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Chapter Text

JAPAN

After seeing Momoi break down in front of them, he told Kuroko that he couldn’t believe Aomine had ever been a good guy. “I don’t know why you and that pink haired girl like him so much.”

Kuroko looked at him, tilted his head to one side, and said, “I guess it’s something you would have to see to believe, Kagami-kun.”

Damn Kuroko for saying that.

--

Taiga woke up the way he usually did, hungry. He knew there was early morning practice today, so he couldn’t go all out the way he wanted, but maybe he could manage a couple dozen egg sandwiches before it’d be time to leave. Although what he really wanted, he thought, was some miso soup and salted salmon.

Maybe because that’s what he was smelling.

Jumping out of bed, he rushed out to the kitchen. The chances of someone breaking into his apartment just to cook him breakfast seemed unlikely, but what other explanation was there?

Not the one he actually saw. “Dad?” he exclaimed. Then he froze, grabbing at his throat. That wasn’t his voice, and this wasn’t his apartment, and--

This wasn’t the height that he usually saw things at nowadays.

“Taiga? Are you okay?” It’d been years since he’d seen his dad at the stove, apron on over his business clothes, making them breakfast. He’d taken over that job as soon as he could convince his dad to let him near the stove, waving off his father’s offer to hire someone to cook for them. “You’re up early on a Saturday.”

“Oh. Yeah. I had a nightmare,” he stammered out. “Sorry, be right back!” Doing an about face, he ran into the bathroom after a few missed turns. It had been a long time since he had been in this apartment, and it was especially disorienting when he was expecting to see different rooms and doors.

Running up to the bathroom mirror, he couldn’t help but gawk at his reflection. He hadn’t looked like this in years. Judging by his age and the apartment they were currently living in, this had to be from before they went to America. But how? Why? He tried pinching himself, splashing water on his face, but no. His reflection stubbornly stayed the same.

“Taiga?” He jumped and turned to the doorway to see his father, concern on his face. “Do you want to tell me what the nightmare was about?”

“Ah, no. It’s okay,” he deflected. “You have to be at work soon, right? Let’s eat breakfast before it’s too late!”

His dad didn’t look convinced, but one glance at his watch and he capitulated. “We’re talking about this when I get home,” he warned, the split eyebrows Taiga had inherited furrowed in a stern look.

“Sure,” Taiga agreed, ushering his dad out of the bathroom.

They ate in relative silence, Taiga trying to process what was happening and his father frowning at him when he thought Taiga wouldn’t notice. He realized with a start that it had been a long time since he’d had a private meal with his dad, and even if this was a weird dream or hallucination, Taiga hated making his dad worry. Tall and broad with the tanned complexion Taiga had inherited, his father looked imposing, but he had smile lines around his mouth and laugh lines at the corner of his eyes that hinted at his real demeanor. Taiga had always assumed he’d gotten his more fiery personality from his mom, along with her red hair and eyes.

He wanted to see his father smile again, so he shoveled some more food into his mouth and asked, “When will you be back tonight?”

His dad seemed surprised by the question but responded with a sheepish smile, just like the ones Taiga remembered. “It might be a little late. I’ll be sure to buy a lot of food home to make up for it.”

“It’s fine. I can cook something,” he waved off.

“You… can?” his dad asked. Taiga stared at his dad, wondering why that was such a strange concept, before he realized that oh yeah, he was apparently an elementary school kid again.

“Uh, we have leftover rice, right? I’ll just make onigiri,” Taiga said. “Don’t worry about me.”

“O-okay,” his dad agreed, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “I didn’t know you knew how to make onigiri.”

“We had a lesson in school about it. It’s not that hard,” Taiga said, trying to will his dad into dropping the subject.

Luckily, he did, although there was still some confusion on his face. “Well, what are you going to do with your day?”

There was a long pause as Taiga tried to remember what he used to do while his dad was at work on the weekends. He hadn’t played basketball before going to America and meeting Tatsuya, so what had he done? Play video games, watch TV, maybe meet up with some of his friends to play soccer?

He didn’t think he was fit to be in the company of other elementary school kids right now, so he said, “Oh, probably just play some video games.”

“Don’t have that be the only thing you do today,” his dad said, dropping a hand onto his head to ruffle his hair roughly, and Taiga felt an odd pang in his chest. He had missed this too. “Go outside for a bit, okay?”

“If you say so,” he said.

He waited for his dad to leave, saying goodbye to him at the door, before he allowed himself to fully panic. Had he done something weird the night before? No, he had gone to practice, ate at Maji Burger with Kuroko, and gone home to do some light cleaning and only half of his homework before going to bed. Nothing out of the ordinary about that.

So why had he gone back in time? And why to this time specifically?

“What year is it?” he mumbled, rushing back to his bedroom to dig through his backpack. “I’m 10 years old,” he said, looking at the date on one of his assignments.

Two years before they’d leave for America. Taiga considered that maybe this was his chance to do things differently with Tatsuya. Seeing him at the streetball court had hurt. It was one of the things he regretted most, and if someone had asked him what he’d change about his past, that would certainly be it. Reaching for a ring that wasn’t there, Taiga scowled and tried to figure out what to do. Was waiting two years worth it to fix what had happened between him and his brother?

Yes, he decided. Plus, there was the added bonus of being able to spend time with his father again. Resolved to wait, either for the dream to end or for the two years to pass, Taiga decided to take a walk around outside. He had to remember how to get to his school, and maybe he could look for a basketball court.

He was definitely not going to wait two years before playing basketball again.

Slipping on his sneakers, he grabbed his key from the hook beside the door and walked outside, locking the door behind him. He vaguely remembered the direction of his old school…

He walked somewhat aimlessly, letting his memories carry him down the right path, and only snapped out of his daze when he heard the sound of someone dribbling a basketball. Did I really live this close to a basketball court and not know it? Excited to find both a court and possibly someone to play with, Taiga started outright running toward the sound.

“No way,” he said as he got close enough to see the person playing. It was a kid! Well, Taiga was a kid too now, and they were probably close to each other in age. He got a little closer to try and make out who the person was, maybe one of his old classmates that he hadn’t gotten to know the first time around? Well, that would change. He needed someone to play basketball with.

Swoosh, distracted by the beautiful arc of the basketball as it went through the hoop, Taiga hit the chain link fence before remembering to look at the person playing. Mouth halfway open to shout a greeting, Taiga choked as he took in the other kid.

Tanned skin, blue hair, blue eyes, and a curious look on his face. “Aomine?” he shouted. Had he really lived this close to Aomine? Or was this dream messing with him? Had they gone to elementary school together without Taiga realizing?

“How do you know my name?” the tiny version of Aomine asked, eyebrows scrunched together. Then, suddenly, a wide grin broke out across his face. “Ah, have the older kids been talking about my awesome skills?”

Definitely Aomine, Taiga realized with despair. “Uh. I’ll just. Go,” he said, backing away from the chain link fence.

“W-Wait!” Did Aomine just stutter? The kid actually looked kind of alarmed. “Do you play?” he asked, holding the basketball up.

The logical, safe thing to do would be to say no and get the hell away from Aomine Daiki. Taiga looked him in the eyes and tried to think of all the times the other teen had provoked him, been rude to him and abusive to Kuroko.

But this Aomine was ten years old, with bright blue eyes and a welcoming grin. Taiga studied his face, but all he could see was an eagerness to play basketball with someone.

“I play,” he said, walking toward the court’s entrance.

“Are you any good?” Aomine asked but instead of a taunt, it was a question asked with genuine excitement.

“I might need a little bit to warm up,” Taiga said, because it was going to be an adjustment playing basketball at this height, “but I think I’ll give you a challenge.”

Aomine’s eyes sharpened, and Taiga could see the predator this boy would grow up to be, if only there wasn’t a giant grin accompanying them. “I won’t hold your first loss against you, then!”

Taiga growled, standing a distance away from Aomine. How could a kid so cute be so infuriating?

“Hey, what’s your name?” Aomine asked, passing the ball to him. Taiga caught it and took a second to get a feel for the ball, dribbling it, rolling it between his hands.

“Kagami Taiga,” he said, once he thought he was ready.

“I’m Aomine Daiki! Nice to meet you, Taiga!”

“Oi, don’t call me by my first name until you beat me!”

--

“You don’t live that far away at all, Taiga.” Aomine had been lording his victories over him the entire afternoon, even using it to blackmail Taiga into letting him into his home. Typical jerk moves, or so Taiga would have thought, if it hadn’t been for the way Aomine’s eyes had lit up every time Taiga managed to break past him.

Just like a regular kid who loved basketball, Taiga thought, grabbing water for both of them. “You should bring water with you the next time you play,” he scolded.

“You didn’t have any water with you either!” Aomine pouted, and okay, if this was what Kuroko had grown up with, maybe Taiga could see the appeal.

Kuroko, he thought, remembering their last conversation together. See it to believe it. No fucking way.

Taiga looked at the smaller version of Aomine in his living room, eyes wide as he took in the size of the apartment. There was no way Taiga had gone back in time to interact with Aomine of all people. He had nothing to do with the guy!

“Do you have any snacks? I’m hungry,” Aomine whined. Taiga opened his mouth to tell him off only for his stomach to start growling.

“Sit down, I’ll make us lunch,” he capitulated, turning back to rummage through the refrigerator. He was too hungry to carefully shape onigiri, so he grabbed a bunch of different meats and vegetables along with the leftover rice and headed to the stove.

It was still strange to be doing everything from this height, but he was careful not to burn himself. Aomine, hovering just outside the kitchen, stared at him in amazement. “Are you wearing an apron?”

“Shut up or you don’t get any,” Taiga snapped at him before realizing that he was shouting at a ten year old. “Uh, just sit down.”

“I can help set the table,” Aomine offered, sounding almost shy.

“Uh, sure. Plates are down there,” Taiga said, pointing at one of the cabinets he had opened earlier in the hunt for pans. “Utensils are over there.”

He was vaguely aware of Aomine moving around behind him, but he stayed focused on not burning himself or starting any fires. His dad would freak. Once the fried rice was done, he grabbed one of the larger plates to unload the pan before pouring an egg mixture into it. After a few more minutes, he had a much larger than usual omurice ready, just waiting for the ketchup topping.

“Wow,” Aomine said, staring at the plate with wide eyes. “You can play basketball and cook? You’re the coolest person I’ve ever met.”

Embarrassingly, he looked completely honest about it. Taiga fought off a blush, but he couldn’t resist using the ketchup bottle to draw basketballs all over the egg. They both laughed before settling in to eat. As expected, tiny Aomine only managed to eat a quarter of the XXL omurice, and he watched in amazement as Taiga finished off the rest.

“How can your parents afford to feed you?” Aomine asked. Taiga opened his mouth to rebuff the insult, only to realize that Aomine just looked genuinely curious.

“Uh. My dad works for a really big company,” he answered instead.

“Does your mom work too? She’s not home,” Aomine said, looking around the apartment as if it weren’t obvious.

“Nah, she doesn’t live with us. Her and my dad split up,” Taiga said, wondering if he would have to explain to Aomine the intricacies of divorce.

He wasn’t expecting the other boy to light up again. “Really? I live alone with my dad too! My mom is dead though.” Taiga almost spat out his water at the casual way Aomine said that. “Ah, but I have Satsuki and her parents to watch over me when my dad isn’t around. He’d never let me stay at home by myself.”

“He let you go play basketball by yourself,” Taiga pointed out.

“I might have run away from Satsuki’s house,” Aomine admitted.

“So I’m harboring a fugitive,” Taiga said, smiling when it caused Aomine to break out into laughter. “They’re probably worried about you. Do you want to go back?”

“No way!” Aomine exclaimed. “Can’t we just stay here and play video games? I’d rather be here with you than have to play with Satsuki.”

Taiga thought that was unfair, considering how much that girl must have endured growing up with Aomine, but that was likely still in the future. This Aomine, small but just as athletic, bursting with his love for basketball, and quick to laugh, was so different from the Aomine he knew. The one that could barely find a reason to drag himself out of bed, who saw basketball as nothing but a war he had to win.

He understood what Kuroko had meant now. “Fine, but you have to call them and let them know that you’re here.”

Luckily, Aomine knew their number and called them to explain the situation. “Taiga, can you talk to them so that they know I’m actually with another kid and not some pervert?”

Taiga rolled his eyes but picked up the phone, “Hello…” He looked at Aomine, who mouthed a name at him, “Momoi-san?” Taiga gave them his number and address, and he promised to make sure Aomine made it home before 8 PM.

“That’s when my dad gets home,” Aomine explained.

“What does your dad do?” Taiga asked. Kuroko had told him a lot about the Generation of Miracles as if they were some homogenous group of villains. He hadn’t shared any details about their personal lives. Even Aomine, who Kuroko should have been closest to, had rarely been a topic of conversation between them.

“He’s a police officer!” Aomine exclaimed, as if he had just been waiting for Taiga to ask. “He’s really cool! I want to grow up to be a police officer too. Well, if I don’t become a pro basketball player,” he amended.

How did you manage to grow up to be such a delinquent if your dad is a police officer? Taiga wondered. He covered his disbelief by asking Aomine if he wanted to play video games.

They played until 5 PM, when Taiga realized that he needed to start making dinner. “I can help!” Aomine offered, apparently determined to stay here until the last possible minute. Taiga thought about kicking him out, trying to teach him what it felt like to overstay his welcome, but he found that difficult to do when Aomine looked so desperate to stay.

Don’t you have friends? Taiga thought, staring at Aomine as the boy struggled to shape his onigiri. He was used to making friends with basketball, but maybe Aomine was more used to making enemies. Maybe there just wasn’t anyone his age who shared his all-consuming love for it. Taiga shoved his much better formed onigiri at Aomine to eat while he set about fixing the other boy’s attempts. He’d actually gotten the hang of it near the end, Taiga noticed.

By the time Taiga heard the sound of the door opening, followed by his dad calling, “I’m home!” they were done with dinner and watching bj league games together on the couch. There was a pause before his father asked, “Is there someone else here?”

“Welcome home!” he called back. “Yeah, I went outside like you said.”

“I’m not sure I said to find people to bring home…” his dad’s voice preceded him into the room. It stopped abruptly, and Taiga looked up in confusion before he realized his dad was staring at Aomine.

Aomine, who had jumped to his feet and was introducing himself with a bow, like he was trying to make a good impression. That’s pretty cute, Taiga thought, and his father must have thought the same, because he said nothing else about their sudden guest.

“Daiki-kun, is it? Did you guys eat?” he asked, shedding his suit jacket.

“Yeah, I left some onigiri for you in case you hadn’t eaten yet,” Taiga said, glancing at the clock. It was 7 PM. “Aomine, you need to go home.”

Aomine’s face scrunched up. “You can just call me Daiki,” he said sullenly. “You’re good enough at basketball that I’ll let you do that.” Immediately, a part of Taiga rebelled. There was no way he wanted to be that familiar with Aomine, especially if he was only letting Taiga call him that because he was barely passable.

But this Aomine wasn’t the jerk he knew. This was a poor ten year old kid who wanted a friend and probably didn’t know the right things to say to get one. “Sure, Daiki. It’s still time for you to go home.” This was probably a good way to differentiate them in his mind, Taiga thought. Daiki, Daiki, Daiki, not Aomine.

“Oh, we should walk you home,” his dad said, mouth full of one of the onigiri already. “Where do you live, Daiki-kun?”

“Not too far away! It’s not a big deal,” Daiki said, picking up his basketball and kicking his shoes on. “I walk around all the time at night!”

“That doesn’t reassure me,” Taiga heard his dad mutter.

He saw Daiki to the door, asking privately, “Are you sure you don’t want us to go with you?”

“Nah, I know I already bugged you enough today,” Daiki said, ducking his head bashfully. Taiga’s eyes widened, he hadn’t thought Daiki would have that kind of self-awareness. “Thanks for letting me come over. And for letting me stay as long as I did. And for cooking.”

“Yeah,” Taiga said, still shocked as he watched Daiki turn to head home. “You didn’t bug me!” he shouted after him.

Daiki turned around, and even in the fading light of day, Taiga could see the hope shining in his blue eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Taiga said. “It kinda sucks being by yourself all day… so you can come by whenever.” He wasn’t sure whether he’d regret that invitation in the future, but for now, he was happy with the way it brought the grin back to Daiki’s face. They waved goodbye to each other properly and Taiga watched as Daiki took off running once he was down the stairs, turning a corner and disappearing from view.

“That’s an interesting friend you’ve made,” his dad said when he came back to the living room.

“I don’t know if we’re friends yet,” Taiga hedged, unable to dissociate the two versions of Aomine completely. “We played basketball together.”

“I didn’t know you played basketball.” His dad’s eyebrows were scrunched together again. Taiga wondered if that was what he looked like when he was trying to do his homework.

“It’s a new thing,” Taiga said. “How are the onigiri?”

“Delicious,” his father complimented. Taiga smiled and didn’t tell his dad he had rice stuck on his chin.

--

The doorbell ringing woke Taiga up the next day. Looking around his room, he confirmed that he was still stuck in this weird alternate timeline where he apparently lived down the street from Aomine Daiki. Yawning as he scratched at his stomach, he finally had a chance to think back on his conversation with Kuroko.

Had Kuroko done something? Taiga huffed. The guy may have the ability to appear and disappear at will, but Taiga was pretty sure that was the extent of any magic Kuroko had. Maybe it had been a coincidence? He still held onto the thought that he was here for Tatsuya, and he had just run into Daiki by accident.

Or maybe there was no greater purpose to him being here. He just fell into some weird fold in space-time or whatever Star Trek called it, and now he was in the past.

He tugged at his hair in frustration, which was how his father found him. With one eyebrow raised, he said, “We never did talk about your nightmare yesterday.”

Taiga sheepishly smoothed his hair over and waved his father off. “It really wasn’t a big deal. I’m over it. Who was at the door?”

“Daiki-kun is asking if you can go play basketball,” his father said, looking unconvinced. “I told him that it was okay with me but you needed to eat breakfast first.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Taiga said, jumping out of bed. He realized his father was wearing a collared shirt and tie under his apron again. “Are you working today too?”

“It should just be a half day,” his father explained apologetically. “It’s a good thing Daiki-kun is here to keep you busy until I get back.”

Taiga nodded, keeping his skepticism to himself. He walked into the main room to see Daiki sitting at the dining table, one leg folded under himself while the other messed with the basketball he had brought over. There was a carton of banana milk in his hands.

“Oh, perfect. You can drink all of that disgusting stuff for me,” Taiga said.

“Hey!” Daiki and his dad said simultaneously before looking at each other in surprise. Taiga glanced between them.

“Dad keeps buying banana milk ‘for me,’ but he’s the one who actually drinks it,” Taiga explained, looking at his father accusingly.

“Banana milk is the nectar of the gods,” Daiki insisted. Taiga frowned as he and his father shared a fistbump. Watching that had felt even more surreal than waking up and realizing he was ten years old again.

They ate while Daiki drank his banana milk, and the meal went bizarrely well. It didn’t seem out of place at all for Taiga’s dad to ask Daiki which school he went to, which was how Taiga learned that Daiki went to a different school that was also in their neighborhood, and that’s why they had never met. Daiki’s dad was brought up again, and Daiki was just as animated as yesterday when he explained that his dad was a police officer.

“Mom died,” Daiki said with all of his usual bluntness, and Taiga watched as his father dropped the tamago he had been about to eat. “So it’s just me and Dad. He doesn’t cook as well as you and Taiga do, so we usually eat with our neighbors.”

“Oh,” Taiga’s dad said, drawing the word out as he tried to think of something to say to that. Taiga snorted, amused but willing to help bail out his father.

“You can always come here to eat if you want. If Dad isn’t home, I’ll make you something,” Taiga offered. His father looked at him with warm pride in his eyes, and Taiga shied away at the praise. He hadn’t done it to look good. He just knew what it felt like to be alone and hungry, with a whole refrigerator full of food and no idea what to do with it. That was it!

But Daiki’s wide eyes and slightly open mouth showed how much it meant to the other boy. Taiga struggled with his expression for a second before settling on a tiny, uncertain smile. Daiki instantly responded with a grin of his own.

“Your dad should come over too,” Taiga’s father said, and wait, what?

“Really?” Daiki asked, outright gawking. His dad paused in the middle of shoveling rice in his mouth to clear his throat.

“Of course. I’m sure he’d be more comfortable with you coming over if he knew us, and we might as well feed you both if you’re visiting.” His father chewed on the end of one of his chopsticks, a bad habit he still had in the future, and started mumbling to himself. “I guess that means I should go grocery shopping soon. When does your dad have a day off, Daiki-kun?”

“Maybe you should ask your dad if he wants to come over for dinner first,” Taiga interjected, eager to get off of this subject. Meeting Daiki’s dad, Aomine’s dad, seemed intimidating. For some reason, all he could imagine was the Aomine he knew, except larger and scarier.

“Oh, right,” his dad said, sheepish smile back on his face.

“He’ll want to come over!” Daiki exclaimed, looking absolutely certain about it. “I’ll ask him tonight and then let you guys know!”

“That sounds like a plan! Be sure to ask him if there’s anything he doesn’t like eating too.” Taiga sighed, resigning himself to the reality of this meeting.

It didn’t help that Daiki couldn’t stop talking about it, even while they were playing basketball. “This will be great! My dad never does anything with anyone except eating with Satsuki’s parents. He doesn’t even go out on his own.”

Taiga tried to shoot the ball with his left hand. It didn’t even come close to the hoop. “He probably just wants to spend the small amount of time he has with you,” he said.

“I know that,” Daiki said, voice falling to a whisper. “I wish he had more time. We used to go catch crayfish when they were in season, but we haven’t had a chance to leave the city in a while.”

He wasn’t used to Daiki being quiet and thoughtful, far more serious than a ten year old that wasn’t actually a time-lost teenager should be. So he passed Daiki the ball, watching as the boy’s reflexes kicked in and he brought his hands up in time to catch it. “Hey, can you teach me how to shoot with my left hand? It’s my weaker hand, but I want to be able to use both to dunk.” If he had to relive the last six years of his life over again, might as well take advantage of the time to improve his basketball.

Daiki was probably the best person to learn with, full of enthusiasm and a natural instinct for how to move to get the results he wanted. He even tried to teach Taiga some of his formless shots, but judging by the giggling at his attempts, it would take awhile before he got better at those.

For lunch, they went back to Taiga’s place, where Daiki drank another carton of banana milk and Taiga reheated the leftovers from breakfast so that they could share them for lunch. Taiga tried using his left hand to eat again, with equally disastrous results. Daiki tried too, and Taiga at least took comfort in the fact that the boy was just as bad.

He wasn’t sure when his dad got home, because at some point, he and Daiki had both collapsed onto the couch for a nap. They woke up to the smell of curry and his father’s smiling face.

--

Taiga and Daiki had fallen into a routine where, after classes, they would both hurriedly pack and run from their respective elementary schools to the basketball court, hoping to reserve at least a half court to play on. Usually, one or the other of them got there in time, and they would play for a few hours, trying out different tricks and shots before playing more serious one-on-one matches. The older kids generally left them alone, not wanting to pick on a bunch of elementary school students.

One day, Taiga got there first and had the pleasure of witnessing Daiki running for his life toward the court. “What the hell,” he mumbled, leaning to the side to see what was chasing him.

It was a little girl, Taiga realized, with pink hair. “Dai-chan!” she shrieked, and even from this distance, Taiga had to clap his hands over his ears. “Stop running!”

“No! I told you to go home!” Daiki shouted at her, but he had stopped running. “Come on, don’t cry.” He waited as she slowly walked up to him, face hidden behind her hands.

“Dai-chan is so mean,” she complained, suddenly striking out with one hand to slap Daiki’s arm. Daiki winced, rubbing his arm and shouting the girl’s name, but he seemed to have honestly given up any hopes of escaping. Taiga didn’t even bother to hide the fact that he was watching as they approached.

“Taiga, this is Satsuki. Satsuki, this is Kagami,” Daiki introduced. Taiga stared at him oddly.

“Why do I have to call him Kagami?” Satsuki whined.

“Because he’s my friend, not yours.”

“He can be my friend too!”

“But he isn’t!”

“Only because Dai-chan is a butt!”

Taiga couldn’t help laughing at Satsuki’s declaration, and he doubled over when Daiki shot him a betrayed glare. “You can just make it into a nickname,” he suggested, trying to appease them both.

The girl thought for a second before nodding. “I shall call you Kagamin!”

“As long as you aren’t calling him Taiga,” Daiki grumbled, but Taiga could see that he still looked a little unsettled. Jealous? It was a look that just begged to be teased, and Taiga couldn’t help but reach out a hand to ruffle Daiki’s hair. “Hey!”

“You’re so cute,” Taiga said. Daiki’s mouth fell open and he blushed so hard that even his darker complexion couldn’t hide it.

“Oh, are you two dating? Is that why Daiki didn’t want me to come?” Satsuki asked. Taiga froze, realizing that he wasn’t an older teenager commenting on some kid. Right now, he was a ten year old boy telling another ten year old boy that he was cute. To elementary school students, that was basically asking them out.

“We’re not dating,” Daiki snapped at Satsuki, the blush still on his face. “And don’t call me cute! I don’t want to hear that from someone who still can’t beat me one-on-one!”

Taiga scowled, as easily provoked as ever. “I’m going to beat you one day, and I’ll tell everyone we meet about how cute you are.”

“Yeah, you’ll beat me one day--in your dreams!”

“Like I would dream about you! Get the basketball already!”

Satsuki seemed happy to watch them play basketball, cheering for Taiga enthusiastically. She was probably excited to have someone other than Daiki to support, Taiga thought, trying a fadeaway with his left hand.

This time, it went in, and Taiga stuck his tongue out at Daiki. “You got it once,” Daiki scowled.

She was also the one who told them that it was time for dinner. They walked with Taiga to his apartment, as Daiki usually did. Satsuki on one side of Taiga and Daiki on the other. He felt oddly like a toy caught between two siblings. “You’re really good at basketball, Kagamin,” she said, looking him up and down. “I can tell you’re going to be even better in the future! Maybe better than Dai-chan!”

Taiga wasn’t sure if that was just her provoking her best friend or if some part of her precognitive analysis was already kicking in even at this age. He suspected she had already learned a lot just from watching Daiki play everyday. Or well, everyday until Taiga had shown up.

They stopped outside of his apartment building, and while Daiki would usually go upstairs to hang out for a bit and pilfer his dad’s stock of banana milk, today Daiki hung back. Weird, jealous bastard, Taiga thought, pretty sure that Daiki was just keeping the inside of Taiga’s apartment a secret from Satsuki. It’s not like our apartment is all that special.

“You live here Kagamin? It’s really shiny,” Satsuki said, staring up at the newly built apartment building and the top floor where they lived. Taiga coughed over his embarrassment. He always forgot about how much money his dad made until someone else brought it up. Maybe it was kind of special.

“Satsuki, go stand over there. I have to tell Taiga something,” Daiki suddenly said, pushing Satsuki further down the road.

She pouted and made him take all her weight, which admittedly, wasn’t much. “Why can’t I hear it too? Are you going to talk about me?” she asked, suspicion oozing from her voice.

“No. It’s boy stuff, and you aren’t a boy,” Daiki said.

“You’ve never had to talk about boy stuff before,” Satsuki said accusingly.

“I’ve never had a boy friend to talk to before!” Daiki snapped back.

“So you admit he’s your boyfriend!” Triumphant, Satsuki skipped down the road to give them some privacy, singing all the while about Daiki and his new boyfriend.

Daiki slapped his hand over his forehead. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

“I understood what you meant,” Taiga said. If he were actually ten years old, he’d probably be freaking out. He remembered how big a taboo being gay was, how it was among the worst insults you could throw at someone during lunch.

At sixteen, and after having lived in LA, it seemed like a lot of shouting over nothing. It was even more harmless because Taiga was gay, not that he had thought about it enough to know that at the age of ten, and he had learned how to live with the label without being ashamed of it.

No, he was more concerned about the fact that Daiki apparently hadn’t had any other male friends. “You don’t have friends?” Taiga asked.

“I do,” Daiki mumbled. “They’re just not the kind of friends I hang out with outside of school. They aren’t into basketball like I am and sometimes they get annoyed when I talk about it too much. The people I do play basketball with are all older and…”

“I understand,” Taiga said, unable to stop himself from ruffling Daiki’s hair again. He got a half-hearted glare for it, but the tension in Daiki’s shoulders seemed to have gone away. “What did you want to tell me?”

“Oh, my dad said next Saturday would work,” Daiki said, the light of excitement back in his eyes. Taiga was a bit surprised. It had been almost two weeks since Daiki had said anything about it, and he had just assumed that Daiki’s dad wasn’t interested.

Taiga’s dad had apparently thought the same thing. “Wow, he must really be busy if he’s only finding time now,” he said that night, tie off and with the top button of his shirt undone. Taiga had cooked today, and while his father seemed confused as to how his son had suddenly gained the ability to make all the elements of a Japanese meal, he hadn’t complained. “Did Daiki say anything about what we shouldn’t make?”

“No,” Taiga said, “but I already know what we’re going to make.”

“Oh?” his dad asked, a split eyebrow raised in challenge. “And what’s that?”

Taiga raised his own identical eyebrow as he stared directly into his father’s eyes and said, “Burgers.”

--

“Are you sure about the teriyaki sauce?” his dad asked for the hundredth time. Taiga continued to stir, undeterred.

“Yes,” he said. He thought he could remember Kuroko mentioning that much, and teriyaki sauce was easy enough to make. If it turned out he was wrong, well, he’d just use it to make dinner the next day.

“And how did you learn how to make teriyaki sauce?” his dad asked for the thousandth time. Taiga didn’t flinch.

“I saw it on a cooking show.”

His dad tried to put on a stern look, arms crossed and ready to interrogate Taiga some more when the doorbell rang. “I will find out one day,” his dad declared before leaving to answer the door.

You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, Taiga thought, sighing. The teriyaki sauce was about done, and the buns were toasted and being kept warm in the oven. The patties were cooked to a medium doneness but could easily be cooked for longer if anyone wanted. Taiga looked over his work and nodded approvingly.

“Taiga! Do I smell teriyaki sauce?” Daiki appeared from around the corner, nose up and eyes closed like he was basking in the scent.

“Wow, how’d you know?” asked a voice Taiga didn’t recognize, except for how it sounded uncannily like Aomine’s. Anxiety started building as his father appeared followed by someone who was obviously Aomine’s dad.

Taiga’s jaw dropped. Aomine’s dad was hot. He had always assumed that Aomine, with his strange coloring, must have inherited half from his dad and half from his mom, like Taiga had. Apparently not, as Daiki looked exactly like his dad. Or rather, from Taiga’s point of view, Aomine’s dad was just a slightly older version of the Aomine he knew. Just as fit though, judging by the way his t-shirt clung to him.

Maybe he shouldn’t be finding that hot, he thought, turning back to the stove to pour the sauce out into a bowl. He knew for sure that it was wrong to check out a friend’s parent, so he shook himself out of his thoughts and turned back around when he was ready to face them again.

“What did we know?” Taiga’s dad asked, moving to grab the oven mitts.

“Ah, that Daiki loves teriyaki sauce. Although I don’t think he’s had it on a burger yet,” Aomine’s dad explained, a friendly grin on his face. Taiga realized with a start that his preconceptions about Daiki’s father had been totally wrong. Instead of being intimidating, he seemed to radiate warmth and safety, which made sense considering his job. “Oh, but I’m being rude. My name is Aomine Naoya. Thank you for taking care of my son,” he said, bowing slightly to Taiga’s dad.

“Not at all! I’m Kagami Torahiko. It’s been great having Daiki around,” his dad replied, ushering them to the table. “What can I get you guys to drink?”

“Banana milk!” Daiki instantly demanded.

“You have banana milk?” Naoya, because there are too many Aomines in my life, asked, interest in his eyes.

“It seems you’re the only one who doesn’t appreciate it, Taiga,” his dad said, grabbing three cartons for them and one bottle of soda for Taiga.

“All the more for you three,” Taiga replied, grabbing the patties while his dad hurried back to grab the oven mitts. “I guess we’ll assemble as we eat.”

He stopped short on his way to the table, surprised to have the plate lifted out of his hands. Looking up, he found Naoya smiling down at him before a hand was extended toward him. “I meant to introduce myself to you too! It’s nice to finally meet you, Taiga-kun.”

Taiga gritted his teeth and tried very hard not to blush, but damn, he was really attractive up close. He also had a completely different feel than the teen Aomine he knew. He had been all feral, undirected anger. Naoya felt more like the sun on a nice summer day. “It’s nice to meet you, Aomine-san,” he said, trying to sound as formal as possible.

He could hear his dad trying to stifle his laughter in the background.

They got settled in and Taiga started to serve them the basic skeleton of their burgers, encouraging them to try the different garnishes, toppings, and sauces that were on the table. Both Daiki and Naoya reached for the teriyaki sauce while his father tried his hardest to emulate an In-n-Out burger. Taiga waited for their reactions as they took their first bite and was not disappointed when father and son stopped, stared at their burgers, and then stared at each other wide eyes.

“I told you it was good!” Daiki shouted.

“I was not prepared,” Naoya muttered, staring critically at his burger. They both had teriyaki around their mouths. Taiga chuckled before taking a bite of his own. “It’s amazing that you can cook, Kagami-san.”

“Ah, you can just call me Torahiko,” his dad said. “I can cook, but mostly just the basics. I’m actually better with American food than I am with Japanese food after studying abroad there. This was all Taiga’s doing though.” Three pairs of eyes turned to look at him.

“It looks a lot more impressive than it actually is,” Taiga grumbled, hiding his face behind his burger. The power of Daiki and Naoya’s joint smiles was not to be underestimated.

“You should call me Naoya then,” said Daiki’s dad. “I appreciate you guys hosting us. Uh. That does seem like a lot of burgers for four people though.”

“Oh, no worries. Taiga will eat them all. He inherited his mother’s appetite,” his dad waved off. He got another incredulous look from Naoya before the man turned to glance to his son, who gave him a nod of confirmation.

Taiga figured he’d spend most of the night embarrassed, but then Daiki asked, “See? Aren’t they as great as I said?” His dad looked as surprised as he felt, but Naoya just grinned and agreed.

Conversation seemed to flow pretty smoothly after that. Taiga listened with half an ear as his dad exchanged the usual pleasantries with a new adult. Things about the weather, the local school system, their jobs, and a brief explanation of why each man was a single father. Although this time, Taiga realized, his dad was getting much more invested in the conversation than he usually did.

“I’m really grateful for all the times you’ve let Daiki stay over. The Momoi family has been very kind to us, and Satsuki is like my own daughter, but I was worried he didn’t have any other friends.”

“Oh, he’s welcome any time! Really, he’s a great kid. I understand what it’s like. I’ve thought a few different times about hiring a nanny for Taiga, but what would that accomplish?”

“Yeah, I’ve thought about it too--”

Both men seemed engrossed in their conversation, so Taiga left them to it and turned back to Daiki. “What do you mean you don’t watch the NBA?” he asked.

“Why would I? We have basketball here, and with announcers that speak in Japanese! I’m never going to have anything to do with America,” Daiki scowled.

Taiga opened his mouth to dispute that, but he shut it after remembering that he wasn’t supposed to know that. His father hadn’t mentioned any possible transfers to him and if everything followed the past he remembered, he wouldn’t for another year and a half. Instead, he said, “You watch it for the basketball. NBA players are amazing!”

Daiki looked unimpressed. “Show me.”

Somehow, all four of them ended up on the couch, their fathers sitting at each end with Daiki and Taiga between them. “This is my favorite game,” Taiga said, using the remote to navigate clumsily. He had grown accustomed to the conveniences of modern technology, which made what they currently have seem clunky, even though he knew his father kept their entertainment system up to date.

He started the game, which he had seen a million times before and would see a million times in the future, and decided to watch Daiki instead. The awe and amazement in Daiki’s face as he realized what was possible out there was beautiful.

Taiga gently bumped his shoulder against Daiki, getting the boy’s attention. “See? There are tons of people out there who like basketball just as much as we do.” The smile he got in return was brighter than any he’d ever seen, full of vindication and a shared joy that made his own heart race. Dumbly, he thought he wanted to see that smile all the time.

Still, as focused as he was on Daiki, he didn’t miss the grins their fathers exchanged over their heads.

--

After that, a new routine was established, in which they played basketball for a few hours before heading to Taiga’s place to watch NBA games. Satsuki occasionally tagged along to watch them play basketball, but she would always make it to Taiga’s in time to watch the games, even more enthralled by the NBA than Daiki was.

“He’s going to pass to that guy, but it’s a mistake,” he heard her mumble one day, right before her words played out in front of his eyes and the pass resulted in a turnover.

Taiga gawked at her. “How did you know that?”

“It’s easy, Kagamin! You just need to talk less and see more.” Taunts aside, Satsuki did try to teach him a few things, and in the middle of games, she’d randomly pause the TV to ask him what was going to happen next.

“He’s going to fake a laneup and pass to his teammate!” he exclaimed, pointing at the screen.

“Bingo!” she said, restarting the game to show Taiga that he was right. He pumped his fist in victory while Daiki sat to the side, loudly sucking the last of his banana milk through his straw.

“It’s annoying watching the game like this,” he complained.

“You’re just angry that Taiga is better at this than you are,” Satsuki accused, sticking her tongue out at him.

“I’m not! Besides, I’m better at it when I’m actually playing them,” Daiki snapped. Taiga wanted to argue, but he knew deep down that was true. Aomine had always seemed to have an animal instinct for what his opponent was going to do. “Anyway, move over. You’re sitting in my spot.”

Taiga sighed as Satsuki and Daiki started squabbling again. This had been going on for a few weeks. Every time Satsuki was over, she would purposefully sit right next to Taiga, squished up against him as close as possible. For a while, Taiga was terrified the girl had a crush on him, but then he realized she would glance at Daiki whenever she took her seat. Daiki, like the idiot he was, would always take the bait eventually, trying to push Satsuki away so that he could sit with Taiga. The few times he had bothered to point out to Daiki that there was space to sit next to him on his other side, he had just made Daiki angrier.

By now, he’d learn to just let their arguments play out. They would eventually settle down, even if it took Daiki squishing Satsuki to do it.

“You’re so heavy, Dai-chan! Kagamin won’t love you if you’re fat!”

“I’m not fat! This is all muscle!” Daiki squawked. He didn’t even bother to argue about the ‘love’ part. Taiga rubbed his temples. He understood now what the seniors must have felt like dealing with him all those times. Putting his hands together, he apologized to his past and future seniors and promised to be more mature when he met them again.

Practicing with Daiki and reviewing games with Satsuki helped his basketball immensely. He was a lot more versatile than before. Midorima’s accusation of him always dunking wasn’t true anymore. He could make threes, do hook shots, and occasionally, copy one of Daiki’s formless shots. Satsuki had started criticizing his defense whenever he played one-on-one with Daiki too, and he knew he was improving by the way Daiki cheered when he got past Taiga. Winning wasn’t a matter of fact for Daiki anymore, and the boy seemed to like it that way. They still weren’t anywhere near where they would be as teenagers, their bodies too underdeveloped to do the things Taiga wanted to do, but he had a better foundation now than before.

And the two weren’t only helping with his basketball. Taiga felt responsible for them despite being outwardly the same age. His initial reaction to get mad generally tempered when Daiki got angry first. The slightest hint that Satsuki might cry still put him on edge, although he got better at reading when she was actually crying and when she was just getting back at Daiki.

“It’s like you have siblings now,” his dad said one day, packing a tupperware with food.

“If they were my siblings, I’d be stuck with them forever,” Taiga growled as his father laughed. They both knew that Taiga wouldn’t have it any other way by now. Taking the freshly packed food, Taiga waved to his father before meeting Satsuki and Daiki at the door. Now that the two of them spent most of the afternoon at Taiga’s place, they had gotten into the habit of walking back to Satsuki and Daiki’s houses together. Taiga had, at some point, realized they had enough leftovers even after feeding Daiki and Satsuki to pack dinner for Naoya. They had done it ever since.

“Dad really likes your gyoza,” Daiki said, bending to look inside the tupperware as if he hadn’t just been eating the same thing for dinner. “He’s going to be so excited.”

They were a little late today, so Naoya was probably already home. Taiga had only seen him a few times in the months following their dinner together. Daiki insisted he was home a lot more than that, but Taiga wasn’t sure how Daiki knew that considering the boy spent most of his time over at their place.

“We’re home!” Daiki declared, unlocking the door and throwing it open with a flourish. To their surprise, the house was dark and there was nothing to greet them. “Dad?” No answer.

They waited there for a long moment, standing in the dark and the silence, before Satsuki spoke up. “Let’s go and wait for him at my house, Daiki. My mom can make us hot chocolate.”

“No,” Daiki said, a low whisper. “No, I’m going to wait for him here.”

“You can’t stay here by yourself!” she shouted, reaching out to grab his wrist. Putting all her weight in it, she tried to drag him out of the doorway. “Come on! Maybe Mom and Dad know what’s going on.”

“I said no!” Daiki said, pulling his wrist away with enough sudden force that Satsuki lost her grip on him and fell.

“You idiot!” she said, tears filling her eyes, and Taiga panicked for a second because those were real tears. “I’m worried about Uncle Naoya too!”

Trying to defuse the situation, Taiga shoved the tupperware into Daiki’s hands. The boy’s reactions being as sharp as ever, he was able to grab it before Taiga let go. “Turn on the lights. I’ll be right back,” he said. Then he turned to help Satsuki up and started leading her over to the Momoi house. He’d met her parents a few times, and they seemed to like him well enough. At the very least, they didn’t seem angry when he showed up at their door with a crying Satsuki.

“Uncle Naoya isn’t back yet,” she cried.

“Why isn’t Daiki with you then?” her mother asked, directing the question at Taiga.

“I’m going to wait with him. He doesn’t want to leave their house,” he explained, ready to dash off as soon as Satsuki was in her parents’ arms.

“Wait, Taiga-kun.” He froze. “This isn’t the first time Naoya hasn’t been home on time. Daiki always waited with us before, but we could tell the last few times that he was getting more and more anxious. I can’t say I’m really surprised by this. Take care of him, okay? We’re right next door if you need anything.”

Taiga nodded, taking the time to bow awkwardly before he ran back over to the Aomine house. Daiki had listened to him and turned the lights on, but he had collapsed on the couch afterward, face hidden in his arms. “I can make us hot chocolate,” Taiga whispered, walking over to drop his hand on Daiki’s head. He ran his hand through the boy’s hair, only stopping when he felt Daiki shake his head. “Let’s get ready for bed.”

“I don’t want to sleep before my dad gets home,” Daiki said, his voice wavering.

“Then we won’t sleep. You have a futon, right? Let’s put it down here and camp out while we wait.” Daiki finally looked up from his arms, a surprised look on his face.

“You’re staying?” he asked. “You won’t make me go to sleep?”

“I’m not Satsuki’s parents,” Taiga huffed. “Yeah, I’m staying. So get the futon. I have to call my dad.” That brought a brief, unsteady smile to Daiki’s face and he ran upstairs to grab the needed supplies for their sleepover after showing Taiga where the phone was.

His dad had already figured that something was wrong when Taiga hadn’t returned by the time he usually did. “You can stay. Do you need me to bring you your uniform for tomorrow?”

“No, I’ll just come back early and change,” Taiga said before wishing his dad a good night. “I hope you have an extra toothbrush,” Taiga said when Daiki returned.

They got ready for bed together, bathing one after another. Taiga borrowed some of Daiki’s clothes to sleep in, and Daiki found an extra toothbrush for Taiga to use. They set up their futon with their pillows slightly apart, and Taiga forced Daiki to lie down. “We’ll be able to see him come in from under the blanket. Besides, it’s cold.”

It only took five minutes before Daiki rolled over into Taiga’s designated space, pressing the sides of their body together. “I’m scared,” he whispered. “I’m always scared when this happens.”

It had been months since Taiga had woken up in this different time, and he had long accepted that this was his life now. Still, he couldn’t help but feel unsettled at the thought of Aomine being scared. Daiki was a different person, much younger and more open, but Taiga still felt an odd knot in his chest. Maybe he hadn’t been able to forget their past.

Maybe, he thought, feeling Daiki’s head against his shoulder, he just hated the thought of Daiki being sad.

Taiga shuffled away, and Daiki stiffened in embarrassment before relaxing as Taiga threw an arm around him to pull him closer. They lay there chest to chest and legs tangled up, Daiki’s head tucked under Taiga’s chin. After a moment, Taiga could feel Daiki’s arm around him, clutching at his borrowed shirt.

“Your dad will be fine,” Taiga said with as much of his teenage bravado as he could remember. “We’ll steal all of his gyoza tomorrow morning as punishment for making you worry.”

Daiki’s laugh was fractured and strangled, interspersed with tears. Taiga held him tighter and pressed his lips to the top of Daiki’s head, refusing to let go of him until Daiki’s shoulders stopped shaking.

At some point, they must have fallen asleep, because Taiga was suddenly waking up to the sound of a door opening. His tired eyes could barely stay open, but he saw Naoya standing shocked at the entrance to their living room. He was still in his police uniform.

The surprised expression eventually melted away into a tender smile, and Taiga could already feel his eyes closing again as Naoya approached, leaning over to press a kiss to Daiki’s head and then, shockingly, his own. “Thank you,” he thought he heard Naoya whisper to him, but he wasn’t sure he hadn’t dreamed it.

They woke up the next morning to Naoya eating the reheated gyoza they had packed for him. “We were going to steal that from you as punishment,” Daiki complained around a yawn.

“Sorry, sorry. There was a huge car accident that I was handling, and it was too hectic for me to call. I can’t believe you’d steal food from me, Daiki. Especially food as good as Taiga’s.” Naoya pouted at his son. Taiga rubbed at his eyes and tried to focus on anything except how cute the father and son duo were. “Anyway, you both need to get to school.”

Taiga looked at the clock. “I’m going to be late!” he exclaimed, realizing he still had to go back home and change. “Can I just return your clothes to you later?”

“Uh, sure. What about your clothes--” Daiki started, but Taiga was already at the genkan, kicking on his shoes.

“I’ll pick them up later too!” Taiga shouted.

“Wait, take a jacket! It’s cold outside!” Naoya called.

“No time!”

It really was cold outside, and his teeth were chattering by the time he got back to his apartment. His dad laughed at him and said, “Go take a warm bath. You can stay home from school today.”

Taiga only left his apartment once that day, and it was to let Daiki and Satsuki know he hadn’t gone to school. He had been prepared to play basketball as usual, but the two of them seemed to think that meant they were just going to stay at Taiga’s all afternoon. That was fine with him, and he stretched out on the couch when they made it back, determined to take up all the spots so as not to listen to Daiki and Satsuki argue.

That apparently did not deter Daiki from lying down right on top of him.

“Hey! I waited with you all night, and this is how you repay me?” he grumbled.

“You fell asleep,” Daiki said.

“You fell asleep too!” Taiga tried to throw him off, but Daiki just wrapped his arms and legs around him so that he couldn’t move.

Satsuki shook her head at them. “Boys are so weird.”

That night during dinner, Daiki casually brought up that Naoya was going to be working the night shift for the next week. He kept glancing at Taiga, but it was his dad who gave in first. “Then you can stay with us overnight if you want, Daiki-kun.” That unleashed the floodgates.

After that night, Daiki and Taiga rarely spent a night apart. If Naoya was working the nightshift, they’d share Taiga’s bed at his apartment. If his dad called home saying that he was working late, Taiga would walk Satsuki and Daiki home and stay to share Daiki’s futon. Clothes, toys, and school supplies were left at both houses, and after learning his lesson the first day, Taiga made sure to always have one of his uniforms at the Aomine house.

He also gave Daiki his copy of the house key, the one that hung from the chain so he wouldn’t lose it. “Isn’t this yours?” Daiki asked, staring at the key like it was one of the great treasures of the world.

“I’ll get another one,” Taiga waved off, uncertain as to why Daiki seemed so amazed. “You need free access to your banana milk supply, right?”

“I feel like we’re sharing custody of our kids,” Naoya joked one morning. Daiki was still asleep in Taiga’s bed, so Taiga’s dad had convinced Naoya there was no rush to leave and that they should both stay for breakfast.

“It’s nice having another parent to depend on,” his dad said, and the two of them laughed.

Taiga flipped over another pancake and tried not to smile.

--

There was half a year left before his dad would start talking about his transfer. Taiga looked at the calendar and wondered if two years together was enough. When he left, would Daiki change? If he told Daiki not to go to Teikō, would he listen? What would a Daiki separated from the Generation of Miracles be like?

The thoughts and questions made him feel old. He was never the thinking sort. If only Kuroko had been the one thrown back in time, he would have been able to figure out the best way to do this, to fix Aomine. Instead, it was Taiga, who had no idea what to do and felt too afraid to think about it.

All he wanted was to keep playing basketball with Daiki, to spend their childhood staying up later than they should talking about plays and shots and food. It was a little like how he had felt with Tatsuya, except this relationship felt a lot more equal. Taiga wasn’t looking up to Daiki, he was looking right at him. He liked being able to look at him.

He thought Daiki might have felt the same considering how attached the boy was to him. Daiki was almost always in his space with an arm around his shoulder or their sides pressed together. Taiga didn’t think Daiki knew what it meant, but he was vaguely hopeful that one day, they might grow into these feelings. The idea of waiting five more years made him feel older too.

But sometimes, Taiga acted his age. Sometimes, Taiga acted like he was 16 years old and 190 cm.

They had gotten there early enough to reserve a court again, and they were in the middle of a one on one when they heard someone shouting at them. “Hey kids, your time is up!”

Taiga looked over at a group of older kids he had never seen around before. They looked like stereotypical troublemakers, and Taiga rolled his eyes and gestured for Daiki to ignore them and keep playing. Satsuki wasn’t there to worry about, and none of the older kids actually tried to physically push them off the court no matter how much they grumbled. Taiga didn’t think it’d escalate any further.

He was wrong. One of the older kids dived in to knock the ball away from Daiki, who easily moved it out of his grasp. They don’t know, Taiga realized. They really weren’t from around here, and they didn’t know that they stood no chance against the two of them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Daiki scowled, picking up the ball to spin on one finger. He could hear the other boys in the group laughing at their friend’s failure to steal a ball from an elementary school student. Daiki looked so annoyed, and Taiga felt so angry that some idiot had just tried to recklessly jump at him that he couldn’t help but ask.

“Hey, do you really want this court?” The older kids looked at him in confusion.

“We said we did, didn’t we?”

“Then play for it. Two on two. First team to ten wins.” There was no way for them to refuse. Backing down from an elementary student would lose them all respect, and Taiga knew it. He didn’t think about what it’d mean if they lost to him.

The kids were stronger and taller than them, but Daiki and Taiga were both used to that. While Taiga had previously depended on his ability to force his way past them, he now had other skills he could use. Daiki had taught him how to effectively fake and evade, and Daiki himself didn’t even need to bother with that, just tossing formless shots one after another.

There was too much of a difference in size for Taiga and Daiki to efficiently defend against them, so they focused on turning over the ball instead. They had much better coordination, after months of playing one-on-one against each other, than the two older kids. The game was a stomp, and Taiga gave Daiki a triumphant high-five afterward, excited to have played basketball with Daiki instead of against him.

“You fucking kids.” Taiga looked back just in time for the guy’s punch to collide with his cheek. He thought immediately of getting back up and repaying him before he realized that he was eleven years old.

“Taiga!” Daiki screamed, and Taiga turned around to tell Daiki to run for it, because there were six of these fucking idiots and only two of them. Judging by the shadows looming over them, he wasn’t going to make it. They weren’t going to make it, and shit. Shit. He didn’t want Daiki hurt because of him.

“Dai-chan! Your dad is looking for you! He’s home early from the police station!” They both looked up to see Satsuki on the other side of the chain link fence, looking like a typical innocent little girl. Definitely not one that was lying through her teeth about Naoya being home.

One of the kids glared down at them. “Your dad a cop?”

Daiki nodded, helping Taiga up. Despite the situation, Daiki didn’t seem scared. If anything, he felt like he did on the court, assured that he could handle whatever was thrown his way. The Aomine men were crazy, Taiga thought.

“Not worth it,” one of the guys said before they all backed off. Taiga exhaled the breath he was holding and turned to Satsuki.

“Thank you,” he said, looking her in the eyes and trying to fit all of his gratitude into his words.

“You guys would be lost without me,” Satsuki said, face stern for a moment before it broke into the kind smile they were used to. “Let’s go home together, Dai-chan, Kagamin!”

That night, Taiga made cherries jubilee to serve over vanilla ice cream. Daiki and Satsuki’s eyes had been round and amazed the entire time the pan had been on fire. His father looked a lot less impressed when he came home. “That was dangerous,” he scolded in between bites of ice cream. “This is delicious but not worth it. Also, how do you know what cherries jubilee is? Wait, did you take the alcohol my business partners gave me for this?”

Satsuki and Daiki were just excited to be eating something with alcohol in it, and Taiga didn’t have the heart to tell them that it had all cooked off. “Cherries are my favorite!” Satsuki sang after dinner, while Taiga took the dishes to the sink.

“I know,” he said, making sure she was looking at him before smiling. The responding grin on her face hinted at how beautiful she would eventually grow up to be.

“Let me help you with the dishes,” Daiki said, in the way anyone else would issue a challenge.

“Do you know how to do the dishes?” Taiga asked, unimpressed.

“... Teach me how to do the dishes first.” Taiga could hear his dad coughing to try and cover up his laughter from the couch. Still, if anything was a good investment of time, it was teaching Aomine Daiki how to do chores. Taiga explained the dishwashing and drying process, and to his surprise, Daiki didn’t complain at all while they worked through the dinner plates. “My hands are pruney,” he said at the end before he shoved them in Taiga’s face.

“Daiki!” he shouted, tackling the other boy.

“Now, now. Don’t fight,” Taiga’s dad said, packaging the leftovers. He had prepared a tupperware of the cherries jubilee for Satsuki to take home to her parents and set aside another portion for Naoya once he got off his night shift. “Let’s see Satsuki-chan home, and then we can all peacefully go to bed.”

They walked her home, and Taiga got a quizzical look from her parents for his culinary efforts. He wished them good night and ushered Daiki away as fast as possible.

Lying in bed that night, Taiga turned onto his side to stare at Daiki, who had managed to fall asleep immediately as usual. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I know better.”

A hand came out of nowhere, hitting him in the face. “What are you sorry about? We would have been fine. I wouldn’t have let them hurt you.” With Daiki’s hand in front of his face, Taiga couldn’t see what kind of expression Daiki was making when he said that. He bet it was an embarrassing one.

“I didn’t want them to hurt you, idiot,” Taiga shot back. The hand moved, ruffling his hair as it went, and revealed Daiki lying on his side, looking back at him.

“I’m really glad I met you, Taiga,” Daiki said before leaning forward to bury his face in Taiga’s shoulder.

Taiga wrapped his arms around Daiki, something he did so often it felt natural now, and thought about how much time he had left before his father would be transferred. Please don’t change. Please wait for me. He wrapped the covers tightly around them and they both fell asleep.

--

“No!” Taiga flinched. “No! Why? Why do you have to go? You can just stay here with me and Dad!”

He had expected a bad reaction, but this was worse than he had thought. Daiki was on hands and knees, fists slamming against the floor while Naoya stood behind him, trying not to interfere. Taiga could see Daiki’s tears on the varnished wood. Each ragged breath he took wrapped itself around Taiga’s heart and squeezed.

He didn’t want to be looking down at Daiki, so he fell on his knees too, wanting to look at Daiki’s face, to see those bright blue eyes that had gotten them into this mess. Daiki wouldn’t look at him.

“I’ll come back. Before middle school is over, I’ll come back!” Taiga said. He could see Naoya’s scrunched eyebrows in the background. His father had said this was a permanent transfer, but Taiga knew the truth. “Please wait for me.”

Daiki’s shoulders were still shaking, but his rapid breaths had calmed. “Do you promise?”

“Are you asking the floor or are you asking me?” That was the right question, because Daiki whipped his head up to glare at Taiga. His eyes were red and swollen, and his lips were pressed together until they were white with the effort to not cry. Taiga wrapped him into a hug and let Daiki dry his tears on his shoulder, noting vaguely that he was a little taller than Daiki was. “I promise.” By the time he returned, Daiki would have a few centimeters on him.

“I’ll miss you,” Daiki said, voice pitched with pain. “No, that sounds dumb. It feels like my heart is being torn out of my chest so that someone can kick it all the way to America.”

“Well, that’s colorful,” Naoya muttered in the background.

“I guess I don’t need this anymore,” Daiki said, and Taiga had to let go of him to see that he was pulling at the chain around his neck, the key that was strung on it.

“Keep it,” Taiga decided. He paused for a moment, thinking about how the rings he had shared with Tatsuya had resulted in so much pain. Maybe everyone had it wrong, and promises and love were never meant to be made on pieces of metal, to be worn for everyone to see. Still, he felt that need to make their relationship tangible. “Keep it and never take it off, and when I come back, I’ll give you the key to my new apartment to replace it.”

Daiki’s fist clenched around the key so tight, Taiga wanted to stop him before he hurt himself. “I don’t have anything to give you in return,” he grumbled.

Taiga opened his mouth to say he didn’t need anything, but Naoya interrupted, holding out what looked like a gold ring. “Here, Daiki. Give him this.”

Mouth open to object, Taiga couldn’t fit in a word before Daiki was reaching up to grab the ring. He ran his finger around the outside of the band and then again around the inside. He paused, holding the ring up to the light. “Soon,” he read out. “Was this Mom’s?”

Taiga’s mouth fell open for a totally different reason. “Well, sort of,” Naoya said, that kind smile on his face again. “It was her first engagement ring. I had just started working and didn’t have a lot of money, but I wanted to propose to her as soon as possible. So, I bought a cheap ring and engraved it with soon as a promise to get her a nicer ring later.”

Naoya looked up at Taiga with such a tender look, Taiga felt like he had vertigo. Aomine’s face with Naoya’s capacity for love threw him for a loop, and he couldn’t help his blush.

“For you and Taiga, that soon is a different kind of promise,” Naoya explained. Daiki, apparently satisfied with the reasoning, reached out.

“Give me your hand, idiot,” Daiki said.

“I’m not the idiot here!” Taiga exclaimed, pushing both hands behind his back. “You can’t give away something that important!”

Daiki thought about it, glancing up at his father who gave him a nod. “I’m not giving it to you. I’m lending it to you. You can give it back to me once you come back.” What a dumb excuse, Taiga thought, but he held out his hand anyway and let Daiki slide it onto his middle finger. It was slightly too big.

“You’ll probably grow into it and then right back out of it,” Naoya said.

“That’s fine. I’ll just wear it on a chain around my neck,” Taiga replied, feeling his heart break in two, one for his older self who had shared and broken this same promise with Tatsuya. One for his current self, leaving his first love behind.

He stayed for as long as possible, Daiki attached to him the entire time, even when he went to tell Satsuki he was leaving. She cried twice as hard as she usually did. “Once for me, once for Dai-chan,” she gasped out in the middle of her tears.

“Write to me, even if Daiki won’t,” he said, leaving her his address in America. “And…”

He didn't want to say it, didn’t want to put this strain on Satsuki. Taiga couldn’t imagine how often the other Satsuki had cried out of concern for Daiki, and he didn’t wish that for this one. He had grown to love her too.

”It’s different from the love I feel for Tetsu-kun!” Ah, he understood that now.

“Take care of yourself,” he said. Don’t waste your tears on Daiki. I’ll kick his ass when I come back, if I have to.

When it was time to go, Naoya had to peel Daiki off of him. Unable to handle saying goodbye, he refused to walk Taiga home, not wanting the finality of it. They left him behind when they left, the door closing on his tear-stained face.

“Your dad didn’t say anything about the transfer being temporary,” Naoya said, halfway through the walk home.

Taiga looked up at Naoya, who was just staring up at the sky. He wasn’t mad or suspicious. It was a statement, and Naoya was fine with letting it stand on its own. Really, he was too nice to have raised a punk like Aomine. “I will come back,” he said, and he meant it. The way he had meant it when he said he’d beat the Generation of Miracles and become the best in Japan. “Besides, if you thought I was staying there forever, why did you let him give me this ring?” Taiga ran his fingers over it, already developing bad habits.

“Ah, just because your dad’s transfer might last forever, doesn’t mean I think you’re going to stay there.” Naoya smiled down at him. “I have faith that you’ll come back. You wouldn’t leave Daiki alone.”

Taiga blushed, wondering if he was that transparent. He was relieved that Naoya didn’t say anything else, just ruffled his hair and wished him goodbye at his door. His father had Naoya stay for a bit to talk, probably about what had happened between him and Daiki and to say their own goodbyes.

“I’m sorry, Taiga,” his dad said, eyes tired and shoulders weary. Taiga reached up and wrapped his hand around his dad’s, squeezing lightly. He had promised to live this second life for his dad as much as anyone else.

It was hours before they boarded the plane, hours before they landed. To Taiga, they were hours ticking down to when he would see Daiki again.
AMERICA

Moving to America was easier the second time around, partly because Taiga seemed to ‘pick up English quickly.’ His father seemed surprised, but with his new job, he didn’t have much time to question Taiga about it. They didn’t see each other very often, and his father looked guilty every time they did manage to eat a meal together. “I took you away from Daiki and Satsuki for this, huh?”

Taiga just served himself another bowl of rice and said, “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

He meant it, but he also checked the mailbox everyday for any letters from Japan. Taiga would leave the mail there for his father to pick up so that he wouldn’t be suspicious, but after a week, his father was starting to shoot him knowing looks as he came in at night, and Taiga gave up being sneaky. He had almost lost hope when, two and a half weeks since they had settled in America, he received his first letter from Satsuki.

She wrote about their classes, their classmates, her parents, and Naoya. There was no mention of Daiki, but Taiga could read her concern in the lines she devoted to herself. I never go to the basketball court anymore, she wrote, which meant that Daiki must have stopped going too. I’m spending more time with Rika-chan than ever! Daiki was probably sulking, locking himself inside his house.

I’ll keep writing until you get sick of all the letters you get! She would give him updates about Daiki until he got his head out of his ass and started writing Taiga himself.

He wrote her a letter back, telling her about school in America and how nice it was to be able to watch NBA games live at a reasonable time. I haven’t been to the basketball court either, partly because the sound of a ball being dribbled made his chest tighten with thoughts of Daiki, but also because he was waiting for that fateful day when someone would ask him to join their game.

I haven’t made any friends yet. That hadn’t changed from the first timeline. The only difference was that this time, Taiga wasn’t trying.

Thank you for writing me. I was afraid you would forget. Forget to write, forget about him.

Tell your parents hi from us, and tell Aomine-san to take care of himself. Don’t forget to keep smiling, Satsuki, even if Daiki is being annoying. He paused, wondering if he should try to be subtle like Satsuki. No, that wasn’t like him at all. Tell Daiki I miss him.

He enclosed a picture of him and his father on the beach. It had been one of his dad’s rare days off, and they had both been excited to finally take advantage of their new location. Taiga had asked his dad if he could take surfing lessons, because he was pretty sure he couldn’t fake being a natural surfer. His dad had told he’d think about it, with the conspicuous look that suggested he’d already decided to say yes. Taiga hoped he wasn’t that easy to read.

It took a week after he sent his letter to get another one from Satsuki. This time, she mentioned Daiki directly.

Dai-chan is being a butt again and refusing to write his own letter, so I’m just going to tell you what he said when I read him yours. Taiga snickered. He was lucky that Satsuki was on his side.

He said that he figured you wouldn’t be able to make friends anyway, but I think he’s actually relieved. Taiga scoffed. We would never forget about you. The truth is that Daiki has tried writing you a few times, but he always gives up halfway through. You know he’s not good at words.

He would never forget that abrasive tone, the stuttering words trying to say something kind when the person behind it wasn’t used to it. Daiki had gotten better over time, Taiga thought. Even if he hadn’t, Taiga didn’t care. He just wanted any of Daiki’s words.

Daiki misses you too. He doesn’t say it, but he stole the picture you sent me and won’t give it back. Send me another one? Taiga was pretty sure they had extra prints of the photo they had taken when they had just moved in. It had him and his father, jet-lagged and sitting on a throne of unpacked cardboard boxes. He made a note to grab one for Satsuki.

I’ll be happy enough for the both of us, Kagamin! Don’t worry about me! Go out there and enjoy America. Don’t let Daiki drag you down.

Taiga walked home from school the next day, thinking about Satsuki’s last words and wondering if her precognition worked off the court too.

“Hey, do you want to join our game?” a boy asked in Japanese, hair over half his face and a beauty mark under one eye.

“Sure,” Taiga said in English, smiling, ready to change the past that he’d lived through.

Tatsuya was good for a twelve year old with all the potential of a member of the Generation of Miracles, but he hadn’t met Alex yet and he hadn’t been playing against a prodigy everyday for the past two years. Taiga hooked a shot in the way Daiki would have and felt his absence like a hole in his chest.

The way Tatsuya stared at him afterward, mouth open and visible eye wide, didn’t make up for it. “Where did you learn how to play like that?”

“In Japan,” Taiga said. “I’m planning to go back one day. There are some really good players over there that I need to beat.”

“Maybe I should go back there and learn a few things too,” Tatsuya pouted.

“Why not start here?” Taiga asked. They started playing one-on-one together after that day, occupying the time that Taiga used to spend with Satsuki and Daiki. With a new opponent in a new setting, Taiga let himself experiment. He taught himself how to do the analysis Satsuki taught him in the split second he had on the court. One game was spent making all of his shots with his left hand. Another game was spent using only formless shots. He even tried to do Midorima’s high projectile three, but his accuracy was so low, he gave that idea up quickly.

Playing so differently everyday meant he didn’t always win, but he also didn’t care about winning. Eventually, there would be a time where every game would count, and Taiga didn’t want to be struggling to grow then. He didn’t want to have to depend on his teammates to balance out his mistakes, on Kuroko to save them with some unbelievable pass, on the pressure to make him better. There were lessons to be learned with everything on the line, but there was plenty Taiga could do on his own.

Kiyoshi-senpai, Kuroko, Daiki ran like a mantra through his head every time he stayed out late practicing, shooting baskets until it was too dark to see the hoop. He had three years to improve. It seemed like plenty of time.

“You don’t take me seriously, do you?” Tatsuya asked one day as they were taking a break from their one-on-one. The sun was setting, and he was looking at the horizon instead of at Taiga.

Taiga snapped his head to look at him, surprised. “Of course I do!” He thought their relationship was going well. They weren’t brothers like they had been in his time. He refused to force Tatsuya up on a pedestal. Having learned how to stand on the same ground as prodigies, Taiga thought it was far better for them to be equals. “Why would you say that?”

“You’re touching that ring again,” Tatsuya said, ignoring his question. “Is it related to whoever you’re playing against?”

“I’m playing against you,” Taiga objected, dropping the ring and letting it rest against his chest. “Tatsuya, you’ve always been hard to read, but I’m really confused now.”

“Maybe it’s more accurate to say ‘whoever you’re playing for?’ Taiga, you’re always playing like you’re trying to break past someone, even long after you’ve left me behind.” Tatsuya finally turned to look at him. “You say I’m confusing, but I never know what you’re going to do on any given day. Sometimes you win by a mile and sometimes you lose miserably. It doesn’t seem to matter to you.”

Taiga clenched his teeth and hoped this wasn’t leading to another demand for them to play against one another. He didn’t want Tatsuya to have this need to win against him, as if one game would settle everything. If he had learned anything losing to Aomine, it was that one game was never enough. “Don’t you like basketball?” he asked.

Tatsuya flinched back as if Taiga had hit him.

“Don’t you want to practice your hardest everyday and get better? Not just to win but because you love it?” Taiga demanded.

“So you don’t care about winning?” Tatsuya snapped in return. “I don’t believe that!”

“Basketball is a team sport,” Taiga yelled. Tatsuya’s mouth snapped shut. “I want to be stronger on my own so that I can win with my team.”

Kiyoshi-senpai, Hyuga-senpai, Izuki-senpai ran through Taiga’s head. Kuroko!

“Well said!” Both boys jumped back before turning their head to see a blonde woman smiling down at them. “What are you boys doing, shouting on a basketball court? All arguments should be settled by playing ball.”

Alex. Taiga took a deep breath. He hadn’t seen his mentor in years, but his mind remembered what his body hadn’t been through yet and instantly relaxed at just the sight of her.

“She’s right,” Taiga said, turning back to Tatsuya. “Let me show you what I’ve been trying to do. I’ll prove to you that I’m taking you seriously.”

Taiga had the ball first. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and thought about all the opponents he had faced before. The games he had played in, the shots he had made and the ones he had missed, the good calls and the bad calls, the feeling of victory and loss. He thought of the way he felt when he bumped fists with Kuroko. How he had felt when Aomine had crushed him with the sheer difference in skill. He thought of Daiki laughing at him as he tried yet another dunk his ten year old body couldn’t pull off and how he had laughed when Daiki tried the same thing.

All for the love of basketball and the trust of your teammates, Taiga thought. When he opened his eyes, Tatsuya jumped back as if he were scared.

It was over in one shot. Tatsuya didn’t even have time to react. Taiga was there and then he was at the hoop. He still wasn’t tall enough to dunk, but when had height ever stopped him. His body jumped before his brain could decide to, and the feeling of the rim in his hand was just as satisfying as when he had been sixteen.

Still standing on the bleachers, Alex whistled, impressed. Taiga, still hanging onto the hoop, shouted at her, “Will you teach us how to play basketball?” He could see her eyes narrow even from this distance.

“Sure,” she agreed, smirk on her face. “But I won’t take it easy on you.”

“Do I look like I want you to?” he shot back. She laughed.

--

By the time Daiki sent him a letter, Taiga had given up hope. He had settled for what Satsuki could tell him, and they wrote each other faithfully at least every week. Her last letter hadn’t even hinted that Daiki had changed his mind about writing him, so seeing the envelope with his name on it was a shock.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” his dad asked. He was cooking today, which was a rare occurrence now that they had moved. Taiga sat at the counter and stared at the envelope for a long time.

“I think I’m scared,” he admitted after a moment.

“Of what?” his dad asked, taking the pan he had been working with off the heat so that it wouldn’t burn while they talked.

“He hasn’t written me in so long. What if this is goodbye?” Taiga asked, biting his lower lip. He felt stupid, being mentally 16 years old and this tied up over a guy. Then again, he thought, wasn’t that what being a teenager was all about? He pressed his hand against his chest, feeling the shape of the ring through his shirt.

His dad leaned over the counter, resting his chin in his hand. “I don’t think Daiki could ever say goodbye to you and mean it,” he said. There was no teasing or mocking, just his father’s typical, forthright honesty. “If you’re this nervous about reading his letter, Taiga, I can only imagine how nervous he was writing it. Cut him some slack.”

Taiga nodded, breaking the envelope seal with a pen, and unfolded the letter.

He broke out into giggles.

“What?” his dad asked, halfway turned back to finish cooking dinner.

“It’s all in katakana,” Taiga said, laughing so hard he had to grab his stomach. “When Satsuki said he was bad at words, I didn’t think she meant this!”

“I guess you two were meant for each other,” his dad shot back, staring at him from the corner of his eye.

“Hey, I can use kanji! They’re only wrong sometimes,” Taiga objected, sobering enough to read the letter. It was shorter than he would have liked, but every word was so perfectly Daiki that Taiga could hear his voice as he read.

Oi, Taiga. Why haven’t you been writing me? They’re always addressed to Satsuki. You never even mention me until the end.

Taiga could feel his eye twitching. He was looking forward to writing the scathing reply that idiots who didn’t write to him shouldn’t complain about not getting letters in return. He’d even use kanji.

It’s been really boring without you. There’s no one good enough to challenge me, and the older kids won’t play against me because they don’t want people hearing they got beat by a kid. I’m still practicing, but play early in the morning or late at night so I don’t have to fight for a court. I mean, I could take them, but that’s too much trouble.

He needed to make sure Daiki kept practicing and trying to improve. He’d make it a competition if he had to, but Taiga thought that if he told Daiki about that weird place he had been in when he had finally managed to dunk, that would be enough. It was a new level of basketball to discover, and despite the many miles that separated them, he still wanted to explore it with Daiki.

Dad says he’s heard about this middle school with a good basketball program. He’s going to take me to see it this weekend and if I like it, he says he’ll let me go even though it’s farther than he’d want. We’ll see. They won’t be as good as you. They can’t be.

Taiga dropped the letter on the counter, horrified. “Something wrong?” his dad asked, instantly on alert. “What did Daiki say?”

“Oh, uh. Nothing. He was just telling me about the middle school he might go to.” Teikō, that fucking school. He knew Naoya was trying to do his best for his son, but it would backfire and burn him. Taiga could imagine how Aomine, the Aomine that Kuroko wanted to save, must have felt when he finally got to meet people who loved basketball as much as he did. People who were just as good and were willing to play with him. He didn’t even have to imagine it, because he had seen it himself with Daiki.

But that school and that team were going to change him. People were going to tell Daiki that he was a monster, and he was going to believe them. Could he write to them and tell them not to go? Taiga wondered what it would look like if Daiki were to play against Teikō. Maybe the league wouldn’t be so unbalanced.

Then he remembered. Kuroko. Would Kuroko play basketball without Daiki there? Taiga picked the letter up, clutching it so tightly that it crumpled between his hands. He couldn’t choose between them, didn’t want either of them to lose their love for the game.

I hope you’re making friends now. You might not be that smart, but you like basketball, and people who like basketball can’t be bad. Maybe if you tell people that, they’ll give you a chance like I did.

Taiga wouldn’t warn them about Teikō. He would fake his enthusiasm and let Daiki inspire and frighten in equal measure. Maybe his influence and his promise to return would be enough to keep Daiki from turning into the Aomine he knew. If they weren’t, if Daiki did turn into Aomine, then Taiga would be there to fix things. He had a little over two years to sit and wait in fear. A little over two years to plan and prepare.

Write me back! Send me another picture too!

He wrote Daiki back, berating him like he had planned for waiting so long before writing him. Taiga wrote paragraphs about the one-on-one against Tatsuya, about how he had sunk into a place where only basketball existed and any play looked possible. He could only describe it as a door that had opened into a space meant for basketball obsessed idiots like them, and he wondered if they could meet there despite the ocean separating them.

There was nothing to say about Teikō. He encouraged Daiki to practice, whether with a team or without one. Even if there wasn’t anyone good at the school, though Taiga knew there were, he would be back in two years anyway. If Daiki could just hold on for two years, Taiga would come back and they could play one-on-one everyday again.

He asked Tatsuya to take a picture of him attempting another dunk. Taiga hadn’t made one since their match against each other, but he could feel himself jumping higher and higher. This one was close too, but he couldn’t quite get over the hoop with the ball and ended up tipping it in instead.

After that letter, Daiki was better about writing. He talked about his own experience with getting lost in games, running up against a door that wouldn’t open for him. I’ll definitely open it if it means I’ll see you on the other side.

He wouldn’t say anything about practice or the picture, but Satsuki had stayed Taiga’s loyal informant. She told him that Daiki was at the court more than ever, trying to find stronger and stronger opponents to play so that he could find some sort of door. He keeps all of your pictures on the nightstand next to his bed.

Time marched forward and Daiki started writing about Teikō. He was excited about the basketball team that was so large and popular there. They didn’t care about age or size as long as you were good. Taiga read about Daiki making it to the first string, meeting Midorima, Murasakibara, and Akashi. They’re all weird in different ways, but they all like basketball. Well, maybe not Murasakibara. I think he just hates losing.

He talked about a Haizaki too, but that wasn’t a name Kuroko had ever mentioned. Daiki didn’t seem to like him anyway.

Most of the Teikō letters made Taiga’s chest feel tight. He would share the information with his dad and then go lie down in his room, curled up around his guilt. The only ones that brought a genuine smile to his face were the ones about Kuroko, the ghost that Satsuki had heard and the boy that Daiki had found. I think he might love basketball more than I do. Does that mean he’s a better person than I am? I can’t wait until you meet him! You and Tetsu would get along great!

Kise eventually showed up in the letters, a prodigy that Satsuki had noticed and recruited to the first string. Daiki talked about the daily one-on-ones that Kise demanded of him, and how impressed Daiki was that the blond was able to keep up with him. Taiga narrowed his eyes at the letter. Kuroko had said that Kise started playing basketball because of Daiki--but no, they couldn’t have had a relationship. Aomine had been straight. Daiki surely was too. I keep telling him he’s good, but not as good as my last one-on-one partner. He gets so frustrated because I won’t tell him about you. Satsuki is refusing too. You’ll meet him once you come back anyway.

There were victories, and Daiki wrote about them with the joy that Taiga ached to return to. There were no losses. Just wins that started getting boring, that started to feel like nothing.

They keep saying we’re monsters. A little more than halfway through their second year apart, the letter Taiga feared finally arrived. They just stop playing, and it’s like I’m back on those street courts, before I met you. You can’t play basketball by yourself, no matter what those sore losers say!

Taiga didn’t know what to say. He had always been more about actions than words, but he was too far away to drag Daiki out to play basketball or to wrap him in another hug. How could he find the words to describe how worried he was and how much Taiga loved him as he was. He couldn’t think of anything but the obvious.

“I love you and your basketball,” Tatsuya read over his shoulder. Taiga jumped, almost knocking the other boy off the bleachers. “Hey!”

“That should be my line! Don’t snoop,” Taiga growled.

“Are you writing to your boyfriend?” Tatsuya asked, his visible eye amused. “Wait, is this why you never flirt back when guys come onto you?”

“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s not even gay,” Taiga said, trying not to sound disappointed.

“Oh, is that why you let some of the guys flirt with you a little longer before you turn them down? I’ve noticed you have a type.” That look of mischief on Tatsuya’s face could not be trusted, so Taiga packed up his incomplete letter and stood up to walk home. “Don’t you want to know what your type is?”

Taiga knew exactly what his type was.

“Tall, dark, and really flexible,” Tatsuya told him anyway. Taiga picked up a pebble to throw at him and walked all the way home with bright red cheeks.

--

Everything seemed to be going well. Taiga’s basketball skills were far ahead of what they had been when he was fifteen the first time. He understood his potential more now, and he had knocked on that secret door a few different times. Sometimes, it would creak open for him and let him see the warmth inside. Even if it stayed shut, Taiga got the sense that it was just waiting for him to find the doorknob.

Tatsuya hadn’t challenged him again or threatened to call off their friendship. He worked with Alex more often than Taiga did, and that extra attention seemed to be enough to make him happy. It certainly had helped improve his basketball, and Taiga imagined facing him in the future might be even harder than it would have been in the last life. While he sometimes felt guilty that Tatsuya had become less of a priority for him, he comforted himself with the knowledge that this Tatsuya didn’t need him to do anything. They were good friends and worthy opponents. Tatsuya seemed happier not being his brother.

Alex had been so focused on teaching him the fundamentals of basketball in his first life that she had never gotten to the more advanced skills. Watching Taiga’s experiments, she was comfortable diving straight into them now. He practiced the skills she taught him and focused on his own conditioning and overall fitness. “There’s no use trying to force your body to do things it can’t just yet. You still have some growing to do, Taiga,” Alex always said.

Even Daiki seemed to be hanging in there. He ignored the negative comments as much as he could, and when he failed, he let Kuroko’s encouragement steady him. If he was frustrated, he took it out on Kise in their one-on-ones. When he was sad, he slept over at Satsuki’s. If everything failed, he wrote Taiga. There were multiple letters in every envelope he received now. Very few of them talked about basketball anymore. At least one asked Taiga if he was really a monster. Sometimes, they just said, come back.

Taiga’s teeth clenched with worry and want, but this was the one thing that wasn’t going as planned. He watched his father everyday, waiting for a disruption in their routine. The announcement had to be coming any day now.

When? in katakana, as usual. Please.

He broke and hoped that by breaking, he could save Daiki from doing the same. “Dad, have you heard anything about a position opening up in Japan?”

His dad’s eyebrows shot up, and he stopped with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth. “Uh. You mean at work? My work?”

“Yeah,” Taiga said. It was spring now. His last year of middle school would be starting soon, and he needed to go back. He had promised that he would be back.

His dad’s eyes were kind as always but sad. Apologetic. “No, sorry. At least they haven’t said anything to me about it.”

“Could you ask?” Taiga blurted out, unable and unwilling to hide the desperation in his voice. “Please, Daiki--”

“I already asked,” his father said, voice barely a whisper but loud enough to echo in Taiga’s ears. He looked down into his bowl of rice, setting his chopsticks aside. “Naoya has been telling me how Daiki has changed, so I checked at work before he even asked me to but there’s nothing. They said maybe next year.”

No, that wasn’t possible. “Can you send me back anyway?” Taiga asked through clenched teeth. He didn’t want to leave his father, but Daiki needed him more than his dad did.

“I was thinking that you should visit him this summer,” his dad said, tentatively because he knew that wasn’t what Taiga was asking for. “But I don’t feel comfortable with you living alone while I’m stuck in another country.”

“Then I’ll live with Aomine-san and Daiki!” he pleaded.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” his father said, drawing each word out slowly. “I know you want to help him, but even Naoya isn’t sure you can.”

“He doesn’t even know what’s wrong, does he?” Taiga shouted. “I do! I can help him. I promised!”

“Taiga, you know I love you both,” his father said, lips pressed together in agony more than anger. “I just don’t think this is healthy. Wait one more year for me to convince the company. Then we’ll tackle it together.”

“It’ll be too late then!” Taiga screamed. He wanted his father to stand up and tell him he was out of line, to get angry and try to shout him down. If he did, Taiga could blame him, hate him for keeping them apart.

But his dad just stood up and wrapped his arms around Taiga, pulling him in close. “You grew so tall all of a sudden,” his dad mumbled as Taiga cried into his shoulder. “I’m scared of what’s happening to Daiki too, but I have no idea what’s going on and I don’t want you facing that without me. Naoya already knows, and he agrees.”

Taiga didn’t go to school or practice the next day. He waited until it was a good time and called the Aomine house, his dad more than happy to deal with the long-distance bill. “Hello Taiga-kun,” Naoya answered, his voice both familiar and wrong. He sounded exhausted. “Daiki is waiting to talk to you.”

There was hesitation in his voice. So Daiki didn’t know yet. “Taiga!” Daiki’s voice was familiar but different. He didn’t sound quite like Aomine yet, but he was getting there. “Dad said you were calling today. Does that mean you know when you’re coming back?”

“Daiki,” Taiga said, hesitant. He opened his mouth to say more, but he was interrupted.

“It feels good hearing your voice again. Why didn’t we call each other before this?” Daiki asked, his words weighed down by his longing.

“Because it’s expensive, idiot.” Taiga laughed and Daiki laughed with him. He sounded so close for being so far away. “I can come back this summer.”

“Yeah? That’s great!” Daiki said, interrupting again. The relief in his voice brought tears to Taiga’s eyes. “I can’t wait until you get back. You can meet Tetsu and Kise. The rest are too weird to bother with.”

“I can’t stay,” Taiga said, voice cracking on the last word. “I would just be visiting.”

Silence. The pause built into a series of heavy, gasping breaths. Taiga was worried Daiki was having a panic attack, and he hated that he couldn’t see him. Things were so much easier when they were physically together. “You promised!” came the breathless accusation, anger in every consonant and betrayal in every vowel.

“My dad is trying for next year--” Taiga hurriedly explained.

“No! I waited! You know how bad it’s been!” Daiki shouted. In the background, Taiga could hear Naoya trying to calm him down. “I don’t want to hate the things I love,” Daiki muttered, and Taiga knew that meant more than just basketball.

“Let me see you this summer, and we can--”

“No, if you aren’t staying, then don’t come over at all. I don’t need you,” Daiki spat. “You know, I opened that door you told me about. There’s nothing in there. You’re just alone.” Taiga could hear Daiki’s anger break apart, revealing a haunted, shaking core. He tried to listen closely but flinched away at a sudden loud crash. There was the distant sound of running footsteps, followed by silence and then Naoya’s voice.

“I’m sorry, Taiga,” Naoya said. “I’ll talk to him. Don’t let this get to you.”

They said their goodbyes. Taiga was usually violent when angry, desperately trying to push out the terrible emotion. But this just made him tired, and he climbed into bed and stayed there, lost in thought. Why had he been thrown back in time if he wasn’t going to be able to save Daiki? If Kuroko was going to be hurt anyway?

What would happen if he just ran away to Japan? He remembered the fear in his father’s voice, the defeat in the slanted slopes of his shoulders, and the desperate way he hung onto Taiga. Would it be worth it? Could he trust his dad to fix things in a year?

“It didn’t go well, did it?” his father asked the lump of blankets on Taiga’s bed. The lump shook. “Next year, I promise. I’ll do anything it takes. Don’t leave me just yet.” The lump moved to rest its head on his father’s lap.

Satsuki, who wrote to him only intermittently now and mostly about how great Kuroko was, started sending him letters regularly again. They were accusatory but informative. You need to know what you’ve done to him. Taiga let the words carve guilt into his heart. He won’t go to practice anymore, and I can’t make him. He only goes to games because Akashi-kun forces him. He stopped buying NBA magazines and walks around with these gross gravure magazines now.

Then one day: He threw away the key.

She stopped writing him after that, having chosen Daiki over him. He felt terrible for being glad that she had, knowing how much grief it would bring her.

Taiga stayed home for a week after that letter. When he finally got out of bed, the only thing his father said was, “I’m surprised you recovered so quickly.”

He hadn’t. “I have to get ready for when we go back.”

“Get ready for what?” his father asked, face creasing with worry. Taiga hadn’t ever seen his father so sad, in either lifetimes. He was more open in this one. They certainly talked more. Maybe it was Naoya and Daiki that opened them up to each other, and Taiga wondered if it had been worth the pain they both felt now.

Yes, Taiga thought, making the same decision Satsuki and Kuroko had. It was worth it. “I have to force him to take his head out of his ass, and the only way to do that with an idiot like Daiki is through basketball.”

His father laughed, sudden and surprised. “You two really are meant for each other.”

Taiga went back to practice. Alex opened her mouth to yell at him for disappearing, but one look into his eyes, and she stopped. “You’re ready to start getting serious,” she said. “I’ll push you until you surrender. Hope your spirit lasts as long as your stamina.”

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and reaching for a door that Daiki said led nowhere.

“Try me.”

--

“What high school is Daiki going to again?”

His father had made good on his promise, and they were moving back to Japan. Taiga had figured if this weird transfer mix up had any bonus, it was that his dad would be coming to live with him, but it seemed some things weren’t meant to be. After his father had already rented an apartment for them, the same apartment that Taiga had lived alone in during the other timeline, his bosses amended his transfer.

His father sighed, flipping through the paperwork that he was trying to finish before they were separated. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me to Kyoto? I hear Rakuzan has a good basketball team?”

That school sounded familiar. Taiga thought and remembered that Kuroko had mentioned Akashi was in Kyoto. He shuddered. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

“I’m just joking, Taiga. I wouldn’t keep you away from Daiki. It’s good enough that you’re just one bullet train ride away,” his father said, giving him a crooked grin. Taiga was finally at his old height, which put him exactly even with his father, something he hadn’t known in the other timeline. The extra year together hadn’t been so bad, he thought. “Besides, Naoya was so thrilled that you were coming back. I wouldn’t want to disappoint him.”

“Yeah, thanks for calling Naoya about your transfer before telling me,” Taiga shot at his dad. Was he blushing? Taiga squinted; it was hard to tell with their tan skin sometimes.

“You were at school! If I had waited until dinnertime, it would have been too late in Japan to call,” his father objected, pouting. “Now, what school is Daiki going to?”

“The apartment is close to a high school, right? Just register me there.” He had thought about going to Tōō, being on the same team as Daiki, trying to be his friend again. Taiga didn’t think it’d work. Even if it did, the thought of leaving Kuroko and his other Seirin teammates hurt. They had sworn from the rooftops that they’d be Japan’s number one team together, and he still carried that oath with him.

“Seirin?” his father asked for confirmation. Taiga nodded. “Are you sure?”

“I don’t want to force things,” Taiga said, shrugging. “Besides, Daiki doesn’t want a friend anymore. He wants a rival.”

His father frowned. “And what do you want?”

He thought about it. “I just want to see him smile again.”

“You mean you want to kick his ass again!” Alex said, pumping her fist when they met up the next day. It was the last time Taiga would see them here in America.

“Definitely something with his ass,” Tatsuya teased.

“You are both horrible people,” Taiga scolded them, but there was a fond smile on his face. Tatsuya still hadn’t said anything about moving back to Japan, so Taiga assumed there would be some surprise reason later in the year.

“Well, it’s good that we had this year to seriously train. I think I’ve done all I can to prepare you to beat this… Generation of Miracles, you said?” She said their title in Japanese. “Sounds so high and mighty. If they’re as good as you say, maybe I should take a trip to Japan to see them for myself!”

“Please don’t,” Taiga pleaded.

He gave them his future address and phone number. New priorities aside, he still wanted to do a better job this time around at keeping in touch with them. That started with actually saying goodbye. Taiga put up with Alex kissing him, and he hugged Tatsuya tight. He wanted to ask if he had been a good student, a good friend to them. Had he done better this time around?

Probably, he thinks, waving at them one last time before walking home. Tatsuya hadn’t punched him in the face this time.

“You have Naoya’s number in case you need anything, right?” His dad had been forced to buy an earlier ticket to Japan due to the sudden change in his transfer. He was obviously nervous about leaving Taiga alone, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Taiga wasn’t sure if his dad being this nervous was new to this timeline or if he had been before, and Taiga just hadn’t noticed.

“I do,” Taiga reassured him once again. “He hasn’t told Daiki, right?”

“Naoya wouldn’t do that after you asked him not to,” his father reasoned. “Besides, I don’t think Daiki sticks around to listen to him.”

Taiga frowned. That was probably the most confusing mystery in all of this. Daiki had worshipped his dad. How had Teikō taken that away from him?

Speaking of dads. “Dad, I have something I need to tell you before we leave.” Taiga bit his lip, reminding himself that his dad had always been kind and supportive. He just wished he had done this in his last life and knew how his father would react.

He must have sounded worried, because his dad was instantly at attention. Ushering them over to the sitting area, his dad gestured for him to sit down before taking a seat himself. Taiga took a deep breath, noting the worry that sat in what were supposed to be smile lines on his father’s face. His dad really loved him, he realized. “Dad, I’m gay.”

Silence. Taiga fidgeted, tapped his foot, squared his shoulders and then deflated. His dad wasn’t responding. After a moment of careful, fearful watching, he finally saw his dad raise those ridiculous split eyebrows they shared. “Um. Was I not supposed to know that already?” He seemed genuinely confused.

Taiga’s mouth fell open. “Of course not! W-wait. You knew?”

His father frowned. “Taiga, did you think you were hiding your relationship with Daiki from me and Naoya?”

“What relationship with Daiki?” Taiga exclaimed. “We don’t have a relationship! He’s not gay!”

“Really?” His dad looked thoughtful. “When Naoya asked me what it meant that there were only NBA magazines under Daiki’s bed, I told him that it probably meant the same thing it did for you. I don’t think I was wrong about that.”

Taiga blushed, and he was sure it was obvious enough that his tanned skin wouldn’t save him. “So you’re okay with it?”

His father’s expression switched back to surprised. “Of course I am! Haven’t I been very supportive of your nonexistent gay relationship?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. Yes, his dad really loved him. “Yeah, you have.”

“You know what this means though,” his dad said. “You brought up sex. We have to have The Talk.” Taiga could hear the capital letters in his dad’s voice.

“Absolutely not,” he refused. He had already gotten The Talk from his dad once, and while that had been more heterosexually inclined, it had still been terrifying. “Besides, what do you know about gay sex?”

It took a second before he realized the mistake he’d made. “What a wonderful question! I think we should start talking about oral sex.”

He was desperately glad that they were going to be living in different cities. After that Talk, Taiga didn’t think he’d be able to look his father in the eyes any time soon.

After his father flew out, Taiga realized he still had one last thing to prepare for. Reminding himself that he was 190 cm and strong enough to tear hoops off of walls, he took a careful step into the dog park. It was probably strange that he had no dog of his own, but that didn’t stay an issue for long. He always seemed to attract them.

Several small dogs and one big one started making their way over. He froze in place, legs trembling. Everything inside him screamed at him to run, but he thought about Kuroko and Nigou. He forced himself to very carefully sit down and let the curious noses sniff at him.

He jumped at the first bark. It must have been a warning, because the small dog was suddenly jumping into his lap, making itself comfortable. Taiga flinched back but was careful not to upend the tiny thing. Then there was a wet nose rubbing at the back of his neck. Shivers running down his spine, Taiga turned around to see what looked like a grown up Nigou nuzzling at his neck.

Without any effort, Taiga found himself buried under a pile of happy dogs. While this was a lot closer than he expected to get to them his first foray into the dog park, he figured it was a win. Scratching behind not-Nigou’s ears, Taiga figured they weren’t so bad after all.

Still, the things he did for his team.

JAPAN II

Walking past the recruiting clubs on the first day of school gave Taiga vertigo. It was like deja vu except he knew he had lived through this before. He could see Izuki and Koga with their fliers, but instead of walking toward them the way he had the first day, Taiga closed his eyes and focused.

Kuroko had to be here somewhere. Taiga planned to find him, but looking for him was probably not going to work. Instead, he tried to remember how Kuroko had smelled. His sense of smell had always been better than most. It was part of why he was such a good cook. Still, he didn’t think the majority of people would believe him if he said his nose was good enough to smell strength. Alex had believed him because she had a similar talent, except she was able to see a player’s potential. That sounded a lot more natural than sniffing it out.

The members of the Generation of Miracles all had their own distinct scent, but they always reminded Taiga of power. Alex and Tatsuya had that too. Even Satsuki, under the perfume she always wore, smelled intimidating.

Kuroko didn’t. His scent had never struck Taiga as overpowering, but neither was it weak or absent. If Taiga had to describe it, he would have called it warm. With a hint of vanilla, he thought, catching its scent on the breeze.

“Got you!” he shouted, grabbing Kuroko by the head.

The boy looked up at him with wide, surprised eyes. “Nice to meet you,” he said, because Kuroko put manners first. “You can see me?”

“Basically,” Taiga said, smiling down at his friend. It had been so long since he’d seen him. He ruffled Kuroko’s hair. “I’m Kagami Taiga.”

“Please don’t,” Kuroko said, pushing Taiga’s hand away. “My name is Kuroko Tetsuya. Were you looking for me?” He sounded surprised and suspicious, but his face stayed as blank as ever. Maybe even moreso, because Kuroko didn’t trust him yet.

“I was,” Taiga admitted. “You’re going to join the basketball club, right? Let’s join together.”

Even Kuroko didn’t have enough control to hide the shock that put on his face.

“How did you know I played basketball?” he asked as they walked over to where Riko and Hyuga would be sitting.

“It’s complicated,” he said. “I have a lot to ask you about and a lot to tell you about. Do you want to go to Maji Burger after school? We can talk then.”

“Yes, please,” Kuroko replied.

“Hello! Are you signing up for the basketball club?” Riko asked as they approached, eyes wide as they looked up at him.

“We both are,” he said, giving Kuroko a slight push forward. The boy grunted and shot him a brief unhappy look.

They filled out their forms and this time, when he got to the future goals section, he wrote: To defeat the Generation of Miracles. Taiga could see by the way Kuroko’s eyes widened that he’d seen it.

Hyuga made a derisive noise when he read it. “Do you really think you can?”

“I have to,” Taiga replied.

Riko read the form carefully. “You’re from America? How do you even know about the Generation of Miracles? Are they famous over there too?”

“No,” Taiga said. “I heard about them from a friend.” It was as close to the truth as he was willing to say right now.

He turned to Kuroko, refusing to let the boy escape. “Are you done with your form?”

“Yes,” Kuroko said, handing it over without taking his eyes off Taiga.

“You’re from Teikō?” Riko exclaimed, standing up from her chair. “Wait, I don’t know you. Were you part of the basketball club?”

“Yes,” Kuroko replied.

“Did you ever play?”

“Yes.”

“With the third string?”

“First string.”

“Oh,” Riko said. She did a double take. “What?” she shouted. Her eyes looked Kuroko up and down, but judging by the frustrated look on her face, Taiga guessed the clothes were obstructing her analysis.

“If you were a first string at Teikō, then you played with the Miracles. I don’t remember you,” Hyuga said, suspicion obvious in his voice.

“It’s complicated,” Kuroko said, shooting Taiga another look. “I’ll show you during practice.”

“Huh?” Both Riko and Hyuga seemed confused, but Taiga figured their business was done there and started walking away. He grabbed Kuroko’s arm to pull him away as well.

“We’ll see you at the first practice session!” he called back to them.

They were well out of earshot before Kuroko asked, “Do you really think you can beat the Generation of Miracles?”

“I said I have to, didn’t I?” Taiga asked. He smirked at Kuroko. “I’ll show you during practice.”

It was cautious, but the corners of Kuroko’s lips turned up a little.

“Besides, I won’t be alone. Basketball is a team sport, right?” He held his fist out before realizing that they hadn’t made any promises yet. They hadn’t played with each other on the court, and Kuroko knew almost nothing about him. Still, despite the surprise on the boy’s face, he happily knocked his own knuckles against Taiga.

“I don’t know what you have to tell me, Kagami-kun, but I think we’ll get along.”

He was determined to get even more brownie points that evening when they arrived at Maji Burger. Taiga had missed the place so much, he bought a few more burgers than he usually would to celebrate and added on a vanilla shake for Kuroko.

“These vanilla shakes are my favorite,” Kuroko said, taking a sip. “How did you know?”

Taiga slid a burger over to Kuroko, even though he knew the other would just pick at it. “I guessed.” He had considered telling Kuroko everything, but guilt stopped him. If Taiga had known what would happen to Daiki, he should have been able to stop it. He hadn’t, letting other things take priority. His only hope now was to do what Kuroko had planned all along: Beat some sense into Daiki.

On the court, of course.

Kuroko gave him a look that reminded him of the suspicion in his father’s eyes every time Taiga cooked something new for dinner. Taiga wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t a great liar. “I really did have a friend tell me about the Generation of Miracles. I would ask him for more information, but we’re not really talking anymore.”

That seemed to get Kuroko’s attention. “Did the Miracles destroy your friendship?”

“Yes,” Taiga said, unwrapping one of his burgers. “I have to beat them, which is why I need you to tell me everything about the Generation of Miracles.”

“Are you asking about their skills?” Kuroko took another loud sip from his straw.

“No, I’m talking about them as people. How did all of you become a team? Why did you all separate?”

Kuroko’s eyes turned toward the window and the fading light. “It would be a very long story, Kagami-kun.”

“I’ve got twenty burgers to eat. I’m not in any hurry.” He took a bite of his burger as if to prove his point. Taiga knew Kuroko was looking at him, trying to read him and his motivations. Maybe even trying to figure out if Taiga was strong enough for Kuroko to bother with him.

More importantly, Taiga knew Kuroko was hesitant to share this much about his past. He knew it would hurt to talk about it. That was why he hadn’t shared his own convoluted story. “I can tell you what I know, Kagami-kun, but only if you promise me something.”

“What?” Taiga asked, knowing he’d say yes no matter what it was.

“Promise me that we’ll beat them,” Kuroko said, eyes burning with challenge. Promise me that this won’t all be for nothing.

“I promise,” Taiga replied, a predatory smirk on his face. Years and lives later, and he still couldn’t say no to a challenge.

“Then, this is what I know…”

--

“Take off your shirts!” Riko ordered. The other first years seemed uncomfortable, but Taiga pulled off his shirt automatically with the rest of the second years. He had gotten used to this.

“Wow,” Koga said. Taiga turned to look at him to see what the fuss was about, but Koga seemed to be staring at him.

“Shit,” Hyuga agreed. Taiga finally looked down at himself. He was definitely in better shape than he had been last time, a product of Alex’s training. She had wanted him to improve his fitness in all areas to increase his athleticism but also to reduce the likelihood of injuries by slowly building up his muscles. He was confident now that he could jump as high as he wanted to without risking his developing legs too much.

Taiga could see the stars in Riko’s eyes and the drool pooling at the corner of her lips. “I’m okay then?” he joked.

“You’re perfect,” Riko squeaked, wiping her mouth. “O-Okay. We need to check on everyone else.”

Her observations were as accurate as usual. Taiga watched as her entire face fell with disappointment as she scanned Kuroko. “Were you really a first string player at Teikō?” Kuroko remained unruffled, leaving Riko with only one chance to figure out the truth.

Taiga kept his expression as neutral as possible when she announced at their next practice that they were going to play a game. “Freshmen vs. seniors!” There was instant chatter among the first years. They were nervous about playing against the guys who had managed to get so far in the Inter-High their very first year as a team. They didn’t know that this senior team was incomplete with Kiyoshi still in the hospital.

Not wanting to show all of his cards, Taiga held himself back during the game. It was nice to relax and watch his seniors show off. He made sure they didn’t fall behind too much, but the other freshmen still looked discouraged. “The only one who has been able to score has been Kagami-kun,” Furihata complained.

“I’ve been hogging the ball,” Taiga admitted. “We can mix things up now. What do you think, Kuroko?”

The other freshmen jumped as they realized Kuroko was in the huddle with them. “Yes, I think you should pass more, Kagami-kun. I will start helping now.” While the rest looked skeptical at this announcement, Taiga nodded his acknowledgement and broke away to head back to the court. Their seniors were staring at them with suspicion.

The game restarted, and Taiga took himself off of scoring duty. He remembered being desperate to carry the team in his other life, wanting to prove his worth. Now, he knew better. There were far better individual players out there. He needed the whole team to be good to beat them.

Taking over as their point guard, Taiga decided to exercise the observational skills he had gained. He didn’t have an Eagle Eye like Izuki, but he had gained good awareness of the court. At the very least, he could sense where Kuroko was, which made coordinating with him a lot easier.

Suddenly, every freshman other than Kuroko and Taiga were managing to score. The ball would suddenly appear in their hands, and when Taiga wasn’t the one passing it to them, he was getting inside to screen for his teammates. He left stealing the ball to Kuroko, staying near their opponent’s hoop to catch the boy’s long distance passes.

Their experienced seniors seemed to catch on. While they had difficulty spotting Kuroko until he was already swatting the ball away, they didn’t even have to look to know where Taiga was. They focused on defending the other freshmen so that Taiga wouldn’t be able to pass the ball to them without risking it being stolen, and they tried to shut him down by having Mitobe keep him from getting too close inside. He had only dunked during the first half of their game, and they probably assumed that was the only thing he could do.

Letting Mitobe get close, Taiga pretended to look between all of his teammates with concern before turning back to his lone defender. He could lose Mitobe with an ankle break or force his way through, but both seemed too flashy for how Taiga wanted to appear right now. Instead, he took a step back and threw a fadeaway three.

It missed, and the freshmen groaned. The seniors high-fived each other while Taiga pretended to rub his neck in embarrassment. He had thought about making the shot, but it would have drawn too much attention. Besides, he liked watching his seniors celebrate. “That was much closer than we expected,” they admitted afterward.

Kuroko was staring at Taiga’s back as if he knew the trick Taiga had pulled off. He cleared his throat and tried to pretend he didn’t notice. “Yeah, I guess I have to work on things other than dunking.”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Hyuga scolded him.

The freshmen stayed behind to clean the gym. By the time Taiga had showered and changed, Kuroko was waiting for him by the front gate. “Maji Burger again?” He didn’t pause, knowing Kuroko would fall into step next to him. “Do you have time after we eat?”

“Yes, Kagami-kun. Why do you ask?” There was a light in Kuroko’s eyes that hadn’t been there yesterday. Taiga wondered if it was hope. “Are you going to show me that you can shoot threes after all?”

He had missed Kuroko’s ability to tease while monotone. Ruffling Kuroko’s hair while the shorter boy struggled, Taiga replied, “No, you’re going to practice shooting. I’m just the dumbass who’s going to try to help.”

Kuroko stared up at him, eyes ever so slightly wide. “That’s not the way I play basketball, Kagami-kun. I thought you understood. I’m a shadow--”

Taiga thought back to Daiki’s letter. Someone who loved basketball even more than he did. “You were a shadow, but nothing is forcing you to stay that way,” Taiga argued. “On the court, the most important thing is that you’re a basketball player.”

An honest smile started growing on Kuroko’s face, clear and undeniable. Taiga tried not to preen at the fact that he’d finally had words of wisdom for Kuroko. He was used to being the hot-headed one, the one that had nothing but one goal and one way to reach it. Looking back, neither of them had been all that smart about their plan. Taiga had been focused on proving he was the best without even looking at the competition. Kuroko had wanted to show the Miracles how wrong they were at any cost.

Things would go better this way, Taiga thought, wincing as Kuroko missed another shot. He had forgotten just how bad the other boy was at basketball basics. “Okay, let’s start from square one.”

They practiced until far too late into the night, and Taiga fought off a yawn as he headed to school early for the basketball club’s meeting before the morning assembly. He knew what they were really going to do. As the other freshmen cowered and Riko smirked at them, Taiga repeated his actions from before, jumping onto the fence.

“Class 1-B, first year Kagami Taiga!” he shouted over the field. Looking into the horizon, he realized that if he were trying to get to Tōō from Seirin, this was the direction it’d be in. Taking a deep breath and shouting as if he were trying to reach Daiki all the way on the rooftops of his school, he shouted, “We are going to beat the Generation of Miracles so bad that no one will be able to call them monsters anymore!”

He shared a look with Kuroko as he jumped down, and he knew the shorter boy wanted to say something. Unfortunately, they were interrupted just as they had been in the previous time, and Taiga had to wait until the next day to see how Kuroko’s message had changed.

JAPAN’S NUMBER 1 MONSTER SLAYERS

Taiga laughed and took a picture to show Daiki once he got his head out of his ass.

Practice that day seemed more energized than usual. Taiga encouraged Kuroko to keep trying to shoot and got the other freshmen in on the practice too. They had really suffered from not having good substitutions, and he hoped that if they got started early enough, the other first years could get more playtime. Riko definitely saw what he was doing and kept shooting him suspicious glances. Taiga responded by refusing to meet her eyes until she finally called them to huddle up.

“I’ve scheduled our first practice game!” she announced. “Against Kaijō!” Taiga listened with half an ear as they talked about how strong of a school Kaijō was. Keeping an eye out, he spotted Kise and his fangirls filing in just as they began talking about him. After watching his match with Aomine, Taiga knew that Kise could be just as passionate and hungry for victory as any of them. The Kise in the other timeline had learned to play with his team and fall with his team, crying and screaming as one.

This Kise wasn’t there yet, he realized. His stance was too lax, and while he tried to project a sense of danger, all Taiga could see was the hubris of the undefeated. He had started playing basketball at Teikō, which meant he had never played anyone stronger than him in all his competitive basketball career. To this Kise, people stronger than him outside of the Generation of Miracles didn’t exist.

He watched Kise and Kuroko exchange greetings and play up a relationship that wasn’t as friendly as it had been in the past. Taiga thought back to what Kuroko had told him about Kise’s start in the basketball team. Kise was as gifted as advertised and he knew it, despite his denial of the article’s praises.

“I was the worst of them,” Kise said. He always played one-on-one against Aomine-kun. He never won, Kuroko had told him.

Taiga thought about provoking Kise again as he had in the last timeline. It would make their practice match more interesting, but Taiga was already planning on pissing off one member of the Generation of Miracles this week, so he decided to let Kise off the hook.

“Join us, Kurokocchi,” Kise urged Kuroko, ignoring the fact that the whole team was there to hear their conversation. “You’re a good player! You could have gone to a stronger team!”

“I’m honored, but I have to decline,” Kuroko said, bowing politely. Kise looked shocked. “I would be a poor teammate for you, Kise-kun. I don’t think the way you do anymore.”

Kuroko leaned to the side, looking past Kise to make eye contact with Taiga. Kise immediately whirled around to look too, and Taiga waited as Kise looked him over. He wasn’t familiar and standing there in his baggy shirt and shorts, he must not have looked very impressive. Kise turned back around, dismissing him.

“Besides, I made a promise to Kagami-kun that we would beat the Generation of Miracles together,” Kuroko said, and that was definitely a taunt in his smile.

“We’ll have fun doing it too,” Taiga threw out there, unable to resist the jab. Kise turned again, narrowing his eyes at Taiga. He thought for a second that maybe he’d get challenged instead, but Kise just turned around and put that sheepish smile on his face.

“Ah, I guess I’ve failed to convince you for now, Kurokocchi.” He ran his hand through his hair before dropping both hands into his pocket. “Maybe after the practice game, you’ll see things differently?”

“I’m sure it’ll be enlightening. I look forward to playing with you,” Kuroko said, bowing again. Kise waved him off and turned to walk away, shooting a cutting look at Taiga before shouldering past him.

“Is it just me or was he kind of a jerk?” Koga asked after the blond had left. Taiga bit his tongue. He had been the jerk in the last timeline.

“He’ll get better after he gets his ass handed to him,” Taiga joked. Somehow, that got the team anxious again as they discussed the practice game that awaited them. Clearing his throat, Taiga slid in front of Riko and bowed until he was bent almost in half. “I have to ask you for a favor, Coach!”

“Huh?” Riko sounded confused but authoritative. As if she were an empress speaking to one of her subjects, she said, “Stand up, Kagami. What is it?”

Taiga straightened enough to look her in the eye. “I need your permission for me to miss practice tomorrow.”

“What?” Hyuga exclaimed. “We’re about to have a practice game with Kaijō, and you want to miss practice?”

“It’s for a good reason!” Taiga said, returning to his low bow. He could see Kuroko’s curious expression from the corner of his eye.

“What reason would that be?” asked Riko. He had a chance, Taiga thought. She sounded intrigued.

He straightened again. “You wanted to see how serious we were,” he reminded her, “so I’m going to issue a declaration of war.”

--

Taiga liked to think there was a world where their reunion ended happily, lifetimes and universes away. Getting off at the train station closest to Tōō, he knew this wouldn’t be that world. Still, armed with nothing but his Seirin jacket and a basketball, he walked toward his destination after sending a quick text message.

He had tried to plan, to decide whether he should corner Daiki on the roof of his school or track him down at a street court somewhere to see how he liked it. In the end, he had decided the best way to go about things was to treat Daiki like he was Aomine. Someone who was dangerous, prideful, and completely incapable of understanding Taiga’s intentions.

The other students stared at him strangely as he walked through their campus, his height and clothes drawing their attention. Taiga realized he’d never visited Tōō in his last life. There hadn’t been anything for him there, with Momoi being a stranger and Aomine an enemy to overcome. As he approached the doors to the gym, he noted the absence of the usual sounds of practice. In its place was a familiar yet foreign voice, shouting loud enough to be heard from outside. His breath stuttered with anxiety.

“What do you mean, you have no idea what I’m talking about?” Taiga hadn’t heard Aomine’s voice in years, not since he was last 16 years old. “I got a text from my dad that you had something from him!”

“Well, I don’t!” This was his first time hearing Satsuki’s voice sound like it had that night, when Momoi had come to them crying. “You’re the one who lives with him! If you’d just spend more than two seconds with him--”

Taiga opened the door with a bang. He’d always hated hearing them argue, and this was so much worse than their childish teasing. Immediately, all eyes turned to look at him, silhouetted in the light of the doorway. He took a few hesitant steps forward before he reminded himself that wasn’t his style and lengthened his strides.

“Seirin? What are you doing here?” that one loud blond shouted at him from the side. Taiga barely heard him, focused on the shocked expression on Satsuki’s face and the horrified one on Daiki’s. They both recognized him, but they were paralyzed. Looking at them, the kids he’d known when he was ten, the teenagers he had known when he’d first been sixteen, he found himself at a loss for words too.

He wished he was better at planning.

“You’re not one of the second years,” the captain spoke up after a second, and Taiga didn’t miss the curious way he was looking between him and his old friends. “Are you new? Here to meet the competition?”

“I’m here to deliver something,” he managed to say and hoped his voice didn’t sound as broken and unsure as he felt.

Turning back to Satsuki and Daiki, he took slow, measured steps toward them. Satsuki was recovering, he noted, but Daiki still looked like he would bolt. Taiga wasn’t surprised to see him take a step back, away from him, but the rest of Tōō’s team seemed shocked. The tension thickened, but Taiga was too determined to turn away now.

“Here,” he said, holding out a piece of paper and a key. Daiki looked down at the objects in his hand, his face twisted in disbelief and then anger.

“What the fuck makes you think I want that?” he snapped. Taiga’s heart pounded against his chest, wanting to run away from the hatred in Daiki’s voice.

“It’s not that I think you want it,” Taiga said, “but I promised.”

“It’s a little fucking late for promises, isn’t it?” Daiki asked, and his rage must have overcame his shock, because he took a step forward instead of back and drew himself up to his full height. He was only two centimeters taller than Taiga, but it felt like more.

Satsuki looked ready to intervene, her eyes desperately darting between the two of them but occasionally resting on the objects in Taiga’s hand. She still hadn’t said anything. He didn’t want to hear her rejection too.

“Will you take it if I get a shot past you?” Taiga asked. Silence overtook the gym, so complete that Taiga thought time had stopped. “You can throw it away afterwards, but will you take it?”

The shock on Daiki’s face melted into a slow, cruel smirk. “Sure, I’ll take it. Show me that America was worth it, Taiga.”

Taiga nodded, not even bothering to take off his jacket. Daiki was still dressed in his school uniform, and they both looked ridiculous, heading out to half-court. Taiga dribbled the ball to signal the start of their face off, and Daiki dropped into that almost lazy defensive position he remembered from playing against Aomine. Keeping eye contact, Taiga did a crossover to the right, a crossover to the left, lunged forward, imagined the exact way this play would go--

And slid back, throwing another fadeaway three. He would never be Midorima with those high projectile shots, but he had a lot more strength in him right now than the green-haired bastard did. The ball arced over Daiki’s hand, because of course he had reacted fast enough to try and block it, and unlike the shot he’d made in the freshmen vs. seniors game, this one made a satisfying swoosh as it passed through the net.

Taiga could feel the shock radiating from the other players. Even the captain’s perpetual smile had fallen off. Daiki landed, his face blank with surprise. Satsuki, standing in the back, had a hand over her mouth. Taiga could feel the rush of adrenaline that he would always associate with facing Daiki on the court, but he pushed it back, hoping his heart wasn’t beating as loud as he felt it was.

Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed the piece of paper and key, holding it out to Daiki again. One of Daiki’s hands reached out almost aimlessly, automatically to take them.

“Nothing would ever be worth being away from you,” Taiga whispered, low enough that the words wouldn’t echo in the gym. He watched the minute widening of Daiki’s eyes before his brows furrowed again, and Taiga took that as his cue to leave. His basketball had rolled somewhere off to the sideline, but he didn’t want to fight through the tension in the gym to retrieve it. Instead, he turned around and walked out. The blond guy seemed to move to stop him, but Taiga saw the captain holding him back out of the corner of his eye.

Neither Daiki nor Satsuki called after him.

“You were wrong,” he told his father that night. They couldn’t eat together anymore, so they called each other at dinnertime instead, keeping one another on the line while Taiga ate whatever he’d made that day and his father took bites of his convenience store bento at his work desk. “He does hate me.”

“Well, you sprung a big surprise on him today. Give him time,” his father encouraged. “Are you going to see Naoya this weekend?”

“I don’t know,” Taiga admitted. “What if Daiki came home in the middle of dinner? I don’t want to invade his house after I just surprised him at school.” His fingers played with the ring around his neck. He didn’t want to see Naoya if it meant he’d have to give it back.

“You’ll let him invade yours, though? You gave him the key, right?”

“That’s different. He’s welcome here,” he said, his voice cracking on the last two words. His father kindly refrained from commenting on it. “You need to eat more than just convenience store food.”

“It’s tough not having you here,” his father whined, and they both laughed, moving on to other topics. “Let me know how the practice game goes.”

Taiga had intended to, but then the day came and while Kise met them outside the gym like he had in the last timeline, he wasn’t alone.

“Ki-chan! Tetsu-kun!”

“Momocchi!” Kise exclaimed. He sounded completely baffled, although the excitement at seeing his old schoolmate again was evident.

“Momoi-san,” Kuroko greeted, his surprise more subtle. Satsuki came over and attached herself to Kuroko’s arm, never once glancing at Taiga. He still wasn’t forgiven. Attempting to hide behind Mitobe, he glanced around to see if maybe Daiki had come with her, but no. The only one who had come with her was--

“Tōō?” Riko exclaimed. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We heard there was an interesting practice game going on!” Taiga glared at Imayoshi, wondering why he had tagged along. Maybe he had made too much of an impression, although the smiling captain also seemed to be ignoring him.

“Is Tōō so worried about Kaijō that you’re even scouting practice games?” Riko shot back. Imayoshi’s troublemaking grin sharpened into something even more ominous for a moment, but Satsuki beat him to the punch.

“I just wanted to see some of my old schoolmates play again!” Satsuki explained, as if she weren’t one of the best analysts of this generation. Taiga could see the way Riko’s eyes narrowed. Their coach didn’t buy it.

“Did Aomine-kun come with you?” Kuroko asked. Satsuki’s shoulders tensed before drooping.

“Unfortunately, no. I invited him, but he wasn’t interested,” she said.

“That sounds like Aominecchi,” Kise complained. Taiga wanted to snap at him, shout that Daiki would never turn down the chance to watch good basketball, but Kise knew him better than Taiga did now. He pressed a hand against his chest, right over where the ring was hidden by his shirt.

“The game is starting soon, right? Let’s get going!” Imayoshi said, prompting Kise into action. They were quickly led to the gym which was partitioned off as Taiga remembered. He noted that a few of the team’s regulars, including Kasamatsu, turned to watch them as they entered. Confusion flashed on the captain’s face, and he started walking over.

Riko was already greeting the coach, thanking him for the practice match. Taiga listened with half an ear as the same conversation from the last timeline played out, the coach explaining that this was hardly practice to them, and there would only be a half court to play on and second string players to face them.

Taiga put his bag to one side, resigned to tearing down another hoop, when he heard Kasamatsu ask, “What is Tōō doing here?”

“We just wanted to check in on the other members of the Generation of Miracles,” Imayoshi explained. Taiga relaxed, starting to believe they weren’t here for him. His attempt to provoke them hadn’t worked after all.

“I’m surprised you’re concerned. You have their ace on your team, don’t you?” Kasamatsu was as cunning as he was reliable. Despite no outward change to his appearance, Taiga could read the irritation in the lines of Imayoshi’s shoulders. His eyes were a lot better trained after growing up with Satsuki.

“We can’t always expect our ace to be perfect,” Imayoshi replied, his voice dropping. Taiga’s shoulders tensed, remembering the feel of the shot that Daiki had failed to block. “Still, this sounds like it’s going to be a sad game if you’re not even playing on a full court.”

Satsuki had her hands on her hips, eyes sharp. “Are you even going to let Ki-chan play? What’s the point of this game then?” Her gaze swept over the Seirin team, pausing a little longer on Taiga. “You’re giving up a good scouting opportunity.”

Kise looked shocked at the idea of not playing, whipping around to look at his coach who seemed ready to stand his ground despite Tōō’s words. Before the blond could open his mouth to object, Kasamatsu slapped a hand over it. “Coach, I believe we should suspend our other practice activities and devote our full attention to this match. Tōō is correct. We shouldn’t give up an opportunity to properly scout our opponents.”

Taiga watched in surprise as the coach relented, and they changed as the court was converted for a regular game. He glanced up at the hoop that had been spared in this timeline and only jumped a little when Kuroko slid behind him. “Was Tōō the team you declared war against, Kagami-kun?”

He turned to look at his teammate in surprise. “What makes you think that?”

“Momoi-san already has all the information she would need about Kise-kun and me,” Kuroko explained. “While we haven’t played against each other very often, there is very little to gain from watching us, especially because Kasamatsu-san is right--Aomine-kun could crush us both.”

Taiga frowned. “You’re not playing alone. Aomine can’t crush all of us.” The name sounded strange, felt uncomfortable in his mouth.

Kuroko tilted his head to the side. “He could,” he corrected. “But I appreciate that Kagami-kun is willing to lose together.” There was a hint of a smile in the curve of Kuroko’s lips. Taiga rolled his eyes at the taunt.

“I have to beat them all remember? Especially that guy,” Taiga said. “Especially after what he did to you.” He owed Daiki for that, two lifetimes over.

“Maybe you should beat Kise first before you start talking about the rest of the Miracles,” Hyuga growled from behind them. “Get ready to play!”

Riko looked thoughtful. “No, Kagami, you aren’t starting.” The entire team stared at her, surprised. Taiga stood there frozen, wondering if he had been too successful in hiding his abilities. “I’m with Kasamatsu. I don’t trust Tōō. Let’s give them Kuroko versus Kise and see if that’s what they’re really after.”

Taiga couldn’t argue with that, so he took a seat on the bench and watched out of the corner of his eye for Satsuki and Imayoshi to notice. They both startled once they saw him.

“Got you,” Riko whispered, letting him know that she had noticed too. “Kagami, what did you do?”

“I pissed off their ace,” he admitted. Realization dawned on Riko’s face.

“Why that team in particular?” she asked as the seniors and Kuroko got ready for the faceoff.

“Personal stuff,” he said, keeping his eyes on Kuroko and letting Riko infer whatever she wanted. “You’re going to want to take him out after the first quarter.”

“What? Why?” Riko asked, snapping her head around to look at him.

He suddenly remembered the revelation they’d had in the middle of the practice game. “His special trick doesn’t last forever. Also, he has terrible stamina.” Kuroko turned to stare at him just as those words were said, as if he could hear him all the way from there.

“What? How long does his misdirection last?” Riko shouted, but the whistle was being blown and the ball was in the air, drawing everyone’s attention to the court.

Taiga wasn’t surprised to see the first quarter end in a large deficit, 51-25. His seniors had played the run-and-gun style that Seirin had been known for but that Taiga and the other first years hadn’t discovered until the Winter Cup started. Kuroko fit in perfectly, but it was obvious now that Taiga had more experience that they were missing a strong center. Mitobe was trying his hardest, but Kiyoshi had been one of a kind in his versatility.

Not to mention that Kise was playing more aggressively than Taiga had ever seen him outside of the Kaijō vs. Tōō match. Taiga wondered if he was showing off for Tōō, hoping they’d tell Daiki. He executed dunks, layups, and fadeaways with excellent precision. Kuroko was good at predicting him and stealing the ball away, but his misdirection was quickly running out.

“Coach, can you put me in for Mitobe and Furihata in for Kuroko?” Taiga asked. He trusted Riko’s coaching, but he thought again about how he’d hidden his abilities from her.

“Are you sure, Kagami? You aren’t a center.” He was grateful she seemed less concerned about his performance and more about his comfort level.

“Yeah. I’m not the best center, but we need to let Hyuga-senpai and everyone shoot without worrying,” Taiga said, standing up and stretching.

“But you want to sub me in?” Furihata exclaimed.

“Yeah, you need to get used to being on the court.” He put his hand on Furihata’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, just shoot.”

Riko called for the substitution, and Taiga high-fived Mitobe and fist-bumped Kuroko as they came off the court. Kuroko was looking at him curiously, but there was a smile on his face. “I’ll see you next quarter, Kagami-kun.”

“Sounds good,” he replied, stepping into the faceoff circle against the Kaijō center. Taiga thought his name might have been Kobori.

“You’re a center?” Kobori asked, glancing between him and Kise.

“No, just a placeholder,” Taiga replied, noting how Hyuga startled out of the corner of his eye. Then the referee was tossing the ball into the air, and Taiga jumped--

“What the hell?” someone yelled as his hand touched the ball well above Kobori’s reach. He passed it to Izuki and they started their comeback.

He remembered his points race with Kise from last time, and he knew he didn’t want to repeat it. As if he were back in America experimenting with Tatsuya again, Taiga resolved to stay on the inside. He didn’t have Kiyoshi’s height or hand size, but he had better game sense and rebound form than he had in the last timeline.

Plus, he knew exactly how high he could jump now.

Swatting yet another of Kise’s dunks away from the basket, Taiga grinned at the blond who was quickly losing his composure as the gap between their scores closed. He ran back to set up their offense and watched as Furihata took another shot. While the first year was still overly cautious, his form under pressure was improving. This shot didn’t make it, but Taiga jumped above the defenders to tip it in.

Kise hadn’t budged from where he had failed his dunk.

“Get your head in the game, Kise!” Kasamatsu scolded, slapping him hard enough on the back to almost knock the blond over.

“Ah, sorry!” Kise apologized, but Taiga could smell his dissatisfaction with the situation. The rest of Kaijō’s team seemed equally shaken.

“Was Seirin this strong last year?”

“Yeah, but they had one of the Uncrowned Kings then.”

“Who’s this redhead?”

The whispers circled around them. Taiga ignored them, stretching and waiting for Kise’s next play. He was so focused on the blond that when he saw him glance up at the stands, his gaze couldn’t help but follow. There was Satsuki and Imayoshi, leaning forward in their seats, but next to them--

Daiki had shown up after all, stretched out over several seats and yawning like he was bored.

“Aominecchi,” Kise mumbled. That drew the rest of Kaijō and Seirin’s attention to their audience, and the whispers started up again, even louder than before.

“That’s Aomine Daiki!”

“What’s he doing here?”

“Tōō must really be worried.”

“About who? Kise?”

Eyes started turning towards him, and Taiga turned away from the other players, determined to get back into the flow of the game. It didn’t matter if Daiki was there. Taiga wasn’t playing for him right now.

But I am. I always am.

He clenched his teeth and wondered if Daiki was watching him. Focusing back on Kise, he chased those thoughts away. It was difficult, but Taiga needed to ignore Daiki, especially because Kise seemed unable to, a new fire in his eyes to go along with his frustration.

Taiga kept Kise in his sights as Kaijō reset the ball. Kasamatsu rushed the ball up the center, staying just slightly ahead of Hyuga. The pass to Kise was perfect, but Taiga knew that the blond had no intention of just shooting the ball. Staying close but giving Kise just a little bit of room, Taiga watched as his stance changed subtly.

Oh, is that all? He recognized it immediately and jumped, watching as Kise dodged to the right to attempt one of Daiki’s one-handed formless shots. There were dismayed cries as his team realized Taiga was still in the air and wouldn’t be able to get there in time to block.

He landed, pivoted, and quickly launched himself up again, catching the ball before it hit its peak. “What?” Kise shouted. Taiga didn’t answer, speeding back to the other side of the court. Kise was closing in, having recovered from his surprise, and instead of waiting for him to catch up, Taiga turned to face him. Kise was now standing between him and his own net.

“What are you doing, Kagami?” someone shouted, probably Hyuga. Taiga grinned before stepping into one crossover, another, another--

The sound of the ball falling through the net broke Kise’s concentration. Taiga had shot the ball from behind his back in the middle of one of the crossovers. “You’re not playing against him right now,” he told Kise, face grim. “Show off some other time.”

The buzzer sounded to announce the end of the first half. They had caught up 55-55 with that last shot. The gym was almost frighteningly silent, the players weren’t moving, and the crowd had long stopped cheering. Everyone was just staring, and Kise looked horrified. Taiga tried not to be vindictive in his satisfaction, especially as he knew Kise would grow into a great player, but the sting of Daiki’s rejection was still recent. Despite the extra years he’d lived, he was as hot-headed as ever.

Walking off the court, Taiga was determined to ignore everyone when he felt something hit the side of his head. “What?” he yelped, looking over to see that Kuroko had slung his sweatband at him. In response, Kuroko looked over to the stands, and Taiga reluctantly turned to follow his gaze.

Satsuki and Imayoshi still looked shocked, and Daiki--

Daiki didn’t look bored anymore. He was standing up, mouth open and eyes soft. If he were anyone else, Taiga would say he looked amazed.

“It’s not a smile,” Kuroko said, “but it’s a lot better than the other expressions I’ve seen.”

“We’ll get there,” Taiga said. If Kuroko wondered why Taiga was so interested in turning his goals into their goals, he didn’t comment on it. “You’re coming in for the third quarter, right? Want to try shooting?”

Kuroko straightened in alarm. “I know that you’ve been practicing with me, but I don’t feel that my skills have progressed to the point where I should try to shoot in a real game.”

“Luckily, this is a practice match,” Taiga said, smiling. “Let’s talk to the team about it.”

Play restarted, but Kaijō never regained their footing. Kise wavered between being too conservative and too rash, which Kasamatsu eventually shut down. He was still benched for most of the fourth quarter. Kuroko only made two shots out of the ten he tried, drawing cheers from their bench and Satsuki each time.

They won by a better margin than the other timeline’s practice game. Taiga only let himself look up at the stands again once the buzzer sounded. Daiki had disappeared, and Satsuki and the Tōō captain looked like they were on their way out too. Retreating to the locker room to shower and change, Taiga drowned out his disappointment by listening to the enthusiasm of his teammates. The brief contentment ended when Hyuga suddenly slammed the locker next to him. “Senpai?” he asked.

“What did you mean you’re a placeholder?” Hyuga asked, his anger cutting through everyone else’s excitement. “Do you know?”

“I looked at last year’s games,” Taiga admitted. It wasn’t a complete lie. He really had looked up Seirin’s prior roster and the results of the game they played. Kiyoshi’s numbers were even more amazing than he’d thought. “I would like to hear more about him, but I understand if it’s a difficult subject.”

The first years looked at each other, trying to figure out who Taiga was referring to. The seniors refused to make eye contact. Riko was the one who finally said, “You should tell them.”

“Get out of the men’s locker room!”

They spent the rest of the afternoon talking about Kiyoshi. Glad to finally have the full story, Taiga asked if he could visit the injured player at some point. Hyuga looked suspicious but promised to ask Kiyoshi if he felt up to having visitors.

He ate a late lunch with Kuroko before they split ways. While the game hadn’t been as physically taxing as the practices Alex had put him through near the end of his training, Taiga still felt exhausted. Seeing Daiki there, feeling stupidly hopeful only to then have those hopes dashed left him emotionally drained. He sent a text message to Naoya that he wouldn’t make it for dinner after all, apologizing for canceling at the last minute. Naoya sent him a reply that Torahiko had warned him that might happen, and that they both wanted him to take good care of himself.

It was like he had two parents after all, he thought, smiling.

His apartment felt unnaturally empty. He’d never liked living alone, but he felt like he had tolerated it better in the last timeline. Maybe because his dad had always been at work anyway, and while he’d had friends, none of them had ever been as present as Daiki. It felt wrong to be alone in Japan, an entire past life of habits and fortitude undone by one boy.

Too tired to open the blinds, Taiga dropped his duffel bag in the laundry room before collapsing on his bed. He fell asleep fully dressed, sprawled out on top of his covers.

--

Sometimes, Taiga dreamt of the lives he could have lived. Ones where he’d never left Japan and ones where he’d never came back. There were the lives where he never met Aomine, never met Daiki, and did not know to miss him. In some of them, Kuroko didn’t play or maybe had never played basketball. There was one where he hadn’t met any of the Generation of Miracles until they were all in the NBA together.

Aomine had been his teammate. It had been horrible.

Still, the dreams where they were at each other’s throats were better than the ones where he didn’t have Daiki at all, and the best dreams were the ones that felt like this. Waking up in someone’s arms, the covers pulled over their heads, legs tangled together without any rush of pulling apart.

Taiga clenched his eyes shut against the reality of waking, burying himself deeper under the covers, snuggling against the warmth of another body.

His eyes flew open as he shot up in bed. He was still in his Seirin jacket, but there were blankets tangled around his legs and an arm wrapped around his waist. The blinds were closed, but he remembered this feeling of belonging next to this person, the insistence that he not leave. He didn’t have to look to know it was Daiki.

“You used the key after all?” he mouthed, scared that even a whisper would wake him up. He couldn’t resist running a hand through his hair, charmed by how Daiki looked with his mouth slightly open while sleeping.

He wanted to stay there until Daiki woke up, but judging by the daylight peeking through his blinds, he had slept through the evening and night. More importantly, he had slept through dinner, and his stomach was prepared to audibly complain. Slowly lifting Daiki’s arm from around his waist, Taiga moved to slip out of bed, only for the wrist he was holding to slide until their hands were entwined.

Daiki tugged, and Taiga had to react quickly not to fall back on top of him. He glanced at the other, panicked, but Daiki was still sleeping. It had just been an action he’d done in his sleep, a reflex he hadn’t even had to think about.

The thought had Taiga’s hand tightening before he could think about it, but Daiki wasn’t objecting. If anything, his sleeping form seemed content, pulling at Taiga’s hand until it was cradled against his chest. It was so heartwarming it almost distracted from the fact that Daiki was shirtless.

Why are you shirtless? Taiga wondered, gently pulling his hand away. He looked around his room but it was tidy as ever, no clothes strewn about. On the way to the kitchen, he poked his head into the laundry room. The contents of his duffel bag were gone.

He walked to the kitchen, peeking out at the balcony. His clothes had already been hung up to dry, along with a shirt and sweatpants that definitely weren’t his. Taiga didn’t know whether to feel touched that Daiki was still willing to do household chores for him or embarrassed that he had done them while Taiga was passed out. He figured that either way, Daiki deserved a reward, so he grabbed all the ingredients he needed out of his fridge and started cooking.

Somewhere in the middle of making a hollandaise sauce from scratch, Taiga stopped to wonder what he was doing. There was no way things would be this easy. He couldn’t imagine what Daiki had expected to happen in the morning. Were they going to talk? Taiga poached the eggs and refused to think about it. There was no predicting Aomine Daiki.

As if he had a sixth sense for when breakfast was ready, Daiki walked out of the bedroom just as Taiga was plating the eggs benedict. He was wearing a pair of Taiga’s basketball shorts and a hoodie he must have grabbed from the closet. There was no greeting, no mumbled apologies about taking his clothes. Daiki just sat down at the table and waited for Taiga to serve him.

And like the coward he was, Taiga did. He sat down next to Daiki, and the two of them ate in complete silence. Taiga would glance over at his unexpected house guest, but the other wouldn’t look up from his plate. He watched the food slowly be consumed, the plate emptying almost too quickly, and then Daiki was up and putting his plate in the sink.

“I’ll wash it later,” Taiga said, the first to break their silence. There was a twitch of Daiki’s shoulders, but he left the plate and utensils alone. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, maybe just to call the other’s name.

But Daiki was already walking to the door, sliding on his shoes, getting ready to leave.

“Bye,” Taiga whispered, the hope and warmth of this morning freezing over and cracking off piece by piece. There was no acknowledgement from Daiki, just the sound of the door opening and closing.

He still had five servings of eggs benedict left and more hollandaise sauce than he knew what to do with. Daiki’s clothes were still drying on his balcony.

“What the hell,” Taiga mumbled, slumping back in his seat. He cleaned up and afterward, unable to hide his worry, searched all over his apartment. There was no sign of the key he’d given Daiki. The other hadn’t come over just to leave it behind.

Wanting to be productive, he sent Naoya a text message offering to have dinner with him that night. He could make dumplings and Naoya could come over to his apartment, just to make sure they didn’t run into Daiki.

Instead of the usual text reply, his phone rang. “Hey,” Naoya said. Taiga had to sit down. He hadn’t heard Naoya’s voice since he’d come back, always defaulting to just sending text messages. It still scared him how much Naoya sounded like Aomine, in a world where he was happy enough to be kind. “You should come over here, Taiga.”

“What about Daiki?” he asked, trying to stop his heart from speeding up. He’d had enough of false hope for one day.

“Daiki either gets back really late at night or doesn’t sleep here at all,” Naoya admitted. He sounded worried underneath the fatigue, resigned underneath the concern. “I’ve tried getting him to tell me where he is, but usually I have to depend on Satsuki’s reports.”

“Where does he usually stay?” Taiga asked, rubbing his chest to try and ease the sudden stab of pain. He didn’t want to think that Daiki just randomly slept over at people’s houses, that Taiga’s apartment offered nothing more than a convenient bed.

“Mostly at Satsuki’s,” Naoya admitted. “The vast majority of the time he comes home, which is why I haven’t called my coworkers on him yet. He just comes home late. It’s why he sleeps so much at school. He can’t seem to sleep at home.”

Taiga frowned. Daiki had seemed pretty peaceful this morning. He wondered what it was about being home that made it so difficult to sleep. Was it Naoya’s absence when he had a week of night shifts? Maybe he just stayed up for nights on end and then crashed, and that was why he’d fallen asleep next to Taiga.

“He didn’t come home last night, so he’ll probably be back today. Still, it’ll be late.” Naoya’s voice was full of self-deprecation, the desperation of a parent who wanted to help his child but couldn’t even talk to him.

He should tell Naoya that Daiki had stayed with him, put his mind at ease. Taiga opened his mouth but the words got stuck in his throat, choked by the memory of Daiki not talking to him or looking at him that morning.

It had been a mistake. Daiki wouldn’t come back.

He was probably just keeping the key to throw in Taiga’s face when he beat him.

“I’ll make the gyoza ahead of time and bring it over to cook then,” Taiga said instead. That seemed to bring life back into Naoya’s voice, and they talked a little more before Taiga hung up.

He kept busy the rest of the day with making gyoza, hundreds for both him and Naoya to keep in the freezer. Somewhere in the middle of making the accompanying dipping sauce, he let himself hope enough to fry a number of them, ostensibly for tasting purposes. He tried a few, deemed them worthy of serving, and left the rest on a plate with a bowl of dipping sauce, carefully wrapped before he left for Naoya’s.

The Aomine house wasn’t in walking distance anymore. Taiga ignored the strange looks he received for carrying a box full of tupperware and navigated the train system to their old neighborhood. He couldn’t help but slow down, remembering the street court where they had met and the route they had always taken to each others’ houses. Taiga was so lost in thought that he didn’t think about how awkward it was to see Satsuki’s house next to his destination and know that he wasn’t welcomed there.

He was so lost in thought, the sight of Naoya surprised him. He’s still hot, he thought and then wondered why he was surprised. There were more lines on his face and Taiga could see the toll Daiki’s changes had wreaked on his father by the fatigued slant of his shoulders, but Naoya was as undeniably handsome as he had been in the past. He also brightened at the sight of Taiga, making him even more nostalgic for the good memories they had shared.

“You’re so grown up now!” Naoya exclaimed, pulling the cardboard box away to set down so he could wrap Taiga into a hug. “Wow, you look so much like Torahiko.”

Taiga gave him a crooked grin. “I know I’m not the Kagami you really want to see.”

It was even harder to see a blush on Naoya’s complexion, but there was no mistaking the pout that the Aomine men both made when they were teased. “I love you and your father equally, Taiga.” They laughed, and Naoya insisted on being the one to carry the box into the kitchen. “Isn’t this a bit much for one meal?” he asked.

“I figured you--and Daiki--could use some leftovers,” he said, hesitating at the thought of the other teen.

“I’m sorry, Taiga,” Naoya said, settling against the counter as Taiga prepared to fry the dumplings. Everything was still exactly where it had been when they were children, he realized.

“It’s not your fault. Thanks for helping me get him to the gym,” Taiga said. It was strange that he’d been scheming with Naoya before even seeing the man again. They were both too focused on Daiki.

“Isn’t it?” Naoya asked, as if to provide further proof. “I never should have let him go to that school. I thought it would be nice if he could make other friends who played basketball, but--”

“He never made friends,” Taiga said, watching Naoya’s shoulders slump again.

“No, not really,” he agreed. “Satsuki mentioned something about someone named Tetsu once or twice? But Daiki never brought him home to meet me. I think he’d already started hating the house at that point.”

Taiga’s eyebrows furrowed, looking away from the pan briefly to look at Naoya. “Why? What happened between you two after we left?”

Naoya looked at him, eyebrows raised in surprise. “What happened? Taiga, you left.” His hand clenched so tightly around the handle of the pan that it shook. “That’s not an accusation. It’s just fact. He did okay at first, seemed to like his teammates. I was on high alert when you guys first left, but he looked okay once middle school started. I let my guard down. Didn’t notice until it was too late that things were changing.”

“You went to his games? Did you meet his teammates?” Taiga asked, unable to hold back his curiosity. He would never know what the Generation of Miracles had been like in middle school. He’d heard stories, had written to Daiki, but he would never get to play against them when they were all united and in their prime.

“I saw them, but I never met them. I tried getting him to introduce me to them or invite them over, but he’d say they were too lazy or too stuck up or too scary. I even asked about the ‘Tetsu’ that Satsuki talked about, but Daiki just shrugged it all off. None of them were you.” Taiga looked up in surprise to see a soft smile on Naoya’s face. “It’s strange. I knew exactly how he felt. Everyone used to ask me why I didn’t date after Daiki’s mother passed away, and I could never get them to understand that no one would ever be her. I think that understanding stopped me from pushing the way I should have.”

He almost choked at the comparison, busying himself with finishing up the last of the dumplings so he wouldn’t have to show Naoya his face. Reaching for the plates startled Naoya into action, and they set the table in silence, sitting down together but lost in their separate thoughts.

“When we found out you wouldn’t be coming back when we thought,” Naoya started, breaking the silence, “I went on high alert again.”

Taiga’s chewing slowed then stopped, his chopsticks held limply in his hand as he waited for the other man to continue.

“Things didn’t change right away. He was sad, but I thought he was still himself,” Naoya continued. “Then I came home one day and he had thrown all of his NBA magazines out. I never saw him wear your key again.”

Looking down at the ring he always wore, Taiga forced himself to ask, “Do you want the ring back? I--didn’t have a chance to ask Daiki.” He hadn’t wanted to ask Daiki.

Naoya shot him a wry smile, only slightly pulled down in the corners by the weight of his sorrow. “That’s not my decision to make, Taiga.”

They spent the rest of dinner talking around their sadness, and Naoya cleaned up afterward as Taiga dialed his father. “I miss your food,” his dad said as soon as Taiga explained where he was and why.

“You say that like you’re in the middle of a wasteland,” Taiga teased him, leaning against the counter next to Naoya. “I’m putting you on speakerphone.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” his dad groaned, his voice echoing off the kitchen walls. “Naoya does. He knows the pain of always eating out.”

“I do,” Naoya agreed, “which is why I’m going to hog all of the dumplings to myself.”

They caught up while Taiga watched the clock, ignoring the speculations about Daiki’s sudden love for gravure magazines in favor of watching the hour get later and later. “He’ll be home soon, won’t he?” he asked once his anxiety outweighed his patience. He bit his tongue at the realization he was interrupting a happy conversation.

Naoya’s face instantly flattened out to one of brittle reassurance. “Probably. You should go home, Taiga. You have school tomorrow, don’t you?”

“I’ll stay on the line,” his father said, as if he were there and knew the face Naoya was making.

“Good night then,” Taiga said, words pulled out of him. He wanted to stay, to wait for Daiki in his futon the way he’d surprised Taiga in his bed. In the end, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. They weren’t there yet, so he hugged Naoya and left.

He caught the last train before they shut down for the night and walked back to his apartment worried. Was Daiki at Satsuki’s since he wasn’t at the station? Was he stranded somewhere else? Taiga opened the door to his apartment, mind running through the different possibilities the way his dreams cycled through lives.

About to turn on the light, he froze. He could hear someone breathing.

Guided by the warm light that hung outside his front door, he approached the much too small loveseat and crouched down to look at Daiki’s peacefully sleeping face. How he could be comfortable with his legs hanging over the side, Taiga had no idea. He was wearing a different set of Taiga’s clothes, and Taiga thought about whether Daiki had brought back the other ones he borrowed to avoid thinking about why Daiki was there at all.

After a few minutes of staring, he eventually worked up the courage to nudge the other teen with his foot. “There are beds,” he said in response to Daiki’s grunt. There was another mumble of acknowledgement as Daiki pulled himself up. His eyes were still glassy with sleep as he looked at Taiga, and he seemed to pause just to stare. Taiga held his breath, but there was no verbal response. Daiki just nodded before getting up and plodding half asleep toward Taiga’s bedroom.

He waited until he heard the sound of the bedroom door swinging closed but not shut before he turned the lights on. His kitchen table was empty, the plate and sauce dish cleaned and left to dry on the rack.

Confusion warred with relief until Taiga finally gave up on thinking about it. He showered, brushed his teeth, and pushed open the door to his bedroom. Daiki was already asleep, curled up on half of the bed. Taiga watched him as he toweled his hair dry. He got the feeling he wouldn’t have the chance tomorrow morning.

Getting up to toss the towel in the hamper and turn off the lights, Taiga couldn’t help but pause and check inside his closet. Hanging there was the Tōō uniform. Daiki had remembered.

“Good night, you confusing bastard,” Taiga mumbled at Daiki’s back after getting in bed. He held back from wrapping himself around Daiki, sleeping as close as possible like they had used to. But they weren’t there yet, he reminded himself, so he fell asleep trying to ignore how a few inches of distance between them felt like a wall he still couldn’t jump high enough to get over.

--

“Thank you for coming all this way!”

Taiga bowed awkwardly to Kiyoshi’s elderly grandmother, who had brought them tea. While he had been looking forward to seeing his senior again, he had expected it to be in a hospital room, not at Kiyoshi’s house. Luckily, his grandmother and grandfather seemed a relaxed sort, happy to see their grandson’s friends and not at all perturbed by Taiga’s still pitiful keigo or Kuroko’s nonpresence. Honestly, Taiga figured they were used to forgetting that people were there, because Kuroko hadn’t managed to get a reaction out of them once.

“Hyuga-senpai asked that we come by,” Kuroko explained, sipping on the tea Kiyoshi’s grandmother had kindly brought them. He hadn’t really asked so much as thrown the address at them and commanded that they go there after practice. Taiga hadn’t realized until they’d seen the nameplate where they were, and now he was stuck feeling awkward meeting someone he knew too much about.

Then again, that hadn’t been new since he’d first woken up six years too early.

“Yeah, I asked him to,” Kiyoshi said, shyly rubbing the back of his neck. Taiga knew him better than to believe that. Hyuga had been right. Kiyoshi was the scheming sort, even if he never managed to keep his secrets for long. “I was so excited when I heard about our talented new first years! I thought about asking all of you to come here, but Hyuga told me that was probably too much.”

“So you asked for me and Kuroko specifically?” Taiga asked, finally taking a drink of his own tea.

“You two stand out,” Kiyoshi confirmed. “Besides, you’re the one who already knew about me, right?”

Right. Taiga nodded, feeling that awkwardness weigh on him again. While he did certainly have unfair knowledge of everyone, Kiyoshi was the only one he’d bothered to look up.

“I remember you from your games against Teikō,” Kuroko offered, which distracted Taiga. He hadn’t heard much from Kuroko regarding Kiyoshi in the last timeline.

“Ah, of course! I’m embarrassed to have that be your only impression of me. We never did win a game against you,” Kiyoshi said, good-natured as always.

“I don’t think that’s embarrassing, especially since no other team ever did either,” Kuroko stated, blunt as ever. Taiga rubbed his hand over his face. He didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing to be stuck with the two most consistent people he’d ever met.

“That’s true,” Kiyoshi agreed. “It’s still a sore spot with a lot of us. I was so excited to hear that you guys beat Kaijō! Even if it was a practice match, it meant a lot to me, and I’m sure it meant a lot to Hyuga and the other seniors too.”

Taiga could feel Kuroko’s eyes on him. “It was a very interesting match,” he said.

Kiyoshi turned to look at him too. “Yes, both Riko and Hyuga told me about that shot.”

He tugged at his shirt collar, refusing to look Kuroko and Kiyoshi in the eyes. “I just got lucky,” he blustered. In truth, he had gotten angry, and if he were really being honest with himself, jealous. Not that there was any way for Kise to have known the connection between him and Daiki, but Taiga knew about their interactions.

It had pissed him off. In fact, it was still bothering him, but that might have been the leftover sting from waking up that morning to realize Daiki had snuck away again.

“Well, I hope you keep getting lucky,” Kiyoshi said, apparently willing to take Taiga’s obvious lies at face value. “I mostly asked you here to cheer you guys on. I’m not sure I can explain how important the Interhigh is to all of us seniors.”

Taiga forced himself not to look down. Kiyoshi’s knee was hidden by the low table they sat at, but he didn’t want to draw any attention to it. Since Kiyoshi knew that Taiga had looked him up, then he knew that Taiga was aware of his injury and the game against Kirisaki Dai Ichi that had caused it. What he didn’t know, couldn’t know, was the extent of Taiga’s knowledge about his prognosis. He knew how much the Interhigh, the Winter Cup, this entire basketball season meant to their seniors, but he wasn’t supposed to.

“Mostly?” Kuroko asked, drawing Taiga out of his thoughts.

“Ah, yes. The other reason is that I wanted to ask you guys why you were aiming for the Generation of Miracles,” Kiyoshi said. He held his hands up in a pacifying gesture. “It’s not that I want to discern your commitment the way Riko did, and I understand you guys would have to go through them to win anyway, but from what they told me… It seemed personal.”

“I’m doing it for a friend,” Kuroko said after a moment of silence. Taiga’s eyebrows raised as he looked over to the other boy. He hadn’t heard that before. Then again, he realized with a wince, he’d never asked Kuroko. He’d always assumed it was just out of disagreement. “They did something terrible to him, and he stopped playing basketball because of it.”

There was definitely more to that story. Despite Kuroko having told Taiga everything he knew about the Generation of Miracles, he still had no idea what friend he meant. It couldn’t have been Daiki, since he was still playing basketball if only a parody of the way he could play. Taiga knew about the promise the Generation had made to each other, Kuroko had told him that much, but that had never seemed to be a major motivator.

Kuroko didn’t mention it at least. “I also think they’re playing basketball for the wrong reasons,” he said instead, which was a reason Taiga was used to hearing.

Kiyoshi seemed to think it made sense too, as he nodded his head in understanding. “A lot of people quit basketball because of them,” he said, and Taiga had to tilt his head and wonder, because that sounded personal. “Work hard and hopefully they’ll come back and play again.”

Kuroko nodded before turning to Taiga, and he realized the attention was back on him. “I’m interested to hear Kagami-kun’s explanation.”

He remembered with a jolt that he’d told Kuroko a similar story. Taiga also had a friend that Teikō had destroyed. Kuroko hadn’t dug for more information than that at the time, but maybe his curiosity had gotten the better of him now, especially after Tōō had shown up at their practice game. The other was too smart to believe that it had been for Kise.

“I have to admit that I’m curious too. You only just came back to Japan, right? How do you even know about the Generation of Miracles?” Kiyoshi asked, eyebrows scrunched together.

“I also have a friend who was hurt by the way the Generation of Miracles played,” he admitted slowly, enunciating each word to buy himself more time to think. He wasn’t ready to talk about this fully, not after waking up pushed to one side of the bed, the other half empty but still warm. “He’s still playing, but he’s not himself anymore. Not on or off the court.”

“You want to show him he’s wrong?” Kiyoshi asked, face stern. He wasn’t sure if that was concern or disapproval in the lines of his face.

“I don’t think he’s wrong,” Taiga said. “Just sad. I think he’s forgotten what it’s like to have fun playing basketball.”

He looked at Kuroko who had been so adamant that winning meant nothing without being happy, without the joy of your fellow teammates. Taiga would probably have forgotten without him. Looking back at Kiyoshi, he corrected himself, without them. His team would never have left him to think he was a monster, to imagine it was some great compliment.

“I just want to play with him again,” he admitted, voice quiet with guilt. He remembered when he first woke up thinking this second chance was for Tatsuya or his dad or Kuroko, when the common denominator was really him. Getting to know Daiki had been a gift, and despite the noble things he might have said or thought, the truth was Taiga just wanted his friend back.

“Kagami-kun is as simple as he looks,” Kuroko said, and it might have been an insult except for the way the boy was smiling.

“Yes, you’re just like Riko described,” Kiyoshi agreed, also grinning. Taiga stared at them reproachfully. “Oh! No, it’s a good thing. You’re facing incredibly difficult opponents because you think basketball is fun and you want to play with your friend. What pure-hearted motivations!”

He laughed as if things were going according to plan, and Taiga flinched, worried about what the other boy was scheming.

“I’m excited! I know you guys will go far, and I promise to meet you there,” Kiyoshi said. He was running his hand over his knee, eyes slightly distant. “I’m sorry I can’t join you yet.”

Kiyoshi slid back from the table and to both Taiga and Kuroko’s surprise, suddenly dropped into a low kneeling bow. “Kiyoshi-senpai--” Taiga exclaimed.

“Please! We made a promise to each other as a team. I know Hyuga will say the responsibility is on him, but please, in my place, play for me and this promise.” Kiyoshi kept his head down the entire time he spoke, forehead against the floor. “I also want to play basketball with my friends.”

Taiga turned to Kuroko just as the other was moving to look at him. They were still in sync, and neither of them had to speak to know what the other would say. “We’re part of the team too, Kiyoshi-senpai,” Kuroko said, surprising Kiyoshi enough for the other to lift his head. “Your promise is our promise too.”

The smile on Kiyoshi’s face was amazing, another gift this lifetime had given Taiga. “Thank you!”

“Will you come meet the rest of the team?” Taiga asked. “When you aren’t at physical therapy, can you come to our games?”

Now that he’d seen the team with Kiyoshi, he realized how cruel it was for the senior to stay away. Without him, their basketball team functioned, but they weren’t really Seirin. The freshmen deserved to have his guidance no matter how odd, and most of all, their seniors needed their friend.

Kiyoshi looked out the window at their small backyard, smiling as he came to the same conclusion. “You know, I always thought I’d be too sad to watch a Seirin game I couldn’t play in. Or to be more honest, I was afraid I’d see my friends playing and want to run out there and play with them, ruining all my hard work.” His hand was kneading his knee again. “But I guess different paths don’t have to mean distant paths.”

Taiga didn’t know whether to be awed or embarrassed by that attempt at wordplay. He sipped his tea to avoid having to react, letting Kuroko handle Kiyoshi. The other boy was far more experienced when it came to wrangling overly large idiots.

He almost dropped his teacup. “Are you okay, Kagami-kun?” Kuroko asked, fluidly breaking away from his blunt but polite scolding of Kiyoshi.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Taiga apologized. “Hey, can we stop at Maji for dinner?”

Kuroko looked unimpressed, but there was a definite hint of suspicion there. “Of course,” he said. They made Kiyoshi promise to be at practice the next day so that he could meet the other freshmen before saying goodbye to him and his grandparents. Taiga just bowed while Kuroko actually said the goodbyes. His friend was also far better at keigo.

“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you yet?” Kuroko asked, halfway through his vanilla shake. Taiga cleared his throat and tried not to choke on his burger. He could just imagine his future death at the hands of Kuroko’s timing.

Still, he set down his food, cleared his throat, and tried to prepare himself for Kuroko’s reaction. “The… friend I told Kiyoshi-senpai about. It’s--”

“Aomine-kun,” Kuroko said, slurping the final remains of his vanilla shake.

“Yeah, exactly--wait, what?”

Kuroko had never looked so unimpressed. “I was wondering when you’d tell me, Kagami-kun.” He winced, prepared for the other boy to scold him, but all Kuroko did was smile. “It’s okay. I was there when Aomine-kun… lost hope. He could never bring himself to talk about you after that. I understand if it’s the same for you.”

Taiga fidgeted in place. “It’s… complicated.” While he had been willing to admit some things, he still didn’t think it was a good idea to talk about past lives and future knowledge. Not to mention he couldn’t imagine justifying all of the decisions he’d made with his second chance. “Uh. How did you know?” he asked, trying to redirect the conversation.

Kuroko’s face flattened out again. “Don’t be insulting, Kagami-kun.” He spluttered. “You went to Tōō and did something that scared Imayoshi-san into watching our practice game. More importantly, you caught Momoi-san and Aomine-kun’s interests. The one person who Momoi-san worries about the most and the only one Aomine-kun insists he cares about… is himself.”

He put down his shake and gestured to Taiga to continue eating. Picking up his burger again, he took a large bite, lost in thought. “Did he ever talk about me?” he couldn’t help but wonder out loud.

“All the time,” Kuroko said, matter of fact as always. The blunt words caused something in his chest to tighten. “He never said your name or gave us any description. It was like a kid hogging a toy all to themselves but also wanting everyone to know he had it.”

That was painfully accurate, Taiga thought.

“Kise-kun was probably the one who wanted to know the most.” He found himself the target of a scolding look. “Aomine-kun never told him. Honestly, you’re just as immature as him.”

“Hey, Kise was being disrespectful trying to show me up with one of Daiki’s moves!” Taiga objected, mouth still full. He slammed his fist on the table in righteous indignation. “As if he were the only person to ever play against him! He needed to be put in his place.”

He refocused on Kuroko after a beat of silence and froze at the shine of awe in Kuroko’s eyes. “You call him by his first name,” he said. “Okay, I retract my statement, Kagami-kun.”

Damn right, he thought.

“Clearly, I underestimated the depth of your feelings for each other.” Taiga flinched.

“Maybe don’t say it like that,” he mumbled, the thought of his unrequited crush making even Maji’s burgers taste bad. “Hey, can you tell me about your friend? Now that I’ve… needlessly confessed.”

“Of course,” Kuroko said, the corners of his lips lifting again.

That night, when they parted with another bump of their fists, Taiga felt oddly settled. It was like going back in time had made him a piece that someone had carelessly dumped in his place. Talking to Kuroko nudged him so that he fit again, and Taiga walked home feeling hopeful for the first time since he’d found Daiki in his bed.

Then he came home to Daiki actually in his bed again, already fast asleep, and the memories of him leaving in the morning without a word were too much. Taiga didn’t want to sleep if an empty bed was the only thing he’d wake up to, so he left the room for the refuge of his kitchen.

He could make lunch for them tomorrow. Taiga had started buying banana milk he’d never drink, but it would be a good accompaniment for Daiki’s bento. After that, he would do the laundry, maybe iron Daiki’s uniform because it always seemed wrinkled, even when it was hanging in Taiga’s closet--

Leaning down to rest his forehead against the edge of the countertop, Taiga tried to cry as quietly as he could.

--

“Here,” Taiga said, pushing the bento and banana milk at Daiki. They had already eaten breakfast, and Daiki was in his school uniform and ready to leave. He hadn’t said anything this morning either. “I hope you told your dad that you’ve been sleeping over here, because he’s probably about to call the cops on your ass if you haven’t, and because I’m going to tell him today even if you don’t.”

Daiki was just staring oddly at the carton of banana milk in his hand.

“There are more in the fridge for whenever you come over. Help yourself,” Taiga said, leaning against the wall. He felt too exhausted, physically and emotionally, to support his own weight.

It must have showed, because when Daiki looked up at him again, his eyes widened. Taking in the bags under Taiga’s still swollen eyes, working out why the other side of the bed had been cold that morning, Daiki opened his mouth--

Taiga shut it for him before he could say anything. “As much as I’d like to hear your voice again, I’m too tired to have this talk now. If you still want to have it later, I’ll see you at dinner.” Daiki’s brow furrowed, and Taiga thought it was ridiculous that after so many years apart, he still knew what his worried expression looked like. “I’m going to call in sick today.”

There was a jerky nod and then a rush of movement. Taiga blamed his fatigue for not reacting in time, but he had no excuse for why he leaned into the large hand that was on his forehead, checking his temperature.

“I’m not actually sick, idiot,” he said, words fond but running together.

His memories were a bit patchy after that, but he thought he could remember Daiki marching him back to his bed and tucking him in. He eventually woke up to some Tylenol and a glass of water on his nightstand. Stretching and dragging himself out of bed to fulfill the demands of his stomach, Taiga grabbed his cellphone along the way.

The amount of unread text messages woke him up fast.

Aomine-kun told me that you’re sick, read one of Kuroko’s. Taiga could feel the judgment radiating through the screen. He was glad he told Kuroko before Daiki did something insane like text Kuroko about him in a way that clearly showed how close they were.

I told the team you were sick but would probably be okay for practice tomorrow, Kuroko had sent after. Let me know if you aren’t.

There were a few texts in between of his teammates wishing him well. One from Hyuga that was a begrudging thanks, and another from Kiyoshi that was just a photo of him at Seirin’s practice. Taiga couldn’t help but smile. At least one thing had gone well.

Then he realized Kuroko had sent him another text after that last one. Although now that he’s texted me first, that means I can just ask Aomine-kun about you, right?

He groaned, dropping his head for it to rest on the table. His stomach growled again, and while the threat of Kuroko holding this over his head for the rest of his high school career loomed over him, Taiga had priorities. He pulled his bento over and started eating, figuring he could leave the rest of the texts for later.

He was wrong.

“I sent you a text to let you know I was coming,” Satsuki said, frowning in disapproval at his baffled expression. He knew better than to try and deny her, especially when it was his fault that he was caught by surprise, so he shuffled to the side to let her in. “Are you actually sick?”

“Daiki told you?” he asked, shocked.

“No, Tetsu-kun did.” Taiga knew that look on Satsuki’s face. He’d always felt bad for how often him and Daiki brought it out. “So, Dai-chan has been sleeping over here. You should tell Uncle Naoya. He came over in a panic last night.”

Taiga awkwardly served her tea as they settled at the squat coffee table that Taiga used for everything. “I told Daiki to do it, but I’ll call him today anyway.” He winced as he remembered how Naoya had looked when they’d talked about how Daiki wouldn’t come home for the night. “I didn’t tell him right away because I thought it was a fluke.”

Satsuki hummed in a way that suggested Taiga should have known better. He flinched again.

“I’m surprised we didn’t get a visit from the cops last night if Aomine-san was that worried.” He ran a hand through his hair and fumbled for his cellphone. It would be rude to call while Satsuki was here, but he placed it on the table in front of him as a reminder to do it as soon as she left.

“You have me to thank for that. I told him that he was probably over at your place,” she said, taking a sip of her tea.

Taiga stopped in his fidgeting to stare at her. Satsuki never said things she wasn’t certain of so… “How did you know?”

Her sharp eyes narrowed on him, clashing with her indignant pout. “Really, it’s like you’ve forgotten I’ve known him longer than you have!” Taiga held up his hands sheepishly, but fortunately, Satsuki deflated, leaning forward to rest her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. “He’s looked well-rested the past few days. Even the teachers are noticing that he’s showing up to every single morning class on time and hasn’t fallen asleep once. I think some of them had forgotten he was in their class.”

He frowned, thinking over the implications. “I thought Daiki was just naturally sleepy.” He remembered that Aomine had a habit of skipping class to nap in his previous life too, not to mention that he’d overslept and hadn’t been at their game on time. “Why would that have anything to do with me?”

“Well, he hasn’t slept well since you left,” Satsuki said. “And maybe some of that is because you weren’t there, but at least part of it is because he’s… sad. Depressed.”

“Depressed…” Taiga mumbled, thinking about Aomine rather than Daiki. At first glance, the other boy had just seemed off-putting, cruel. He’d seen Aomine play against Kise, though. He knew that underneath the lazy drawl and terrifying presence, there was enthusiasm and life. At least, that was what should have been there.

“My theory was confirmed when he showed up today in a perfectly ironed uniform and ate his own bento without stealing any of Sakurai-kun’s food,” Satsuki added on, breaking Taiga out of his thoughts. “You always were such a househusband, Kagamin.”

Taiga blushed, taking long gulps of his tea to try to hide it. “I couldn’t sleep yesterday and I figured he wasn’t taking care of himself so--Kagamin?” He froze, hand still wrapped tight around his mug.

Satsuki stared at him for a moment before breaking into a smile. A smile he hadn’t seen in years, had been afraid he’d never see again. “I know I was cruel, but Dai-chan became…” She paused, chewing her bottom lip. “But it wasn’t really your fault. I wouldn’t have forgiven you even then, but you came back. You went right to him.”

She reached a hand out and Taiga quickly took it in his own.

“Was he the reason you couldn’t sleep last night?” She still knew him way too well, he thought, looking away to try and avoid the question. “No matter what he says or does, Kagamin, you just need to remember that Dai-chan is an idiot. But he loves you. Maybe more than he loves basketball.”

“That’s a bold statement to make about Aomine Daiki,” he tried to joke. “But you are the person who knows him the best.” Satsuki smiled, squeezing his hand softly, encouragingly.

“Is he coming over soon?” she asked, looking at the clock. Taiga glanced at it himself. Basketball practice would be ending soon, but Daiki usually didn’t come by until dinnertime or later. “I guess that gives you a chance to call Uncle Naoya.”

She stood up, gathered her bag, and walked over to the door. He saw her off after she promised to keep in touch. Looking at the clock again, Taiga realized it was probably a good idea to start dinner, so he called Naoya while surveying his refrigerator for meal ideas.

“Taiga-kun.” Naoya sounded like he’d expected him. “You don’t have to say anything. Daiki… texted me.”

“Was it a helpful text?” Taiga asked, grabbing everything he’d need for a traditional Japanese meal. He needed to overdose on comfort now if he hoped to make it through the talk with Daiki emotionally intact.

“He said he’s been spending nights at your place, but that he’s come in and out to grab clothes. Told me not to be nervous and warned me against getting angry at you,” Naoya said, amusement clear in his voice. Taiga relaxed, grateful as always for Naoya’s kind acceptance.

“Did he write all that in katakana?” he joked.

“Of course! I don’t think he’ll ever grow out of that,” Naoya said, laughing. “Well, I do have to get back to work but Taiga-kun--I’m not angry at you. On the contrary, I should thank you for taking care of my wayward son.”

“I don’t really think I’m taking care of him,” he said, shying away from the compliment.

“He’s been hurt, and when that happens, he usually hurts people back. I can’t imagine what he’s done to you,” Naoya insisted. Taiga inhaled sharply, thinking about his tears from yesterday. “You haven’t given up on him despite that.”

“I’m the one who hurt him first,” he mumbled.

“Yes, but I think he knows that wasn’t your fault. Give him a chance to admit it,” Naoya said, smile in his voice. Taiga couldn’t help but smile back, even though he knew the other couldn’t see him.

He startled at the sound of the door being unlocked. Glancing over to the clock, he wondered if he had really spent that much time on the phone with Naoya--but no, basketball practice would have just ended. “I’ll make sure to call you again another time, Aomine-san,” he said.

“Just call me Naoya,” he said before hanging up, and Taiga stared incredulously at the phone in his hand. Then the door was swinging open, and his attention was drawn back to the entrance hall where Daiki was taking off his shoes.

He wasn’t wearing his school uniform. Instead, he was in his basketball shorts and a tank top, and Taiga could see he’d been sweating in them. “Did you go to practice?” he asked, amazed.

“Just for a bit,” Daiki said, the first words he’d said to Taiga since the challenge he’d flung at him that day. “I left early to get you some medicine. That was the last of your Tylenol this morning.”

Oh, so that’s where the pill had come from. Taiga wondered if it was expired since it’d been such a long time since he bought the travel-sized container, but Daiki had probably felt bad enough not to give him expired meds. “T-thanks,” he stuttered before realizing the miso soup was bubbling. “Uh. Do you want to shower? Dinner should be ready in a bit.”

“Yeah. I’m going to do the laundry too. My uniform from the day before is dry, right? I didn’t go home to get another one,” Daiki said, his voice trailing him down the hallway. “Take the medicine!” he shouted from the laundry room.

“Okay,” Taiga muttered, much too quiet for Daiki to hear. In between starting the rice cooker and preparing the fish to fry, Taiga looked through the bag and dutifully took a Tylenol. He wasn’t actually sick, but after suddenly reconnecting with Satsuki and Daiki talking to him like nothing had ever been wrong, he was definitely getting a headache.

Dinner was ready by the time Daiki finished showering, reappearing in a pair of Taiga’s Seirin sweatpants and no shirt. “Do you even know how many clothes you’ve left here?” Taiga asked, unable to keep the fondness out of his voice. He tried to cover it up by flopping down at the coffee table where Satsuki had been just a little bit earlier.

Daiki shrugged as he walked to the fridge to grab a carton of banana milk before joining him. “I spend more time here than at home,” he said, so casually, as if that was the way it had always been. Thinking back to their childhood, he supposed it was.

“You don’t have any issues getting to Tōō from here?” Taiga asked, the memories drawing him back to a time when they had been neighbors. He wondered if he should have picked a different apartment after all, one closer to Daiki and Satsuki’s houses.

“I didn’t go to Tōō because it’s close to home,” Daiki waved off in between scoops of rice. “This isn't any farther. Just in a different direction.”

Taiga nodded, finally starting on his food. They ate in silence for a few moments before he was startled by the feel of Daiki’s hand on his forehead, warm and careful. “You’re not eating like you usually do. Do you need to see a doctor?”

He flushed, probably not helping his temperature. “I-I’m not sick. I just couldn’t sleep yesterday because--” Taiga looked at Daiki from under his hand, “it hurts.”

“What hurts?” Daiki asked, instantly and obviously worried, and Taiga was so happy to see it that he could feel his heart beating contentment in his ears.

“You coming here but not talking to me,” he said, deciding to be truthful. He’d never been a great liar anyway. “I came back home yesterday and saw you in bed, and I couldn’t bring myself to sleep there with you knowing that you were just going to leave in the morning, without a look or word.”

Daiki’s hand withdrew in surprise, and Taiga had to fight his instinct to grab it and pull him back.

“I missed you too, you know?” he asked, voice as quiet as it ever was. The words weren’t enough. They didn’t encompass all the time Taiga had spent agonizing over whether he should warn Daiki about Teikō, how desperately he wanted to make Daiki happy but also save crucial parts of his old life, how guilty he had felt with that kind of power. He had spent so much time worrying that he’d make the wrong decision and then worrying because he had.

He didn’t have the words to describe all of that, and he definitely didn’t want to explain his weird situation to complain. Still, Taiga’s heart had been beating for Daiki since he met the boy in this world, and he wished he had a way to show that.

Daiki looked thoughtful, gaze on the table and food abandoned. Taiga wasn’t sure what to make of that. He would have expected anger or indignation, would not have been surprised to be rebuffed and rejected. Instead, he sat frozen while Daiki’s hand returned, dropping to trace the barely visible chain that ran over Taiga’s clavicle.

“You’ve worn it this entire time?” His voice was soft, and if Taiga wasn’t already trembling at the light touch, he would have started with this. He’d never heard this voice before, more mature than the Daiki he remembered and much too quiet for the Aomine he had known.

“Yeah,” Taiga confirmed. He bit back the words that wanted to escape. I know you threw the key away. It didn’t matter now. Daiki had kept the new key he’d given him.

“Let’s eat. You should go to sleep early,” Daiki said after a moment, breaking the oddly welcomed tension between them. His hand moved away, and Taiga let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He wanted to ask what that meant. If Daiki had forgiven him or if that was a confirmation that their relationship would never recover.

Instead, he finished eating and went to shower. Daiki insisted on cleaning up so Taiga left him to do the dishes, grabbing the laundry to hang up on the way. Taiga tried to feel uncomfortable with how in sync they were, but all he felt was longing.

“Why are you still up?” Daiki asked, hair still wet from his own shower. Taiga was sitting on the floor of his bedroom, ironing Daiki’s uniform for tomorrow. “You don’t have to do that. No one cares.”

Taiga thought back to Satsuki’s comment this morning. “You never know,” he said. “Besides, I like doing it.” He used to iron his dad’s clothes, his way of reminding his father he cared even when they were separated because of his work. Taiga had chosen to go to Seirin despite knowing Daiki was at Tōō, so this was the closest he’d get.

Daiki seemed to accept the explanation because he didn’t say anything else about it, just climbed into bed and made as much room as possible for Taiga next to him. “You should have bought a bigger bed,” he whispered, and Taiga froze in the middle of hanging up Daiki’s clothes.

“I didn’t want to presume,” he said, trying to pull out the bravado he usually had on the basketball courts. In truth, he hadn’t expected Daiki to want to sleep together again. Not only were they growing, hormonal boys, they were huge growing, hormonal boys. It was amazing they fit in Taiga’s full-sized bed. “I can buy some futons.”

“This weekend then,” Daiki declared, giving no thought to Taiga having other plans. It was sad that even Daiki’s self-centered behavior felt warm and familiar to him.

Getting into bed with Daiki already there, awake and alert and very aware of Taiga’s presence, felt awkward. He could feel his mind racing, the way it did before basketball games, and he wished he could skip forward to his mindset on the court. There was always the memory of Daiki when he played, but it was welcomed. He always remembered Daiki smiling, but in reality--

He startled as a hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder and pulled him down. “Stop acting weird,” Daiki rumbled, making himself as comfortable as possible. It involved draping half of his body on Taiga, because this bed really wasn’t meant to hold the two of them.

“Do you actually sleep better like this?” he couldn’t help but ask, even as if he felt his body adjust to Daiki’s warmth and angles like they had never been apart.

“It’s the only way I can sleep,” Daiki mumbled into the pillow, close enough to Taiga’s ear to make him shudder. “But if you don’t like it--”

“No!” Taiga objected. “I do. We’ll get the futons this weekend,” he promised.

“Before Interhigh matches get in the way,” Daiki agreed. Taiga wondered how Daiki could so casually talk about basketball when it was such a complex, twisted thing between them. The thing that had brought them together, in both lives, that they wielded like a weapon now that they’d drifted apart. “I could just miss my matches though. It wouldn’t make a difference.”

“Don’t say that!” Taiga shouted, turning to face Daiki despite the mess of sheets and limbs. He made sure Daiki was looking at him before he continued. “You have to go to your games!”

“Why?” Daiki whispered, surprising him with actual curiosity instead of the anger he’d expected. “Why should I go? Why do you care so much? I’m just going to get in the way of your team winning.”

“Because it’s fun?” Taiga asked, pleaded. “Because you love basketball and you’re good at it, and I miss watching you play; I miss playing with you--”

The rest of the sentence was muffled by Daiki’s hand, and Taiga would have tried to wrestle away, but he could see Daiki’s cheeks were flushed. Taiga pressed his lips together and gave him a chance to collect himself. “You’re an idiot,” Daiki said, but there was a small, crooked smile on his face. “Maybe you’ll make things interesting,” he muttered, more to himself than to Taiga.

He answered anyway. “I will! I’ve been playing basketball for you, to get back to you, all these years and you’re going to need to practice if you want to beat me.”

Taiga wasn’t sure why Daiki’s eyes widened, his gaze sharp and searching. All that registered was Daiki’s teasing tone that followed. “You’ve been playing basketball for me, huh? You better not suck at it then or I’ll consider that an offense against my wonderful self.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Taiga grumbled, turning away again. “I’ll fucking show you,” he mumbled under his breath, trying to settle into a comfortable position to sleep.

He was most of the way there when he heard Daiki whisper, “Don’t lose to anyone but me.”

“I’m not going to lose to you either, dumbass,” he replied. He wasn’t sure if the laugh that followed was real or just part of his dreams.

The next morning, Taiga woke up to Daiki’s hand on his chest, fingers curled around the ring.

--

Going through the first round of the Interhighs again was boring. He already knew each team’s gimmick and felt confident that the team wasn’t going to run into any issues. They had trained differently this time and had more substitutes, the other first years excited to have a chance to play. Taiga himself was a completely different basketball player, and while he had been excited to play with his team again, there was substantially less anxiety.

He still stayed up the entire night before each game, making honeyed lemons because he knew now that Riko could not be trusted. Daiki didn’t even catch on the first few nights. When he did, he had to resort to sleeping on top of Taiga to keep him from leaving the futon.

“This reminds me of when we were kids,” Taiga muttered, thinking back to Daiki and Satsuki’s arguments over him, how Daiki had always felt the need to physically stake his claim. His hand combed through Daiki’s hair absentmindedly.

“That was for different reasons. Right now, I’m just hoping my body weight presses enough oxygen out of you that you faint,” Daiki mumbled into his chest.

“So you admit you’re fat?”

“Okay, chokeholds it is.”

Taiga did eventually manage to get some rest before games, without Daiki trying to put him into a sleeper hold.

That wasn’t the only unique thing about having Daiki basically living with him during the Interhigh. Taiga was shocked to realize that Tōō actually played a few games on the court right next to them.

“Where the fuck did you think we played?” Daiki asked, pretending to be tired so that Taiga would have to lug him to the bus stop.

I think I would have noticed you! Taiga wanted to snap, but he remembered at the last second that his other life was his secret or maybe delusion. He thought about it on the bus ride and eventually assumed Aomine had never shown up to those games, too good to even appear at first round matches.

Still, Satsuki would have been there, and she would have come over to at least greet Kuroko.

“I thought we played different time blocks,” he finally said.

“We do,” Daiki said, as if it were obvious. “But sometimes our blocks match up.” Taiga couldn’t even blame him for being condescending. That all made sense.

Still, it was awkward to walk into the stadium on the day of their Seihō and Shutoku games with the knowledge that Daiki and Satsuki would be there to watch.

“Why are you even here this early?” Daiki asked, moving toward the Tōō lockers. “Seirin starts next block.”

“I want to see you play!” Taiga said, taking his turn to play up the condescension. Satsuki had also texted him the night before with threats to make sure Daiki was present and on time. As in basketball, when Satsuki found a handy asset in real life, she made sure to use it.

“Whatever. You’re a dumbass,” Daiki deflected, but he straightened his posture and walked with a bit more power in his steps. Taiga might never have noticed had they not grown up together, and he suddenly felt nostalgic for those days on the street court. He remembered the way Daiki had faced down people much older and bigger than them with absolute confidence that they would win, and his excitement to see Daiki play grew.

He was so distracted with the thought of seeing Daiki play again that he carelessly walked into the Tōō locker room behind him. Multiple eyes turned to stare. They alternated quickly between the sight of Daiki, who was already stripping to change, and Taiga, who plastered himself against the wall once he realized what he had done.

“Kagamin! You got him here on time!” Satsuki exclaimed, focusing all the gazes on her. “I knew you could do it.”

“Oi, I could have gotten here on time,” Daiki interrupted.

Taiga thought back to the Aomine he knew. “No, you couldn’t,” he said, in perfect sync with Satsuki.

“If I wanted to,” Daiki muttered, turning back toward his locker.

That was true. Taiga remembered that Aomine had been there on time for his match against Kise. He’d even been excited, in the vaguely foreboding way Aomine managed. Looking back, Taiga felt incredibly stupid for ever believing that Aomine was some big boss for them to fight through when in truth, he was just another basketball idiot.

“I should go find a seat,” Taiga said, aware that no one else had spoken yet. Imayoshi glanced his way and smiled, and that was actually scary. He marched up to Daiki with his sports bag open, already pulling out the stuff he’d known Daiki would forget. “Here’s your water bottle. Stop forgetting it. How long have I been nagging you about drinking enough water?”

“For years,” Daiki groaned but took the water bottle without an argument.

“And here are your honeyed lemons for the next game.” Daiki popped open a corner of the tupperware to look at them before sealing it up again with an impressed look.

“Any other gifts?” Daiki asked, that cocky, familiar smile on his face.

Taiga grinned and grabbed a fistful of his jersey, shoving him against his locker. He could feel the entire Tōō team stand to stop him, but Satsuki would hold them back. Probably. “Don’t you dare give up during the game. Preserve your energy for the next block if you want, but I don’t give a fuck if the other team starts begging you on their knees to stop, you keep playing.”

Daiki’s smirk and narrowed eyes actually looked fond. “But isn’t torture a human rights violation?”

He let go of Daiki’s jersey, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, beat them first before you start talking like that. For all I know, you’ve gotten slow and decrepit skipping all those practices.”

Daiki’s squawking followed him out of the locker room, Satsuki bidding him goodbye at the door. From the brief glimpse he’d gotten of the Tōō team before the door closed, Taiga guessed that Daiki and Satsuki would have a lot of explaining to do.

And then Tōō,Daiki, crushed their opponents. He was only in for the first quarter before the coach benched him for their next game, but that was enough. By halftime, the score was so uneven that the other team voted to forfeit just so they could get away from the scoreboard. They hadn’t been able to regain their footing even with Daiki off the court, and so they chose to give up.

Taiga felt guilty for the goading he’d done. Daiki hadn’t smiled during the first quarter, just smirked to taunt his opponents. The look of disgust on his face when they forfeited drove a knife through Taiga’s chest. He couldn’t imagine being so good at basketball that he wouldn’t be able to play it, because no one would play him for fear of losing.

But that was why he and Kuroko were here, and they did their usual fistbump before heading out to the court.

“Did you see Aomine-kun’s first game?” Kuroko asked.

“Yeah. It wasn’t great,” Taiga replied, making a face at his own statement. Luckily, Kuroko knew not to pry for further details. He simply nodded his acknowledgement as they lined up to greet their opponents.

Taiga remembered the first time they’d played Seihō. All of the history between them and the Seirin second years. This time, it was different. There was no fear or hesitation in the seniors, just the drive to conquer an old enemy. The same drive that had finally won them the game in his last life.

He figured it was pretty hard to be afraid with Kiyoshi sitting next to Riko on the bench, loudly cheering them on. “Okay, who brought him?” Hyuga asked, as if there wasn’t a huge grin on his face.

“Kagami-kun did,” Kuroko said, because he was a snitch. “It’s nice. He deserves to see us win this game.”

Hyuga didn’t even bother to argue with that.

If Seihō was surprised by their resolve, they didn’t show it. The only person surprised was Taiga, who had thought there was no way Tsugawa was as annoying as he remembered.

“Hey, eyes over here! We’re your opponents,” he said, clearly directing the statement to Taiga. Admittedly, his eyes had drifted over to where Daiki and Tōō were preparing to play their second game. This was a strange divergence. He remembered Shutoku being there last time. This time, their first game had been during the first block, with Tōō’s.

He wondered why this timeline was making things difficult for him. Pushing back his return date by a year, making it so that Tōō played on the same court as them, in the same block. If anyone had known to ask, Taiga would have happily admitted that he was going to be distracted. Instead, he got Hyuga’s fist to the back of his head with no chance to explain himself.

“Be respectful!” he shouted out of the corner of his mouth, as if he were actually trying to be subtle.

“Yes, senpai!” he responded. He could see Tsugawa’s smirk out of the corner of his eye.

It was quickly washed away as they scored basket after basket. Kuroko forced turnovers while the seniors and Taiga played the old run-and-gun style that they’d been known for the year before. Except now, they’d mastered it. There was no need to deal with Seihō’s special movement style if they never touched the ball.

“They’re faster than they were last year,” Taiga overheard Seihō’s captain saying.

Kuroko was sent out to rest after the first quarter, and Taiga figured they had a good enough point lead that he probably wouldn’t have to come back. Koganei was in good shape, and Kawahara had enough experience that he would make a good substitute, even against one of the infamous Three Kings.

Tsugawa seemed to be getting angrier by the second, and Taiga still remembered his habit of forcing fouls from last time. He made sure to keep his distance from Tsugawa and spent as little time with the ball in his hands as possible. Taiga didn’t want the other first year to realize how easily he could tear through his defense, which was good, but not as good as Daiki’s. Tsugawa depended entirely on his physical stature and close proximity to defend, which gave him the opportunity to force and fake fouls.

He wasn’t fast enough to steal the ball from Taiga at this point, and he definitely didn’t have the predictive instinct Daiki had been born with and Taiga had cultivated with Satsuki’s help.

Izuki passed him the ball, and Taiga could feel Tsugawa bearing down on him. The other player was frustrated, and he wanted to force a foul. Taiga wasn’t up to repeating his prior performance, so he faked to the left before shifting to the right.

He wasn’t expecting Tsugawa to get desperate enough to try and trip him, and Taiga had to jump back to avoid falling. Looking at Tsugawa, who seemed bewildered and shaken, Taiga didn’t think it had been on purpose. Likely just his body reacting to his desperation to win, but--

“Oi, that was a foul,” an all too familiar voice sounded, coming from the Seirin bench.

“Aomine-kun, why are you sitting on our side?” Kuroko asked, as if there had never been even a drop of bad blood between them.

“Watching Taiga play,” Daiki replied. “Want a slice of honeyed lemons? Don’t worry, Satsuki hasn’t touched them.”

Taiga watched in exasperation as the two of them sat there, eating lemon slices. The referee, foul forgotten, wandered over with a bewildered look on his face.

“Number 5 from Tōō, please return to your side of the court,” the referee called.

Daiki scowled. “It’s easier to watch the game from here. Besides, I’m a player. I’m allowed on the court. Why does it matter if I’m sitting on my bench or theirs?”

“I didn’t know you were so interested in our team,” Kiyoshi said, out of the loop as expected. Not that Riko and Hyuga weren’t pale with shock themselves.

“I’m only here to watch Taiga play. He’s the only one on both courts worth watching. Not counting myself, of course,” Daiki replied, mouth half full and casual like he didn’t just insult every other player there, including his own teammates.

“Taiga?” Hyuga crowed, wheeling around to look at him. He quickly held his hands up in submission. “What the hell?”

“Tōō number 5, please return to your side of the court before we give you a technical foul,” the referee warned, suddenly more impatient than confused.

“Fine,” Daiki grumbled. He handed the remaining lemons to Kuroko and headed back to his side of the court. “Oi! Let me sub in.”

The Tōō team had been subjected to their weirdness enough that, like with a bad drug habit, they seemed to have built a tolerance. “Is there a particular reason why?” Imayoshi asked, even though he was already gesturing for one of their players to come off the court.

“It’s easier to watch the game if I’m on the court,” Daiki replied. As soon as he was subbed in, he took position at the half courtline, as close to Seirin’s court as he could get without stepping out of bounds. “We should restart play. Hey, Taiga got fouled by that bald kid.”

“I’m not bald!” Tsugawa squawked.

“You don’t need to call the foul,” Taiga said to the referee, praying that Daiki didn’t get disqualified today.

“Resume play on both courts,” the referee finally called, taking mercy on them. Maybe this was odd enough that the referee couldn’t resist watching it play out in full. Taiga decided to be grateful instead of curious, and he moved to the side to reset the ball.

Except that no one else seemed to be paying attention, their eyes glued to the Tōō court. “What--” he started to ask before turning around just in time to see Daiki bat a basketball from almost half court. It flew through the air in a beautiful arch before landing in the opponent’s hoop.

“You threw that one with more strength than you needed to,” Daiki scowled at his captain, but his eyes were still focused on Seirin’s court. “Aren’t you guys going to reset the ball?” he asked Taiga, as if everyone else was crazy.

Taiga couldn’t help but snicker, eventually breaking out into a full laugh. This timeline really wanted to screw him up, and he wasn’t even angry about it, because Daiki. To a basketball fanatic like him, Daiki was perfect in every way. He had the right priorities (basketball), unbelievable skills (in basketball), and a perfect body (for basketball, and other things). Taiga felt overwhelmed with how lucky he was to have woken up in the past, given a chance to get to know Aomine Daiki as the idiot he really was.

“I’ll never doubt Kuroko or Satsuki again,” he whispered, watching Daiki narrow his eyes like he was trying to lipread. “Daiki, go and sit on the bench. You can watch me play Shutoku.”

“But it’s easier to--”

“I know, but you’re distracting,” Taiga said. Daiki almost preened. “That wasn’t a compliment.” It totally was.

“Dai-chan! Go shower first and stop bothering Kagamin,” Satsuki called, giving Taiga a thumbs up to show that she would take over Daiki-wrangling duty. She looked amused enough that Taiga figured he knew how Daiki had snuck over to their bench to begin with.

The games eventually restarted after that, Taiga asking to be subbed out so that the seniors could play together the way they had last time. They were in sync with each other in a way that Taiga and Kuroko couldn’t quite imitate, and as if bolstered by Kiyoshi’s presence, they outperformed themselves.

By the time the game was over, Seirin had tripled Seihō’s score.

Taiga wondered if this was the right ending to the game. Their team had bonded so much fighting against Seihō, the close win bringing them together. Then again, when he looked at Kiyoshi rushing onto the court to congratulate his team, he thought maybe they hadn’t needed the push this time around. Seirin was whole, and so they got to play for fun rather than revenge.

“Sorry you didn’t get to play much, Kuroko,” Taiga said as they walked off for a break before their game against Shutoku.

“It wasn’t our game to play,” Kuroko said, a smile on his face. “Besides, we’re a team. We all won, and everyone is happy. I don’t see how things can get better.”

Taiga smiled, the warmth he felt for his team almost overwhelming.

Until they got to the locker room, and Hyuga and Riko instantly turned on him. “Taiga?” they demanded in unison. “Daiki?”

He rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t suppose I could get away with just saying it’s a long story?”

Hyuga’s face was already darkening when Kuroko intervened. “Despite the fact that they’re living together out of wedlock, Aomine-kun and Kagami-kun have a very wholesome relationship.”

Taiga could feel the holes being burned through him by everyone’s shocked stares. “Thanks, Kuroko. Why don’t I explain during dinner, after the game?”

“You better have made honeyed lemons for us too,” Hyuga scowled.

As if he would ever forget the horror of Riko’s attempt. He reached into his sports bag to grab their team’s serving.

--

It wasn’t until he was face to face with him that Taiga realized how little he had seen this Midorima compared to the one from his other life. Taiga remembered watching the match where Shutoku blew the competition out of the water last time around, could still recall that feeling of being nervous and scared but excited. In this life, Taiga had excused himself by saying he’d already watched videos of all the Teikō matches and knew what Midorima could do. Plus, he had been busy buying a TV with Daiki, who had been appalled that they didn’t have one.

Riko looked like she was torn between regretting letting him skip or letting it go, especially now that she knew he was close friends with another member of the Generation of Miracles. “Did Aomine or his pink-haired friend give you any tips about Midorima?” she asked.

“Satsuki offered, but I turned her down,” Taiga said. He could hear the jealous whispers of his teammates, both impressed and angry that he was allowed to call such a gorgeous girl by her first name. God, I hope they never meet Alex, he thought. “I can tell you that he’s probably capable of doing that three pointer from anywhere on the court.”

The locker room burst into noise again, awed and intimidated. Even Kuroko was looking at him in shock. “How do we beat a guaranteed three pointer from anywhere on the court?” Furihata cried.

“Leave that to me,” Taiga said, because he’d given away most of his other roles to his teammates, but this was something only he could do. “Just make sure you’re always ready to switch to offense.”

He got fewer doubting looks than he’d expected.

“If we lose, it will be on your head,” Riko said, through the gritted teeth of her smile. Taiga nodded deeply, basically bowing.

Meeting Midorima in this world was strange. While Kise was definitely the most outgoing of the Generation of Miracles that he’d met, Midorima was probably the one Taiga liked the most. They had similar stories. Midorima’s one weapon was his three pointer, so he practiced it religiously so that he’d always be able to use it. Taiga had thought jumping was his specialty, and he’d devoted himself to winning aerial battles.

Taiga felt like he had cheated, living another life with all that time to practice. He knew now that he could do things other than jumping, and he’d honed all of those skills. Midorima, at this point, was still banking on his three pointer that he had just managed to make 100% reliable anywhere on the court. He had yet to lose, to even be challenged, and Taiga could see the distance he kept between himself and his team.

Well, at least as much of a distance as Takao would allow.

“So, you two are the ones Shin-chan was talking about,” Takao commented, leaning over to look at him and Kuroko as they went to line up. “I get the short one, but what’s so special about you?” he asked, focusing that sharp gaze onto Taiga.

“Nothing?” Taiga hadn’t interacted with Midorima in this timeline at all, hadn’t even seen him face to face.

Yet he could feel Midorima’s eyes on him, appraising. His gaze eventually shifted to Kuroko and the disappointment that Taiga had expected manifested in the way Midorima’s jaw clenched. “Kuroko,” he said, less a greeting and more a challenge.

“Midorima-kun,” Kuroko replied.

Then green eyes turned to him. “You’re Aomine’s friend.” It wasn’t a question.

Taiga’s jaw dropped. “He told you about me?”

“He never told any of us about you,” Midorima corrected. “But his behavior just now said enough.” Taiga thought vengefully about forcing Daiki to sleep in the living room for the next week.

“You don’t seem like anything special though,” Takao said, and Taiga wasn’t sure whether he was being provoked or if it was an honest observation. He had never spent enough time with Takao to figure out his humor.

“Well, if you guys play, you can find out!” boomed a cheerful voice from behind them. Taiga turned to look at Kiyoshi, who gestured to Hyuga. Their captain looked like he was ready to burst a blood vessel if they didn’t stop talking and start lining up in earnest.

In the distance, he thought he could hear Daiki grumbling about how that giant gets to sit on the court, and he’s not fucking playing, followed by Satsuki trying to shush him. Taiga flinched. Maybe he should have waited until after the Tōō game to get back on Daiki’s good side.

Eventually, they were set to start, and Taiga won the jump off like he remembered, performing the same alley-oop which Midorima blocked, an unimpressed sneer on his face. They traded possession of the ball with no points being earned for the first few minutes, the entire stadium quiet as tensions rose, waiting for the bubble to burst.

Taiga could hear the crowd inhale sharply when the ball ended up in Midorima’s hands, and the silence of thousands holding their breath as Taiga crowded him, pushing him back. He narrowed his eyes as Midorima drew back with a quick, practiced step, well beyond half-court for his signature high projectile shot.

He made no move to block it, instead noting the way Midorima moved, the length of time it took for him to prepare the shot, how high and how quickly the ball rose as it hit its peak. The first three points were won with a whispered swoosh, and the silence was broken by deafening cheers from the crowd. Taiga could feel the tension from his teammates, and even Kuroko seemed a little shaken, but he was looking carefully at the basket.

That was nowhere near as fast or as strong as the Midorima he’d last faced off with, the one who had learned how to claw and fight for victory after finally tasting defeat. It definitely wasn’t as intimidating as Taiga remembered.

“Are you sure you can block that?” Izuki asked, obviously worried after seeing Taiga just stand there and watch instead of trying to stop him.

“Yeah,” Taiga said, letting his confidence speak for him. “You need to cover for Kuroko. His misdirection isn’t going to work.”

“What--” Izuki stuttered, but a shock seemed to run through him and he looked over at Takao, who was marking Kuroko with a smile.

Kuroko looked scared, lost for what he should do with Takao such a looming presence over him. “Behind!” Taiga yelled, and luckily they had built up enough of a partnership that Kuroko passed the ball easily without thinking about it, safely into Hyuga’s hands.

They ran the ball back, and Hyuga took the shot. It was just slightly off, so Taiga jumped to tip it in with his right hand, only to be faced with Midorima who had risen to the same height to knock it away. So Taiga reached up with his left hand to grab the rebound instead, pivoting and jumping again before Midorima could react to dunk the ball.

Stepping back to let the opposing team reset the ball, Taiga could see the frustration on Midorima’s face. I didn’t even do anything special, Taiga thought. It had been an improvement over the other timeline, since Taiga had equal mastery of his left and right hands this time, but it wasn’t anything that should have provoked such a reaction.

He’s never been challenged, Taiga reminded himself, turning back around to where Midorima was receiving the ball. As cool and collected as the other liked to present himself, Taiga knew Midorima tended to escalate when challenged.

Sure enough, instead of running forward with the ball, Midorima had stopped right in front of his own basket to wind up for another three pointer. Behind him, Taiga’s teammates were frozen in surprise, realizing their mistake. Takao probably had that stupid smirk on his face.

Taiga wished he could see it fall off his face, but he settled for Midorima’s shocked expression as he was suddenly there, jumping high enough to steal the ball out of the air. It only took a few steps to hook the ball into Shutoku’s net, and nobody was there to stop him. Midorima was standing there, shaking, and the rest of Shutoku had frozen in place, scattered across the court.

The stadium was silent again.

“You should have just done that the first time, dumbass!” yelled a familiar voice, breaking the awe.

Taiga turned toward that sound, holding out an accusing finger. “Shut up, Daiki! Who’s playing this game?”

“Obviously not me, because it’d be over by now,” returned the same taunting voice.

“That doesn’t even make any sense!” Taiga yelled, but he walked off, letting Shutoku reset the ball again.

“Kagami-kun!” Kuroko shouted, but Taiga was already springing back.

“Don’t underestimate me!” Midorima shouted, and Taiga was impressed by how quickly he had released the shot. The real strength of the Generation of Miracles, what no one had realized because they had never been challenged until they were facing each other, wasn’t in how inherently skilled they were. It was how quickly they could improve in the face of adversity.

Still, it wasn’t enough. Taiga blocked the ball and turned his hand with its momentum for an underhand shot into the net, all in one smooth movement and completed in one jump.

“Time out called for Shutoku!”

Taiga walked back to Seirin’s bench, his attention focused on Midorima who simply stood there, unable to move. He wondered how long Midorima was planning on trying the same thing, over and over again. How long would Shutoku’s coach let him try?

“What was that?” Riko shouted right into Taiga’s ear, startling out of his thoughts. “What the hell? You’ve never played like that in any of our practices.”

“That’s not true. Kagami-kun did a formless shot against Kise-kun,” Kuroko said, his face flat as if the entire stadium wasn’t still bustling with amazement over what had just happened.

“Okay, so it happened once! Once is a fluke! It’s lucky! It’s--not that!” Riko exclaimed, their generally calm and collected coach shocked into speechlessness. She wasn’t alone, everyone else just gawking at him.

Except Kiyoshi, who just laughed his general easygoing chuckle and stood up to pat Taiga on the head. “The freshmen this year really are interesting.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Hyuga shouted.

“How long can you keep that up?” Riko asked, her focus back on the basketball game.

“Longer than he can,” Taiga said, so casually that none of them could say it was just his ego talking. “He hasn’t had to play multiple quarters in any of Shutoku’s games because they usually crush the opponents so quickly, and he definitely hasn’t faced off against a team that could block his shots. There’s no way Midorima has the stamina to keep this up.”

“Especially as Midorima-kun will continue to push,” Kuroko added on, confirming Taiga’s thoughts. “He knew to be wary of Kagami-kun, but not to this extent. Right now, he still thinks he can win with his three-pointer alone.”

“In that case, make sure he keeps pushing,” Riko ordered, and Taiga nodded with determination. “Kuroko, I’m subbing you out. You can’t use your misdirection against Takao. Use the time to think of something else to do.”

Kuroko agreed easily, likely having anticipated the substitution. Taiga knocked his fist against Kuroko’s, “I’ll hold them back until you’re ready to finish them off.” It was a little close to his prior overconfidence, but it made Kuroko smile.

Riko stopped him just before they headed back to the court. “Are your legs going to be okay with all this jumping?” She was staring at his legs, gauging the stress they’d already been through and how much more they could take.

“I know my limits,” Taiga promised, because he remembered how much it had sucked to be injured last time. Alex had drilled proper form and conditioning into him this time around, once she saw just how high he could jump and how stupid he could be about pushing himself.

“Well, I’m glad one of us does,” Riko drawled. Taiga flinched.

“I haven’t been trying to hide anything from you,” he said, a plea for forgiveness. He held his breath as Riko looked at him with that same analytical gaze he associated with their horrifying training camps.

“I know,” she said after a moment, face softening into a smile. “Still, no more hiding things from your team.”

“I don’t have to hide anything now,” Taiga said, nodding vaguely toward where Daiki and Satsuki were sitting in the stands.

Riko’s face instantly dropped back into exasperation. “We’re going to have a long talk about that.”

Taiga hurried out to the court. As frightening a reputation as the Generation of Miracles had, to him, Riko was still much scarier.

Play resumed, and Taiga was almost surprised by how closely Shutoku followed their predictions. Midorima was obviously frustrated, but he must have struck some kind of deal, as his team continued to pass him the ball, and he continued to attempt his three-pointers. Taiga blocked one after the other, and the difference between their scores grew.

By the end of the first quarter, Midorima was gasping for breath and struggling to stay standing. He’d pushed himself too far. “You’re going to get injured if you keep this up,” Taiga told him as the whistle sounded to stop play. He wasn’t as good as Satsuki and Riko at reading his opponents’ physical state, but he had certainly picked up some tricks.

“What do you care?” Midorima bit out.

“Basketball is supposed to be fun,” he said, which in hindsight sounded sort of condescending. He could hardly take the words back though, so he went back to the bench to listen to Riko’s plans for the next quarter.

She predicted that Midorima would have to subbed out, and when the second quarter started, that proved true. He was sitting with his lucky item in his lap, a towel over his head as he trimmed his nails and wrapped his fingers again. It was going to be a long break, Taiga assumed.

Play was actually more even with both Kuroko and Midorima missing. Taiga stepped back into his role as center, and instead of flashy individual plays, the teams struggled against each other with all of their players’ strength. Instead of getting bored, the audience seemed more on edge than ever, watching the quick back and forth between one of the Three Kings and the dark horse of Block A.

Midorima didn’t come back for the third quarter, but there was no way he wasn’t going to be back for the fourth, especially as Seirin was leading by over 20 points going into it. Takao, who had steadily been getting more and more frustrated, seemed happy to see the other first year return. Midorima, reaching through the shield that Taiga had already pierced, seemed to be responding more to his comments, which in turn relaxed Takao further.

“I knew they were close, but that’s closer than I thought,” Taiga mumbled to himself.

“I thought you’d never met them before, Kagami-kun?” Kuroko asked, suddenly appearing at his elbow. Taiga clutched at his chest where his heart had tried to make an escape in his shock.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Taiga complained.

“I would have thought you’d gotten used to it by now,” Kuroko said, which was a fair point. “How did you know they were close?”

Taiga paused, wracking his brain for something to say. “W-well, he did call Midorima ‘Shin-chan,’ didn’t he? That’s Satsuki level. I’ve known Daiki since we were ten, and I don’t call him Dai-chan.”

Kuroko made a contemplative sound that Taiga did not like. “Maybe you should try it.”

“Absolutely not,” Taiga refused, breathing a sigh of relief as the whistle blew to sound the beginning of the quarter.

Kuroko and Midorima were back on the court, but play didn’t really change. Takao had a way to shut down Kuroko’s misdirection, and Taiga’s jumps had locked Midorima down. Without their signature moves to rely on, they weren’t the Generation of Miracles, the alumni of Teikō anymore. They were basketball players, regular members of their teams.

“The issue with that,” Midorima said, ball in his possession again with Taiga defending him, “is that I’m the better basketball player.” He feinted to the left, trying to break past.

“Oh really?” Taiga shot back, knocking the ball out of Midorima’s reach. They both watched it bounce behind him to where Kuroko was standing. Takao was there immediately, his eagle eye focused on blocking off Kuroko’s passing lanes.

He didn’t even consider that Kuroko might shoot the ball himself, likely because Midorima had told him that Kuroko wasn’t a scoring threat. That meant when Kuroko took the shot, he was basically wide open.

“No, there’s no--” Midorima growled from Taiga’s side.

“What the fuck?” shouted a voice in the crowd that could only be Daiki.

“Tetsu-kun!” Satsuki exclaimed.

They all watched in amazement as the shot actually went through the hoop. Even Kuroko looked surprised it had gone in, so Taiga ran up to him, breaking him out of his shock by pulling him into a headlock. “Good job, Kuroko!”

“Yeah,” Kuroko said, a quiet, awed whisper. Taiga let him go, holding out his fist for Kuroko.

“Ready to put them out of their misery?” Taiga asked.

“Yes!” Kuroko said, more confidence in his voice as he knocked his fist against Taiga’s.

The game ended surprisingly similar to the first. Midorima went back to trying his three-pointers, continuing to fail, before finally pulling off his feint. Taiga jumped even though he knew it was a fake, putting Midorima in the perfect position for Kuroko to knock the ball out of his hands.

He landed and started sprinting over to the opposing hoop.

“Not so fast!” he could hear Takao shout from behind him.

Then there was the pressure and speed of Kuroko’s pass bearing down on him, and Taiga held out his hand to catch it, almost surprised by the force. It had been so long, and he had made such difficult decisions to get here, but with his teammates cheering them on and Kuroko passing him the ball again--Taiga felt like it had all been worth it.

His dunk was punctuated by the buzzer announcing the end of the game. This time around, it was an undeniable victory for Seirin.

“That took too long,” Daiki announced, slamming his way into Seirin’s locker room.

“What are you doing here?” Hyuga shouted. Koganei and Izuki leaned over to look at him curiously, but Kiyoshi was the only one kind hearted (stupid?) enough to approach him.

“Aomine-kun!” he greeted, a big smile on his face. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t act stupid,” Daiki said, which was actually much nicer than he could have been. “Taiga, you took so long that it started raining.”

“How could I possibly have taken too long, when basketball games are a set time and there’s no overtime in prelims?” Taiga shouted back, rummaging through his sports bag for a shirt to change into.

What he ended up pulling out was clearly not his shirt.

“Daiki, did you go through my bag after I packed it?” Taiga growled, holding up the black t-shirt with the Tōō logo on it and a red number 5 printed in the lower corner.

“Maybe,” Daiki said, obnoxious grin on his face. “Be glad. You’d get soaked in your white shirt and then everyone would see your nipples.” He could hear his teammates trying desperately not to choke on air.

“What the hell? Who even cares? Also, I have a jacket!” Taiga screamed, marching over to him as he pulled the shirt on anyway. It was the only shirt in his bag, and while he could just wear his Seirin jacket zipped up, he had grown up enough not to spite himself just to make a point.

Well, sometimes. Besides, it was a comfortable shirt, and Taiga had worn it a few times at home. Actually, if he thought about it, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Daiki wear it.

“Wait, did you say it’s raining?” Taiga asked. “Shit! I’ll see you guys at the okonomiyaki place!” He jumped back over the benches in the locker room, grabbed his bag, and took off. Somewhere behind him, he thought he could hear someone asking if they had agreed on okonomiyaki for dinner.

It took a while to find what he was looking for, because he hadn’t been the one who had found it in the last timeline. As a result, he was soaking wet by the time he made it to the restaurant and happily stripped off his soggy Seirin jacket to throw in a corner with the umbrellas.

Just like before, Kise and Kasamatsu was there, along with Midorima and Takao. The only difference was that they were seated with Daiki and Satsuki at a larger table, with a seat open next to Kuroko for Taiga.

“What the hell were you doing?” Daiki asked before shoving a veritable mountain of food over to him. Taiga’s eyes lit up.

“Thanks,” he said, thrilled to not have to order and wait for his food.

“Is he actually going to eat all that?” Takao whispered to Kuroko.

“I thought Aominecchi was just pulling a prank,” Kise agreed.

Kuroko looked thoughtful. “No, he really will. Aomine-kun takes very good care of Kagami-kun.” The second sentence seemed directed at the pair of them, and Taiga froze with half of his mouth stuffed with food. Daiki, for his part, just looked bored, leaning on one propped up arm.

“Nah, I’m out of practice,” was all he said, and Taiga had to swallow the food in his mouth to keep himself from choking. “Where did you go anyway?”

“Oh,” Taiga said, pulling his sports bag over his lap. He held up a finger to his lips to signal that they should be quiet before he pulled back his zipper.

Right on cue, Nigō poked his head out from the bag. He was much drier than Taiga was, protected by some overhanging cardboard before he was lured into Taiga’s bag. It hadn’t taken much to persuade him either. Just like in the last lifetime, Nigō was extremely friendly and seemed immediately attached to Taiga, who he looked up at with his big, familiar blue eyes.

“Is that a dog?” Daiki hissed, sounding shocked.

“He looks like Kurokocchi,” Kise said, waving his fingers at the puppy.

“Tetsu-kun as a cute dog?” Satsuki exclaimed, almost swooning over Daiki who was quick to try and shove her off him.

“Hello,” Kuroko greeted the dog, holding out a hand. Nigō struggled to get a paw out of the opening in the bag, but once he managed it, happily placed it into Kuroko’s hand.

“He really does look like Kuroko, so I was thinking we could name him Tetsuya #2. Uh, Nigō for short,” Taiga said. Nigō’s gaze immediately flicked back to his, as if the dog could understand him. He seemed pleased with the name, and even happier when Taiga slipped him some okonomiyaki. With his prize between his teeth, Nigō obediently ducked back into Taiga’s bag so he could zip the duffel back up, careful to leave some space for air.

“I can’t believe you’re trapping him in there with your sweaty gym clothes,” Takao said. Taiga scowled, ready to object when Daiki grabbed his chin to pull his attention back over to him.

The table fell silent. “I thought you were terrified of dogs,” Daiki said, voice low and accusing.

“I still am!” Taiga said, waving Daiki’s hand off so that people didn’t get strange ideas. “But I got better with them in America, and Nigō seems pretty well-behaved.”

“Was he what you ran to grab?” Satsuki asked, a calculating look on her face again.

Taiga grimaced. “I thought I heard a bark while I was walking over here, so I thought I’d check it out after the games.”

“You did?” Daiki asked, and oh yeah, they had walked over together.

“You heard something that this beastman didn’t?” Satsuki chimed in again, voice completely unflattering.

“Are you going to adopt him?” asked Kuroko, and the table quieted down as they realized that was probably the most important question.

“I figured we could,” Taiga confirmed, gesturing between him and Kuroko.

After all, in his other life, Kuroko had taken responsibility of taking care of Nigō but hadn’t been able to provide him an actual home. Taiga knew that Kuroko’s family lived in an apartment that didn’t allow for dogs, especially not a malamute puppy that would eventually grow into a much bigger working dog. As a result, Nigō had lived at school, which just seemed sad once Taiga thought about it.

He hadn’t been able to resist tiny Daiki when he’d been lonely and hungry. Nigō, for all that he had been a pain in Taiga’s terrified ass, had probably been just as lonely at school, waiting in the dark for the morning to come and the team to return. The thought had made Taiga look carefully into his apartment’s rental contract, and he had confirmed that they allowed dogs of any breed as long as rules were followed. There was also a monthly pet fee, but Taiga figured that wouldn’t be an issue once he explained things to his dad.

That all seemed to make sense in Taiga’s head, so he had no idea why Kuroko’s eyes widened alarmingly, Takao leaned forward gleefully in his seat, and Kise started looking rapidly between Daiki and him. Satsuki was pressing her lips together until they went white, and Daiki--

Taiga couldn’t pin it down to any particular expression, but he seemed angry and sad in a bone deep way, the way Aomine had been. It transformed his face into a threatening, malevolent look that made Taiga flinch. He had never wanted to see that look again and didn’t know what he’d done to cause it.

“You mean we should adopt him as the team mascot, Kagami-kun?” Kuroko asked after an awkward moment of silence.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. We could get him a mini-jersey and everything,” Taiga agreed, happy to turn his attention away from his childhood friend and back to Kuroko. “It’s just that I know you can’t keep him at your apartment, so I figured he could stay with me.”

Whatever had been in the air seemed to suddenly dissipate, everyone taking a deep breath. Taiga wasn’t sure what the cause of the tension had been, and he felt particularly offended by Takao’s disappointed mumbling as if he had been just waiting to see Taiga chewed out for whatever he’d done. Still, it was comforting to see Daiki’s face smooth out, even if his eyes remained unfocused as he stared at the table.

It was close enough to normal that Taiga felt comfortable leaning over the table, whispering, “Are you okay with it?”

Daiki threw his head back in surprise, eyes suddenly clear and looking right into Taiga’s. “What do I have to do with it?” He made no effort to try and whisper, which was annoying, but Taiga figured it was all out of the box now anyway.

“Well, the apartment is yours too,” Taiga said, wondering if Daiki had really forgotten the words they’d shared before he’d left. “I promised you I’d come back so that we’d be together again, and I gave you a key to the apartment because that’s supposed to be our space. So I can’t be the only one making a decision about our apartment. I can find Nigō another place to stay.”

That heaviness in the air reappeared, except this time, it was accompanied by almost everyone resolutely staring at the table. Satsuki was smiling proudly at him, probably for finally getting around to treating Daiki well, and Kuroko’s eyebrows were actually raised. Daiki--

Taiga watched as a whole series of emotions projected themselves onto Daiki’s face. Shock, fondness, doubt, embarrassment, and finally a smile. An actual smile.

“You already named him, dumbass,” Daiki drawled, in that smug way Aomine had, except it actually seemed attractive on this version. It also seemed a lot more content, like a cat holding its superiority over its besotted owner. “I’m not the one who was deathly afraid of dogs my entire childhood. He can stay with us. I’ll even help take care of him so that you aren’t giving yourself a panic attack every day.”

It was a very backhanded offer of help, but Taiga appreciated it nonetheless. By the time he’d left America, he felt comfortable enough just being around a dog, but handling Nigō alone if he was worked up or if they were on a walk and ran into another dog…

“Yes, please,” Taiga accepted gratefully.

“Have you talked to Uncle Tora about this?” Satsuki asked, looking over both of them like an adult pleased that the children were getting along.

“Not yet. I’ll call him later tonight,” Taiga said, picking up his chopsticks again. “Daiki, you should say hi to him too. Hey, when was the last time you called your dad?”

“As if your dad isn’t telling my dad everything anyway,” Daiki shot back, which was his way of saying not any time recently.

“We should eat dinner together soon,” Taiga muttered, already planning. “You and Kuroko are invited too,” he said to Satsuki.

“Can we come? This is the most entertaining thing I’ve ever seen,” Takao said. Midorima, who had been very silent and obviously uncomfortable ever since Taiga showed up, looked over at his teammate in horror. Taiga shrugged it off. He wasn’t a gracious loser either, and sitting with the people who had just beaten you had to be uncomfortable.

Kise was also raising his hand, “I have a lot of questions--”

Kasamatsu very quickly silenced him with a sharp kick to his leg, “No.”

Taiga wondered if he could convince Kasamatsu to come to the inevitable discussion he would need to have with his team. He could just let him handle all of the awkward questions that were sure to come.

Unfortunately, Kise and Kasamatsu excused themselves early, whispering furiously once they were out of earshot. Midorima and Takao did the same, although neither of them seemed to be able to stop staring at Taiga as they left. He wasn’t sure if that was confusion, repulsion, or a horrified interest in their eyes.

Satsuki and Daiki waited with Kuroko as Taiga finished eating and paid. He noticed that his team had disappeared some time during the meal, and he let himself hope that maybe he’d avoided the conversation for another day.

But that was definitely Riko’s heel in his back that she kept digging into his spine, rocking him roughly back and forth. “We have so much to talk about,” she said, nothing but threats in her voice.

“It’s a bit late, isn’t it?” Bless Kiyoshi for trying to rescue them.

“Yes, a bit late for them to start explaining stuff to us,” Hyuga agreed, shutting down the attempt.

“Hey, be gentle!” Taiga shouted, jumping away and holding his dufflebag out. “You can abuse me, but Nigō doesn’t deserve this.”

He seemed to have already picked up that the sound of the zipper was his cue to appear, as Nigō tried to get out as soon as Taiga started opening the bag. His black nose was soon followed by a straining face, and then finally the bag was open enough for his ears to stand up straight. Taiga picked him up and helped him out of the bag, placing Nigō on Kuroko’s head like he had sometimes seen them in the other time.

“Wow, like that, you can really see the resemblance,” Daiki said, leaning into Taiga’s space as if he weren’t talking loudly enough for the whole team to hear him.

Fortunately, the appearance of the puppy was enough to distract Riko and the rest of the team. “Is he yours?” Riko asked, apparently much more curious about Nigō than about Taiga’s past affiliations with a member of the Generation of Miracles. She had already grabbed Nigō off of Kuroko’s head to spin him around before placing him down for the rest of the team to coo over him.

“I found him in the alley while it was raining,” he said, nodding vaguely in the direction of the cardboard box he’d found Nigō in. “We’re keeping him, though.”

“We?” Koganei asked, watching as Nigō backed away from Satsuki’s attempts at petting him. Taiga wasn’t sure why Nigō had never liked Satsuki, and it seemed to hold true for this timeline too.

“Well, I figured he could be the team mascot,” Taiga started, which earned him approving sounds from Riko and Kiyoshi. “But he can’t just stay at school, so he’ll live with Daiki and me. Daiki is way better with dogs than I am, so he should be fine.”

As if to prove it, Daiki crouched down and held a hand out to Nigō. The dog, seeing his chance to escape the pink haired menace, quickly hurried over to Daiki and seemed only too happy to be lifted up and cradled against the boy’s chest. “We still need to tell your dad about him,” Daiki said, giving Taiga a way out of this talk.

Looking over at Riko with hope shining in his eyes, Taiga waited quietly until the girl relented. “Okay, fine. The puppy saves you tonight, but we are going to talk about this.”

Taiga nodded enthusiastically and breathed a sigh of relief when they left. Kuroko offered to walk Satsuki home, so that left Taiga and Daiki to head back to their apartment.

While he had been worried at first, Nigō was indeed as well-behaved as Taiga remembered. He let Daiki worry about getting the puppy ready to turn in as he went to call his dad. In the end, their first night together passed peacefully, Nigō settling at the head of their futon, where Taiga and Daiki could keep an eye on him as they fell asleep.

--

There was only a week left before their match. That was hardly any time at all, and Taiga figured most of it would be taken up by practice. Then again, he’d been wrong so often that it didn’t particularly surprise him when problem after problem popped up.

First, his team cornered him during morning practice, their curiosity outweighing the pressure to prepare for their match against Tōō. “Finding out what you know is probably going to help us against them in the long run anyway,” Riko pointed out.

Taiga shrugged, sitting with Nigō on his lap as if the dog could protect him. “I don’t have any special insight. Kuroko has played basketball with him more recently than I have.”

Kuroko looked surprised at that. “You’ve been living together all this time, and you haven’t played basketball against each other?”

“It’s complicated,” Taiga deflected, hardening his expression to warn them off of questioning that any further.

Riko took the hint, redirecting the conversation. “So, what exactly can you do?”

So he explained how he had trained in America, how beating Daiki had always been his goal. He mentioned Alex in passing as a coach he’d had in California, and he went through aspects of Daiki’s playstyle as a child that he could guess would carry through to his high school years. Taiga carefully avoided anything that would hint at him having played against an older Aomine, albeit one from a different timeline. He wasn’t sure how much of those memories were still valid. Just as growing up with Daiki had changed Taiga’s basketball, he assumed he’d had a similar effect on Daiki.

As if to prove the point, Daiki spent the week actually going to practice. “Why are you surprised?” Daiki asked over dinner that first night.

“I thought you didn’t need to practice to win,” Taiga said, wary. I thought you didn’t practice because you were afraid of getting too good.

“I don’t need practice to win. I’m training the others. I need them to be somewhat useful while I’m busy with you,” he replied, slipping Nigō chunks of meat even though Taiga had told him not to. He was too pleased to tell him off.

Daiki’s sudden stellar attendance and increased presence on the Tōō campus led to an unexpected problem, one that Satsuki was only too happy to tell him about when she visited the next day.

“Just because Daiki is going to practice now doesn’t mean you should start skipping,” he teased her, happy to accept the shove she gave him in return. It was strange to think there was a time when he knew nothing about her, saw her only as one of Kuroko’s old friends. Satsuki had become a regular fixture at Taiga’s apartment again, and she and Daiki had gone back to their old habits of arguing about it.

“And after I came all this way to warn you, Kagamin!” Satsuki exclaimed, arms crossed over her chest. Taiga could feel his teammates’ eyes focusing on how it accentuated her bust, and then he could feel their glares at his back.

“Are you sure you’re not here to drool over Kuroko’s sweaty, skinny body?” She had also filled a role that Taiga hadn’t thought he needed, namely someone to talk to about hopeless crushes. Satsuki still thought she had a chance with Kuroko, and she insisted he already had Daiki by his dick (“You really need to spend less time with him,” he’d said), but she graciously accepted his whining anyway.

He hadn’t had this problem the first time around. Damn Aomine Daiki.

“That’s just a side perk,” Satsuki said, and they both cracked up laughing. “I do actually have some interesting information for you, though.”

“What kind of information?” Kuroko asked, suddenly appearing between them. Taiga wondered if he’d heard that comment about his body.

“Tetsu-kun! I guess you might want to hear about it too, since it has to do with Dai-chan and Kagamin.” Taiga could feel his heart start to race, knowing how strange he and Daiki had acted around his Tōō teammates. He wondered if they had started spreading rumors as a result. “With Kagamin’s wonderful influence, apparently even Dai-chan can look appealing. He’s developed quite a female following at school. I show up to practice expecting Ki-chan to be there with all those girls around.”

Taiga’s jaw dropped. “They’ll go away once they realize what he’s actually like,” Kuroko said, and was that a reassuring tone? Taiga shot him a glare.

“That’s the thing. He’s been so focused on practice that he hasn’t really been an asshole. The few times he has been, it comes across as competitive trash talking. The girls just think he’s a bad boy,” Satsuki said, as if there weren’t multiple things wrong with those sentences. “Don’t look at me like that, Kagamin. I’m disgusted too.”

“Aomine-kun always seemed too focused on basketball to attract girls. That was what happened at Teikō,” Kuroko said, contemplative. “It helped that he was so focused on his childhood friend,” he added, looking over at Taiga.

“Ah, that’s all Dai-chan’s fault. He walked around with gravure magazines all the time at the beginning of the year and kept talking about boobs. All the girls just thought he was a pervert then, but now that he’s more focused on basketball and not talking about girls, he seems a lot cooler.” Satsuki said, shrugging.

“What did you mean, with my influence?” Taiga croaked out.

“Well, he’s over at your place all the time, so he doesn’t have access to his porn,” Satsuki started to list, ticking off finger after finger. “He actually dresses properly now since you iron his clothes. Goes to classes, which hasn’t been helping with his grades but has given people more of a chance to see him. He’s practicing, so people who didn’t go to Tōō games before have easy access to him now--and you know what he looks like when he’s playing basketball.”

He knew all too well. “Exactly how popular is he?”

“The school newspaper might be running an article on him that’s more photos than words,” Satsuki said. Taiga thought this was what dying probably felt like. “Actually, why don’t you come see for yourself?”

Taiga wondered if Riko only let him leave practice early because she knew he’d be taking Satsuki with her. Aside from how she disrupted practice, Satsuki and Riko seemed to have some kind of friendly rivalry going on between them. He didn’t understand it, and he didn’t think asking about it would help, so he simply thanked Riko for her understanding and left with Kuroko tagging along.

“I’ve never seen this side of Aomine-kun either,” Kuroko explained once Taiga asked him why he was bothering. “Also, I wanted to spend more time with Nigō.”

Nigō was at all of their practices, so that was a weak lie. Then again, so was Taiga’s stuttering, “O-oh I just. Need to get something. For the house,” when he spotted the convenience store. He ducked through the door, bought a bag full, and rejoined Satsuki and Kuroko, ignoring their raised eyebrows.

Coming back to Tōō’s campus was strange. The first time Taiga had been here, he’d gone in with the intention of pissing people off. Care thrown to the wind, the only thing on Taiga’s mind had been Daiki. Now, dressed in his gakuran rather than his sports clothes, he felt out of place. Had this many people been staring at him the last time he was here? Probably, he thought, although some of them might have just been looking at the adorable puppy in Kuroko’s arms.

Both him and Kuroko let Satsuki lead. As soon as she had the door open, Taiga could hear the voices. Not just the usual basketball voices, calling for the ball or to get back on defense, but a wall of high pitched whispers that Taiga hadn’t heard the likes of since they had to play against Kaijō.

“It seems Momoi-san wasn’t exaggerating,” Kuroko said, eyes following the perimeter of the gym where countless girls and guys were lined up, watching the two half-court training games.

“Maybe they’ve just discovered a love for basketball,” Taiga suggested, but even Nigō was giving him a flat look. “Anyway--”

Taiga lost his train of thought as flashes obscured his vision. Flash photography in the middle of a game? That was dangerous. “Oi, cut it out!” a familiar voice shouted, followed by the swish of a hoop, because Daiki had a good repertoire of blind shots to go with his formless ones. “You’re going to cause an accident.”

“O-oh! Sorry!” someone called out from the other end of the court. Taiga clenched his jaw. Were they really doing an article on Daiki?

“Dai-chan! Is it time for your break? I brought you presents!” Satsuki yelled, somehow managing to convey the sing-song tease despite the volume needed to be heard.

“Oh?” Daiki asked, the low drawl of interest causing the whispering to intensify for a moment.

Then Daiki actually turned around, and he looked completely shocked. Not too different from the last time Taiga had been here, actually. Except this time, the surprise melted into a warm smile, and Taiga didn’t care what the voices around them were doing, because Daiki was walking off the court in the middle of a game just to welcome them.

“Hey Tetsu and Tetsu,” Daiki said, rubbing Nigō’s head instead of Kuroko’s. His teammate looked pleased with the progress of Daiki’s training. “Hey Taiga,” Daiki said, and any amusing thoughts disappeared as Daiki threw himself onto Taiga, not supporting his own weight at all.

“You are too big for this,” Taiga said, elbowing him off. Daiki, the graceful bastard, didn’t even have the decency to fall. “Also, you’re all sweaty.”

“You’ve dealt with worse,” Daiki dismissed.

“Ah, I see we have guests.” Imayoshi had been one of the people playing in the game Daiki had just abandoned. Taiga wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that the guy didn’t look pissed off. Of course, he never really did, but Taiga thought the other’s smile was a little more genuine than usual.

Taiga shuddered at the thought that he’d been spending enough time around Imayoshi to notice that stuff.

“Sorry for intruding,” Kuroko said, because he was the one who had the manners.

Imayoshi waved it off. “We’ve crashed enough of your practices that it was about time we hosted you in return. A bit close to the game though, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, why are you here?” Daiki asked, his eyes sharpening as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with the hem of his shirt. Taiga could see his abs, a glimpse of the top of his boxer briefs, and the well-defined V line, and while these were all things Taiga knew, were all things he went to sleep with, seeing it in public seemed scandalous.

The voices were definitely picking up. There was another camera flash. It glinted off of Imayoshi’s glasses menacingly.

“Satsuki said she had something to show us,” Taiga explained. “Also here,” he added, swinging his grocery bag toward Daiki who took the hint and grabbed it.

“Banana milk!” Daiki crowed, opening the carton and sticking a straw in it. He drank from it out of the corner of his mouth as he turned back to the court. “We can keep playing,” he shouted between sips.

“No, it’s fine. It’s about time for practice to be over,” Imayoshi said. “You should see to your guests.”

There were, surprisingly, no objections from anybody on the team. They simply wrapped things up and moved to start cleaning the court, which seemed enough of a hint to get their audience filing out. A few of the girls did linger, their eyes on Daiki, and Taiga wondered if they were going to approach him with a confession. He wondered if other girls had.

“What were you showing them?” Daiki’s voice pulled Taiga from his thoughts, and he turned to see Satsuki smiling at Daiki, clearly taunting.

“Nothing that would interest you, Dai-chan,” she said. “Go clean up so we can head to Kagamin’s apartment!”

He scowled. “There are enough people cleaning up. I don’t have to help.”

Taiga reached out a hand reflexively and cuffed Daiki on the back of the head. There was a sudden cessation of tittering, and Taiga froze. That probably wasn’t the best thing to do in the middle of an enamored crowd.

“Oh, fine,” Daiki groaned, but he didn’t lag at all as he went to join his team. It was just like when they were at home, and Taiga figured the complaining was more a habit now than genuine reluctance.

He looked over when he heard Satsuki giggle. “What?”

“It’s just a shame you hate dogs, Kagamin! I think you’d be really good at training them.” He looked away from her gleeful expression to raise an eyebrow at Nigō, who gave an agreeing bark.

The gym eventually emptied of all the lingering onlookers, and by the time Daiki was done cleaning and changing, the only other people around were members of Tōō’s basketball team.

“Kagami-san!” That overly formal greeting could only have come from one person. He turned to see a smiling Sakurai Ryō by Wakamatsu’s side. “Thank you again for those honeyed lemons! They were very refreshing.”

“Oh, no problem.”

“You should actually be thanking him for making Aomine’s lunch. You actually get to eat your own food now,” Wakamatsu interjected. Sakurai looked embarrassed but also didn’t deny it.

“Yes, yes, we owe Kagami-kun quite a bit,” Imayoshi said, walking by. “We’ll have to treat you to dinner after we win.”

“Nah, if we win, I’m making Taiga cook,” Daiki said, hooking an arm around Taiga’s shoulders despite the warning growl he received. “Anyway, are you going to tell me what Satsuki dragged you here for?”

Taiga looked helplessly between Satsuki, who looked away innocently; Kuroko, who was pretending to show Nigō around the gym; and Imayoshi, who was smiling with sadistic glee. There wasn’t going to be any help from them. “She just wanted to emphasize how rare it was to see you practicing. To be honest, I didn’t believe it until I saw it for myself.”

Daiki took the bait, scowling instead of looking too closely at the lie. “Just for that, you can make me sukiyaki tonight.”

“What? I don’t have the ingredients for sukiyaki!”

They had sukiyaki that night.

The third problem was one that Taiga had hoped he’d never have to deal with, even though deep inside, a part of him knew it was going to happen. It was another night where Satsuki and Kuroko had invited themselves over for dinner, and they had met up halfway between their schools to go grocery shopping for the unexpected guests before all heading back to the apartment together.

Taiga opened the door and was greeted with a innuendo-laced purr of “Tiger!” followed by smothering lips on his.

He could hear Daiki choking even as he did his best to push Alex away. “What are you doing here?” he snapped in English. “I thought I told you not to come!”

Alex pouted, and Taiga noted that mercifully, she was at least wearing a shirt. Definitely not wearing a bra though. “How could I allow my disciple to play such an important match without my support?” He opened his mouth, ready to chew her out some more, only for Alex to wink and point upward. “Besides, Tatsuya invited me.”

Taiga looked up to see the enigmatic look of amusement Tatsuya had always been known for, in this life and the last. “Hello Taiga,” he said, considerately in Japanese. “I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t want to drop by unannounced without some backup.”

“You flew here from America too?” Taiga asked, though he wasn’t surprised to see Tatsuya shake his head.

“No! Actually, my family moved back recently. We live in Akita though, so I have taken quite a trip.” Taiga didn’t have to look to know that all three of his friends had perked up at the mention of Akita. “I figured you’d have enough room for both Alex and me! I mean, I could always sleep with you if there isn’t enough--”

Was that a growl? Taiga turned to look at Nigō in Kuroko’s arms, but the puppy was just looking at the proceedings with an exasperation that Taiga could empathize with. He had to bend backward to follow the sound to its source and was surprised to see Daiki with as much antagonism as he’d ever felt from Aomine radiating off of him.

“Oh, you must be Daiki,” Tatsuya said, his smile suggesting a joke that Daiki definitely wasn’t privy to. “This explains quite a bit,” he said, and had he learned that seductive purr from Alex? What had happened while he was gone?

“That’s enough!” Taiga snapped. “Let’s get out of the doorway. I need to make dinner.”

The cooking calmed Taiga down, although he knew that was with Satsuki and Kuroko’s help, as the two of them were keeping Daiki from stalking over to him while also playing host to Tatsuya and Alex. Satsuki had lots of questions for Alex about playing in the WNBA and her scattered coaching jobs. Kuroko carefully talked around the subject of Taiga to keep from setting Daiki off even more.

There was a brief lull in conversation when Tatsuya asked, “So, are all three of you gunning for Taiga? As popular as ever, it seems.”

“What do you mean by that?” The question was forced out between gritted teeth, and Taiga hurriedly plated food to start serving.

“Oh, just what it sounds like,” Tatsuya said, voice perfectly pitched to suggest things that were definitely not true. “Americans find mixed Japanese-American people to be very attractive, and you know how Taiga looks.”

“He’s not even legal!” Daiki objected, sounding honestly affronted.

“No, but at that size, who could blame them for their mistake?”

Taiga slammed the plates down on the table before anyone could get their throats ripped out. “Eat. Be civil,” he said to them, making eye contact with each in turn. He carefully ignored how Daiki scooted his chair closer to him and pretended he didn’t see the way Satsuki was biting back her laughter.

Alex and Tatsuya offered to do the dishes in apology for their sudden appearance, which gave Taiga enough time to pull Daiki into their bedroom for a conversation.

“What are you doing? You haven’t acted like this since we were kids!” Taiga said, inwardly acknowledging that wasn’t quite true. Daiki was always at least a little territorial of Taiga’s space, attention, touch. Still, he didn’t think he’d ever seen Daiki this outwardly hostile before. It reminded him of Aomine, which made him uncomfortable. Was Daiki upset at the reminder of their time apart?

“Did you date that guy?” Daiki asked. That was not what Taiga had expected Daiki to say.

“What? No!” he jumped away from Daiki as if trying to get away from the idea itself. “What do you think I was doing in America?”

“I don’t know!” Daiki hissed in return. “I know how attractive you are, Taiga! You’re patient and kind, fuck, you put up with me! I’m sure you had your pick.”

This time, Taiga reeled back for a totally different reason. “Y-You think I’m attractive?” Even as he asked the question, he steeled himself for the expected denial.

Daiki, thoroughly caught up in the flow of the argument, bit back, “Of course I do! Fuck, when I saw you again, at Tōō, a part of me was so happy my childhood friend was back. The other part of me--” Taiga swallowed his shock at the heat he could see in Daiki’s eyes. “You’re beautiful. And the way you play basketball is just so familiar but also so…”

Taiga couldn’t help but snort, although he quickly crowded up to Daiki to make sure he knew it wasn’t at him. He thought again how lucky he was to find someone else as stupid about basketball as he was. How well they fit together. Maybe so well that time itself had rearranged events, just to bring them together.

What a conceited thought, he mentally scolded himself, reaching out to rest his hands on Daiki’s hips and pull him close. “I never even looked at anyone else. All I could think of was you and basketball and getting back. Tatsuya is just provoking you. We were close; he was my only friend over there, but it wasn’t anything like… you and me,” he said, mumbling the last three words.

He lifted a hand to rest it over where the ring hung, and it was strange to think of how much had shifted in this life, only for him to wind up in just about the same spot. Still with a ring that meant too much, and a boy who could break his heart.

But Daiki wasn’t Tatsuya. He was louder, bolder, and way more reckless. So instead of sniping at him on a street court, Daiki wrapped a hand around Taiga’s neck and kissed him instead.

Taiga was dizzy with the sensation, the realization that this way happening. Daiki wasn’t experienced, but he was just the right amount of enthusiastic, and Taiga wondered if he would come in his pants just from the relief of getting rid of the tension between them when he felt Daiki’s other hand grab his and guide it to his chest.

Where the key to Taiga’s apartment hung. Where two keys hung.

He broke away, breathless, and asked, “But I thought you threw it away?”

“I did,” Daiki said. “Then I ran back half an hour afterward and fished it out, freaking out the whole time that I had fucked up and lost it for good.”

He looked so shaken, frightened in a way Taiga hadn’t seen since the day they said goodbye. Desperate to get rid of that look, he pulled Daiki in for another kiss.

There was a sudden knock at the door, and while Taiga’s first instinct was to jump away, Daiki’s was to pull him closer.

“Is everything okay in there? We heard arguing and then… nothing, so we just wanted to make sure you hadn’t killed each other.” Who had decided to send Tatsuya? “Ah, Momoi-san seemed to think you were both just fine, and she absolutely refused to interrupt you.”

Satsuki really did know them too well. “We’re fine, Tatsuya. We’ll be out in a bit,” Taiga called. They waited to hear Tatsuya’s footsteps fading away before Daiki was back, bending to mouth at Taiga’s neck.

“I swear if you give me a hickey,” he started threatening, but Daiki pulled away with a smile.

“Not while the Interhigh is going on,” he promised. “But after…”

Taiga could think of a million things he wanted to do when there weren’t impending basketball games to account for, but right now, what he wanted the most was for everyone else in the apartment to leave. Grabbing one of his baggier sweatshirts to pull on in the hopes of hiding his current state, Taiga said, “I just want to say bye to everyone.”

Daiki snorted. “If the suggestive dick and child predator don’t have a place to stay, there’s no way you’re kicking them out.” Taiga tried to frown in disapproval at the nicknames, but he gave in and chuckled after a moment.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Taiga admitted. “But if they want to stay, they’ll have to put up with it.”

“Put up with what?” Daiki asked, starting to unbutton his shirt, and Taiga realized with a start that he hadn’t been able to change out of his uniform before they ate.

“With the sound of you crying out in pleasure as I demonstrate everything I learned in my years in America,” Taiga said as sarcastically as possible.

Daiki raised an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”

Taiga wondered when those words and Aomine Daiki had become associated with instant arousal for him. “We really need to play basketball together before the game.”

“Why?” The shirt was completely off now, and he was reaching to remove his pants.

“I really don’t want to get hard in the middle of an Interhigh match,” he said. Daiki laughed, mercifully stopping in the middle of stripping to push Taiga out of the room.

Satsuki was waiting at the end of the hall. The girl really did have some kind of psychic powers. “Alex and Tatsuya say they have a place to stay, so we’ll just say goodbye to you and Nigō and see ourselves out.”

“Thanks Satsuki,” he said, probably transparent as hell.

“I swear if either of you come into the game limping…” she threatened, expression turning dark and frightening for a second.

“We won’t! We wouldn’t do that!” Taiga objected, fleeing to the main room in embarrassment.

“I know, but you’ll be tempted!” Satsuki sing-songed as she followed behind. The worst part was that Taiga couldn’t deny it.

He said goodbye to everyone, hoping that his enthusiasm wasn’t too obvious, but these were the people who knew him best aside from Daiki and their dads, so he resigned himself to embarrassment. Daiki at least showed up at the last second to see Kuroko and Satsuki off, and it almost seemed like any other night they had invited friends over for dinner.

Except when the door closed, Daiki pushed him back against it, tilting his head to kiss him again. Taiga knew the Generation of Miracles were all very good at improving on the fly, but Daiki was the prodigy of the group. In both basketball and ways to drive Taiga insane, apparently.

“I can’t believe it took Tatsuya making you jealous for us to say anything to each other,” Taiga fretted later that night. “That seems so unhealthy.”

Daiki grumbled from where he had his head tucked against Taiga’s neck. “I would have snapped and jumped you eventually.”

Taiga thought about how it would have felt to play basketball against Daiki, his Daiki, again for the first time since their reconciliation. He couldn’t fight back his blush.

“Also, if we kept living like this, our dads would have made us get married at some point.”

That was also true. Taiga ran his fingers lightly over Daiki’s back and wondered again how he had gotten so lucky. He used to think, hope that this life was all just a dream. Now, he prayed desperately that he wouldn’t wake up from it.

--

The rest of the week seemed to go much smoother. They both went to school, went to practice, ate dinner together, and then retired to their bed to try everything they could that didn’t involve penetration.

“Daiki’s numbers have gotten even better recently,” Satsuki teased the morning of their match. It was early enough that it was just the three of them and an ever smiling Imayoshi who drifted by.

“Oh, do we have Kagami-kun to thank for that as well?”

He couldn’t tell whether Imayoshi knew or not, and it made him uncomfortable.

Eventually, Nigō ran off, which was usually a sign of Kuroko’s arrival. Taiga wandered after him, wanting to check in on Kuroko before the game.

Maybe he shouldn’t have worried so much, he thought, finding the boy standing outside, staring at the early morning sky. Nigō was sitting, leaning against one of his legs, as content as his namesake. Taiga walked closer, stopping a distance away from his friend. As much as Daiki meant to him, Taiga had known Kuroko first. He was the reason that he’d gotten into this mess. Taiga had made decisions that he’d agonized over because he wanted to stand here next to his friend.

It seemed worth it when Kuroko looked back at him, the sun hitting just right to make the rare smile even more dazzling than usual. “Kagami-kun, shouldn’t you be wrangling Aomine-kun?”

He rolled his eyes. “They can handle him without me, you know.”

“Can they?” Kuroko asked, as smug as his usual expressionless face except now he was clearly happy. “We set out to slay monsters, Kagami-kun.”

Taiga winced at that. Maybe he’d been a little melodramatic when he’d first arrived in Japan, still sore from losing Daiki’s friendship.

“Well, that’s what we said. In truth, we just wanted to make our friends smile again.” Nigō barked his agreement, and Taiga took a deep breath to process how true that was. He had wanted Daiki to smile again, had wanted Kuroko to smile again.

Hyuga, Kiyoshi, Satsuki, Riko, the whole team--they had all been happy in the other world. He figured that if he had stayed longer, he would have seen them get over their issues, solve their problems. Kiyoshi returned to them eventually, after all. Maybe Aomine would have too. Maybe if Taiga had stayed, he could have won permission to call Aomine by his first name.

Then again, Taiga had never been known for his patience. This way had probably suited him better, even if he had been forced to spend an extra year away from Daiki. In the end, they’d have so many more.

“I suppose rather than a monster slayer, we should call you a monster tamer,” Kuroko said, returning to his almost toneless delivery, but Taiga could hear the teasing lilt at the end.

They stood there watching the sky brighten a little more. Taiga waited until Kuroko looked ready to head in, and then he forced himself to ask, “Do you think it’s selfish to spend your whole life trying to make someone happy?” Had he done the right thing, devoting so much of this second chance to Daiki? He had searched for a goal at the beginning, a reason why he was living these years again. Somewhere along the line, he had lost sight of all that. There had only been Daiki.

Kuroko stared at him, face seemingly back to his expressionless state. Yet there was a slight tilt to his mouth, a softening of his eyes. “I think that’s what it means to be in love, Kagami-kun.”

Taiga blushed, rubbing the back of his head. He eventually tried to hide his embarrassment by dragging Kuroko back into the stadium with his head locked under Taiga’s arm. “Well, I didn’t spend all my time on that bastard. I’ve got something I want to show you today. Maybe show the whole team.”

“More of your secret basketball practice?” Kuroko asked, deadpan firmly in place.

“It wasn’t secret!” Taiga objected.

Then everyone else started to show up. Taiga looked up at the stands briefly in the middle of his warmout to see Alex and Tatsuya waving at him. The purple giant sitting next to Tatsuya was not subtle, and Taiga relished the thought of roasting his friend for that later. Shutoku had turned up as a team, and Kaijō was close enough to actually say hello from where they were sitting.

And sitting next to them were…

“Dad?” he exclaimed. That seemed to get everyone else’s attention, and they all turned to look at his father who almost looked out of place in casual clothes.

“Dad?” another voice shouted right next to him, and he turned to see Daiki staring with wide eyes at Naoya, who was sitting with Torahiko.

“What kind of fathers would we be if we missed such a big game in our sons’ lives?” Naoya teased. He was wearing a Seirin shirt while Torahiko sat in a Tōō shirt, and dear god, their fathers were so embarrassing.

“It’s like Aominecchi and Kagamicchi in stereo,” Kise said, looking back and forth at the two groups with awe in his eyes.

“When did you even get here?” Taiga demanded. He had been texting his father as usual, and the other man hadn’t hinted at any travel plans.

“I’ve been here a few days, but I didn’t want to interrupt your training,” Torahiko said, ever the considerate father. “Luckily, Naoya had a room free in his house.”

“As if any of us believe you stayed in separate rooms,” Daiki mumbled reproachfully. Taiga elbowed him in the stomach. “What?”

“I don’t want to think about that before our game!” he hissed.

“Why not? It might help with your problem,” Daiki taunted, glancing down to emphasize just what he was talking about.

Taiga was so red, he imagined the people at the very top of the stands could see it. “That happened once! I got it out of my system!” His distressed face suddenly turned coy, “Besides, I won and got to call you cute.”

Daiki growled, still bitter that Taiga had remembered that from way back when they were kids. Luckily, their argument was cut off by Kuroko, who had once again magically appeared where he could best laugh at other people’s misery. “Remember you’re in public.”

They fled, appropriately chastised.

Still, as soon as they were on the court, face to face and preparing for the jump off, all that energy and familiar tension came rushing back. The sight of the two keys hanging from the chain around Daiki’s neck made Taiga’s heart beat faster, warmed him from the inside. He closed his eyes and let that feeling lead him to a familiar door.

Come with me, Taiga thought, smiling at Daiki right before the ball left the referee’s hand.

The flash of a grin he saw before they were both jumping was reassuring. As if I’m ever letting you go again.

Chapter Text

“You’re Kagami Taiga, right? Play a game with me.” Taiga blinked, turning around at the familiar sound of Daiki’s voice. Was he dreaming? He knew this court and he knew those words and he knew this Daiki, still young and heart weary and using bluster to cover up for it.

He also knew that this happened years ago, more than a decade in the past. It was so far back, Taiga was surprised to hear Daiki use that tone with him. He hadn’t heard it since he left for America, their Skype chats always friendly and familiar. It never reared its head again, not when they became teammates and certainly not after they started dating.

Somehow, Taiga had gone to sleep next to a clingy, beloved husband, surrounded by their NBA trophies and awards, only to wake up to--

Aomine Daiki, 15 years old and moody in that teenage way that Taiga liked to tease Daiki about when they reminisced.

“Hey, are you deaf? Did you hear me?” Impatience was a familiar look at least, and so was the childlike petulance. Taiga had to swallow a fond chuckle, amazed to see his lover so young again. He tested his legs and definitely felt the injury that he remembered. Looking back at the net, he frowned and thought again about how stupid he’d been.

”If you’d told me you were injured, I wouldn’t have kept challenging you,” Daiki swore one day, as they were thinking back again to how they met.

Taiga figured this was as good a time to test it as any other. The only time he'd get to test it. “I wouldn’t be a good challenge right now. I’m injured,” he gestured at his legs. “I shouldn’t be out here playing.”

A series of emotions ran across the younger face, starting with shock, as if he hadn’t planned for this. It ended with embarrassment, though Taiga could only read that now after having been friends with Daiki. To most others, it probably came across as condescending or annoyed. “I had a plan," he mumbled.

“Well, plan around my injury.” The taunt was habit, but Taiga replied in the same soothing voice he used when he was trying to convince Daiki not to punch the guy who’d just fouled him. “For now, why don’t we go to Maji? Daiki, is there one near here?” His memory wasn’t reliable, thinking of Maji locations that had been opened and closed and reopened since he had been in high school.

“How do you know my name?” Daiki asked. “Wait, Daiki? You should--”

“Call me Taiga,” he said, grabbing one of Daiki’s arms to start dragging him off. The burger chain was popular enough that if they walked long enough in one direction, they’d probably run into one. Strangely enough, Daiki went along with it, either because he was surprised or because he wanted to and being surprised was a helpful cover. Taiga couldn’t help but glance back at his face, almost forgotten and now so dear. He wondered what Daiki would have been like in high school, if they had become friends earlier. If Daiki had been happier. “I’m really glad I met you, Daiki,” he breathed, thinking of all the possibilities, of the ways Taiga could make him smile again.

That was probably too much to dump onto a 15 year old boy all at once, but Daiki didn’t kick out or rage. If anything, he became even more complacent, adjusting his strides to walk next to Taiga, an obvious blush on his cheeks that Taiga took great joy in. He wondered what had happened to the time and life he remembered. Maybe a 15 year old Taiga had woken up to all of his dreams come true. Daiki would have so much fun with him. Mostly by kicking his ass so that Taiga realized how much he still needed to work on his basketball.

“I don’t even know you,” Daiki mumbled, obviously trying to work up indignation, anger. Obviously failing.

“You will,” Taiga promised.