips were pale, and the web of creases his grip had formed on the cloth were quakes and shocks of struggle radiating against the white. Something heavy sank in Aomine’s gut, and he forced himself to swallow, unable to move, his heart hammering in his chest as he felt useless.

“Nijimura-kun, Nijimura-kun, where does it hurt?” a doctor had spoken, leaning towards Nijimura with steady hands around his wrist, the one with an IV drip that was steadily feeding something a nurse had injected. “Please don’t tense up.”

Nijimura’s eyes flickered briefly, his breaths strangled and tattered, his head jerked to one side, body crumpling slightly, and the doctor had gradually smoothened Nijimura’s fingers open, which trembled as he struggled to relax. Barely, just barely, Nijimura’s eyes cracked open, still furrowed in a wince, yet as if he was searching for something amidst the pain. He opened his mouth, saying something, but it was a breath, weaker than a whisper.

“What is it?” the doctor asked, leaning closer to hear. “Can you tell me where you’re feeling pain?”

“Ao—mine…” Nijimura tried, louder.

Aomine snapped his head to look at Nijimura, eyes wide in surprise and bewilderment—he said his name?

“…I’m here, I’m awake,” Nijimura mumbled, curling into his side some more. His hands tensed up again, and the doctors followed his movements, watching carefully.

“W-what?” Aomine managed to stutter, stepping forward.

“Are you there? Sorry—I’m awake…” Nijimura’s eyes wrinkled shut as he’d sucked in a breath, knuckles going white from the tension.

“I—what?” Aomine couldn’t focus on understanding. “Why are you apologizing?”

“You tried to wake him up earlier, right?” a nurse told him, putting a hand on his shoulder to calm him. “I think Nijimura-kun’s apologizing for worrying you when he didn’t wake up.”

Aomine blinked, and felt something bubble up inside him, realizing that what the nurse said was probably true. “Goddammit,” he gritted. “Worry about yourself, you idiot.”

“Aomine-kun, was it?” the doctor by the bed spoke, turning to him. “Can you talk to him? We need to be sure of his condition.”

“R-right,”Aomine stumbled, falling on a knee by the side of the bed. He glanced at Nijimura, who was practically on his side, and observed how his hands were clenched. “Oi, is your side okay?”

The doctors moved, surveying Nijimura’s position and watching his movements, alert. “Where does it hurt?” Aomine tried.

Nijimura was clearly putting in a lot of effort to even out his breathing, the lines on his face smoothening out just a little, though his forehead was still creased. There was clear concentration in his closed eyes, and he’d started to relax his stiff body when he’d deliberately moved a hand to his lower right side, his whole hand trembling in an effort to stay relaxed. The doctors nodded at each other, swallowing, and Nijimura gave a gulp of his own as he’d rolled to lie on his back, neck tense as he obviously tried to fight the pain. A hand remained pressed on his right side, and he evened out his breathing into steadier breaths. His exhales came out in a few huffs before the furrow in his brows smoothened out just slightly, and his head slumped to one side as he slipped out of consciousness again.

Aomine swallowed, not quite processing what the doctors were concluding around the bed as they hurried the nurses to wheel him out. Aomine was pulled up by a nearby nurse, and she had gently moved him away from the bustling, which was all fine and well until they’d started pulling the bed out. Aomine followed without hesitation, just in time to run into Murasakibara, Akashi, Midorima, and Takao. The doctors spoke to Akashi as they wheeled Nijimura through the halls, and Midorima was talking to Takao, looking both worried and apologetic. Takao relieved Midorima of some kind of plastic bag filled with clinking items, and gave Midorima a small, knowing smile, which eased off some of the worry edged in his features. Takao didn’t follow, giving a serious nod as they passed, dangling a small keychain in one finger, which Aomine vaguely registered was a basketball.

Everything went by in a flurry, and the one doctor and nurse had thanked Aomine for his help before they entered the operating room. Aomine could only really think of how he was practically useless and lost, but he latched onto the bit of gratitude that he was given for at least having been able to do something. He knew he couldn’t help it, so he sucked it up and gave a sigh, finding it more productive to get off his butt that night to help in whatever way he could.

“Ah!” Aomine exclaimed, staring at the jacket in his hands. “This is Kise’s.” He looked around the room, spotting only Midorima rearranging things by the bed. “Where is he?”

Midorima raised an eyebrow. “He wasn’t here when I arrived. Although now that you mention it,” he looked about, squinting at the other chair across Aomine. “He stayed over, right?”

“Yeah,” Aomine furrowed his brows, standing up and stretching his legs.

“Maybe he went home?” Midorima tried, sitting down. “…no, seems unlikely he’ll just leave.”

“Yeah, without his jacket too,” Aomine agreed, noticing how Midorima had updated Nijimura’s lucky item for the day, and how there were snacks by the other table undoubtedly left there by Murasakibara.

“Ahh!” Aomine blurt out, a thought dawning on him. “I think I know where that idiot is.”

“What idiot?”

“Ki—” Aomine almost jumped, feeling a wave of nostalgia hit him with the shuddering surprise of Kuroko’s sudden appearance. “Kise. I was talking about Kise. Yo, Tetsu.”

At the doorway, Kuroko approached, holding a vanilla shake in one hand and a blank expression. He glanced at Nijimura, and Aomine noticed a very subtle shift—even after all this time, Aomine could tell the little changes in Kuroko’s expressions, and he felt a little proud of that, still.

Midorima adjusted his glasses, having just retreated to the edge of his seat from the jump scare he got at Kuroko’s arrival. “You should knock.”

“I did though,” Kuroko said, giving his shake a slurp. He looked at Aomine. “Isn’t that Kise-kun’s?”

Aomine raised an eyebrow, shaking the back of his neck and glancing at the jacket in his hands. “Yeah, he left it.”

“Where is he…?” Kuroko started, but trailed off, eyebrows furrowing just slightly as a realization hit him. “You don’t think…”

“Yeah, I thik so.” Aomine huffed, pulling on his jacket. “He’s out being stupid.”

It was still early in the morning when the sun was was obscured by some looming clouds, and still pretty early in the day for Kise to get pummeled upside his head—although considering where he was, it was probably not that out of place.

“Yeow!!” Kise yelped, hands flying to the top of his head, which had just received a thuddering chop. He winced, turning to his attacker and finding Aomine. “Aominecchi!”

“Yo,” Aomine grunted, flinging Kise’s jacket at the model’s face. “You left this, idiot-Kise.”

“It’s too early in the day for this much karate chops to the head, dammit!” Kise wailed, fumbling around with his jacket while one hand rubbed his head.

“That’s what you get for going to a karate dojo, you moron,” Aomine snapped, gritting his teeth as he looked Kise over, wearing the bottom of a karate uniform and his own shirt. “And what do you mean ‘this much’? Did someone else smack you in the head before me? I gotta thank that guy.”

Kise pouted, grumbling, and jerked his thumb over his shoulder with a glare. “That guy, you mean.” Aomine raised an eyebrow and inclined his head, finding Haizaki standing at the other end of the dojo, wearing the white karate uniform pants and a black top. He was speaking to a couple of instructors and glancing at the students gathered in groups around the dojo. Aomine’s eyes widened, not quite processing how Haizaki was there, when the guy in question noticed him and flinched.

“Daiki,” he greeted, eyebrows pinched as he glanced at Kise rubbing at his head. “Did you smack his head too?”

“You bet I did,” Aomine replied, still glaring at Kise. He was pretty proud that he’d correctly guessed where Kise would be, but the amount of annoyed that he got when he saw Kise doing some karate moves alongside another instructor overpowered it all and sent his chop crashing down on Kise’s head. “Looks like you got to him first.”

“I figured the damn idiot would pull something like this,” Haizaki groaned, looking like he wanted to punch Kise again.

“Looks like you were thinking along the same lines though.”

“Huh?!” Haizaki growled, and then almost jumped, reeling back in a jerk. “Fuck—goddammit Kuroko!”

“What,” Kuroko simply said, giving his vanilla shake a slurp.

Kise shuddered, having just narrowly stopped himself from jumping in surprise. “Hey, Kurokocchi.”

Kuroko nodded at them. “Good morning. You’re filling up for Nijimura-san?”

“Yeah,” Kise answered. “I realized just this morning that we never did get to decide on how to deal with senpai’s job here, so I went ahead and studied karate a bit to help out.”

Kuroko raised an eyebrow at him, almost exasperated. “Right. Didn’t Akashi-kun tell you not to be stubborn?”

Kise grimaced. He’d gotten a pretty good rest the night before, but true enough, he still had a faint flush to his cheeks and a heavy tiredness weighing him down.

Aomine pressed a hand over his forehead, and after a moment, flicked it, making Kise yelp again. “Gah!”

“Your temperature’s still high,” Aomine spoke. “That fever of yours probably hasn’t gone down yet, and now you’re being stupid.”

“Damn right,” Haizaki grunted, pulling up his sleeves. “Which is why I’m here.”

“Do you know karate, Haizaki-kun?” Kuroko asked, something soft in his eyes.

“I used to take karate before,” Haizaki answered absent-mindedly. He then realized what he was saying and doing, and saw Kuroko’s small smile and both Aomine and Kise’s suspicious looks. “Wh-what?! I have nothing else to do so I figured, what the hell. I know one of the instructors here anyway. And some of the brats. What?!”

A devilish smirk played at Aomine’s lips. “Ehh, so you can be a decent human being, Haizaki.”

Haizaki felt a nerve pop up. “Fuck you.”

Aomine snickered, and beside him, Kuroko smiled. Kise squinted at Haizaki with an amused face, and before they could say anything else, someone called out to Haizaki and Kise—it was one of the head instructors. It looked like they just had a break, and were calling back the two of them. They were discussing something, and for a moment Kise stepped back as two instructors demonstrated a kind of double kick that involved spinning around and hitting two kicking pads consecutively. Haizaki was waving his hand, looking like he was bored and understood, and the others turned to Kise, who looked thoughtful. He said something to the instructors that had them raising the two kicking pads up, and after a beat, Kise launched himself in a mimic of the exact same moves just previously demonstrated, getting the instructors to grin and nod in approval. Kise flashed his own sparkling grin, which was broken by another solid chop to the head from Haizaki, to which Aomine approved of.

“I’m not used to seeing them getting along,” Kuroko commented, a small smile on his face.

“That doesn’t look like getting along,” Aomine huffed, leaning back. “Looks like a couple of idiots to me.” He gave a sigh, not quite into the quip he’d absently said, looking distracted.

“Are you okay?” Kuroko asked him, leaning forward and peeking up at Aomine.

“Hm?” Aomine looked at Kuroko, getting met with those big round eyes and overly observant gaze. He almost flinched, avoiding Kuroko’s eyes. “…Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Is that so.”

Aoomine swallowed, remembering the one time Kuroko had told him that he’d observed how Aomine would avert his eyes when he was lying. Aomine sighed. Things might have changed since that time, all those years ago, but he in many ways, he was still the same. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “It’s weird.”

Kuroko’s expression softened, feeling warmed by Aomine opening up, even just a little. He leaned back beside him, looking at Kise and Haizaki bickering as they approached. “This might be a bit weird to say, but it’s nice that we get to spend time like this. All of us. Just not for the best of reasons though.”

Aomine gave him a sidelong glance, eyes widening, and felt a smirk tug at his lips. “I guess.”

Kise had barely managed to escape Haizaki’s beating when they reached their side of the dojo, a group of worried-looking kids following closeby. They lined up in front of the two copycats and looked on with concern.

One of them spoke up. “Where’s Nijimura-san?”

“Is he okay?” Another one said.

“I heard he’s sick.”

“Shut up,” Haizaki snapped, irritated.

Kise pushed his face away. “Nijimura-senpai’s fine. He just needs some rest. We’re here to fill in for him in the meantime.”

“You mean just me,” Haizaki spat.

“I got here first.”

“Are you children?” Aomine grumbled, and beside him, Kuroko was shaking his head.

“Whatever!” Haizaki groaned, hands shooting up in defeat. “You guys have a demo and competition coming soon, so you gotta be ready by the time Nijimura gets back.”

“That’s right!” Kise perked up. “You wanna make him proud, don’t you?”

The students answered a resounding ‘yes!’ immediately, as if it were only natural that they would. Aomine smirked, thinking about how it would just innately happen that anyone Nijimura taught or lead would do their best and follow him. Haizaki and Kise fell into the swing of guiding the students, and before Kise could do any actual karate, Haizaki grabbed his collar and hauled him to the side, close to Aomine, where he could be watched.

“Stop being a dumbass and leave the actual doing to me, dumbass,” Haizaki barked, still glaring daggers at Kise, despite how he was looking out for him.

“You said dumbass twice!” Kise whined, irritated.

“Well good thing you heard me over the sound of all that snot clogging your head!”

“That’s it,” Aomine announced, heaving himself up. “No use moping around watching these two idiots argue like dumbasses.” He shrugged off his jacket, tossing it by the bench beside Kuroko. “Might as well do what I can.”

Kuroko blinked after him, feeling in his gut that things were not going to go well.

[tbc]

Chapter Text

It was seldom that Kuroko would mail, and even less often that he’d ask for help, so when both things happened early in the day that Saturday, Kagami—who had been jogging for most of the morning—all but veered off towards the address Kuroko had sent under the subject very forebodingly entitled: “Help.”

When Kagami had been running circles and seemingly getting nowhere near finding the place, he’d thankfully run into Izuki, Kiyoshi, and Hyuga, who were on their way to a street court. Tagging along with them were Takao and Kasamatsu, who both seemed to be engaged in an animated conversation involving their respective Miracle teammates. When Kagami had admitted about being unable to find the address, it turned out that Kasamatsu was familiar with the place, and so they all decided to head there out of curiosity and concern over the darkening sky.

The six of them kept a fast pace as they walked under cloudy skies that threatened a downpour on them, reaching what turned out to be a karate dojo not too far from where they met. Kagami felt like he should have known why Kuroko was at such a place, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, and when they’d looked through the door, he was thrown into a deeper pit of confusion upon finding Kuroko crouched down on the floor beside two other kids, knees snuggly wrapped around his arms, just as Kise came flying over their line. By the end of his jump, Kise’s foot connected with a breaking board in a solid kick, and he landed without any problems, pumping his fist in the air at his success.

Immediately after, another person brought his arm crashing down on Kise’s collar in a wrestling clothesline, toppling him down on the floor mats. The other guy turned out to be Haizaki, who angrily yelled at Kise as he rolled on the ground, wailing. Aomine appeared to one side, bent down, grabbing the collar of Kise’s shirt, and dragged him towards a bench, dumping him there and flicking Kise’s forehead for good measure. Aomine then proceeded to jab a finger at Haizaki, yelling at him about something, and Haizaki in turn literally knocked foreheads with him. They glared at each other, still growling and bickering like angry dogs, when they both pulled back and got into a ready stance. They were about to swing their fists at each other when Aomine’s feet got pulled from under him, sending him dropping to the ground as Haizaki ended up punching air and losing balance from the momentum, falling down on the ground beside Aomine, both of them face-planting on the mats.

Kagami could only gape, slack-jawed, and tried to process what he was looking at from across the room. He spotted Kuroko by Aomine’s feet, hands still wrapped around the idiot’s ankles, with wide, half-panicked eyes, and when he blinked and saw Kagami and the others, he simply opened his mouth, shut it, and then opened it again and proceeded to mouth, “Help.”

Kasamatsu was already stomping towards them when Kagami staggered inside, the others following close behind. When they neared, Aomine and Haizaki were pulling themselves up, looking like they were ready to brawl. Knowing how fast Aomine was, Kagami grabbed him from behind in a flash, restraining his arms. Hyuga tossed Kiyoshi in between Aomine and Haizaki, and the sight of a much taller, much bigger guy with a huge smile made Haizaki step back. When Kasamatsu passed by them, Haizaki flinched, looking wary. Kasamatsu glanced at him for a moment, and brushed past him, going straight for Kise and bonking him on the head.

“Agh!” Kise flailed. “What the hell, everyone’s beating me up and—Kasamatsu-senpai?”

“Yo, idiot,” Kasamatsu grunted at him.

“Why are you all here?” Takao chimed in, surveying the area with an amused smirk. Around them, a crowd of karate students were watching, a mix of confusion and fascination in their gazes. To the side, Aomine and Haizaki calmed down, going back to glaring at each other from afar. A few students warily approached Haizaki to talk about karate-related things, and Takao and Izuki helped Kuroko up.

“Kise-kun and Haizaki-kun are filling in for Nijimura-san here,” Kuroko answered, wobbling to the bench.

“Ah, that’s right,” Kagami realized. “Nijimura-san’s other job was here. But wait—Kise knows karate?”

“No,” Kuroko muttered. “He’s just really skilled.”

“Don’t tell me you actually learned karate just recently?” Takao’s eyes went wide.

“Just this morning, actually,” Kise replied.

“Aaahh, I think I know why people like to beat you up,” Takao mused, gritting his teeth. These Miracles were unbelievable sometimes.

“What,” Kise whined.

“Hey,” Kasamatsu snapped. “I think it’s great that you’re helping Nijimura-san out, but you shouldn’t push yourself.”

Kise averted his eyes. “I know. I’m not.”

Kasamatsu’s expression softened, and Kise winced when his hand went up, but instead of coming down on his head like he expected, Kasamatsu simply ruffled his hair. “Don’t be stubborn.”

Kise pouted, feeling a warm spot glow in his chest, and a soothing comfort come from his captain’s hand. “Yeah.”

It had already started raining when they got into the swing of helping out in the dojo, and by the end of their session, Kagami had managed to somehow keep Kuroko from getting squashed under flying kicks or pummeled by accident because of disappearing into the shadows of the ignored. Aomine was at least able to keep Kuroko from getting dragged into sparring matches, and Hyuga likewise tried to do the same with Kiyoshi, but instead got pulled into holding up breaking boards for practice—something which Kiyoshi was more than happy to help with, himself. Kise, on the other hand, was constantly getting pulled back and restrained by either Haizaki or Kasamatsu, but the model otherwise ended up mastering enough karate to get him noticed by the instructors.

“Kise, right?” an assistant instructor approached him. “I’m Tatsu. You’re Nijimura’s friend, yeah?”

Kise turned to the instructor—he was shorter than Kise, but had a more well-built physique, even under the white uniform. Kise could see that he had strong arms and legs, and probably some amazing balance and reflexes. Kise thought of what it might be like to play basketball with him. “Yeah. He’s a senpai from middle school.”

Tatsu blinked, eyes widening a fraction. “Middle school, you say? Then you must be one of his basketball teammates?”

Kise stared, then nodded slowly. “Yeah, he was our captain.”

“No wonder you seemed familiar!” Tatsu lit up. “You must be that popular guy Nijimura mentioned—the one who got into the first string after two weeks, yeah?”

Kise blinked at him. “Y-yeah, how do you know?”

“Nijimura talks about you guys sometimes,” Tatsu smirked. “A lot of times, actually. He probably doesn’t show it, but he’s very fond of you ‘brats’. Pretty iritated most of the time, but quite fond of you lot. A team full of year mates, right? With colorful hair. And are sometimes stupid.”

“That’s them,” Hyuga pointed out from the benches. “You’re talking about the Generation of Miracles.”

“Right!” Tatsu realized. “That one. That term. Nijimura doesn’t really like it, but he said it was true. If I remember right, there’s a really smart guy with different colored eyes, a shooter with weird toys, a model with a piercing—that’s you, right?—a giant who eats a lot, a basketball nut, problem child, and a kid with magic passes.”

“That went in weird directions,” Takao snickered, clutching his stomach.

“Yeah it sounds ridiculous,” Tatsu chuckled. “But Nijimura looked like he was telling the truth.”

“More or less,” Kasamatsu sighed.

Tatsu laughed, then looked thoughtful. “Aahh, he’s got some freakish stamina, that Nijimura,” he said. “But he’s way too hard-working. I felt like I had a heart attack when he collapsed.”

Kise felt something drop in his stomach. “Right. You were there?”

Tatsu nodded, looking solemn. “Yeah, we teach the same level. We were having a break when he suddenly collapsed beside me. Boy, we were sure thrown for a loop. We were all so worried—“ Tatsu shook his head, trying to wipe the worried lines off his face. ”We really should have noticed his condition sooner. Some of us knew how much work he was doing, and that kind of load isn’t easy, even if it was someone like Nijimura. It might sound like an excuse, but he’s got a way of not making you worry.”

The others looked downcast, and the former-Teiko members seemed to understand that the most.

“He’s way too unselfish, that guy,” Tatsu commented. “He took over for me a few weeks ago when I had remedial tests because I got sick. And then he stayed overtime to help out the kids. Ahh, he’s such an idiot.” Tatsu looked guilty, and Kise, Kuroko, and the others knew, seeing him, that he was a good guy.

Aomine snickered, scratching the back of his neck. “That makes a lot of us bigger idiots.”

Tatsu gave a small smile. “Yeah. How’s he doing?”

Kise swallowed, averting his eyes. “He’s okay. Still needs rest.”

“He tried to escape confinement way too often,” Kagami grumbled, jabbing a finger in the air.

At that, Tatsu laughed again. “Should have known he would. Tell him to get well soon, yeah? His brats will be ready to make him proud.”

Kise smiled, nodding, and some ways away, detached from the group, Haizaki snorted, feeling any of the day’s tiredness wash away.

“Also,” Tatsu added, looking at Kise. “Would you consider joining as a formal student? You’ve got talent.”

Kise smiled sheepishly, giving an airy chuckle. “Sorry, I’ve already got basketball.”

Kasamatsu gave a sigh, smirking, and Tatsu shrugged. “Eh, worth a shot,” he said, and then went closer to them. “Nijimura’s really happy you guys are still playing basketball, by the way,” he almost whispered. “Don’t tell him I told you. He seemed relieved when he said that he’d heard you guys were competing.”

The former-Teiko members looked surprised, glancing at each other. Kise was reminded of that piece of paper Kuroko had found—the one by Nijimura’s hospital bed, with his handwriting—and how something so small and simple had made them all tremble. Kise felt his eyes threatening to prickle again, and Aomine’s fists tightened just slightly, while from afar, Haizaki stood up to walk away. Kuroko gave them all a small, soft smile, and beside him, Kagami shared a similar expression. The Seirin trio of Hyuga, Kiyoshi, and Izuki pieced together the deeper meaning shared by Kuroko and his former-teammates from those words, knowing how things had turned out in their last years at Teiko.

“Well tell him to get out of there soon, alright?” Tatsu smiled, straightening up. “Oh and,” he trotted to his bag and pulled out a small plastic bag with a soft, light item inside. “Please return this to Nijimura!” he said, handing it to Kise. “It was left in the staff room on the day he was hospitalized.”

Kise accepted it and peeked inside the bag, Aomine looking over his shoulder at it. They stared, blinking in surprise upon seeing what was inside.

“This is…” Kise murmured.

“He usually keeps that in his locker,” Tatsu spoke. “But he misplaces it a lot. Can’t tell how many times he’s nagged us about where it’s disppeared to, but it’s obvious how important it is to him if he keeps looking for it. But geez, it’s important to him, but he keeps losing it—though he always seems to be sure that he’ll find it again.” Tatsu looked thoughtful. “And he does. Isn’t that interesting.”

Kuroko stared at the item before Kise tucked it back into the plastic bag. The three of them were silent for a while, thinking about all the little things that they’d learned about their former-captain, and about themselves. They didn’t say it out loud, but they all felt like they’d been such children back when they were still a team, and even now. That the world was much, much bigger. Just from meeting their captain again, they somehow felt really small.

“That is interesting,” Hyuga mused from behind them. “Reminds me of a certain team..” he mumbled, thoughtful.

“Well it’s still pretty early, so you guys can return that to Nijimura-san on your way back,” Kasamatsu suggested, giving solid hard pats on the backs of the three of them.

“Yeah, please do. Tell him we’re waiting for him to get back on his feet,” Tatsu smiled. “And that I wanna see him play basketball sometime.”

“Yeah, me too,” Aomine replied. And at that, Kise and Kuroko fully agreed.

“Really, now we’re going to be late for training,” Nijimura sighed, fiddling around with a small tray of medical supplies. “Didn’t you ever learn to not run in hallways?”

“Technically it was outside,” Kise pointed out, grimacing. He held a tissue to his bloody nose.

“Still a hall,” Nijimura retorted. “And the fact that it was outside made things worse. Now look at your knee, all scraped up like a kid.”

Kise pouted, wincing when Nijimura dabbed a cotton swab over his wounded knee. He was supposed to stall Nijimura-senpai, sure, but he didn’t expect to do it this way. “Oww, that stings,” he whined.

“Geez, what are you, a grade schooler?” Nijimura sighed again, tossing the dirtied cotton into a trash bin and pulling out some gauze.

“I can do that myself,” Kise tried, feeling esmbarrassed at being treated by his senpai. “I think the nosebleed stopped. Really, don’t trouble yourself, senpai.”

“Ah, shut up,” Nijimura waved. “It feels like it’s partially my fault you tripped and fell. Although you really shouldn’t have rushed, I could hear you from across the hall. Why were you calling me anyway?”

Kise gulped. “H-huh, I forgot.”

Nijimura raised an eyebrow. “…Right.” He tapped the gauze he’d applied over Kise’s wound and heaved himself up, looking down at Kise. “Anyway, your nosebleed’s stopped right? Can you stand?”

“Yeah,” Kise replied, bouncing up to stand and tossing the tissue into the trash. He winced slightly at his wound getting stretched, but shook it off. “Thanks. Sorry for keeping you.”

“Don’t mind it,” Nijimura shrugged, grabbing his bags. “Let’s go. We’re gonna be doing some extra rounds for being late today.”

Kise pretended to groan, feeling like he was successful with his ‘task’ despite the unanticipated knee scrape. Nijimura ignored his out-of-place eagerness and proceeded to the gym. Kise masterfully sent a message with his phone hidden in his pocket before they got there, and once Nijimura pushed open the doors, already beginning to apologize for being late, a stream of confetti came bursting out towards him, cutting him short.

“Surprise!”

All of Teiko’s first string members cheered, lined up along the doorway of the first gymnasium to greet Nijimura. The front of the line consisted of the second year members, Haizaki miraculously included, and the coach stood to the side, wearing a small smile instead of his usual serious glare. In the hands of the different players of the first string were different kinds of sports drinks, a brand new basketball, a few wrapped packages, and a cake in the center.

Nijimura was dumbstruck. “What.”

“Don’t tell me you forgot, senpai,” Kise said, joining into the group in front of Nijimura.

“What?” was all Nijimura could say.

“I told you, he totally forgot,” one of Nijimura’s classmates said.

“Forgot what?” Nijimura was getting irritated at himself for being slow on the uptake.

“Your birthday, captain. It’s your birthday!”

“What.”

The team was a mix of sighs and laughter, and they all but shoved the cake at Nijimura, greeting him a loud and resounding, “Happy birthday!” as he garbled out a confused response.

“I can’t believe you guys,” Nijimura groaned, looking exasperated.

The seniors laughed, giving him the collection of sports drinks they probably deprived various vending machines of. The others handed him the new basketball, alongside some rolls of muscle tape and salonpas. The second years were shoved forward, getting hissed at to give Nijimura something. It was another senior and Kise who stepped in front of them.

“Hey Niji,” the senior spoke. “We got you something else.”

“What, more?” Nijimura was honestly surprised. “You guys—”

“Just take it,” the others groaned, and Kise was smirking alongside the others when they handed Nijimura a small paper bag.

Nijimura raised an eyebrow, but took it, the corners of his lips quirking up in defeat. “Open it!” Kise insisted, leaning forward alongside Aomine. Beside them, Murasakibara was absently chewing on a snack, Midorima’s eyes shifted in anticipation, Akashi had a small, amused smile, and Haizaki was peering close out of curiosity.

This is weird, Nijimura thought. It was weird how something light and merry was happening in the gym where they’d train like mad with the mantra of victory running in their heads. It was definitely out of place, but this was his team, alright. They weren’t the buddy-buddy kind of club: everyone in there was there by shoving someone else aside, and the pressure to stay there was intense, almost constricting, but it fueled the members’ determination even more. He used that, understanding it the most, at least as something they all had in common, and built a team from there.

“It’s good to have something like this every once in a while,” the first vice-captain mused. “Although it’s like we’re using your birthday as an excuse.”

It was true, Nijimura considered. Even as the captain, something like this was a breath of fresh air—the looming tournament was starting to put pressure on the players—especially the second years being called the ‘Generation of Miracles’. There were lots of expectations for them, and all of that was occupying most of Nijimura’s thoughts, having to constantly monitor and assess the other players in preparation for the final line up and strategies. He wanted to focus on that, at least, to try to distract himself from his father’s confinement, and completely forgot about his own birthday in the process.

“Besides, it’s your third year!” Kise butt in. “And you never once let us greet you like this.”

“’Cause it’s unnecessary,” Nijimura sighed. “And weird.”

“We put so much effort though,” another senior piped up. “We had to gather everyone before you came, which is hard because you’re always early.”

“So we had Kise stall,” someone else pointed out.

“What a stupid way of stalling,” Nijimura looked at Kise.

“That was an accident!” Kise cried, grimacing at his wounded knee. “But it worked!”

“Does that mean I don’t have to do any extra rounds later?” Nijimura raised an eyebrow, glancing at the coach.

“Just for today,” coach Sanada nodded, his expression softer than usual. “Consider it my birthday gift to you. And that only goes for the captain.” He added, fixing the rest of the team a pointed stare. They all understood—there was no envy or spite for Nijimura: he deserved it.

Nijimura was honestly touched, feeling for real that time how lucky it was that he had a birthday, looking at the coach with pure gratitude.

“Hey hey, is that the only thing you’re thankful for?” one of Nijimura’s classmates grumbled, hands on his hips. “Open that! That’s from the second years.”

Nijimura blinked, looking at their youngest members, who looked both expectant and timid. He fiddled with the bag in his hands, and opened it, peeking inside and pulling out the gift.

It was an armband. Much like the one he wears on his forearm during basketball matches, except this one was striped like a rainbow. It had seven colors brightly lining its body, and Nijimura took a moment to look at it, then glanced at the line of second years who would shine so brightly on the court, he knew they’d become the main force of the team. He looked at them and the armband, snorted, and then broke out into laughter, thinking that he could actually bring those ‘Miracles’ with him always, just around his forearm. Nijimura laughed, the happiest he’d been in a long time, and the others followed suit, laughing along with him and greeting him again.

They weren’t a buddy-buddy club, sure, but Nijimura was, for the first time in a long while, glad to have been part of something like the team. He was glad he chose to switch to a team sport after having gone through karate, even though he had so much more opportunities in the latter. Sure, he had considered how Teiko’s basketball club was the school’s pride and glory, but he’d only wanted to stop fighting. He’d had enough brawls and fights in the past, and his dad had done enough for him to keep him from going home bruised and bloody. He wanted to fight for something else. Not just for himself. And somehow, he managed to do well enough in basketball to join the first string, and more surprisingly get appointed as the captain in his second year there. It all felt so long ago, and Nijimura would never have imagined back then that he’d have an underclassman fall on his face trying to stall him for a surprise from a team he had lead for two years. He never would have thought that today, on his birthday and his last year in middle school, he’d get gifts and greetings he didn’t ask for, and be able to smile and laugh like a kid.

There in the gym he could practically call a second home, Nijimura allowed himself to laugh and get shoved around and forced to eat cake, and even though he had already resolved to resign as captain soon, he was, at least on that day, proud to have been the captain of the team.

The rain didn’t bother to wait for anyone to get to proper shelter and mercilessly poured, stranding Aomine, Kuroko, Kagami, Kise, and Haizaki in a covered bus stop just a few blocks away from the hospital, wet and hungry.

Kasamatsu, Hyuga and the others left ahead of the stranded freshmen when the karate session ended, excusing themselves after feeling like they’d overstayed their welcome (and getting out to grab lunch together). It was after working out Nijimura’s work shift and cleaning up in the dojo that the remaining guys left, and it wasn’t long after that the rain decided to let loose its downpour.

Kise sneezed, rocking the bench they sat on. “Yep, I’m definitely sick now,” he sniffled, his eyes tearing up and nose running red.

“Don’t let me catch your cold,” Aomine grunted beside him.

“I hate this,” Haizaki groaned, trying to lean as far away from Aomine as possible—which wasn’t that far, considering how they’d all just barely fit sitting on the bench.

“I’m hungry,” Kagami sighed from the opposite side. To his left, in between him and Kise, Kuroko was resting his head on his folded arms atop a couple of bags, staring at the raindrops pelting the ground.

“Me too,” Kuroko said absently. “I wonder if Nijimura-san’s awake.”

They were silent, thoughtful. The sound of the pouring rain was almost relaxing—a small distraction from their uneasy thoughts.

“Oi, Haizaki,” Aomine spoke, and it was low enough that only Haizaki could hear from beside him, only glancing sidelong at Aomine, solemn.

“Good job,” Aomine continued, looking at the rain. “Taking over for Nijimura-senpai. And keeping Kise from overworking himself.”

Haizaki, who was resting his cheek on his hand by the side railing, side-eyed Aomine, raising an eyebrow. He huffed, then averted his eyes. “Not like I really care.”

Aomine smirked, still watching the rain. To his other side, Kise had fallen asleep, his head bobbing towards Aomine’s shoulder. “Yeah sure. You still helped out, and that’s cool. I guess.”

“Hmph,” Haizaki gave another huff, turning to watch the rain as well. “Couldn’t stand to see that idiot being stupid.”

“That makes two of us,” Aomine agreed, pushing Kise’s head to his shoulder to rest on. Even in the corner of his vision, Aomine could see the faint red in Kise’s cheeks and nose, and could hear his heavier, cold-riddled breathing.

“Hey,” Aomine added, shifting uneasily. “For punching you before—”

“Shut up,” Haizaki interrupted, letting out a snort. “I get it.”

Aomine looked at him, then smirked, sighing. He leaned back, watching the rain, listening to it pour, and to the sound of Kise’s breathing. Beside him, Kuroko silently sat, feeling Kise’s gentle warmth press against his side. He absently pulled out a small piece of paper from one of the pockets of his bag, flipping it open and gazing at it.

“That’s…Nijimura-san’s, right?” Kagami peered, curious.

“Yeah,” Kuroko answered, tilting his head against his forearm, reading the writings on the paper.

“What’s written on it?” Kagami couldn’t help himself. The former-Teiko players had reacted to what was on that small scrap piece of paper in such an unexpected way, it made Kagami both amiably surprised and curious.

“Here,” Kuroko said, offering the piece of paper to Kagami.

He raised an eyebrow, but took it, curiosity getting the better of him again. He looked at the slightly crumpled note, noticing how the writings on it were neat, with several names written on the right side, with arrows branching out from each name. It was a completely normal note—a list, to be precise—with normal bullet points connected to each name, and Kagami found himself smiling warmly, finally understanding why the Generation of Miracles, strong and formidable as they are, had looked like they were going to cry, having been moved and heartened by just a few simple, straightforward words. He felt a wam spot grow in him for those Miracles, feeling like their yesterdays had come surging back at them, melding into their todays in a way that was both nostalgic and new, just as their former-captain had written something that was a reminder of the past, brought into the present, written in a neat scroll arranged in what was probably a habit that he never quite grew out of:

Akashi → #4 Rakuzan. PG, captain. (Also student council president). Cut bangs?

• Teamed with Nebuya, Mibuchi, Hayama, Mayuzumi (third year. Little presence)

Midorima → #6 Shutoku shooter. (Can do full-court shots. Still really high-arc).

• Takao Kazunari → Partner!

Murasakibara → #9 Yosen. Center. Almost 7ft tall?? Bigger appetite

• Needs a haircut

Aomine → #5 Touou PF. Ace! Skips practice → Aho

• Captain: Imayoshi Shoichi → teach how to punish Aho

• Manager: Momoi

Kise → #7 Kaijo SF. Ace! Still modelling.

• Team: Kasamatsu (captain), Moriyama, Hayakawa, Kobori, Nakamura → all senpai

Kuroko → #11 Seirin. Misdirection levelled up.

• Student coach: Aida Riko. Eldest members are second years.

• Kagami Taiga → partner. Ace. Split eyebrows.

Haizaki → still plays basketball.

• #6 Fukuda Sogo Academy. Still a punk. Cornrows-hair. Idiot.

• Teach him a lesson

“Alright, we’re back—” Nijimura pushed the door to the waiting room open, and got cut short, seeing the mess of a room that it had somehow become.

Behind him, the Head Coach peered over his shoulder, scrutinizing the sight before breaking out into a smile.

Nijimura sighed. “Sorry coach.”

“It’s fine,” Coach Shirogane said, putting a hand on Nijimura’s shoulder. “It isn’t surprising—you all just had five matches within the last three days. You all deserve a break every once in a while.”

The corner of Nijimura’s lips quirked up, and he huffed. Coach Shirogane nodded, giving Nijimura’s shoulder a light squeeze. “I’ll go take care of the media and our ride. For now, get some rest.”

Nijimura nodded, giving a small bow. “Thank you.” He watched as the coach left, waving over his shoulder with a smile, and closed the door.

Nijimura turned, finding his team scattered around the room: the seniors had fallen asleep on benches, leaning on corners and lockers, and their youngest members—the Miracles—were sprawled on the floor: Kuroko was leaning on a locker, and Aomine’s head was dumped on his thigh, probably the most ehausted out of all of them for being the ace that scored the most points out of anyone on the team. Kise was lightly snoring on Aomine’s stomach, his tired face still picture-perfect, and Murasakibara stretched out beside him, looking like he was in the middle of eating snacks and then fell asleep. Haizaki was lying curled up on his side next to him, drooling on the ground with a stupid face. Midorima was seated by his feet holding a matryoshka doll in his hands, back leaning on the edge of a bench, and on it, head slumped down just slightly, was Akashi, who had silently nodded off holding a clipboard of the team stats and strategies.

Nijimura sighed, grabbing a few jackets and blanketing them over his brat-teammates. He pulled off his own and rolled it into a small pillow, tucking it behind Akashi’s head, letting him rest more comfortably and keep his neck from going stiff. He sat down beside Akashi, leaning back into the lockers, and felt his eyes go heavy. He was exhausted, too, and was just running on sports drinks and energy bars, which he’d already run out of. He yawned, leaning more heavily back, and allowed himself to breathe. To take a rest. He thought of their next match, and their new training schedule, and how these brats around him were exceeding all expectations and blazing more brightly in the court. He thought of how they had smiled and cheered while playing and upon winning, and how they looked like they had fun. And as his eyes drifted closed, feeling that he wanted to keep playing with them, he fell asleep to the sound of breathing.

The outside was left refreshed with rain, dotted with dew and a chilly breeze, hanging a cold air in the wake of the downpour. Inside, the overcast skies spread a soothing dimness in the room, and there was a warmth by the bed, woven in blankets and jackets and gentle breathing. There was a steady, comforting rise and fall of the sheets—a sort of lullaby that promised pats on the head and yesterdays relived.

Just a small patch of light peeked through the clouds, slowly shifting away in the cold afternoon. It travelled through the small gap in the curtains, casting gold halos and stroking warmth into the room. To the side, on a table, were small lucky items neatly clumped together next to carefully placed snacks and a waiting glass and pitcher of water. On the bed, Nijimura lay, calm and resting, with soft shadows and unclenched fists. Under a hand was a small clump of cloth—a memento from years ago, and slowly, softly, his fingers curled around it.

Gradually, Nijimura’s eyes opened, feeling a numbness around his abdomen and a comfortable, tender warmth blanket him. Any space left in the hospital bed was occupied by hunched, sleeping forms, quietly snoring and obviously tired and worn out. Around him, seven brats had fallen asleep, still watching over him, gathered around the bed. And in that afternoon, Nijimura woke up to the warmth of a bunch of brats he used to call his team.

[tbc]

Chapter Text

It would sometimes slip one’s mind that a huddle of young basketball players had another version of themselves outside of the court—high school students with studies and hobbies and clothes beyond jerseys and uniforms and training attires. With the separation of year levels and the resolute focus on practice, barely any thought was spared beyond the gymnasiums and courts where they were a team. It was even weirder then, that the group of basketball players you’d least likely associate the word ‘team’ with looked nothing less than that, all passed out around a hospital bed, looking as if they were guarding the person who was lying on it—the one who had inadvertently brought them there together in the first place.

“They’re really all down for the count,” Takao said, barely a whisper, as he poked the shoulder of his partner: Midorima had nodded off on his own stuffed cat lucky item, arms neatly folded around the toy and head rested on them, glasses awkwardly askew. Takao carefully pulled off Midorma’s glasses and placed it next to him, chuckling at the small red marks that the spectacles left as dents on his face.

“It’s been a tiring week for all of them, I’m sure,” Kasamatsu sighed. He raised an eyebrow at Kise, sound asleep, with two layers of jackets laid on top of him, neither of them his. For extra measure, since the rain had made everything colder, he shrugged off his own jacket and carefully laid it over Kise’s shoulders, giving a gentle pat before stepping back.

“This is so surreal,” Izuki pointed out, gaping at the farrago that was the former-Teiko lineup. Beside him, Hyuga had a similar expression, jaw hanging ever so slightly open, glasses sliding down in confusion.

“This is so great,” Kiyoshi chimed in. “They’re all so cute right now, aren’t they?”

“Sure they are, so long as they stay asleep,” Imayoshi, who had bumped into them where they had taken lunch, commented, head cocked to one side, expression thoughtful.

“Can’t really see how these guys are complete monsters on the court with the way they are now, huh,” Takao said, a corner of his lips quirked up.

“I gotta say, I’m kind of jealous,” Imayoshi said, looking at his team’s ace, sleeping like an idiot. “Aomine’s never really…nice. I mean, he’s not a bad guy, but right now he’s a downright sweetheart, by Aomine standards.”

“I can kind of relate,” Ootsubo, who had come alongside Miyaji and Imayoshi, agreed. “Midorima’s a complete tsundere, but right now he’s not even trying to hide the fact that he’s really concerned about Nijimura. The others too.”

“Hah, their middle school versions I remember never really looked as much of a ‘team’ as they do now,” Miyaji said, eyes soft. “Yeah, I feel a bit of it too.”

The group of visitors looked at the hospital bed where Nijimura lay, gently asleep, surrounded by a mess of his former teammates silently snoring, completely knocked out. Akashi had nodded off on a couch they had pulled close to the bed, arms crossed over his chest, with a small stack of notebooks atop his lap. To his left, Murasakibara was curled up, head lightly resting on Akashi’s shoulder, with one hand carefully guarding the snacks on the bedside table. To Akashi’s right, Kuroko had fallen asleep on his folded arms atop a bag he used as a pillow, bent over the edge of the bed by Nijimura’s side. Beside him, Aomine had dozed off in a similar position, head pillowed on his arms, and brows smoothened out into an expression of calm slumber. Midorima was resting on his stuffed toy across him, his glasses next to him and Kise, who was deep asleep, cheeks faintly flushed, eyelashes fluttering lightly. Haizaki was beside him, a small space away, his arm bent over the side table as he rested his cheek on his palm, head thumped on the wall, looking like he had fought a battle against sleep and lost without knowing.

“Must have been one hell of a captain,” Takao muttered, tinkering with the basketball keychain in his pocket.

Imayoshi gave a small huff, his fingers toying with the small plastic bag of food he’d brought—a small greeting for Nijimura, and a snack for Aomine. He wasn’t joking when he said he had felt a small tinge of jealousy for the younger ex-captain, and he had to admit that even he was surprised he’d felt that. He had never tried to be a perfect captain—heck, he knew he could never be—and it was completely fine with him, so long as he keeps the team together and scores his share, though even that was supplemented with actually getting Aomine to participate in their matches, much less their training. He was always quite…lost, in one way or another. And it was never a smooth ride, especially where the ace of the Generation of Miracles was involved, but he had never thought to doubt him, and that was enough, as it was.

There was just something about the way Aomine had been so visibly (almost troublingly) spurred into a flurry of concern and worry, almost as easily as he’d skip practice, though not any less anxiously. The same went for his fellow Miracle teammates—Imayoshi didn’t particularly go beyond being mere acquaintances with the lot of them, but the little bits of them that he’d already seen and encountered, coupled with Aomine and Momoi’s own retrospection, more or less made the image of “kind, caring kouhai” an incongruous picture to what was once a basketball team that was more of a gathering of prodigies than an actual team, especially towards someone who was once the captain of that said team.

It made him wonder, then, what it was about that ex-captain that allowed him to manage being the leader to a group of insanely talented and skilled athletes, all of which in their phase of rapid growth. It would be a point of argument to say that they were all just kids then, still slaves to the sport like a candle’s wick to the flame. In its own way, however, it would have been a more grueling, even punishing experience, to have been so tremendously surpassed and overtaken by the younger generation, so much so that the seniors were practically replaced—subbed out for the Miracles. Such an experience, Imayoshi knew, was bound to be peppered with bitterness and frustration, and yet he had never heard of any disputes concerning the seniors apart from Haizaki’s infamous behavior. It piqued his interest to learn of Teiko’s methods: how the prestigous school had stood by and triumphed with their mantra of victory, and produced generation after generation of champions. How it had made victory the spark that would set the team ablaze, tearing through competitions like a forest fire with no other purpose but to burn. All to the point of being hailed as Miracles, the strongest team to have ever set foot on the middle school basketball scene, shining brightly enough to cast a massive shadow where everyone else resided, their own teammates the closest to them, yet in the darkest side of the shade, completely overshadowed.

And still he’d heard that Nijimura had even given up his position as captain to Akashi, a junior. He had known, as undoubtedly everyone else knew as well, that those younger members would overtake them, and he had stepped down, pushing them up. Nijimura—and the rest of the Teiko team—stepped aside to let them move forward, ahead of all of them, and with barely even a shred of ill will, never mind the fact that he’d done it in the first place.

Imayoshi sighed, watching as Hyuga shrugged off his own jacket to lay it atop Kuroko’s back, and Kiyoshi putting his large one spread over both Akashi and Murasakibara, fiddling around to try to completely cover them both. Imayoshi supposed he could deposit his jacket over Aomine’s back as well, but when he looked over to their ace, he saw that he already had one on, and a weird fondness poked at his chest when he saw that the jacket turned out to be their Touou one, which Aomine probably wore more often than their basketball uniform, now that he thought about it.

He gave a light chuckle, setting the snacks he’d brought beside Aomine’s drooling face, and ruffled his blue hair. Aomine mumbled a bit, shifting under his palm, and then settled, leaning slightly into the warmth. Imayoshi is reminded of a cat more than a monstrous player, and as much as he’d liken Teiko to some kind of military camp which was training soldiers, he figured they were all just brats anyway, just with some solid, mature regard towards strength and skill, probably years ahead of most of them in terms of understanding the concept. For them, the strong survive—the strong emerge victorious, and if you aren’t able to step up and stay there, then it simply means that you aren’t strong enough. It’s simple, logical, and straightforward. Imayoshi rather liked the blunt austerity in that, but he also knew that it was something that middle schoolers aren’t meant to deal with at such an early age, at least not at that level—a level that grew exponentially given the Miracles’ talents. Knowing that, Imayoshi understood Aomine, at least as best he could, as his captain. Strong as Aomine may be, there was still a time when he would smile and laugh playing the sport that he loved, and that it was in his time in middle school that that smile had started to fade, and then eventually was lost. That kind of effect, which had similarly happened to the rest of their team, is something that was almost exclusive to them, and may as well have been as damaging—maybe even more—than those who had lost to them, so much that they’d been twisted and isolated, and took on the title of ‘Miracle’ without having asked to, cracking them and being made to carry all that broken glass over to high school, sharp and cold but brilliant all the same.

Imayoshi looked over to Nijimura, who held a small, colorful band of cloth in his hand. He recalled hearing that Nijimura had taken on three jobs alongside caring for his siblings while being a student, worked overtime for the sake of his own students, had once taken over for a friend’s shift when he’d gotten sick, and subsequently overworked himself to a near-critical condition. He was a pretty damn selfless guy, but Imayoshi also thought he was reckless and stupid, but it was the kind of stupid that brought all sorts of brats together, even just to tell you that you were stupid, and subtly remind you that they were there either way, despite the stupidity.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Miyaji poked.

“The secret of genius, I guess?” Imayoshi answered without thinking.

“Ha?” one of Miyaji’s eyebrows shot up.

“What is it then?” Ootsubo asked, glancing at the Miracles. “The secret.”

“Stupidity,” Imayoshi answered, looking as if it was the most logical conclusion. “Probably.”

“What,” Miyaji stared at him, not amused. After a beat he raised his hands, defeated. “I don’t even want to try understanding.”

Just as Imayoshi was about to attempt explaining, the door to the room clicked open, and in stepped Himuro, followed closely by Kagami. They both carried a small horde of food, and paused when they saw the others.

“Oh, you guys are here,” Himuro commented, blinking once before breaking into a smile, continuing into the room.

“Captain,” Kagami spoke, both out of surprise and greeting.

“Yo,” Hyuga nodded. “How was karate after we left?”

Kagami grimaced. “Things calmed down thanks to you guys, but then we got caught up in the rain, and now Kise’s definitely sick and—eh?” His eyes had shifted towards the hospital bed, eyebrows shooting up just as Himuro’s furrowed.

“He fell asleep,” Himuro sighed.

“What do you mean?” Kiyoshi asked, head cocked to one side.

“Shuu—Nijimura woke up just a while ago, so we went out to tell the nurses and get some food but then—“ Himuro glanced at Nijimura. “As you can see, he’s asleep again.”

“Should we try to…wake him up?” Kagami asked, fists clenching and unclenching around the handles of the packs of food they brought.

“I don’t know,” Himuro pondered, trying to maneuver around the sleeping team surrounding the hospital bed. He managed to set down one of the bags he had on a bedside table, then tentatively held onto the rest. “Maybe we should let him rest for a bit.”

“But what about lunch?” Kagami pointed out. “Kise hasn’t eaten yet either and he needs to eat and the food’s gonna get—” sudden movement caught his eye, distracting him.

Nijimura had turned his head to the side, eyes struggling to flutter open. His lashes trembled as his eyelids fought against the sleep trying to keep hold of him.

“Shuu!” Himuro perked up, stepping as close as he could get.

Nijimura forced his eyes open, head groggily squirming against the pillow as he blinked. His fingers absently curled around the colorful clump of cloth on his stomach. “Tatsuya,” he breathed, his voice soft with rest. “Ah, sorry—I nodded off.”

Himuro gave a huff. “Geez, you don’t have to apologize. You need rest.”

Nijimura pouted, the sour expression dulled by sleepiness. “I’ve been resting for days.”

“And that’s more than you’ve had in what, a year?” Himuro retorted, pointing a finger at the indignant patient. “Stop worrying about everyone else, it’s making everyone else worry about you.” Himuro sighed at his own statement, eyes scanning the immediate surroundings of Nijimura’s bed, which consisted of the ever-feared and celebrated Generation of Miracles, curled up beside each other, around their ex-captain.

NIjimura blinked, then looked to the side. He blinked again when he saw Murasakibara and Akashi right by his head, and saw Kuroko and Aomine sitting beside each other like they always used to, warming up his left side. His eyes widened a fraction when he saw Haizaki on the other side, sleeping like a wreck beside the still picture-perfect Kise, who was bundled up in layers of different jackets, dozing off beside a similarly napping Midorima and his stuffed animal—no doubt his lucky item for the day, Nijimura knew.

“Is Kise okay?” Nijimura asked, then turned his head to the other side, peering at Aomine. “And—what about Aomine?”

“What did I just say,” Himuro groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Kise’s got a cold I think,” Kagami huffed. “And Aomine’s fine? Why are you asking about Aomine?”

Nijimura stared at Aomine’s hunched form for a moment, then closed his eyes, turning back to face them. “Nothing,” he said. He blinked again and just then realized that Takao, Kasamatsu, Imayoshi, Hyuga, and the others were gathered behind his former team. “Wha—you guys came.” It sounded almost like a question.

“Yo,” Takao greeted, grinning. “We’re back.”

“Pardon the intrusion,” Ootsubo nodded slightly.

“I wasn’t able to properly bring you something last time,” Imayoshi spoke, lifting the food he brought. “But I hope this is okay.”

“Ah, you all really didn’t have to,” Nijimura shifted, more awake now. “Thank you very much…Imayoshi-san, right?”

Imayoshi’s smile widened. “That’s right.”

“Aomine’s captain.”

“This year,” Imayoshi nodded, then shrugged. “Though I barely even manage to get him to practice, sometimes even play.”

A sad look tugged down Nijimura’s eyes for a moment—when he looked back up, straight at Imayoshi, there was something there that Imayoshi could only describe as strong, despite his state. “He’s your team’s ace, right?”

“Undeniably,” Imayoshi answered without pause.

Nijimura nodded, looking satisfied. A soft smile tugged at his lips. “You know, back when he was a first year, during the district’s informal competition for the top ten middle school teams, Aomine tried to threaten the coach and me with getting himself demoted for Kuroko’s sake.”

Imayoshi’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“Ah, was that the one from before Kuroko became a regular?” Hyuga asked.

“Yeah,” NIjimura answered. “He’d overheard the coach saying that he’d demote Kuroko before the second match of the day, and Aomine jumped right in and started yelling at us to give him a second chance. He went and said that if it didn’t work out, then he should be demoted too. And it was all based on a gut feeling.”

“Wha—” Imayoshi half-gasped. “What an idiot.”

Nijimura chuckled lightly. “Right? Things ended up working out, however, and incredibly well.”

The others nodded, knowing that much. Imayoshi pushed his glasses up his nose, thinking hard.

“That brat, Aomine,” Nijimura added. “He loves basketball more than anything.”

A beat settled solidly against Imayoshi’s breath, and his lips slowly curved up into a smile, mirroring Nijimura’s warm one. He had been thinking of various questions to ask and an equal variety of answers he expected to get, but just that statement was enough: Aomine loves basketball. No further answers or explanations were needed—everything from Aomine’s past in Teiko to his current standing as the ace of Touou, from the way he’d skip practice but play in street courts on random days, to how he’d go to matches at his own pace and still play exceptionally well despite everything; how he still had a soft spot for his former teammates, but the burning desire to really play—it would all be summed up by that simple statement.

“And,” Nijimura added. “It’s a team sport for a reason.”

Imayoshi’s smile only grew wider, and he sighed, both resigned and satisfied. “That’s true.”

The two of them shared a knowing look, and NIjimura somehow felt like he could trust in Touou, despite what he’s heard about them. He recalled a time when he had asked Aomine why he played basketball. He knew that the young ace had started at a very young age, but to have continued it and gotten as far as he has was something else. He had asked for matches enough times to prompt NIjimura to question it, partially given his background with another sport—a martial art, even.

“Hey, why do you play basketball?” Nijimura asked, panting lightly. He had just finished a third one-on-one with Aomine, and though the blue-haired ace was still lacking in stamina, he’d started to keep up more in the recent weeks.

Aomine took a long swig of his drink, exhaling loudly after. “Why—?” he blinked, wiping at his mouth. “Because it’s fun, why else?”

Nijimura blinked at him, staring. Aomine looked at him like it was the most obvious answer in the world, and Nijimura almost felt stupid for even asking—Aomine of all people. He blinked again, then snorted—their team’s young power forward and ace, leaps and bounds ahead of most kids of his generation in terms of skill, only getting better and better to the point of genius and what’s being whispered as a Miracle, and there was no simpler answer to being such a force than the sport being fun.

“It must have been pretty hard,” Takao started, choosing his words carefully. “To have had them in your team.”

Nijimura understood what he really meant. “Apart from the glorious mess that they were, well yeah, I guess,” he considered. “But in Teiko…” one of his eyebrows went up, pondering. “It’s the strong who move forward. It was really just that simple. And these brats—” he looked over at his former team. “—they deserved it. Other schools and spectators and reporters would always pour on the compliments, but our team…we never really told them, not exactly—almost like we never had the time to—but they’re amazing.”

Takao and the others were caught off-guard by Nijimura’s words: sincere, straightforward, and proud, like a parent to their child, or a brother to his siblings. It was definitely an opinion shared by many, but not one that was commonly regarded as positively as Nijimura did.

A small shift to one side of the bed jostled Nijimura a bit, making him feel a small pang at his side. He glanced down and saw Kise stirring a little, withdrawing closer to himself and further into the warmth of the jackets blanketing him. Behind him, Kasamatsu moved automatically, almost absently, smoothing out the jackets to keep them snug around his junior’s shoulders.

Nijimura laid back, trying to ignore the small throbs at his side. “I’m glad they have good senpai.”

“Well, we’re doing our best,” Kasamatsu smirked.

“Kise seems to really like you guys,” Nijimura commented, feeling the pain ebb away just as quickly as it had flared. “He talks about you almost as much as he used to talk about Aomine and Kuroko.”

Kasamatsu twitched, feeling both endeared and embarrassed. “R-really now.”

Nijimura chuckled. “That kid’s got so much energy all the time,” he mused. “Compared to the others, he was pretty high on stamina, like a tireless brat. Always playing one-on-one with Aomine after practice, over and over until it got dark. I guess that was what Aomine got for hitting him with a basketball.”

“He what now?” Imayoshi asked, amused.

“Aomine once managed to let a basketball fly out of the gym and hit Kise on the head,” Nijimura told them, almost shaking his head. “Because of that, Kise got into basketball after seeing Aomine play.”

“Wow, what a basketball history,” Kasamatsu sighed, bringing his hand over his face. “To think it was that simple.”

“Yeah well, he had been club-hopping before he found the basketball club,” Nijimura recalled, smirking. “He pretty much devastated every other sports club back then by performing better than every star player of each team within the span of a week or two.”

Kasamatsu sighed, half groaning into his palm. “Talent is really something else,” he huffed. “Makes me want to kick him.”

“Geez, I know what you mean,” Takao pointed, remembering how Kise had barely a lick of karate knowledge before that day and yet managed to pick up on the martial art enough to get scouted by masters. “I heard Kise got into the first string after playing basketball for just two weeks. Is that true.”

Nijimura snorted. “Yeah, it was the fastest I’ve seen anyone improve.”

Takao sighed, defeated. “Whatever, man,” he gave up, shrugging.

“He’s really a born athlete, then,” Ootsubo commented, stroking his chin. “He was probably scouted by the other clubs, so why—?”

“Why basketball?” Miyaji completed.

Nijimura shrugged, a slight jerk of his shoulders. “He was bored.”

“Hah?” Miyaji’s jaw went slack.

Kasamatsu looked at Nijimura, then at Kise. He wondered what it would have been like without Kise on their team. How they would have managed to stand their ground against the Generation of Miracles that had scattered throughout different schools, scouted for their talent and ability to lead their teams to victory. With all the matches that they’d gone through, he really felt then how significant Kise was to the team, how strong they were because of him. With his abilities, he would have been able to be the ace of many other sports, and Kasamatsu wondered vaguely what it might be like if those other teams had someone like Kise.

Kasamatsu shook his head—it was no use wondering about it: Kise is their basketball team’s ace. Despite everything, he was glad that was the case.

“He was a pretty popular guy at school,” Nijimura said. “And there was a time when people talked about him club-hopping and being way too good at picking up sports. I suppose there was no challenge, no thrill.”

“No fun,” Imayoshi added, eyes flickering to his own team’s ace.

Nijimura nodded. “Yeah. And then he met Aomine, and it was like a fire was lit in him,“ he remembered how excited Kise was when he got promoted to the first string, if only to have gotten a step closer to Aomine and the others of his year. “He’d challenge Aomine to play one-on-one at every chance, and he didn’t win a single match. But I’d never seen someone look happier about losing so much.”

“He’s like Aomine, then,” Imayoshi said. “In a way.”

“They want to find someone they can’t beat?” Takao half complained. “Huh. I didn’t really think of it that way. Is that what it’s like when you’re just head and shoulders above everyone? They…don’t want to be above everyone?”

Nijimura gave a small shrug. “Hell if I know. It depends on the person, I guess. But there’s no fun if things are boring, so why stay at the top if there’s no fun in it?”

“I don’t know whether or not I feel better about being a normal person now,” Takao snorted, grinning.

“I haven’t really been following the conversation,” Kagami spoke, voice slightly muffled by something he was eating. “But I think it’s more fun being the challenger.”

Nijimura looked at the redhead, who looked like he just gave the most obvious answer to the enigma of those who are superior. He had said it like it was nothing, just as natural a notion as walking, and he had eyes the same as Aomine’s back then: clear and upfront, lit up with a spark of eagerness and joy for something that they love doing.

Nijimura gave a huff. Kagami was just like them, he thought. If he had been in their middle school, he would have gotten along with the other brats. He could imagine him and Aomine bickering like idiots and having rematches upon rematches of one-on-ones, and Kuroko sighing at them beside Akashi. He could imagine smacking both Kagami and Aomine upside the head, pressuring them to pass their tests so that they could play, and watch them celebrate a victory together with the team. He smiled softly, but pushed the thoughts away from his mind—he wouldn’t have wanted Kagami, or anyone else, to go through what they had. To have had their happiness at the sport taken away by a mantra of victory hanging over their heads, or the elevation of greatness isolating them from everyone else.

At the very least, he was thankful that Kagami was the one to have gone against them. And with Kuroko, who had once bound the team together and made it an interesting one.

“I think I agree with you on that, actually,” Takao chuckled.

“Yeah, no, this isn’t working out,” Himuro suddenly huffed from the side. “And Taiga I said you could only eat one first.”

“I’m hungry okay?” Kagami pouted, already eating into his second croquette.

“What’s not working out?” Imayoshi tried to peek at what they had been doing while speaking with Nijimura.

Himuro put his hands on his hips, scanning the room as Kiyoshi carried the extra food. “We’ve been trying to figure out how to set the food around so we can eat, but there’s barely any space.”

Kagami munched on his snack, pushing the last of it into his mouth. He rolled the bedside table closer to the hospital bed. “Well what’s important is for NIjimura-san to eat.”

“Hey, it’s alright, you guys can eat first,” Nijimura shifted a little, and then realized he had been holding onto something over his stomach—a familiar band of cloth. He brought it closer to his face. “This is…”

There was a thud, and Kagami cursing under his breath. “Oops, shit. Crap.”

NIjimura looked just in time to find Kagami pulling the bedside table away from Aomine’s head, which had been knocked forward from what NIjimura suspects was a collision with the said table. He heard Aomine groan against the sheets, squirming groggily until he put his palms heavily on the bed, heaving himself up slowly.

“What the hell…” he grumbled, eyes squinted shut as he brought a hand to the top of his head.

Behind him, Kagami retreated backwards, trying to shuffle away. Across the bed, Imayoshi put his fist over his mouth, holding back the laughter that tried to escape it.

Aomine blinked, rubbing his head, then looked around, slowly registering Haizaki, Midorima, and Kise sleeping across him, just how he remembered seeing them before he’d apparently dozed off. He then spotted Ootsubo, Takao, Miyaji, and then Imayoshi, and promptly woke up.

“What are you doing here,” he spat, voice husky with sleep. “There’s no practice today.” It sounded almost like a command.

“No there isn’t, glad you remembered,” Imayoshi waved his hands, still smirking. “I just came to visit. Nijimura-kun’s experience is something to be respected.”

Aomine looked at him with a sour face, which quickly morphed into one of surprised confusion, eyebrow raising. He turned to look at Nijimura, who was about to argue with what Imayoshi had just said, but took notice of Aomine staring at him, then cocked his head to the side, giving the junior a small smirk.

Aomine opened his mouth, dumbstruck, then closed it again before his eyes widened. “Nijimura-senpai!”

Behind him, a short distance away, Kagami sighed in relief, tugging the bedside table further back.

“Yo,” Nijimura greeted, fist curling around the armband he held. “Sorry for wo—”

“You don’t have to apologize, geez,” Aomine said instantly, putting a hand up. He looked stern but his eyes were flooded with relief. “Just—don’t do that again.”

Nijimura’s expression softened, gentle and thankful. “Got it.”

Aomine lit up, sitting straight, and he looked just like he did before, albeit with more build and sharp edges, but still the same Aomine that Nijimura once called his teammate. It was like seeing the past when he shook Kuroko awake first, both gently and excitedly. “Tetsu,” he poked. “Hey Tetsu, wake up.”

Across him, Takao had started poking Midorima’s face. Ootsubo and Miyaji both chuckled, talking about how seldom they get to see Midorima so peaceful-looking and unguarded, and each poked his cheek until he grumbled a sleepy and grumpy, “Takao…”

At that, Ootsubo snorted, and Miyaji laughed harder. Takao gripped his chest in mock hurt, grinning, then leaned close to whisper in Midorima’s ear, whose eyes suddenly snapped open just as he jerked upward, bumping his head right on Takao’s face, sending him careening back with a yelp.

“Yeow!” he cried, putting his hands over his nose. “What the heck, Shin-chan!”

Midorima had slumped back down on the bed, clutching the top of his head in pain. “Takao…” he grumbled, almost growled. “What were you saying just now.”

Takao, despite the throbbing at his nose, laughed freely. “It was a joke! I was trying to wake you up.”

Midorima sighed, deep and exasperated, then slowly straightened up, rubbing his palms against his eyelids. “So I fell asleep,” he mumbled, then squinted as he searched for his glasses.

The frames poked the side of his head, and he turned to find Takao handing them to him, nose red, lopsided grin still plastered on his cheery face. “Thanks,” Midorima muttered, wiping his glasses before popping them onto his face. Behind him, Ootsubo smoothened out his hair, and Midorima stiffened up for a moment before turning to find his captain and Miyaji standing right there. “Captain, Miyaji-san,” he nodded curtly. Miyaji grinned and ruffled his hair as a greeting, to which Ootsubo frowned at, then tried to smoothen out again. Takao cracked up at how he could tell that Midorima didn’t know what to do until Ootsubo was satisfied with how he’d tidied up Midorima’s hair.

Midorima sighed, then noticed how he was positioned on the edge of the bed, immediately retreating and looking at NIjimura, worried he might have put weight on his wounded side. When he saw Nijimura chuckling at him, he was stopped short, slowly processing the fact that Nijimura was awake.

“Nnh, what’s with all the noise~?” a lazy voice drawled.

On the other side, by Nijimura’s head, Murasakibara stirred, long limbs stretching slowly, like a cat. He rubbed his eyes, then blinked at the room, scanning it before his eyes landed on Nijimura. “Mura-chin~!” he lit up, looking surprised. “Are you hungry?”

Nijimura turned to look at him. “Just a little. You can eat first.”

“Ah, that’s right, it’s past lunch,” Murasakibara mused, still sleepy. He blinked when he noticed a large jacket fall onto his lap, not quite processing whose it was, or where it came from. It started sliding off of him, towards his side, and beside him, Akashi folded it neatly over his lap.

“Oh, Aka-chin,” Murasakibara said. “You fell asleep too?”

Akashi stretched his neck on each side. “I just nodded off for a bit.” He looked at Nijimura, a small smile on his lips. “It’s good to see you awake, Nijimura-san.”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Nijimura rested the side of his head on the pillow. His eyebrows knit closer together. “How long have you been awake?”

Akashi’s smile widened. “Long enough.” He looked around the room, acknowledging the mess that had started to happen, and then looked behind him, spotting Kiyoshi. He twisted his body to face the taller senior, then lifted the jacket towards him. “Thank you for this, Kiyoshi-san.”

Kiyoshi blinked, then beamed, gleefully taking the jacket back. “No worries!”

Hyuga raised an eyebrow, whispering near Kiyoshi’s ear, “How did he know that that’s yours?”

Kiyoshi cocked his head to one side, thinking. “Huh. I wonder.”

Nijimura squinted at his former teammate—and captain—and Akashi merely smiled knowingly. Nijimura decided not to dwell on it.

To the side, Kuroko yawned, hand batting away Aomine’s weakly. He shifted around his arms, slowly pulling himself backwards into his seat. “I’m awake,” he told Aomine, rubbing at his eye with a knuckle. “How’s Kise-kun?”

“He’s still asleep,” Aomine answered, glancing briefly at Kise, quickly doing a double-take when he saw the three jackets piled on him. He raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly before seeing Nijimura again, then poked at Kuroko. “But Nijimura-senpai’s awake!”

“He’s…?” Kuroko turned to look at the head of the hospital bed. “Ah. Good afternoon, Nijimura-san.”

Nijimura moved his gaze to Kuroko, already nodding and answering, “Hey,” when he spotted Kuroko’s head, to which he snorted at, cheeks getting filled with a laugh he tried to suppress as he beheld the untamed beast that was Kuroko’s bedhead. Nijimura’s body started shaking uncontrollably in his effort to keep from cracking up, a fist going over his mouth as his face crumpled in happiness.

“Nijimura-san, are you alright?” Kuroko asked, blinking with those big round eyes under the disaster that was his hair.

Akashi looked questioningly at Nijimura, then followed his gaze to Kuroko. His eyes went from Kuroko’s face to his hair, and he stared for a full second before he quickly looked away, holding back a snort. Nijimura lost it then, laughing just as Takao and Aomine had noticed and started snickering as well. Kuroko’s own teammates chuckled after them, and both Akashi and Hyuga put their hands on Kuroko’s head, trying to flatten the spikes that had somehow managed to stick out from it. Kuroko took a moment to realize what was happening, then sighed, smiling.

“Augh, damn,” Nijimura laughed, breathy. He started to curl in on himself a little, trying to stop his laughter—it hurt to laugh. The sharp pain in his right side was doing a fine job of waking him up, but it didn’t lessen the lighthearted feeling of being able to laugh.

“Whoa hey, what’s wrong?” Aomine peered at him, spotting the small tears forming at the corners of Nijimura’s eyes.

Nijimura’s smile still stretched wide, shoulders shaking from his sniggering. A larger area of his side started throbbing, but he waved a hand at their worries. “Ugh,” he managed to choke out. “The wound hurts. Laughing hurts.” His abdomen tensing up pulled at his new wound, and he was distantly worried he might tear something, but he still laughed.

The others didn’t know what to make of that, but seeing Nijimura laughing despite everything was both reassuring and heartening. Akashi remembered how Nijimura had once laughed so hard he almost fell over when he’d heard Akashi being called ‘Akashi-sama’, and how it was a reaction new to him, given how well-known his family was. Seeing Nijimura in a similar state now, though muffled, spread a warmth in Akashi that pulled the corners of his lips up, dissipating the weight that had been trying to overwhelm him.

Across the bed from him, Kise stirred, inhaling deeply and withdrawing further into himself and the jackets on him. Nijimura stilled, slowly settling back on his bed, turning to pay close attention to Kise’s movements.

“Idiot’s gone and gotten himself a cold, huh?” NIjimura coughed, voice airy.

“He has a bit of a tendency to push himself,” Kasamatsu sighed. “Which is fine until it turns into overworking.” He reached out to ruffle Kise’s hair softly, wearing a fond smirk.

“Hey, Kise,” Nijimura poked, speaking to the sleeping blonde softly. “Make sure you won’t follow my example.”

Kise’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, then he mumbled, shifting around again. “Senpai…?” he muttered, face wrinkling in grogginess.

Nijimura stroked a small part of Kise’s head with his fingertips. “Oops, did I wake you?”

“Mmh,” Kise murmured, leaning into the touch. Nijimura is somehow reminded of a puppy. “Niji…senpai?”

Long eyelashes fluttered as Kise tried to move, only ending up dropping his head on its side on the bed, cheek pressed against the mattress as he seemed to slip in and out of sleep. Nijimura sighed, smiling, and gave Kise’s hair another fluff before drawing his hand back, noticing how his breathing was a bit nasal, and how his cheeks had a small flush to them.

“So it’s true that models look good all the time huh,” Takao commented, looking at Kise’s sleeping face. “I never thought someone could look good sleeping but I guess models would.”

“Huh, you’re right,” Miyaji agreed, following Takao’s gaze. “It’s kind of annoying.”

At that, everyone turned to look at Kise, still sleeping peacefully, his face more visible now that he’d moved. Kasamatsu confusedly followed suit, seeing a calm, almost defenseless-looking Kise silently snoring below him. A bout of protectiveness suddenly washed over him, seeing how Kise was almost vulnerable to the rest.

“What are you all staring at,” Kasamatsu and Nijimura both said.

The two of them looked at each other, and everyone else looked at them, who had spoken at the same time saying the exact same thing in the exact same way.

“Pfft,” Takao snorted, hands flying to his stomach. “Nice one.”

The others started sniggering at them, and Kasamatsu and Nijimura blinked at each other before they both smirked, chuckling. Under their fingers, Kise’s head stirred again, and this time his eyelids flickered open, his amber eyes sleepily staring into space, out-of-focus. He shut them again, then blinked a few times, adjusting to the light. He saw Midorima’s green hair in his vision, and focused on that, rubbing an eye with his knuckles while sniffling.

“Kise?” Kasamatsu prodded, bending slightly to peek at Kise’s face.

“Kasamatsu…senpai?” Kise mumbled, blinking some more. “Where…” his eyes widened further when he remembered where he was, and he hastily tried to push himself up. “How’s Nijimura-senpai—”

“Whoa whoa, slow down,” Kasamatsu urged, keeping firm hands on Kise’s shoulders to prevent him from shocking his head dizzy. “Don’t move so suddenly.”

Kise grunted, putting a hand on his head as he felt his world shift. “Ngh,” he groaned, but forced himself to look over to NIjimura.

“You know he’s already taking after you,” Takao chuckled at Nijimura, who snorted in reply.

“Nijimura-senpai?” Kise peered at him.

“Yo.” Nijimura lifted a hand in a half-wave.

“You’re awake?”

“Yep.”

Kise exhaled, loud and relieved, flopping back down on the edge of the bed. “Thank goodness.”

Nijimura’s face broke into a smile, ruffling Kise’s hair. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Fine,” Kise drawled, sniffling. “Warm.” He remembered that it rained before they could eat lunch, and that it stopped long enough for them to reach the hospital, only to find Nijimura-senpai still asleep. The rain poured again before they could go back out, and Kise was drained from both the karate session and the cold that only got worse after they were caught in the rain.

“Fever-warm, or just warm?” Kasamatsu asked, ready to put his hand over Kise’s forehead.

Kise shook his head, moving it away from his captain’s palm. “The nice kind of warm?”

“Oh that’s good, we were scared the cold would get to you,” Kagami said, bright eyes sincere.

Kise didn’t remember when he fell asleep, but he did remember feeling like he was going to pass out if he didn’t slow down and take a breather. He had slumped his head down his forearms over the edge of NIjimura’s bed, feeling calmed by Nijimura’s even breathing. He remembered Kagami dumping a towel over his head, telling him to dry off, but not having the energy to do it, so someone else grumbled at him, calling him “Stupid-Ryouta”, and toweled off his hair for him, doing it so gently that Kise immediately started falling asleep. He had curled up tightly against the chill, relaxing under soft pressure wiping at his damp head, almost soothing his throbbing headache down as his eyes fluttered shut. The person drying his head off, almost massaging it, grunted at him, slowing down the way he ran the towel through Kise’s hair to help him doze off. After a few moments, the weight on his head lifted, and before the cold assaulted Kise’s body, he felt a jacket being laid on his shoulders, blanketing his back and keeping him warm. He had already given up on staying awake then, and exhaled comfortably, feeling another layer of warmth being draped over his shoulder before he was completely asleep.

He felt even warmer now, noticing how there were three jackets piled on top of him. A warmth bloomed in his chest, and he felt both embarrassed and touched.

“Thanks,” he muttered, peering at Kagami from under his lashes. Kagami grinned in reply.

Kise heaved himself to sit up with his arms, immediately feeling a bout of dizziness hit him. He swallowed it down, ignoring it, then smiled. He found that he didn’t have to force the smile at all, seeing NIjimura awake and active with everyone else around him, and even that surprised him. When Kasamatsu gave his hair another fluff, he chuckled, trying to push his hair back down and finding it easy to ignore the throbbing in his head or how tricky it was to breathe with his nose all clogged. He tugged the jackets off his back and put them on his lap, tossing one to Kagami, who caught it with one hand.

“I could lend this to you for the day,” Kagami said. “You need it more.”

“Nah it’s alright, thank you,” Kise shook his head. Kagami raised an eyebrow, looking like he was about to insist, but shrugged it off, knowing not to be stubborn towards an equally stubborn person.

Kise simply folded the other two jackets and recognized one as Kasamatsu’s. He turned around to find his captain blinking down at him, still wary of his condition. “Thanks for this,” Kise told him, handing him the jacket. Kasamatsu gave a small nod, accepting it.

Kise looked at the last jacket he held—the second one that was put over his shoulders—and raised an eyebrow. “Who owns this jacket?” he asked to no one in particular.

“That? That’s Haizaki’s,” Kagami answered from over his shoulder, busy with something over at the other side of the room.

Kise’s eyebrows climbed up in surprise. He turned his head, just then noticing that someone was dozing off to his side. Haizaki was there, balancing his cheek on his palm, seated on a chair which he managed to tip over to rock on just two of its four legs. Kise didn’t quite know how to react and what to do with the jacket that was loaned to him, and found himself smiling the same smile Nijimura wore as they both regarded Haizaki’s drooling face, messed up but peaceful—a stark contrast to his usual scowl and close knit eyebrows.

“He’s really out for the count, Haizaki,” Kasamatsu said.

“Yeah, he sleeps like a rock,” Nijimura mused. He looked at Kise. “You guys went to the dojo today, huh?”

Kise stiffened, then returned Nijimura’s gaze. His eyes flickered to the colorful armband that NIjimura was holding, and he grinned, sheepish. “Y-yeah, figured I could help out. Though Shougo-kun really beat me up for it.”

Nijimura raised an eyebrow. “Haizaki did?”

“Yeah, I ran into him in the dojo,” Kise nodded. “He knows karate, apparently. We had the same idea.”

Nijimura glanced at Haizaki, still sleeping like an idiot. He felt incredulous over the things that Haizaki had been up to the past few days, but more than anything, he was moved. Grateful.

“So he still practices…” Nijimura muttered.

“Huh?” Kise cocked his head to one side.

“Nothing,” Nijimura shook his head, feeling warm.

“Shuu, you should eat,” Himuro chimed in, pulling the bedside table towards Nijimura as Akashi, who had rearranged his and Murasakibara’s couch out of the way, reached down to the panel of controls for NIjimura’s bed.

“I’ll be inclining you up a little, NIjimura-san,” he said, looking at Nijimura for permission.

“Ah, alright,” he replied, relaxing himself on the bed as Akashi adjusted the top half of it to rise up. Nijimura winced when he felt a pang of pain throb at his side, but quickly doused the expression to keep Akashi from getting concerned.

As Himuro and Akashi focused on Nijimura, Kagami and Kiyoshi helped distribute the lunch for the former-Teiko members who had dozed off there. After a short debate, NIjimura insisted that they could eat on his bed if it was convenient—especially Kise—and after a bit of bickering and rearranging, they all somehow turned the hospital room into what looked like a weird breakfast-in-bed-and-picnic. No amount of poking could wake Haizaki up, and despite the temptation to smack him awake, they had all silently decided to at least give him the rest he needed, given what he’s surprisingly done during Nijimura’s confinement.

Needless to say, it was a messy lunch, the level of chaotic already significantly dulled down by the presence of the various team captains in the room. Experience and insight played an important role in pacifying Aomine and Kagami’s appetites when Himuro, Hyuga and Imayoshi all pushed an extra meal or two at them, Himuro having the largest load when providing for both Kagami and Murasakibara’s stomachs, the latter of which blissfully grateful for his co-ace being his friend. Takao had tried to sneak a bite from Midorima’s food, which backfired on him when the food collided with his face, causing Midorima to scold him, but not without a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. He ended up feeding a bite to each of his teammates present—an event which they all agreed to have been a milestone in their friendship with Midorima. Beside him, Kise was plowing through his meal with so much fervor that he almost choked, and Kasamatsu had the face of a man who was entirely too used to such events without ever intending to have been as he smacked Kise’s back to help him breathe.

At one point, Hyuga, Kagami, Aomine, Akashi, and Nijimura all tried to push more food at Kuroko, chastising him for his tiny meal, and no sooner was Kuroko waving his hands at them in defense, full and bloated and out for the count, with only Kagami and Akashi on his side when they defended him from more food. It was a rowdy lunch taken after lunch time, and it was the lightest Nijimura—and most of them—had felt for a while, for the moment forgetting where they were and why they were there. It was like a strange reunion involving a hospital bed and varying degrees of basketball genius and athleticism all rolled into a group of colorful characters and friends. It was far from where they were all used to being, but it somehow felt like home.

“Ugh, I never thought laughing could get so painful,” Nijimura groaned, leaning back on his pillow after he’d finished eating and laughing at his former-teammates and their current teammates around him. He had laid a hand over the side where his new wound was throbbing, the rainbow-patterned armband wrapped snugly around his forearm. The others around him were cleaning up, having insisted that Nijimura just lay back and let them take proper care of him, not letting the bedridden patient debate against them. Nijimura sighed, knowing that there was no use arguing with any of them once they had decided on something, since he himself was that kind of person.

“At least the doctor won’t scold you for laughing,” Kise chuckled, looking at Nijimura from his perch on his forearms, also having been forced to just stay where he was and rest.

“He’s gonna scold you for getting a cold,” Kasamatsu poked his forehead. Kise pouted. “Better not get worse enough to get hospitalized too, idiot-Kise.”

“Roger,” Kise assured, grinning lightheartedly. “Ah, what are you doing Nijimura-senpai?”

Nijimura grunted, pushing himself to sit up, feeling his side protest. “Toilet,” he said simply, pushing down the pain and giving Kise a lopsided grin. “’Scuse me.”

Kise scrambled to the side without thinking, giving room for Nijimura to scoot out of the bed. Himuro wheeled Nijimura’s IV drip to circle around the bed, and the others passed it around until it reached the other side, careful in keeping it from getting tugged from Nijimura’s hand.

Nijimura exhaled shakily, ignoring how even small movements struck pain at his side, and how his chest still hadn’t cleared completely of his first sickness. He noticed someone move in front of him as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, sighing from the effort.

“Are you okay?” Midorima asked, standing tentatively in front of him.

“Yeah,” Nijimura sighed. “Help me up?”

Midorima blinked, and a beat passed before he reached down and helped Nijimura stand, feeling the weight of his former-captain shaking from weariness and pain. He glanced at Nijimura, who gave him a knowing look and a smirk, silently telling Midorima I’m okay, there’s no need to worry the others, to which he nodded, earning him a grateful smile from Nijimura.

When they’d taken a few steps away from the bed, Nijimura nudged his arm away from Midorima, putting a hand on the latter’s shoulder. “Thanks,” he said, nodding, then ignored the others’ concerned looks as he trudged to the bathroom, lightly tugging along his IV drip, going straight for the sink and washing his face. He braced his palms against the edge of the sink, breathing deep as he tried to smother the pain he felt on his side and still lingering in his chest. Before his mind started to wander to the things he has to do and the days he’s missed and how Kise had a cold and how his siblings were doing—he splashed water on his face again, shaking his head free of thoughts that wouldn’t do anything to help him get out of the hospital sooner. Instead he thought about how much he owed to the brats waiting on him in the room, and how much they’ve grown, despite everything. He made mental notes on how to thank them later, and focused on the armband he wore, feeling his mind and body calm just from that. After a while, he finished in the bathroom and left feeling refreshed, finding it easier to keep his attention away from the pain at his side upon seeing the bumbling dorks around the room squabbling like they used to.

Nijimura walked back towards his bed, waving off other people’s offers to assist him, and then spotted Haizaki by the bedside, still asleep, rocking unsteadily on the weird position he got his chair into. Something seemed to stir Haizaki into movement, his eyebrows furrowing deeper as he shifted against his palm, eyes wrenching open just slightly as he slowly woke up, moving just so and tipping his chair a little further back.

All of Nijimura’s reflexes flared back to life when he saw Haizaki’s eyes snap open just as his chair rocked too far, falling backwards, too sudden for Haizaki to have reacted fast enough to grab onto something or regain balance. With one stride, Nijimura was next to the falling idiot, arm shooting out behind the chair and catching it before it fell, his knee following to add support to the lower half of the seat. He let out an exasperated sigh when he was sure that he had caught Haizaki, who in turn looked like a deer on headlights with surprise and the sudden and stressful awakening.

“Holy shit,” Haizaki breathed, stiff and unmoving.

“Idiot,” Nijimura barked, pushing Haizaki and the chair to stand flat on the ground, then landing a solid chop to the top of Haizaki’s head, sending him doubling over in pain.

“Ugh,” Haizaki groaned, holding the top of his head in pain.

“What just happened,” Kagami said, looking just like the others: surprised and confused and frozen in place.

“Haizaki woke up,” Nijimura answered simply, feeling the small rush of adrenaline give him the energy to feel annoyed at Haizaki.

“He almost fell over, then suddenly Nijimura-san was there,” Takao added, looking impressed. “That was fast.”

“I feel like I have an idiot-radar or something,” Nijimura sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I respond too quickly to the abundance of that around me.”

Takao cracked up, laughing as Miyaji and Imayoshi agreed with him, the three of them sharing the same look of ones truly martyred.

Haizaki grunted, feeling the relief of seeing NIjimura up and about overpower the pain on his head and the less than favorable manner in which he woke up. He was really, honestly relieved, it completely rid him of a heavy weight that had settled in his chest—a weight that only got heavier when he last saw Nijimura unconscious on his bed being wheeled off to the operating room. “Sorry,” he grumbled, getting a snort from Nijimura in reply.

“That was surprising,” Kise sighed, relieved, then turned to look at Nijimura. “But hey—Nijimura-senpai how’s your—aahh!”

Kise’s sudden outburst shocked everyone solid, all of them snapping their attention to the blonde.

“What is it?” Kasamatsu snapped, feeling like his heart had leapt at Kise’s exclamation.

“Nijimura-senpai—your side!”

Nijimura looked at him questioningly, then looked down at his side, which he’d just then realized was hurting a lot.

He almost smacked a hand over his face, completely done with himself.

“You’re bleeding!”

[tbc]