I'M GONNA COMPLETE THIS.

Thirty Nine

His eyes burned slightly every time he blinked. He hadn't slept at all. And yet he replied politely to the question of Kozue's mother if he would like a cup of coffee. He didn't know what she may have told her parents, or if they perhaps ignored the dark rings under his eyes. The fact that he had stayed the night without any further notices too; it was as if he had thrown any manners he had possessed out of the window. He felt like a puppet, resuming a role to make sure nothing was amiss in the eyes of bystanders.

He had wanted to make a good impression.

Now his mind was blank, a few whispers here and there urging him to leave and never return. The second Kozue had opened her eyes this morning; her hands still entangled in his hair, his inner voice reminded him that he had lost.

The burning coffee he drank wasn't enough to tear his throat apart either. Disappointing. What was he doing here in the first place? The conversation was nothing but a blur, an act. He felt alien in his seat. The breakfast with her family should have been more important, not overshadowed by his failure.

And yet the act came to an end, too. He had to leave.

"Seijūrō-kun, are you certain? We can return to Kyoto together?"

They stood at the exit of their flat now, her parents clearing up the breakfast in the back. Akashi closed his eyes, enjoying the slight burn this time as it came. "I have to go back home first."

At least the lump in his throat was gone for now. Maybe the coffee did manage to bite through it, leaving him a hole he could somehow breathe through. Kozue's eyebrows lowered in concern, her fingers reaching for his cheeks like they had done so often before now. He wanted to recoil. His mind was a mess, the pieces sharp. It felt like she was reaching into a pile of shattered glass, and she shouldn't cut herself by doing so.

He didn't move in the end, merely watching her soft lips as she pursed them thoughtfully.

"I'll see you at home then."

Home. Akashi was able to picture Hotaka for a moment, the old man who smiled at him over the shōgi table. He'd be disappointed, too. He'd soon learn of his failure. The familiar picture began to melt, slipping through the redhead's grasp until nothing but darkness remained.

"Yes." He lied.

But she saw right through him. He could see it in her blue eyes, she wasn't stupid. And a tiny part of him had the decency to feel a little shame for this poor lie. His fingers itched at his sides; he wanted to voice something else. He didn't know what exactly but the need to say something was there. Kozue interrupted his confused train of thought though. Still cradling his face, the pile of glass shards, she leaned forward.

There it was again. The short second of bliss as her lips touched his left cheek. He stared straight ahead, his nerves tingling in answer to her simple kiss against the side of his face. It was light, as if she was worried of breaking him. His pathetic self was weak, he realized. Akashi couldn't help but lean into her, too. Taking her consent as excuse to engulf himself in her just a little longer before he'd have to leave. The pressure increased, his fidgeting hands found hold on her lower back as he pulled her closer. Her light kiss on his cheek turned swiftly into a hug.

Victory was all what counts and losers lost everything.

Akashi felt like a deserter. He was a mass of shame and disappointment which had the audacity to ignore the facts in favor of selfish desires. But she allowed it. Kozue didn't pull away, only sighed against his skin as her hands slipped to the back of his head.

A deserter, a harsh whisper reminded him in the back of his head.

As if he got burned, Akashi let go of her. Winners didn't concern themselves with losers, he had no right. He had failed. His mind was gnawing at him again, scratching at the inside of his scalp where the whispers had been before. His actions made no sense. He shouldn't be here. And yet his heart was exploding in his ribcage, not caring about the raging war in his head.

"I'll see you at home, Seijūrō-kun." Kozue repeated firmly, her face still so close to his.

He'd just have to lean forward, capturing her lips this time in selfish bliss. His tranquility. But like a puppet he seemed to possess a handful of strings attached to his body. They pulled at his arms and legs, forcing him to retreat further towards the open door behind him.

He couldn't answer, only avert his gaze and nod.

Akashi didn't know himself whether he was lying or not.

The red haired teen closed the heavy door behind him quietly, listening to the familiar yet foreign click as the noise outside got cancelled out. He had walked to the mansion. Akashi hadn't noticed it before, but he had forgotten his bag back in his locker. His phone and change of clothes as well, he was actually wearing some old simple clothes Kozue's father had lent him once again.

Maybe Reo had taken his bag to the hotel the team stayed at. Would that be something he could expect of his teammate? His void mind didn't reply, the whispers were quiet for a change, leaving him standing all alone in the spacious foyer of his father's mansion.

He should contact Reo at the very least and ask. Fulfilling a simple task like this made it easier to breathe. It kept his itching fingers busy. Akashi walked past the vases and shelves, the closest telephone had been in an open guest study to his right. He only had to go through the dining room at the terrace.

The scent of coffee was in the air, murmurs of their personnel buzzing over from the kitchen in the far back. Akashi kept his head low, watching his feet take one step after another until he had crossed most of the room.

"One o'clock in the afternoon is not a proper time to return home."

Akashi froze in mid-step. He hadn't checked the dining table to his right, the huge mahogany furniture which stood right in front of the broad windows. But now, where he had paused, he recognized the shadow in his peripheral vision. It was the tall figure of his father who sat at the table with the newspapers in his hands.

A wave of nausea hit Akashi right in the guts as he turned slightly to face the older man. He didn't spare the teen any glance, still reading the newspaper in his hands as if this conversation was nothing unusual. But Akashi wasn't blind, he wasn't deaf. The tension was in the air, sharp and heavy. The murmur of the personnel seemed to be gone. The redhead wanted to speak up, explain why exactly he hadn't returned yesterday. But he had not received the permission to do so.

The whisper in his head was back, reminding him to straighten his back. Correct your stance; lift your chin if you were spoken to. Do not ramble and await the permission to raise your voice. His body reacted immediately, following the instructions without further thought. And finally his father looked up, lowering the newspaper onto the table.

"I was informed about your match."

A slight tilt of his sharp face, a glint in his dark eyes – it was the permission to speak.

"Yes."

"You lost."

Akashi's eyes lowered slightly, tasting the bitterness upon his tongue.

"Yes."

His father scrutinized him. Perhaps he was analyzing his posture or expression, but Akashi had killed any emotion which could have come to the surface. He wanted to strangle his pathetic self. The face Kozue had seen yesterday. There was no space for that. Not in this house, not in this very room. His father's face was blank as he started to fold the newspaper neatly, the paper crinkling in the silence.

"Disappointing."

Akashi closed his eyes, accepting the pain which came with that word. But he couldn't argue. His father was right.

"I had allowed your carelessness." He continued smoothly. "Your little trips after the shōgi club, the lack of interaction with mutual business parties. In the end, I realize that it was a grave mistake."

What?

His father paused for a single second, as if he was thinking about a sentence he hadn't voiced yet. The folded newspaper stilled in his grip.

"I take that you were with the girl last night."

Akashi's eyes flew open, analyzing his father's expression the best he could. He knew about the Iijimas. Of course, his driver would tell his father about his trips. But he had always made sure that he'd wait a few blocks away from their house. Akashi always made sure that he would never see one of the Iijimas. It had been two worlds which should never collide. And yet, this had been the first time his father had even acknowledged the existence of the gentle girl.

"You weren't focused at all. To this point I never cared if you wanted to take up basketball or if you went to see that girl. But you must have seen yourself what that distraction brought you. You should never let yourself get distracted. End this absurdity immediately."

End it?

Akashi's posture changed. He took a sudden step forward, not caring that his disbelief was written across his face.

"What?"

"Did I stutter? End it."

He didn't get distracted, Akashi thought. He always trained afterwards; he still learned and aced his exams. He still coordinated his team's training and observed their progress. He had played basketball properly since middle school and it had never affected anything. The only difference had been that he had finally found something beside all of that. He had found a little sanctuary in the old house close to the park. He had found a friend in a wise man who never ceased to show him new perspectives on life.

And he had discovered a form of affection he had believed to be forgotten since he was young. More than that, he rectified, it was an emotion he hadn't felt before in his life.

He couldn't lose all of that, too.

"No."

His father blinked, the wrinkles on his face were increasing with his slight frown. The shadows made them look deeper, something which always made him look alien to the teenager. It were moments like these that he noticed just how old the strong man in front of him actually was.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not ending it." Akashi repeated slowly. "I did not get distracted; these things did not affect my performance."

"Yesterday showed the opposite. This defeat tarnishes everything you've done up until now, is it not enough to make you face your misjudgments?"

Victory is all what counts, losers lose everything. Akashi knew that. He had grown up with this lesson up until now. He had tasted the defeat and still felt the glass shards in his mind cutting into his flesh whenever he tried to think properly. But still. When he had lost the ground beneath his feet, when he had sat alone in the cold night - ready to lose everything around him once and for all - she had been there. She had still reached for him, refusing to leave his side.

Kozue had not distracted him.

Akashi plainly refused to see her as such a thing.

"I disagree."

His father's gaze was heavy, the newspaper neatly folded and discarded by now.

"I do not allow failure, so why do you refuse to acknowledge your mistakes."

"She is not a mistake."

For the first time, the redhead realized, he was stressing his words out. Neither of them had ever raised their voices in this conversation up until now. Their discussions always happened quietly, calculated on either side. But his broken mind couldn't keep his emotions completely bottled up. They slipped. He could do better. He could still improve. He didn't need to end his relations to her or her grandfather. Not if she opposed the very thing he had always believed in. She hadn't left.

So why should he?

"How stubborn do you want to act?"

"As stubborn as I have to be to make you listen, father." Akashi could feel a familiar quiet settle upon him; he had always been good at debating. "I have evaluated your concern and come to the conclusion that I disagree. How I have handled my free time up until now had never influenced my performance. I do not see the need to either give up my relations or basketball."

"So, you're going to throw all your achievements and potential away? I won't allow that."

"I'm not throwing it away."

"As far as I can see, you are."

"I have never opposed your ideals, father. I have always reached the results that had been expected of me. I did not disagree with your plans to send me to Rakuzan High, or your plans to send me to Tokyo after I graduate to study and take over your company in upcoming years."

"What are you implying, son?"

It nearly blurted out of him.

"I'm not interested in taking over your company."

Something heavy fell out of his chest. Akashi could only stare at his father, his ears buzzing in synch with his heartbeat. He had never voiced that before. He had seen his father's wishes as absolute. As a conclusion which made sense if you thought about it logically. But it didn't mean that he personally liked it. There had been a reason he had picked up a basketball as he was young, or why he was still playing shōgi so often. Leading a huge business like his father's had never been something Akashi really wanted to do. But he would do it, because it was expected of him.

"Do you want to throw away that, too?"

"No." Akashi replied honestly, and that earned, at the very least, a curious glance of his father. "I'm not naïve, father. I still acknowledge the logical path you have chosen, but I'm not going to let you control everything I do."

"I won't allow you to quit the plan of studying in Tokyo for the company."

"I know."

"You will not quit school or decline in your results."

"I won't."

His father raised an eyebrow, eying him with a skeptic look. He didn't believe him. Akashi could see that. But he refused to back down. It was at the very least his freedom to choose how to handle the path his father had built for him. He had enough. He was no child anymore. He didn't want to let go of what he had earned.

For the first time since yesterday the pile of glass shards in his head didn't cut into his scalp.

"We will see about that."

His father dismissed him with a single glance. Their discussion came to an end without a positive or negative outcome, but it had been slightly more than Akashi had anticipated. He had never faced his father like that before. His last words were a warning the redhead would heed. He had to prove his arguments, and he would. But his nausea was still there, twisting his guts around until he could feel his throat knot.

Victory was still everything, Akashi thought. He had to achieve it. No matter what.

His father's cold shoulder was all the teenager could perceive as he slowly started to move. It was as if the time started ticking again, the murmur of the personnel returned from the far back. He had to call Reo and collect his bag, Akashi thought. And then he had to train. He'd study earlier, train longer.

He'd show his father that he had been right this time, not him.

It had been weeks.

Kozue sighed as she prepared a pot of tea. Her kitchen felt unusually empty, the cold fall was crawling its way inside. She hadn't seen Akashi since they had said goodbye to each other in Tokyo. He hadn't called, hadn't answered her texts. Her dear grandfather was worried as she had told him what happened. He had rubbed his chin thoughtfully, frowning. Something he rarely did. But Akashi hadn't visited the shōgi club either.

"It must be hard for him." Hotaka had mused. "He is a proud boy, I imagine his father to be similar."

His father, Kozue repeated in her head. Akashi had never spoken much about him. As she had visited him and he had introduced her to his beautiful horse Yukimaru, he had led her immediately away from the mansion. The distant look he'd sometimes get, his strict mindset – Kozue wondered how much of it could be affiliated to his father.

She reached for her phone on the kitchen table. She had given him time; she could imagine how much he needed that after that night. But enough was enough, wasn't it?

"Kozue-chan?"

"Mibuchi-kun." Kozue breathed in relief that he had answered her call. "I wanted to call and ask about the team's well being."

Reo paused on the other side. "It's…it's hard to tell. Sei-chan doesn't really talk to us directly anymore…and after practice is over he stays longer and dismisses us. I, well, we, don't really know how to feel…I really thought it would never be like that again."

"But he's still going to school properly?"

"Uh, yeah. He is." A little crinkling noise followed as Reo seemed to adjust his hold on his phone. "Kozue-chan, what about you? It sounds like you don't know much, I mean, I'm merely confused. I thought that-"

"He's been avoiding me, I think."

That thought hurt a little, Kozue realized. But she quickly dismissed it. Akashi had been hurt, not her. She could only wonder how deep rooted this complex of his was. He had told her that he had to go home. Something must have happened there to further encourage him to distance himself. After the match he hadn't wanted to let her go. He had looked so lost…

"That is not right!" Reo called out indignantly. "How are you doing, Kozue-chan? I didn't know."

"Oh no, I'm fine. I'm only worried."

"…me, too."

Kozue reached with her free hand for the cups. It was relaxing her stiff shoulders a little to listen to Reo. Sharing her concerns with him, while at the same time finding a way to gain information about the red haired boy felt like she accomplished something. Patiently waiting for Akashi these past few weeks had been a little exhausting for her nerves.

"It's…this is not exactly the first time something like this had happened." Reo started again after a pause. "The Winter Cup last year, we had played against Seirin there, too. We had problems keeping up with their strategy."

Oh? Kozue didn't know that.

"You did?"

"Yes…at the end of the game, Akashi abandoned us. I mean, he stopped passing us the ball. He didn't stop to acknowledge us. It was as if he was playing the match on his own…and he won. We won the Winter Cup. But…we, the team, had disappointed him."

Kozue's hand refrained from touching the pot of tea. She had seen his teammates acting respectfully around Akashi, he was their captain after all. They would still poke playfully at him though. Especially Kotarō seemed to have fun, being the energetic teenager as he was. But they were times, she thought, when they had stopped their antics. Treading on eggshells no one could see.

Was that the reason?

"He didn't talk to us afterwards either." Reo continued, oblivious to her train of thought. "But after a while he did. We trained harder. We improved faster. I thought that if we showed him how much we were willing to do to keep up with him…that we'd be enough again. But…I guess, it was just me, hoping."

"You gave your best, Mibuchi-kun. That is what matters the most."

"I wonder, Kozue-chan…is it really?"

"Of course." She urged. "Don't let your thoughts wander that way, you hear me? Everything will be all right again."

This time Reo chuckled, his usual smooth voice buzzed through the phone. Kozue cradled it closer to her ear, wondering if her words were enough to not let her friend fall deeper into the depressing sea he was swimming in right now. She had barely known their history, she realized. Akashi had told her a lot, but never these chapters. He hadn't wanted to share those memories with her, and now those very shadows of the past were haunting them.

"I hope so, Kozue-chan." He sighed in the end. "Maybe I will stay longer for training, too, show Sei-chan that I'm being serious as well."

"I will prepare snacks for you and the team next time. I will be cheering you all on."

Her promise brought laughter over the line. The gentle sounds were finally as rich as she remembered it to be. She hoped he'd stay positive and that Kotarō and Eikichi would do so, too. A team like theirs should not be shattered by a loss like that.

Their call ended just like that. A mutual conclusion and last goodbye leaving the teenagers before Kozue set the phone aside again. She returned to her task of preparing the tea, knowing that it would be of no help if she did nothing but moping or thinking alone. She'd keep her hands busy until her mind made up a plan.

She'd just love to talk to Akashi directly. Ask him straight about what was going on inside of his head, the question merely was if he'd reply honestly. Or if he'd refuse to answer her…would he do that instead? Kozue pursed her lips, gathering laundry around the house, moving from room to room. In the end she ended up folding clean clothes, sitting close to the low table in the living room with still no answer to her thoughts.

"I'm home."

Kozue nearly dropped the blanket she was holding. Her grandfather's voice echoed down the corridor, the tune flat and a little sad. She didn't have to get up and meet him at the entrance to know that he had come back alone from the club. Slowly she set the clothes aside; the basket beside her was still full.

She wanted to go and greet him, but Hotaka was already meeting her at the exit of the living room. The elderly man looked crestfallen as he met her gaze, his hands empty. He had never forgotten to get her a little gift after the club in all those years, but today he had. Today his mind had been completely elsewhere.

"He didn't came today either."

Hotaka looked suddenly like a little boy whose best friend hadn't come to meet him at the playground. His pale eyes were a little glassy, fitting his frown. A sad visage you rarely saw upon him. It was a heartbreaking sight. It wasn't only her who was missing Akashi, her dear grandfather had been his friend already before she had ever gotten to know him in the first place. Quickly, she dismissed the basket and blankets. Her light feet were carrying her towards her dear grandfather as fast as they could.

"I'm sorry, grandpa."

Hotaka shook his head while he accepted her hug.

"Don't be, my dear. I'm just worried about his well-being. I can still remember when I played against him for the first time, you know? He barely spared me a glance, all he could see was the board between us. I was fascinated by his concentration, he's still so young."

Kozue couldn't help but chuckle, her arms around her grandfather's head drawing him a little closer to her. He returned the gesture with all the strength he could muster, rubbing tiny circles across her spine.

"After our third match, a few weeks later, he finally looked me in the eyes. Such a fierce stare for a teenager, I was surprised. The next week it was him who approached me first."

He sighed over her shoulder, caught by the nostalgic memories of the past.

"It doesn't feel right with him gone."

"I know." Kozue murmured, slowly easing out of their embrace.

She could only coax her grandfather with a little force to take a seat. The second she offered him a warm cup of tea, Hotaka finally remembered the gift he had forgotten to buy her. He actually wanted to get up again, apologizing furiously – but Kozue stopped him with a light smile and a firm hand.

"It is finally time for me to buy you a lovely gift, grandpa."

"But you're already giving me so much, my dear."

"Not enough", she reminded him, "I'll buy some sweets for us, all right? Rie-chan wanted to visit us later, too."

Hotaka slowly relaxed on his seat, nodding a few times. He still looked a little tired, his frown eased away by a thoughtful expression. But at least he didn't look so sad anymore. Kozue smiled warmly at him, promising to hurry with her little shopping trip so that they could spend a little time together. But it was a little hard to keep a happy facade on. Only after she had left the living room, Kozue allowed herself to frown a little, too.

It felt like she was picking up pieces from the floor. One glass shard after another, but instead of closing the gap between her and her goal, the trail never seemed to end.

"Waiting isn't good enough, is it?"

No one answered her whisper as she left the house, but she didn't need to hear a reply this time.

She wouldn't let him fall.

Akashi closed his eyes, concentrating on the notes he played. The room was quiet, allowing the strings of his violin to echo back and forth in between the walls. The Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso by Saint-Saëns always started slow. He needed to stretch his arms briefly, his elbow leaning into the long notes without hesitation.

The melody only ever became challenging after the interlude. The notes became shorter, faster – he remembered briefly the time back in middle school where he had played it in front of an audience. A boy whose face he couldn't bother to remember had accompanied him with a piano, his pace had stuttered in the middle of the song. He couldn't keep up with Akashi. He had been a useless assist.

Akashi had won the tournament in the end anyway.

Plucking the strings, he bent slightly forward. The melody grew faster yet again, he dragged his violin bow swiftly across the strings. Akashi didn't need to hear the piano, the melody was burned into mind. He didn't need an assist. He didn't anything or anyone.

He didn't need a tea, a brief sweet whisper close to his ear.

He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing a slight aggressive tune into the next passage. He could still play it perfectly. Every note, every hum – it was all mapped out inside of his head. Akashi tugged at the strings, his pace growing faster and faster by the second. He didn't make any mistake. Not a single one.

And yet it hadn't been enough.

Akashi grunted as he suddenly pulled the violin away from his body. He dropped the instrument to his feet, turning away from it as if the smooth wood had burned his shoulder and chin. He couldn't allow this. No matter how often he had replayed the basketball match behind his mind's eye, Akashi could not ignore the blunt error of his so called teammates. No matter how often he had foreseen Seirin's moves, his team hadn't been able to keep up with them. Even as he had tried to take matters into his own hands, it hadn't worked out.

He had messed up.

Three minutes before the break, he recalled. He had seen one of Seirin's members move swiftly behind Kuroko, ready to accept the pass of the pale boy. Akashi could have forced them to use another path, make another pass which could have been blocked easier. But he hadn't done it. He had failed to react because in that second he had chosen to block Kagami.

How had he been able to allow that?

Akashi brushed through his hair, glaring a hole into his wall. He had often trained such tactics. He had kept himself fit in order to be quick on his feet. When he had skipped training in the gym, he had made it up the next day. He should have been able to intervene, to stop whatever they had planned. Nothing escaped his superior senses.

He hadn't been distracted.

He hadn't slacked off.

His father was wrong, Akashi thought. No matter how often he'd stare at him with this knowing cold glint in his eyes. Akashi refused to be wrong.

He needed to train more, right? Ignore the pain in his legs and arms. He needed more training, more preparation. He just needed to run through the aching burning in his muscles. Just dismiss the stinging in his knuckles, it all didn't matter as long as he won once again. He needed to win.

He didn't want to be left behind.

Akashi's gaze fell to the violin at his feet. Slowly, he stepped over it, approaching his desk and chair.

He just needed to win, he thought once again.

Victory was like air, and he needed to breathe to stay alive.

With a sigh he rubbed his eyes, the chair wasn't comfortable. He needed a second rest though. Afterwards he'd call for his driver to take him to the gym. He still needed to train. Maybe he'd skip dinner in order to stay away from the mansion and his father a little longer. All what was necessary to achieve victory yet again.

A sudden short ringing brought him out of his thoughts, his mobile phone vibrated on his desk.

Akashi hesitated. He watched the little red device for a while, ignoring the urge to reach for it immediately. He hadn't touched it in days, maybe weeks. He had never flicked it open. There was a little part of his mind feeling ashamed. It was a sensation he drowned out, using whatever echo which haunted him as a cover.

She was no distraction.

She wasn't.

That had been his words.

And yet, Akashi thought bitterly, he did exactly what he hadn't wanted to do.

Like a little boy he had followed his father's instructions without meaning to. He had wanted to prove, to prove that he had been right and not his father. But here he was, refusing to open his mobile phone and check what exactly awaited him. He hadn't lied though. He didn't want to be controlled. Not anymore, not ever. Had he been wrong to think so? The path in front of him had always been steep, but at the same time it had been paved. Every decision which had been fallen up until know had been thanks to his father. Was he really straying from the path? He didn't know.

Another sudden ringing filled the air, startling Akashi. This time though it wasn't a message, it was a call.

Akashi stared at his phone, his right leg bobbing to ease his frazzled nerves. With a sudden move, he reached for his phone flicking it open without looking at the screen. He had wanted to say something, a greeting like it was expected of him. But he didn't. He only sat there with the phone pressed against his ear, waiting for the person on the other end to speak up.

"…Akashi-kun?"

Akashi's heart stilled.

It was Kuroko Tetsuya.

The boy who had won.