Of Indecisions and Validations
Rating: G
Pairing: AkaFuri
Characters: Furihata Kouki. Akashi Seijuro. Seirin High Characters.
Wordcount: 7600+ words (oneshot)
Tags: Pre Slash. Introspection. Canon Divergence. Self-Doubt. Fluff.
Summary: Furihata Kouki has always had a good head above his shoulders. It's time he realised that for himself.
Author's notes: A terribly late valentine gift for my dear Jenny @akashiseijuro4!!! Thank you a million times for your patience and for your continuous encouragement!! Also, a wonderful round of applause for Ess @shadowwinggirl for looking this over for me!! And!! A bone-crushing hug for EoF @eight-orange-flowers for being my source of strength while writing this :") I couldn't have done it without you guys <33
AO3 link right here!
Furihata panted.
Hands on bent knees, standing barely enough not to keel over in the middle of the court. He saw Kagami lift Kuroko off from where he was lying lifeless from the corner of his eye. Like a sad sack of potatoes. The others weren't faring any better. Most were either gulping down the endless supply of energy drinks or they have just given up and lying spread eagled on the floor.
Exhausted was a weak word to describe what they felt.
Practice had been as brutal as usual especially on Saturdays such as this but....when he took a deep breath and inhaled the much needed oxygen into his depraved lungs, he smiled breathlessly. It was well worth it. Every part in his body ached like there was no tomorrow. Sweat cascaded down from every pore until it felt like they were spitting blood instead. Tired, overworked muscles screamed and hollered with every tiny movement.
But it felt wonderful. Good.
Freeing, indeed.
They had strong opponents.
Insanely strong.
It would be detrimental on Seirin's side if they slack off now.
Heaving himself up from his crouched position, he flexed his arms. Feeling each tendon give a long suffering whine, he straightened up.
Rolling his shoulders, he started making way over to the showers along with Fukuda and Kawahara when he heard someone call his name.
"Furi! Do you have a minute?"
Turning his head towards the sound, he found Hyuuga gesture to him. Riko by his side, was pouring over some papers and Kiyoshi looking up at them sideways from where he was seated on the bench. Their faces were serious as ever. Even Kiyoshi's face wasn't as relaxed as it usually was. Odd.
He jogged over, "Hai Captain."
Hyuuga adjusted his glasses, "Furi you probably know this but we wanted to tell you before we make the official announcement."
Ah. The third years' retirement.
Of course, it was almost February now. And the Winter Cup was long over.
The retirement ceremony was only a few weeks later, by the very end of February; just before the exams to wish all the seniors good luck and officially name one of the second years as captain. The third years still oversaw practice and participated in the training albeit not as much as before. They had slowly reduced their own training and focused on improving the skills of their juniors. Pointing out errors, game tips, pressure handling techniques and all that. But they still couldn't resist a good game every now and then. Basketball was hard to get over just like that. It was addictive.
And they hadn't chosen a captain yet.
Furihata himself was placing his bets on either Kagami or Kuroko to lead the team. Or maybe even both, since one's shortcomings was equalised by the other's strengths.
The true light and fated shadow duo.
He didn't fully understand the whole metaphor, but it made sense to him when he sees them day in and day out.
You simply cannot have one without the other.
A perfect balance. Like two halves of a piece.
Also because they had more experience on the court than any of the others.
Hence he been secretly rooting for them. He was pretty sure everyone was.
"It's you."
Furihata gave a blank stare. Uncomprehending.
He paused in the middle of his internal musings.
"You are the captain, Furi." Kiyoshi smiled warmly.
Furihata blinked.
He was sure he had heard it wrong.
"Eh!"
"It was an unanimous decision, Furihata-kun. It has always been you."
His jaw dropped. To the floor.
This cannot be happening.
No.
No.
Especially not after what happened.
No.
Nooo.
There had to be a mistake.
A big, huge, massive mistake.
HIM?
This had to be a joke.
Was he being pranked?
Was this going to be like his middle school?
Just when he thought there were no mean people here....
Please... please don't joke like this...
Please....No.
Something must have shown on his face because-
"It's not a joke. Think about it, Furi. You are the only one they listen to."
Hyuuga gestured to where Seirin's newest find were currently engaged in wrestling.
Those two.
Furihata shook his head, letting out a deep sigh.
It was always like this.
Always.
He gave a short order, "Enough! Cut it out you two."
In an instant, Yuuya wiggled himself out of the headlock and bowed from the waist, "Sorry!! Furi Senpai!! Sorry!"
Asahina rubbed the back of neck and looked away, "Sorry....Senpai."
Furihata nodded.
"See." Hyuuga's voice cut through.
Furihata jolted, momentarily forgetting they were there.
"But that proves nothing! They would act no different to the others! I am...I am..."
Dozens of retorts sat on his tongue. He was barely Yuuya's height and couldn't even imagine having the commanding power that his third year captain emanated. He was not as passionate as Kagami and definitely not as gifted as Kuroko. He was average at best and downright laughable at worst. It was only a matter of time before one of the juniors easily, oh so easily, surpassed him. He was probably only good as a support system during times of extreme stress. He most certainly did not have the stamina to last all forty minutes of the game on the court, let alone a quarter. His team could probably do very well without him.
And after what happened during the last Winter Cup, he was sure of that fact.
He bit his lip to stop himself from voicing out any of them.
Riko placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him down to her eye level,"Furihata-kun, what happened in the last game is exactly why you are the captain."
Huh?
Kiyoshi ruffled his hair with his huge hand. The action, while it was soothing, did nothing to quell his shock.
"Don't think about it too much. You will know when you know. For now, just go with the flow."
Eh?
What's with his seniors speaking in riddles all of a sudden?
Somebody please explain!
He didn't deserve this.
He doesn't deserve this.
Those were the precise phrases his mind repeated over and over again on the walk back home after the hasty shower. Fukuda and Kawahara had left before he could even make it to the lockers. His seniors had not elaborated on anything. They had dismissed him soon after that and started planning for the ceremony. Izuki Senpai and the others were nowhere to be seen. Of course, if he had gotten cryptic phrases from his usually vocal seniors, god knows what his pun loving senior would have said. He mentally thanked the heavens for his absence. He already had enough confusion to deal with.
Although.....Mitobe Senpai would have been helpful. By extension, Koganei Senpai too. Along with Tsuchida Senpai, they were the silent pillars of the usually noisy bunch. They would have sat him down and explained it to him. Making him understand. Making him feel slightly better than he currently was.
He sighed.
Too bad they had stopped coming to practice on weekends.
He couldn't blame them. Final exams were approaching fast.
Perhaps he could talk to them on Monday.
It still seemed too far away.
He wanted answers now.
He gazed absentmindedly at his surroundings and realised that he was near the library closest to his home. He hesitated.
It had been a while.
It had been a long while.
And he definitely needed something to distract him from his muddled thoughts. Otherwise his mind might explode.
Hitching his bag a little higher on his shoulder, he strode purposefully into the library.
The moment he was inside, the wonderfully pungent smell of old books and paper engulfed him.
He breathed in satisfactorily, taking in all the old scents.
Ahhhh.
A pleased smile made its way on his face.
This was.....heaven on earth.
It was a safe haven for every book lover.
A whole new world that lay beyond every page of every book.
He could drown himself in it and forget the real world.
Like sleeping.
But so much better.
It was like his mind unlocked to show him new sides to his ever growing imagination.
Taking him further and further away from reality.
And escaping reality was exactly what he needed now.
However, scrolling through the various aisles, he was slightly disgruntled to find nothing that could immediately catch his attention and keep him engrossed for hours together.
Whatever books he thumbed through were already read by him and currently, given his chaotic mood, he wasn't inclined to reread them again.
Plopping himself down on one of the seats near the window, he slumped on the table, sighing heavily as he did so.
Well, that had been a hilarious success.
His mind can now happily roam around all day thinking about how unworthy he is to be the captain of Seirin Basketball Team.
Just plain fascinating.
He was getting lost in his wayward introspection again as he stared outside the window where the sky was beginning to blush.
The slightly pink hues started mixing with gold, lending an almost scenic view to Furihata.
The sky was yet to be filled with the reds and purple that he loved the most for it to be his favourite.
The late afternoon breeze blew softly, lulling him to sleep.
It wasn't long before he was nodding off, waking himself up momentarily with sudden jerks only to fail miserably in keeping his eyes open.
He must have dozed off because he awoke to someone calling out his name.
Repeatedly.
Softly and far away at first.
But getting increasingly louder as his conscious slowly resurfaced.
"Furihata-kun! Furihata-kun! Ah. Furihata-kun, you are awake!"
Furihata blinked blearily and rubbed his eyes. Wiping the sticky drool off his chin and discreetly off the table, he sat up.
It was nearly dark outside. Just after dusk, it seemed. The black was taking over purplish pink canvas of the sky by the minute.
The sun's dying rays were still trying in vain to throw light upon the rapidly darkening sky. They weren't successful.
Ah. He had slept off for a while. He yawned mutely.
He turned to thank his caller and did a back take when he realised who it was.
Akashi Seijuro.
Akashi stood next to the chair, arm raised as if he had been nudging him before and moved to sit in front of him.
Furihata recovered from his shock quickly.
What was he doing here?
No. Furihata shook his head internally.
What Akashi was doing in Tokyo was not his business.
He should just thank him for waking him up before it got late for dinner.
"I apologise for waking you up. I merely did not want you to have an ache as that position did not seem comfortable."
"N-No. I-It-It's okay. R-Rea-Really. Th-Thank you." - Furihata swallowed, cursed his stuttering self - "I would have gotten a pretty bad sprain in my neck if I had slept more. Thank you, again, Akashi."
"You are welcome, Furihata-kun. I hope everything is well considering you are resting here instead of at home."
Well. wasn't he curious.
Those big red eyes were looking at him, focusing on him, expecting an answer.
They were unquestionably big.
And pretty...
Furihata cringed.
Slapping himself mentally for thinking that.
Akashi was a man. And a near stranger at that.
He can't just up and say 'your eyes are pretty' to some unknown guy!
But still. He owed him an explanation.
"Yeahhhh. I, uh, I was just a little spaced out, I guess. I am fine, though. Really."
"Happens to the best of us."
"...."
Urrrghhh. He hated the uncomfortable silence in the air.
Small talk. He needed small talk.
Anything, anything at all to fill the awkward atmosphere.
"I like this library."
Furihata looked up. Akashi had broken the silence first. Thankfully.
He didn't know what to say and talking about the weather was not something that he positively wanted to do. He felt gratuitous.
"-I had some business in Tokyo but coming here used to be my favourite during my time in Teiko."
Teiko?
Oh. Right. He had forgotten Teiko was in Tokyo.
"Oh. Mm."
"...Is something bothering you, Furihata-kun? You seem a bit out of it."
"Huh....Umm...N-No! I...I am fine. R-Really."
Furihata suddenly found the intricate patterns of wood on the table infinitely interesting. What was it? Rosewood? Teak?
Much better than answering Akashi anyway.
He knew Akashi was waiting. And he knew he did not believe him.
And he owed him a proper one at the very least. At least to keep the conversation going.
But.....what should he talk about? He can't just dump all problems on the kind redhead?!
Can he?
No... He mentally shook his head.
He can't.
It's..It's not like he didn't trust Akashi.
He had respect for him the size of Mount Fuji.
The guy was hardworking to a point that it almost looked effortless. Those moves, the pace, the power, the strength, the stamina...those definitely were not of someone who was just a prodigy by name. Those were of someone who nearly bled to death by practicing every waking day. From an undoubtedly young age. Honing that talent. Never slacking off. Sharpening it at every turn. Perfecting it until it looked natural. Every single day.
And that was just basketball.
He had heard that Akashi was the school council president, president of the Strategic Board Games club and could play a variety of musical instruments! And he was managing his share of duties in the Akashi Corporation too while in high school itself. Like....dude.
Talk about being exceptionally magnificent.
Now THAT was a person whom everyone should look up to.
With just basketball and his part time librarian duties at school, Furihata was finding it difficult to keep his grades above average.
Just managing it. Barely.
He realised he was sitting with a person who probably never made a single mistake in his answer sheet. No striking, no use of erasers, no nothing. His papers would probably be better than the answer key itself.
Excellence.
One word to describe all of Akashi Seijuro.
The person everyone would dream to be but would give up on becoming even before starting.
Because people assumed it was only inborn talent. And blamed it that way when they couldn't perform to an inch of his level.
Because people didn't know, didn't understand the work that went behind making that talent take the spotlight.
Because no one paid attention to how much he pushed himself to break his limits.
Every single time.
And he - ordinary, normal, everyday highschooler Furihata Kouki - was of the opinion that his problems were too much to handle.
Akashi would laugh at him if he knew.
He was sure.
Yet here he was, sitting across THE Akashi Seijuro in an obscure library on the not-so-bustling side of Tokyo on a slightly nippy February evening.
He can't tell him.
Of course not.
Akashi would laugh.
He would be disappointed.
He would-
"Furihata-kun! Furihata-Kun! Ah. Um..Are you alright?"
HE HAD SPACED OUT AGAIN.
ARGH!
Flailing his arms about, he tried to remedy the situation, "N-N-No! I am fine!! So-Sorry Akashi! I..uh..I have a lot on my mind now. S-S-Sorry for acting ru-rude. I didn't mean it!"
"...Do you wish to talk about it, Furihata-kun?"
Furihata blinked.
And gaped like a fish.
Talk about it?
That sounded inviting.
Terribly inviting.
And he certainly wanted to talk.
It usually helped get it off his chest.
That's what he would advise to anyone who looked like they were troubled.
And people would listen.
People would find him the ideal person to talk to for some obscure reason.
For the same reason they found Mitobe Senpai easy to talk to.
They would vent their feelings and frustrations to him and feel slightly better.
Clearer.
Lighter.
Perhaps he should take his own advice now.
But would that be okay?
This was Akashi they were talking about.
Not his mom. Or his brother.
True, Akashi would know better than anyone on captain duties. But they had never talked to each other for more than a scant few texts before.
That one time at Kuroko's party didn't count. They spent the majority time talking about random stuff while sitting next to each other. And mingling with the others from time to time. Sure, they had exchanged numbers but he had never used it for anything more than a broadcast message of 'All the Best' before the tournaments. And Akashi hadn't texted him either - other than a polite reply to his good luck messages, wishing him the same. They haven't talked at all. Even if they had, it still was not enough to talk about his own self pitying issues so openly.
But now, he was given the chance to talk.
Would he take it?
"No....I just...I...No...Sorry..."
He wished he could kick his sorry ass into the oblivion right now.
Idiot!!!!
He was internally pulling his hair out for being such a fu-
"Its alright. I understand, Furihata-kun." - Akashi flashed him a smile - "But just so you know, if you want to talk that is, I will not judge you."
Furihata ceased his internal screeching.
Huh.
Akashi had a nice smile.
A warm one.
Not a poster smile or anything.
But just...you know...soft.
Reassuring.
He looked down.
His gaze caught the book Akashi had placed in front of him.
The book was in English....and looked dreadfully old.
Not the old that comes from being handled by a lot of people but centuries old, as evident from the paper quality.
It looked delicate.
His book lover instincts started revving up.
He wished to know what happens in the book. He secretly loved romance stories. Absolutely loved them. Much more than the mystery novels that Kuroko will recommend all the time. Being a romantic at heart, he would sneak in a few extra hours at the library to read the novels he had hoarded up.
He liked Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility. Those were the only ones in English he had read with the help of his brother that he had fawned over. He hoped he could read them on his own. Hearing his brother out loud was good, like story telling, but reading alone had its own incomparable pleasure. He craved to be nose down into those books, feel them surround him and plunge him into their world. Reading alone blazed a new path in his already incredibly vast imagination, words dancing around him and making him feel whatever the author wanted him to feel. And those female writers were undeniably brilliant in his humble opinion. He yearned to read all of their wonderful works.
Ah.
He vowed to take up English in college. Just so it would help him read to his heart's content. And sate his book lover needs.
He glanced up when he saw Akashi turn a page.
Idly, he wondered what genre Akashi read.
He wondered whether Akashi liked dark themed ones. Or was he like him - a secret romantic. Or did he mix everything up from time to time depending on the mood.
Was that a romance novel he was reading? Or a thriller? Maybe a nice eloquent biography?
He wanted to know.
Akashi certainly looked like he belonged here.
In a small library, filled from floor to ceiling with books, happily reading one of his choices while sipping coffee of some expensive kind and getting lost in the world beyond ink and paper where his mind sailed the skies as the evening wind slowly swirled around him.
He looked...content.
His hair was a little fluffy, the wind lightly teasing it - he caught the smell of strawberry. That smelled awfully nice on him.
His expression was so peaceful. Like he had come to a secret place where he could be.....he could just be.
Here he wasn't a prodigy.
Here he wasn't the untouchable, unapproachable upper class.
Here he wasn't a person whom he was first afraid of and now having a humongous admiration for.
He was - this was unfathomable - the same as him.
One book lover sitting across another book lover.
The only universe where he stood the same ground as Akashi.
And Akashi DID promise not to judge him.
What's the worst that could happen?
Other than his self esteem taking a huge hit if Akashi was disgusted by him.
It's not like he will see Akashi soon again anyway...
Should he risk it?
"I...."
Akashi looked up.
Furihata refused to meet his eyes.
Another bout of awkward silence ensued.
One minute later....
Two minutes later....
Akashi was still waiting.
Four minutes later.....
Four minutes and one second later.....
Akashi sat up straighter.
Four minutes and two seconds later.....
He crossed his arms over his chest and waited.
Four minutes and three seconds later.....
Furihata started sweating slightly.
Four minutes and four seconds later.....
Each second passed excruciatingly slow for him.
Four minutes and five seconds later.....
Every second made the air feel heavier.
Four minutes and six seconds later.....
It felt like he was suffocating. Water. Water. He badly needed water. He felt parched.
Four minutes and seven seconds later.....
He might end up telling him. Blurt it out like the idiot he is, he mentally berated himself.
Four minutes and eight seconds later.....
Of course he cannot do that! Akashi needed a proper explanation. Not him being rude and anti-social.
Four minutes and ten seconds later.....
He was being anti-social already. How many minutes have gone by? Why wasn't the clock moving any faster? Why wasn't Akashi bored with him already?
Four minutes and eleven seconds later.....
...He probably won't leave until he fessed up. He might as well. Fess up, that is. Those red eyes seemed not so scary anyway, now that he was used to them. At least a little.
Four minutes and twelve seconds later.....
"I...um....have been made captain..."
The words trailed off until he was sure he had only mouthed the last word.
Akashi blinked slowly. It understandably took a while to decipher the mumbling.
A happy smile broke out on his face.
"That's great, Furihata-kun! Congratulations. You deserve it. Although I did expect it, I should say."
He deserved it?
Him?
"...expected it?"
"Ah. Personal reasons. Not to worry. I merely had a hunch that you would be named captain. That is all."
Hunch?
"Furihata-kun, are you okay? Are you not feeling well?"
Huh?
Did he look so bad?
Was it obvious on his face that he felt confused and upset and slightly aggravated by the fact that everyone around him suddenly started talking in tongues and nobody would explain anything to him and he knew, knew it deep inside, that he truly didn't deserve the captaincy?
"What happened? Furihata-kun?"
Akashi reached out and shook his shoulder lightly.
He had a firm grip.
Not too light.
Not too tight.
Just....right.
Furihata shook his head off of his foggy whirlpool of thoughts. And met his eyes with a resigned sigh.
Akashi retracted his hand. Still giving him that concerned look.
"I just...I don't know why they....I am....I am not qualified enough. Not....good enough."
He could feel Akashi stare at him levelly.
The previous concern hiding behind a careful poker face.
"Do you honestly feel that way? As far as I can tell, from both Winter Cups where we faced off against Seirin, you are yet to disappoint me."
"But I...."
Akashi waited.
Furihata lowered his head, unable and unwilling to stare at anything except his lap.
In a hushed tone, he somehow managed to get out the words that were on the tip of his tongue.
"I....lost."
Akashi didn't lose a beat.
"True. But you should remember, we didn't have a firm stake on victory too. It was a gamble until the end."
Furihata didn't take his eyes off of his lap.
He could see it as clear as if it was just yesterday. Everything anew and afresh. Like an unhealable scar that seared across his chest. Ripping his heart out.
He could still hear the final buzzer signalling the end of play. The end of the game. The final game of the year.
He could still hear the orange ball hit the court.....before making it to the basket.
He could still hear his heart plummet to the depths of his stomach even as he remembered.
He could still feel the crushing nearly choking heaviness of defeat, the speechlessness at not being able to believe what had just happened.
He could still feel the empty hollow numb feeling that came after. And then the onslaught of overwhelming emotions that very nearly suffocated him in their enormity.
He could still see how long it took his mind to process the information and how long it took for him to react.
Bile rose up. Tears started to sting.
Even now.
Gritting his teeth, he poured it out.
"The last shot. It was our last chance. We were just one lousy point away from victory. It was supposed to go in. It had to go in. I wanted it go in. I wanted it so bad. I wanted nothing more at that moment. It was the final Winter Cup of our seniors, the champions who won our first ever Winter Cup. It was their final send off. They-They entrusted it to me. The-They trusted me with the final call. With the final shot. They believed in me. They believed that I could get it in. That I could win it for them. That we would be champions again. And I-And I....failed them."
He looked up, looked straight at Akashi. At those beautiful ruby eyes with unabashed rage. All sense of politeness and intimidation fading away into thin air.
Eyes glistening with unshed tears, anger at his own incompetency lighting up every nerve in his body, he growled, "How? How am I qualified? I let down my team. I let down my seniors. I let down my school. They believed in me and I, like the fucking coward that I am, couldn't even make the final shot. I fucking let them all down. Now you tell me how I am supposed to lead my team when I am such a fucking loser." He clenched his fists hard enough for his nails to leave bloody crescent marks on his palm. He bit his lip to stop himself from crying. He didn't look away from Akashi. Gritting his teeth to stop his jaw from trembling, he stared straight at him.
Akashi didn't say anything for a while.
They sat staring at each other.
One expecting answers.
And the other carefully choosing his next words.
"....Kagami is more passionate about basketball. Not to mention his skills. Kuroko is infinitely more talented." - Furihata spat out, body shaking with repressed anger or distress he didn't know - "Asahina is a freaking wall. Yuuya is getting better every day. And I...I am...I am still stuck in the same rut...like a dead mule...dragging everyone down with me...They...They would be better off without me....."
He shifted to furiously glare at the patterns on the wood again.
One lone tear made its way down his cheek.
Then another.
He fiercely swiped them away.
They tasted bitter.
Furihata felt a hand on his shoulder.
Looking up, he saw Akashi fix him with a stern stare. He stilled.
"It pains me to see that you do not see your own worth. True to some of the things you have said. Kagami is talented enough to be more than on par with any of the Miracles. Kuroko is a genius in his own merit. And with what I have seen from the limited time they both played in the Winter Cup matches, I am sure your juniors will only grow to be formidable by the time they graduate." He paused a little, then continued.
"But that is not to say you are lacking, Furihata-kun. You are the playmaker of the game! A point guard is the director of the show, so to speak. He is the one behind the scenes. Shouting orders, making calls. All the time. People notice centres who defend the basket in the nick of time. People notice forwards making dunks and alley oops. But who enables them to do all that?
"Who makes the strategies? Who sees the entire court all the time to point the team in exactly what direction to move next? Who sees three-four moves ahead and builds up numerous back up plans? Who thinks about the making the right passes throughout the game? Point guards, Furihata-kun. And that is you." Akashi jabbed a finger to his chest lightly.
"You are the playmaker of Seirin. The puppeteer with the strings. The composer in an orchestra. The general who rallies up his soldiers in a war. The control tower that never relaxes. Never lets down its guard until the game ends. The person who has to think the most in any game. The person who has to ensure that enough baskets are made in the short time available and build a strong enough defence to not allow the other team to counter it.
"I apologise for painting a pretty picture of what is, technically, the most gruesome task in a game, Furihata-kun. But in a nutshell, what it boils down to is that without you, Furihata-kun, your team would be crippled. Beyond repair. And it is high time you understood that. You feel bad about yourself? Good. You feel the need to push yourself? Good. You feel that if you don't catch up, you would fall behind? Good. You take in extra practice just to make sure you stand on the same court as opponents who are indubitably stronger than you, mightier than you, better than you? GOOD." Akashi's eyes glow brighter and more imploring with every word, if that were possible. "That's what makes you you, Furihata-kun. A true Seirin underdog.
"You may be a coward as you said earlier," Akashi sits back and let his lids shut halfway as if remembering something, "but I recall the first time when you played against me in a national match and scored a point on my watch. It may not mean much, but in a high level challenging game, every single point counts. And last game, if I didn't, at the very last second, take a wild guess that you would get the ball and run to block you in time - I still didn't make it, I barely touched the ball after you released it - I, we, would have lost. Again. To Seirin. Again.
"I was desperate, Furihata-kun." He shrugged his shoulders delicately. "And desperate people take desperate measures. I personally think that your team made an excellent choice for captaincy, Furihata-kun." Never breaking eye contact, he leaned forward. "Unpredictable, evolving, dark horse Seirin needs an unpredictable, evolving, dark horse of a captain like you. I do not know whether you do, but I believe in you. We may have stolen victory by the skin of our teeth this time, Furihata-kun," Akashi lips quirked up in a challenging smirk and his eyes flashed, "but it wouldn't be too far fetched to see you steal it right back. I am sure the new Seirin will give everyone a run for their money. No matter how carefully we guard our stations."
Akashi sat back. Letting what he declared to be digested.
Furihata felt his jaw go slack.
Dammmmn.
Akashi could give a nice little speech.
Where had all that come from?
Composer?
Puppeteer?
Strategist?
Those were Akashi.
Overflowing with talent and oozing awesomeness with every step Akashi.
Not him.
Akashi.
Definitely not him.
Not a simple support system called Furihata Kouki.
But....
Playmaker.
He would be lying if he didn't like the sound of that.
Underdog Seirin needed underdog Furihata.
Needed.
Otherwise it would be crippled.
It felt good to be needed.
To be wanted.
To be an indispensable part of a team. To be one of the main cogs of a well oiled machine. Of Seirin Basketball Team.
"Also, one more thing."
Akashi velvety voice cut into his ruminations, putting an abrupt halt to them.
He looked up.
Only when he met his eyes, Akashi spoke again.
"Kagami may be talented, but too short tempered. And I know from my middle school experiences that Kuroko is reckless. He might even injure himself trying to defend something and get too worked up about it. I see that attitude hasn't changed much even now. Sadly, your other teammates haven't been able to show their prowess much on the court.
"Fire should be in the heart, Furihata-kun. But the brain should be cool. The heart is your team. And you, the brain. Even in the dire times of stress, to be able to think clearly, to be able to see the patterns and the loopholes in the defence, to enable the smooth play of your team, only you can do it. As a point guard. I know you have the potential for it. It's sad that you didn't start playing basketball earlier. You would have tapped that strength far sooner. I am sure you will find your weapon soon and sharpen it well. I am looking forward to your play when we match up again."
*
Akashi's words echoed repeatedly in his mind. His voice - so clear, so precise - reproduced his speech over and over. Like a near annoying marquee.
Playmaker.
The Brain.
Composer.
General.
These words......these words were said to make him feel better about himself.
But....
He can't help but feel giddy at it.
Especially now.
The cosiness of the silent library feels like a half-forgotten dream now. They were in a brightly, almost glaringly lit court in the Tokyo Stadium now. Crunching down on the seconds and battling it out for each point. Seirin once again challenges the mighty Rakuzan for the final hold over the Winter Cup. One trying everything they have to usurp the power and the other fighting valiantly to defend their claim. The war is down to mere seconds now. Almost over. Almost.
Furihata Kouki has led the team to this stage. So has Akashi Seijuro. But that was expected. They had stood facing each other at the starting line up and had shook hands before the match in an act of courtesy and comradeship. Since that firm, curt handshake that was a challenge and a threat in and of itself, each team knew they were out for blood. And the showdown lived up to be the most intense of them all. Every strength, every weakness, every plot, every strategy had been fully and exhaustively exploited during the entirety of this battle. Nothing had been left open, nothing had been left uncovered. Each team fought like their lives depended on it. Gritting their teeth and spitting when the other team scored, roaring like an avenged pack of wolves when they turned the tables, they did it all. It was an all out war from the very beginning.
But it all came down to this crucially decisive moment.
My body...My body is moving on its own.
My mind has never felt more free.
It was 2 seconds to the end. The end of high school basketball. Or of official basketball as they knew it.
Less than 2 seconds now.
The clock resounds with every tick. The whole stadium is holding their breath and sitting at the edge of their seats. Muted silence prevails except for the squeak of basketball shoes on sweat dripped floor and the thumping of the basketball as it was dribbled expertly.
Furihata jumped high from the three point line even before Asahina threw the ball in his direction.
He knew.
He just knew Asahina would deflect the ball to his side after receiving it from Kagami.
The meteor jam was impossible at this juncture. As he had predicted it would be.
With Akashi guarding Kagami like a ferocious predator, the meteor jam would have failed before it even started.
Furihata knew Kagami would jump.
He knew Kagami would make a mid air pass to the tall second year centre.
Just milliseconds before Akashi could steal it.
And Furihata knew he had to jump to receive Asahina's overhead pass.
Direct Drive Zone.
He had seen it, marvelled at it and even felt envious about it. But for the first time in his three years of high school basketball, he experienced it first hand. Thoughts, moves and flow synchronised to resemble one single unit. Every move every member made, he could see it. They all did. They were a single, whole system now, not five different players of one team. Not five elements. One single entity. Against five players of the other team.
It should feel creepy and disoriented. Since they were all eerily synchronised to a fault.
But it felt nothing short of exhilarating.
None of the plays he had painstakingly calculated before were this clear in his head. All of them had back ups and what ifs attached to them. The murky black cloud of failure clasped itself tightly onto every plan of attack. But as he saw the ball fly off of Kagami's hand and into a surprised Asahina's, Furihata knew - no black cloud of doubt can even come close to him now.
Furihata catches the ball a fraction before he reaches the peak of his jump.
It fits snugly in his hands as if it was made for it.
There is no surprise, no sense of bewilderment of any sort on Seirin's part. Even though he had made sure that the final call would not rest on his shoulders but rather on Kagami's or Kuroko's - who were unbelievably more reliable than him - there existed no shock among them when the last fateful shot came down to their captain. The captain who knew about the pulverizing weight of defeat more than anyone else on the team.
The ball fits so well. He can feel it almost pulsing. Acting as an extension of his arm. Positioning it perfectly, he decides on the direction of the shot.
Akashi rushes to jump in front of him. Mere microseconds after his own jump. The Zone giving him the direly needed speed.
Gritting his teeth. Cursing perplexedly. Fury etched onto every line on his face. Reaching for the ball.
Akashi's fingertips brush the ball as Furihata propels it forward.
His feet touch the ground as the buzzer beats the final call.
The ball does not even touch the rim as it drops.
Everything inches by oh so slowly.
Every detail etching onto his mind permanently for years to come.
Every single reaction.
Every single movement.
It was as if the world was on mute and all that existed was the silent slow breathtaking movie.
He stood there in shock. Same as everyone else.
And stared.
Teammates and rivals and spectators alike watch fixedly as the ball thumps to the floor.
The scoreboard changes.
There is confetti popping out from invisible corners showering over them, glittering in the air as the lights hit them.
There are teammates yelling their hearts out and high-fiving others. There are spectators howling and standing and clapping hard until their palms turn red.
Everybody is hugging everybody.
Furihata is thumped on the back, hair ruffled roughly with callused hands, pulled into half hugs that last less than a second.
But he feels nothing. He hears nothing. He sees nothing.
His eyes are blank. Unstaring.
Wide, void blank.
His mind is as numb as well.
He looks down and stares at his hand.
His palm is red.
His palm is still as red as when he received the ball that time.
The feel of it is still warm.
Still fresh.
Still new.
There are droplets falling onto his palm now.
Water.
Tears.
Sweet unblemished and unbidden tears.
He is crying, he realised belatedly.
He is standing in the middle of the court and he is crying nonstop.
He curls his hands into tight fists, knuckles becoming white, nails biting into flesh hard enough to leave crescent marks and looks up at the brightly ceiling.
And yells.
"YEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"
The world is filled with booming noises again. The silent movie ends with his animalistic roar.
Thudding of footsteps indicated his friends rapidly rushing over to him.
Clamouring around him.
Pulling him into a group hug.
Yelling together.
Lifting him up.
Throwing him high up in the air.
But catching him with sure hands as he fell.
Always catching him.
He doesn't stop yelling.
Doesn't stop screaming.
Doesn't stop crying.
The mind-numbingly crushing weight of guilt is no longer felt. It has evaporated, leaving him stunningly light headed.
He had done it.
He had finally done it.
He had overwritten the past.
His tears taste touchingly sweet as they fall ceaselessly.
*
The referee ushers them out of the court. It is time for the award ceremony.
Furihata goes over to the bench, lagging behind his team. Dragging his footsteps.
He cannot be blamed. His legs felt like lead. He was pretty much sure he wouldn't be able to walk the next day.
Someone taps on his shoulder and he turns.
Its Akashi.
His faces has tiny inscrutable blotches of red near his eyes. Making them look even bigger.
Somehow brighter. And sharper.
If that were possible.
But the eyes hold a warm, kind glow.
He has a tired smile on his face.
And he radiates relief.
Even after losing, no one dares to call Akashi Seijuro anything less than the Emperor.
He couldn't be called anything less than the Emperor.
Proud, dignified and elite even when he had been trounced.
True lion.
And Furihata Kouki stood before him, smelling like a pig with dried tears and disgusting snot marring his face.
Akashi didn't look like the guy who would hastily wipe his snot on his jersey collar.
But Furihata would.
And Furihata did.
He doesn't know what to say to him.
What can he say?
It was a good match? Didn't that just mean - but too bad you lost?
You played well? Didn't that sound like Seirin played better?
Lets meet again? WHEN? This was their last official match.
Both Akashi and he were not playing sports in college.
He is at a loss and stands there just awkwardly shuffling his feet.
There is nothing for a winner to say to a loser.
But he needn't have worried.
Akashi extends his hand.
Solemnly nodding once, he looks at Furihata in the eye and says, "You did it, Captain Furi."
Furihata looks at the hand.
And back at Akashi.
And back at the hand.
His chin starts to tremble as fresh hot tears trail his already wet cheeks.
He takes the offered hand in both of his and presses it to his forehead.
"HAI!"
Akashi consoles him with words, with praises, whilst ruffling his hair encouragingly and ultimately tugging him into a hug. It feels safe. To be in Akashi's arms. Furihata hugs back just as fiercely. He clutches Akashi in a bone crushing hug as he bawls loudly. Akashi hugs him just the same.
It is laughable.
He is the winner.
And Akashi had just lost.
But he is crying and Akashi is the one consoling him.
Pathetic.
But....
Without Akashi, without those words, he wouldn't have made it here.
He wouldn't have made it to the same stage as the almighty Rakuzan and played on the same ground as Akashi.
He wouldn't have played the entire match against the fearsome redhead in all his terrifying glory and won.
He, his team, had bared their fangs and won.
The dark horses against the superior lions.
Won it just barely.
One point difference.
And it had made all the difference.
A true Seirin underdog.
It may not mean much, but in a high level challenging game, every single point counts.
I do not know whether you do, but I believe in you.
He owed everything to Akashi. For his words, for his kindness and mainly.....for having faith in him.
But here and now, all he felt was despair that he wouldn't be able to see Akashi again.
He wanted to fight Akashi more. Again. And again. Until there wasn't enough strength left in him to play another game.
Until he couldn't yell "Rematch!" anymore to Akashi.
Claws out, fangs bared, roars and growls and curses bouncing off of each other. Primal animalistic movements as they savagely raced for the prize
Or even sharing a table by the window in the cozy corner of a library tucked away from the bustling side of the city as the soft late afternoon light flittered in and encompassed everything in its reach; their minds were far far away, traversing whole new universes beyond the written word, together.
Together.
Anywhere. Anytime.
However many times.
He never wanted to be away from this precious person he had formed an irrevocably special connection with. Ever.
He hugged tighter. Not wanting to let go.
But as he felt something wet stain his shoulder as well, he cried even more.
Akashi hugged him with all power he had and cried just as wordlessly.
Whimpers and snorts emanate from them both as a new, heartily pleasant feeling envelops them.
There is no doubt, no sense of wavering as something which had always been there, since that momentous afternoon, grows between them, binding them to each other.
Their tears fall ceaselessly, sweet like nectar. They hold each other close, almost as if the thought of separation would shatter them.
Even if the unuttered promise of seeing each other again did not seem so bleak anymore.
End notes: I had super fun writing this for you even though it is totally different that whatever I have written up until now !! You had so many good prompts that choosing one was hard!! But this sort of, called out to me...? Maybe because you are the author of my all time favourite Furihata fic (which was a huge inspiration for me to go through with this). Also my love for classic metaphors in KnB are overused here ha ha (my personal favourite is when Kouki uses Aomine's line, I have no idea why). Thank you thank you thank you for your ginormous amount of patience and for being an awesome friend in general<3
