A/N: hey look who updated a year later with the sequel Hello, welcome back to the exciting world of university drama, chaos, and forbidden love AU! *u* Here's to another instalment full of tragedies for our BL light novel protagonists.

Rapport Management

Rapport management examines the way that language is used to construct, maintain, and/or threaten social relationships. Thus, in contrast to politeness theory, which assumes that MPs generally aim at maintaining smooth relations, rapport management is more generally concerned with any kind of behaviour that has an impact on rapport, whether positive, negative, or neutral.

[Niji Notes] So I have a legit excuse to punch someone if it's for negative rapport management?

Kuroko spends his weekends like any normal teenager would: By sleeping, managing his horde of assignments, and quietly pestering Aomine and Kise to submit their part of the report so that he can compile, print, and bind them for submission.

Their lecturer did mention that she'd upload the checklist prior to submission on the university's student portal website, so Kuroko logs on—only to find out on the front page, there are square pictures with familiar faces on them.

At the top, there lies Nijimura's nasty mug, superiorly grinning with his arms crossed over his chest, bearing the silver tag of the university's current Student Council President. Underneath him is the rest of the student body who're competing for his title: Momoi and Riko are sharing a squished square together, Imayoshi's glasses are glinting too brightly until Kuroko can't see his eyes, Kasamatsu's frown occupied a good 60% of his picture, Hyuuga's trying to do 'that anime protagonist with the glasses' thing (probably part of Mayuzumi's half-baked suggestion again), and Akashi—

—Akashi is the only with a perfect picture, no nonsensical lighting glare whatsoever. He doesn't smile, but he doesn't reek of hostility either. He doesn't attempt any stupid poses, but he still catches attention easily. And his tagline at the bottom of his square, "Since I always win, I'm always right," makes him all the more intimidating, like a glitched boss battle refusing to be defeated.

It takes Kuroko a few minutes to remember why he's on the student portal, and it's only then he wills himself to look away from Akashi's VOTE button judging him at the bottom of the screen. The tiresome day continues with Akashi's imaginary voice ringing inside his head, saying his catchphrase in a broken loop, and that's the lullaby carrying him to sleep under the covers.

Nightmare ensues.

The Politeness Theory
"Politeness thus arises through mitigation of an action that can threaten either negative face (e.g.: fulfilling a request) or positive face (e.g.: turning down someone). For example, a person's positive face (i.e.: reputation) might be affected if they refuse someone's plea for help.

[Niji Notes] Is there a neutral face somewhere in this book? Where you don't give a damn?

Then it's Monday all over again.

Monday comes as easily as the car's repeated honking behind him when he's stuck in the middle of a crossroad, unable to shift to the left thanks to more cars blocking his path. Frustrated, Kuroko alternates glances from his rear mirror to the side, the blinking light of his signal gone unnoticed by other selfish drivers. On good days, some cars would allow him to pass to his destination, but most of the time, they'd think he's trying to cut queues. He doesn't like cutting queues, never would and never will, but they're not telepathic mind-readers to know his intention.

It isn't until a silver Mercedes graciously allows him passage into the sharp turn by the left, bypassing the rest of the horrific traffic clogging the roads, and Kuroko mentally thanks the driver behind the wheels. Or, at least until he belatedly realises the car's tailgating him all the way on the straight road leading to his university, right until he goes into the usual basement, where two rides harmoniously park beside one another nearest to the elevators.

There's no one else who would do that, it's definitely—

Akashi steps out, as resplendent as ever in his knitted vest over an oxford shirt, and smiles at Kuroko. "Good morning, Kuroko." His movements are a practiced dance played out; he takes his briefcase, shoulders his blazer, slips on a red tag exclusively for FBL students, and locks his car as he saunters over to the lifts to press up. "How was your weekend?"

And Kuroko, Kuroko who's half-drowning under his tragic pile of textbooks, stapled reports reaching up to high heavens, wonders how Akashi could maintain his unruffled look despite running for presidency at the campus. Isn't he supposed to have eyebags, like Kuroko does? Where are his assignments? Reports? Textbooks filled with formulas for working out accounting things in the business department?

Trying to fish for his laptop bag, poor Kuroko could only mutter a muffled, "Good morning, Akashi-kun. My weekend was fine. How was yours?"

He does hear footsteps, yes, but he doesn't manage to register them well enough until unfamiliar hands brush against his, pleasantly warm, and the entire weight disappears as the stack gets lifted away. Akashi willingly holds his burdensome books, makes an absent gesture to a staring Kuroko so he'd take his laptop bag, and once that ordeal is done, they both stride purposefully to the elevators, side by side, shoulder toslightly-lower-than-Akashi's-shoulder.

Scratching his cheek, Kuroko looks over to the redhead who's nonchalantly holding his textbooks. "Thank you very much for your help again, Akashi-kun, but please, let me carry them."

"You can help me better by holding the lift and pressing 4 when it arrives," Akashi points out, glancing at him from the corner of his eyes. The traitorously slow descent of the elevator fills the basement with a grunting, whirring sound, and Akashi picks out a quiet lapse for his voice to be heard again. "I heard you refused to participate in determining the future of our campus. Why?"

So.

Kuroko knew this day would come, no matter how hard he tries to deny it, because Mayuzumi's voice is nagging him at the back of his head with his condescending tone, "You're next, Kuroko, he wants to bang you with his dick, your whole life is a light novel," and all Kuroko wants, right now, is to get to his class safely. The safest course of action? To confront the matter wholly without beating around the bush.

"I don't like to pick between my friends."

"But I'm not your friend. You can, of course, have me as your next president." He politely disagrees. "Besides, it will make both our jobs easier."

Kuroko begs to differ with a frown. "I'm sure you don't need my vote, Akashi-kun, because the whole FBL will be rooting for you." Like a fanatic tribe offering their leader as a tribute, or so what Kise said during their restroom break last week. Kuroko's tempted not to agree with the blond, but from the looks of it, truth is definitely stranger than fiction. "Whether I vote for you or not, it won't make a difference."

"Yes, I am aware of it." Akashi hums, giving the shorter male a discreet glance. "But I thought you might be interested in knowing that the first thing I'll be doing as the next president is to improve the performance of this lift."

And that, that is not expected.

Unable to help himself, Kuroko eyes the LED panel marking the lift's descent cautiously. Is there some sort of secret he doesn't know to it? A tragic drama that occurred in Block C's lift? Or a grim tale involving a murder or two? Or is that his inner Mayuzumi giving unnecessary commentary?

"…why?"

"Both you and I are using this lift, give or take a few more patrolling guards or university guests. Won't it be terrible if it happens to get stuck while we're in it?" Akashi helpfully supplies, quirking a brow. It's almost as if he's seen this coming, or he's had some heads-up from other FBL seniors. "What if it happens while respected guests are in it? The university's reputation will surely be damaged."

"I… see."

Would something like that happen to him? That can't be it. Surely the management runs a maintenance or two annually, right?

Kuroko's rather content to let the subject drop since the lift has passed the second floor, drawing closer and closer to them. He's sure he'll forget about this as soon as he steps into World Literature, facing Dr Garcia and her terrifyingly accurate chalk-throwing super move, because she's the only contender for the university's most fearsome lecturer.

But Akashi, Akashi obviously has more to contribute to their offhanded chatter, like it's a pressing matter that will become the bane of his existence someday, and he has to share it with his lift-mate Kuroko so that they can tackle the distressing matter together. It's as if someone had appointed Kuroko to be his physical diary for some reasons.

"It's only a step in the right direction for the university," says Akashi. "After this, I have more plans in store. Some of the walls have to be repainted, the computers in the Student Centre fixed, overall improvement of the cafeteria food since there have been complaints made against the unhealthy selection." His eyes flicker to meet Kuroko's, a knowing slant. "Plenty of things that are overdue, things that will ensure students' satisfaction for the years to come."

So vote me, Kuroko, vote for me and I'll make sure you'll spend the best three years of your life in this campus under my ruling, is the overall impression Kuroko receives from Akashi's magnificent speech.

But ah, of course, Akashi obviously doesn't know Kuroko's the champion of battling against PAP—Persistent, Annoying and Problematic people, thanks to his daily impromptu training from Kise. If he thinks he can bait Kuroko with upgraded facilities and charming lines, he's obviously perceived Kuroko in a wrong light.

Kuroko Tetsuya won't give in, no matter what.

"But even if I don't vote for you, you'll still win the election, and in the end, you'll still fix the lift and make the changes. I don't have to do anything at all, Akashi-kun."

If Kuroko's words have a physical manifestation, it would take the shape of a hand fondly patting the top of Akashi's head, like he's a child who needs constant reassurance of his imminent victory.

Strangely, Akashi isn't offended with what he said—or at least, he hasn't shown any signs of wanting to murder Kuroko in cold blood yet. His face is eerily devoid of emotions. "Yes, you're free to choose whatever you want to do. Not voting is perfectly fine with me. But it would be good to know that your vote won't be wasted on a trivial cause, if you do decide to cast it on someone."

The lift finally dings, and Kuroko steps into the metal deathtrap with Akashi. He presses 4 for the both of them, waits for the staggering doors to seal the two of them in, and feels the heavy tremor under his feet as it rolls upwards.

"I'll help you carry your books to your class, at the very least." The redhead adds in their silence, like he's not content on leaving the matter be without having the final say in it. When Kuroko turns to stare at him in the eye, he returns the look with a curt nod for emphasis. "It'd be improper of me to leave you fumbling alone like this. And please, do remember to invest in a proper bag to carry them. Long term effects of lugging heavy textbooks like this will lead to scoliosis, a permanent damage on your spine."

Akashi Seijuro doesn't live up to his ill reputation of stabbing lecturers, or blackmailing students, or buying the university just to win the presidency if he's giving Kuroko health advices like he's the family doctor. Or at least, Kuroko thinks, his concern is genuine enough for it to show through his daily gestures towards their growing acquaintanceship.

He isn't a snotty overlord who'd fake something like this, is he?

"I've been carrying them like this even before we met," Kuroko says, slowly clenching his clammy hands into loose balls. "Please do not change my habit."

"Yes, I am aware of that," Akashi answers with a slight laugh, shaking his head, "but it's a bad habit nonetheless. Who knows if the effects are starting to set in? You ought to be caring for your health a bit more—your eye bags are worsening, if you haven't noticed. I understand that FAH students are constantly pressured for time while doing assignments, but your lack of regard for your body will be the death of you."

Or you, Kuroko mentally supplies.

"… thank you for your thought, Akashi-kun."

"… you didn't really stab a lecturer in your first semester, did you?"

"Of course not."

"Are you sure?"

"Did you happen to hear a particular rumour where I supposedly ran over someone when I was driving in campus?"

"… no?"

"Or the one where I supposedly wanted to buy the entire campus to win the elections?"

"… oh, I've heard of that one."

"The students of FAH are creative; it makes me wonder what's in store for this week."

Constructing Identities at Work

Considering that most people spend a good deal of their time at work, it becomes clear that workplaces are important sites of identity construction. Not only are institutions sources and sites of identification for individuals, the process involved in the negotiation of members' identities in turn also contribute to creating and shaping the image of their procession and the specific workplace environment in which they regularly interact.

[Niji Notes] Is this book encouraging us to have split personalities?

"Did you notice how he's fitting the role of a yaoi manga's seme perfectly?"

Kise chokes on his udon and snorts out a whole strand of noodle through his left nostril. Aomine makes retching noises and ducks under the cafeteria table for emphasis—thank you Aomine, Kuroko isn't sure how else he's supposed to express his disgust as eloquently as he did. Mayuzumi's unconcerned and constant stirring of his Pokka Strawberry Milk Tea makes him look almost guiltless, save for the controversial statement coming from his mouth just mere seconds ago.

"I wonder how," Kuroko deadpans.

Obviously, it's a rhetorical sentence to shoot down a conversation that he doesn't want to participate in, but Mayuzumi lowers his glasses like one of those stereotypical bespectacled geniuses in anime and looks at him as though he's stupid. "Sometimes I beta-read a few fan fictions before artists put them up on Pixiv, so I know how unrealistic these fantasy guys can be. But wow, he really fits the trope." He whistles low and starts counting off his fingers. "Rich guy, check. That guy's the heir of Akashi Group, if you didn't read the news. Handsome face, check. Ladies from FAH, FBL and FMS are trying to get into his pants daily. Good grades, check. Four pointers all semesters, that's pretty crazy. Nice car, check—"

"He rides a fucking Mercedes to classes, for crying out loud," Aomine moans, rolling his eyes. "Isn't that overkill for just a student? What is he trying to show off exactly? That he doesn't have loans like us, the commoners?"

"—and he's a jerk with a heart of gold, since he's obviously nasty to everyone else but you," Mayuzumi adds with a smirk, something that somehow manages to grate on Kuroko's usually infinite patience. "Come on, the whole class was staring this morning when he stepped in with your books. Don't you think that's a bit," he drops his voice, "into it for you? I'm willing to bet that he's got some tragic background story too, if you need added tear works."

Someone's about to get punched.

"B-B-But Kurokocchi's not going to be easily wooed by some tricks like that!" Kise wails nasally, though Kuroko cringes when he realises that Kise's still in the process of pulling out the udon from his nostril. "Just because he's rich, he has a nice car, and he's nice to Kurokocchi, that doesn't mean he's good enough. I've got a pretty good salary too, being a model. And Kurokocchi and I get along well, don't you think? We'd make a perfect couple!"

Aomine grimaces. "Never."

"Never." Mayuzumi suppresses the shudder.

And Kuroko promptly punches Kise right in the gut under the table with his special Ignite Pass.

Identities at Work

"Identity is everywhere. Every time we engage in communication, we orient to and construct identities. This may be implicit or explicit, involve deliberate and conscious efforts, or it may be unconscious and happen almost by accident. We always do identity work when we communicate: for example, we may construct our own identity, that of our interlocutors or audience, and also that of the company or organisation that we represent."

[Niji Notes] This book is definitely encouraging us to have split personalities.

If the Gods are trying to terrorise him with Akashi, they're obviously doing a pretty good job.

Now, his mornings are gradually occupied by Akashi, eventually centring around everything involving Akashi. He'd show up with his too-straight tie and perfectly combed hair, silver cuffs and leather shoes, while shabby Kuroko's swallowed by blue striped shirt twice as big, a checkered sweater if the morning's cold, and somewhat ratty, squeaky sneakers.

Heaven and Earth separate them.

Or, according to Mayuzumi, it's the average uke meeting his filthy rich seme; no big deal, it happens all the time in the fictional world.

By all means, Kuroko does not consider himself a person of low self-esteem. Being an average man from an average family, he's aware of his limitations—what with his average abilities and average appearance (or lack thereof). Life goes on without any big hitches, and that's what he's thankful for. As long as he keeps attending classes and return home in time for dinner, he'll manage.

But being in the same space with Akashi and his brand name cologne, Akashi and his four-figure suit, Akashi and how he operates just with a series of graceful motions, everything about Akashi reminds Kuroko that he is indeed what Mayuzumi calls as a walking trope. Good grades, good looks, good background, and maybe a bit of a tragic background story too.

He certainly didn't expect to get it right though, especially when the topic they discussed, grades, had nothing to do with it.

"My mother passed away when I was young," Akashi said on one of their walks together, quiet and casual like it used to torment him with sleepless tearful nights, and now doesn't bother him anymore. "My father often tried to perfect me as I am his only heir, and I did my best to cope with it. As such, I've grown used to unrealistic expectations because they shaped me to who I am today. It's secondhand nature by now."

Kuroko stares. He tries to form words. And fails. Mayuzumi must've been a sage in his past life for predicting this far. So Kuroko settles for pressing 4 and clutches the straps of his book bag tightly.

Akashi smiles at the added improvement in Kuroko's life, feasibly pleased at how his advice is heeded, and stares at their reflection on the brushed metal interior. "You should remember to continue living as you are, but remember not to push yourself too hard. If you fall ill, it won't benefit anyone at all."

Their uncanny relationship of sorts grew like wildfire over the days, with more and more people whispering, elbowing each other whenever they pass through the hallways and over the bridge.

Kise always greets him with teary bloodshot eyes at the back of his classroom—"What do you expect, he lost his first love to the campus psychopath," Mayuzumi supplies—and Aomine's face is permanently stuck on one mode: Heavy leering that goes well with his suggestive eyebrow wiggling and crude hand motions involving a pointing finger and a hole.

"He wants the D," is what Aomine scribbled on his lecture notes one day.

And Kuroko immediately rectifies it by adding Dictatorship, leaving it at that.

Community of Practice (CofP)
"Communities can better be nurtured by continuing its existence. By creating the conditions for communities, they can flourish in an organization. Some of those conditions include: helping people with a shared interest find and connect with each other; securing management support for the time and attention it takes to participate and lead CofPs; recognizing the contributions of a CofP; and providing basic support."

[Niji Notes] This book is just using complicated jargons just to teach us how to make friends. Can't believe I wasted my money for this.

"Good morning, everyone."

The members of the table greet him with awed silence.

Akashi isn't discouraged. He smiles politely at everyone, the well-behaved businessman he is, not the filthy infiltrator of FAH, yet barely spares them another glance when he turns to look at Kuroko. "I'll leave you to your friends then. Have a good morning, Kuroko. And remember to concentrate in classes instead of texting me."

When he walks off, however, Kise's obviously the first one to sulk. "Did he need to show off that he's got your number now!? That's super childish of him."

"The next thing you know, he'll say that you forgot your underwear at his place again." Mayuzumi chuckles, smirking too wide. Kuroko shoots him a dirty look, but he deflects it with his LVL99 otaku barrier. "What, can't I enjoy that my friend's life is going through the path of a clichéd light novel? Or if you want, a manga? Should I provide spoilers for his character route?"

"Please stop it, Mayuzumi-kun," Kuroko sighs, feeling the weight of the world bearing down on his shoulders. "If you don't, then you will be banned from getting into my car anymore."

Thankfully it's Friday, where he could take a break from all the nonsense playing out in his life. Though, the only challenge left today is surviving the rest of his classes with his traitorous classmates poking fun at him every few minutes.

"I'm just telling you what to expect, seriously." Mayuzumi defends himself with a smug look, gloating like a superior species just because he spent his entire life dedicated to light novels and harem games like the otaku he is. "Since I'm a good friend of yours, I'll let you in a little secret: Avoid taking the lift with him at all costs."

Kuroko isn't amused. "Thank you, Mayuzumi-kun, I will start climbing five floors instead."

"So when is he going to start meeting your parents, hmm?"

"Next week, when my grandmother finally comes to terms with the fact that her favourite grandson will be bringing home a boyfriend instead," Kuroko dryly replies. When Aomine's eyes bulge out of the sockets and he sprays out his milk coffee all over Kise's face, Kuroko shakes his head in disbelief. "I was obviously lying. Please don't think that I will be dating him next week, everyone."

"As long as you keep avoiding the lift, you'll deviate from his character route," says Mayuzumi sagely, handing the sputtering, indignant blond his packet tissue. "But if you're still going after him, then don't come to me when you want to learn about the pleasures of anal sex—all I know are from fan fictions and they're not reliable."

"I've got condoms, but eh, you're gonna want lube with that," Aomine adds, peeling his wallet open to fish out a packet of foil. "Maybe you can pass off some hair conditioner as lube, if you guys are really desperate?"

Such supportive people they are, Kuroko wonders how he managed to secure a band of idiots to play the part of his friends.

Corporate Identity
"Corporate identity has been defined as 'the sum of all the factors that definite and project what the organisation is, what it stands for, what it does, how it does it, and where it's going' (Melewar 2003: 197). How you represent yourself reflects how you represent your corporation."

[Niji Notes] So basically, how I represent myself reflects how I'm representing the university as the student council president? Thank god Mayuzumi didn't become the president.

"T-THERE HE IS!"

"GET HIM!"

A university, according to Kuroko's dictionary, is an institution of higher learning. Various facilities are provided for ease of teaching, researching, and authorising academic degrees: these range from graduate schools for bachelor degrees, and professional schools to cater to master degrees and doctorates. While some students use the provided bathrooms for their private smoking grounds and library carrel rooms forsuspicious activities, it's definitely no such ground for this.

"TETSU-KUN, YOU'RE DATING AKASHI-KUN!?"

Inconveniently, he doesn't disappear into thin air this time. And no, Evasion 101 doesn't work either.

Leading the March of Kuroko Tetsuya right behind him is Momoi, tailgated by Riko and Hyuuga, and a clueless Kiyoshi at that. Aomine's blubbering all sorts of wrong facts to Momoi and hell hath no fury like Momoi scorned, while Kise's lamenting over his lost love like a classic Shakespearean major. Mayuzumi walks the farthest from the groupie, hands in his pocket like the nerd loser he is, but the smirk on his face announces which side he's supporting.

And it's clearly not Kuroko's.

Walking away fast and faster since they're rapidly gaining speed, Kuroko grips his bag tight and doesn't look back. Someone should applaud his bravery for actually daring to call out over his shoulder. "No, you're wrong, Momoi-san, I'm not dating him. It's a lie."

"Don't listen to him, Satsuki—you've seen the guy, he's trying to cut the queue into Tetsu's boxers and we all know it!" Aomine bellows. "Preach it, Kise!"

"It's true, Momocchi!" Kise wails in a near-hysterical reenactment of a mother losing her child in the supermarket. "He's been putting his moves on Kurokocchi from the parking lot to the lift to the cafeteria and even in our classroom! Can you just imagine an FBL student walking into our class, carrying Kurokocchi's books!? He trespassed our territory and now he's trying to take what's ours!"

The shriek erupting from Momoi's mouth pierced through the hallway and could've ruptured their eardrums if she goes a pitch higher. "What!?But Akashi-kun isn't someone like tha—"

"You gotta believe us! It's time to defend our territory, Satsuki!" Aomine instigates the fight with a thumbs-up, grinning his approval. "We can't lose our FAH member to FBL!"

A lecturer dares to peek out of his classroom to inspect the source of the ruckus, sees the mob spearheaded by Momoi, and promptly disappears behind the door again. Momoi's set a new record for herself in the campus as the lioness backed by her harem, and she stops at nothing to get it. No one will stand in her path when she's in pursuit for the love of her life, not even a lecturer with a show-cause letter.

"Once my yaoi light novel about your love life gets enough hits on the internet, I'll petition for KyoAni to make it into an anime," Mayuzumi calls out from the tail end of the group. "We'll split 50-50, deal?"

"Kyoto Animation doesn't produce BL," Kuroko huffs. "Try harder, Mayuzumi-san."

Mayuzumi has the nerve to roll his eyes. "'Free' was close enough."

Speed-walking should be the next Olympic sport and Japan should send Kuroko to represent the country, considering he's already started his training this early. Coughing behind his hand, he pretends there aren't fellow shell-shocked seniors effectively plastering themselves against the wall to make way for their impressive troupe, and ended up scaring many juniors right into empty seminar rooms. Hoping for them not to hear the bit about yaoi and BL is a bit too late; it's bound to be gossip fodder for next week's mill.

"Kuroko, c'mon, if you're a man, you gotta tell it straight to us!" Hyuuga grunts, panting with the exertion of trying to catch up with how Kuroko's rapidly gaining speed by the second. "We're not gonna be mad—"

"Why should we be mad?" Kiyoshi—ah, God bless Kiyoshi with his warm, genial smile as though he's Kuroko's father and he fully understands that he has to let his son wed Akashi, his only suitor—adds. "We can talk this out, right?"

Riko's the one who goes directly opposite of what Kiyoshi's said by rolling up her sleeves and cracking her knuckles. "Like hell we will! Kuroko, get back here! You are forbidden from dating that Akashi guy!"

Darting to the right and nearly missing his footing because he overlooked the big yellow sign clearly stating 'CAUTION: WET FLOOR', Kuroko halves his speed in lieu of tiptoeing through the slippery hallway, all the while with the chorus of janitors groaning in exasperation. He obviously made the right choice at the sacrifice of his speed; Kise fell face-first into the soapy bucket by the corner and Aomine tripped over the floor sign with a loud curse.

As expected, nobody in the team stopped to help them up.

A quick consultation at the reflection of the glass windows tells Kuroko that Mayuzumi is still alive and still breathing, and is still wearing that haughty know-it-all smirk of his. Damn his tenacity that rivals a cockroach.

Two down, five more to go.

As much as Kuroko wants to celebrate his victory in shaking off two lethal adversaries in fuelling Momoi's fighting spirit, everything good has to come to an end as the slippery stretch soon dries out—and they're at it again, Olympic speed-walking through the hallways. Kuroko makes a quick left out of the glass doors and would've sprinted towards the bridges interconnecting FAH and FBL, but a raucous mob of males approaching from the other side scares him.

Nobody would've expected Akashi Seijuro to be manhunted by his friendly duo.

"Sei-chan, please!" a particularly effeminate-looking man (with eyelashes that could give Kise a run for his money) sorely tries to prove a point that Akashi doubtlessly rejects. "Your happiness is really important to us. As much as I despise interacting with those unreasonable FAH brutes, you matter so much to me that I'll do it if you ask."

Akashi looks like he'd leap off the bridge and shimmy down the nearest tree rather than enduring their torturous interview. "I've mentioned it once and I'll mention it again: We are merely acquaintances. That is all."

"We got your back if you're going on with this." A brutish man with a buzz cut blurts out—he clearly needs to dig his ears for completely overlooking what Akashi just uttered a few seconds ago. With his bulging biceps and thick muscles, Kuroko doesn't need to look further to know Buzz-Cut's hearing capabilities are limited, no thanks to the enhanced muscles constricting his ear canal. "If there's anyone who protests, I'll smash their skulls!"

Perhaps Kuroko shouldn't have busied himself with Akashi's predicament when he, too, has sharks who are taking advantage of his distraction. Momoi's fingers made a near brush on his backpack but Kuroko effectively evades her clutches and adds a bit of a jog to his walk—but really, his sides are hurting and he's this close to wheezing like an old man.

God forbid him from collapsing into Akashi's arms once they meet up at the front like some shoujo manga ripoff; he'd never hear the end of it from Mayuzumi.

"Tetsu-kun, p-please!" Momoi tries again, breathing heavily through her nose as she struggles to catch her breath. "Tell me Akashi-kun hasn't done anything to you!"

… in retrospect, maybe Momoi shouldn't have said that aloud, considering their close proximity with Akashi stans from the opposite end of the bridge.

"What was that?" Eyelash Man gasps, affronted. His line of attention swiftly redirects from Akashi to Momoi, and the look of pure horror crossing his eyes would've set the bridge ablaze. "Why—Sei-chan isn't that sort of man who would be putting his hands on just about anyone! He's a gentleman!"

"Akashi-kun shouldn't be hitting on my Tetsu-kun then!" Momoi rebukes, pouting. And yes, she is almost victorious in closing in on Kuroko, but the shadow sidesteps her grabby hands and skitters on. "Wh—Tetsu-kun, stay still!"

"No Akashi is going to get our Kuroko!" Hyuuga hollers, pumping his fist in the air. "Down with FBL, down with FBL!"

"Akashi's free to love whatever guy he wants to love, and I'll punch anyone who says no!" Buzz-Cut declares, smashing his fist to his palm in what Kuroko thinks is a gesture supposedly intended to intimidate those with his level of IQ. "You wanna be the first in line?! Come at me!"

"Ei-chan, don't do it in the middle of the bridge! At least wait until we're on proper grounds!" Eyelash Man wrings his hands to a pinch-faced Akashi. "Sei-chan, stop him!"

Too late.

Coming face-to-face at the junction, it is strange how two people can find a sense of camaraderie resulting from similarly chaotic situations they're in. By the time Kuroko gets a good look at Akashi with sweat beading down his forehead and a crooked tie, overhead, Buzz-Cut's fist cuts through the air and makes proper acquaintances with Hyuuga's jaw. In a tragic sequence of reactions, Momoi screams, Kiyoshi gasps, Hyuuga grunts, and somewhere in the background, someone's giving a low whistle of amusement.

It's Mayuzumi, no doubt about it.

World War III kickstarts with a bang when Hyuuga decides it's only proper he goes big with a kick on Buzz-Cut's knee, but his aim is pretty bad when he misses and ends up nailing Eyelash Man right on his foot. The agonising howl makes Kuroko pity him for a second there. Someone's yelling for them to stop, and there's Kiyoshi's giant hands swooping in the air to block more punches from Buzz Cut while Mayuzumi circles the battleground with his phone whipped out and obviously recording every second of this for Nico Nico Douga. Aomine miraculously charges in with Kise wielding a bucket at the very last second and—

"—they're distracted. Here's our chance."

Someone's hand grabs him, fingers intertwining like laces. Akashi's face is too close for comfort until Kuroko sees strands of his matted bangs clinging onto his forehead. His warm breath plays on Kuroko's cheek as he whispers: "Let's run for it."

Before one part of Kuroko's mind makes an active effort in cross-referencing Akashi's words with his mental compendium, the redhead dashes forward down the T-junction of the bridge and drags Kuroko with him. Poor, poor Kuroko and his splitting sides could only hang on for the ride as they race towards Block C, hand in hand, red and blue together, with an epic scene of massive destruction playing in the background. In slow motion with a fitting music playing, they would've looked like modern-day lovers eloping from two warring clans fighting one another for centuries.

Of course, at that moment, unbeknown to Kuroko or Akashi, it's like one of Mayuzumi's clichéd light novel endings: Their meeting was one ordained by fate, and neither of them had a chance to stop the cogs of fate from turning.

"W-Wait, where did Kurokocchi go!?"

"Oh my god did someone accidentally push Tetsu-kun off the bridge!?"

"Fuck—everyone, spread out! We gotta find him!"

The musky-smelling decrepit box called the lift begins its steady descent of four floors, holding two passengers captive in its stomach. The protagonists of this tragic light novel, barely escaping the assault from their friends, are doubtlessly in pain; one is doubling over while clutching his sides, and the other leans against the icy cold wall for support.

Akashi withdraws a folded handkerchief from his slacks, dabbing it on his forehead. "You have fearsome friends, Kuroko." His gaze slips downwards to keep an eye on the other in case he collapses due to his dismal display of stamina, but thankfully, nothing tragic happens. "Keeping up with them daily is certainly an exercise on its own."

"They have their merits, Akashi-kun…" Kuroko's shoulders shake with the chugging effort of trying to supply as much oxygen as he can to his lungs before he passes out on the floor. "Try being classmates with them for a semester and you'll see what I'm talking about."

Maybe Akashi shouldn't have chuckled at the thought of transferring straight from FBL to FAH, because Kuroko gives him a look that suggests he's either terrified of being trapped inside a confined space with a potentially problematic psychopath (who has record-breaking rumours circulating the campus weekly), or Kuroko thinks Akashi's chuckles should be forever immortalised as his alarm tone in case he needs extra help waking up in the morning.

"My apologies," says Akashi, softening the harsh lines on his face with a smile in hopes that he will tame the wild animal right into its familiar habitat again. "I was just amused thinking about how my lecturers will react if they know I'm leaving FBL on short notice." When Kuroko regards him as though he should really run for the mountains, Akashi deigns it wise to tack on more clarification: "To be your classmate, Kuroko. That's what I'm saying."

Metallic clanging of the rattling lift fills the four-by-four space of silence between them.

The look in Kuroko's eyes is best described as him wishing the lift would descend faster so he could grab his car and drive far, far away from their university, never to return, but the treacherously ancient thing barely made its way past 3.

"Please don't do that, Akashi-kun, you'll really inconvenience me," Kuroko deadpans.

"And why is that?" asks Akashi with the perfect spoonful of concern in his voice, measured out to feed his concern right into Kuroko's mouth should he ever doubt it. "I've learned almost all there is about business since my family owns a company, so why shouldn't I consider taking up literature for a change? It should make for an interesting experience. I read as much as you do."

Discomfort isn't even close enough to explain the expression seizing Kuroko's face, what with his reluctance in meeting Akashi's eyes—or even the jut of his lips that must've been a trait he acquired from being in close contact with Nijimura himself. The LED panels barely trickles past the third floor, so Kuroko takes the chance to crouch on the floor and stare on the patterned tiles as he formulates an answer.

Akashi waits.

He's a patient man. He's always been patient. Even when Kuroko is late and he winds up holding the lift for the other to ride with him. Ten minutes of silence is still ten minutes of silence with Kuroko, and it is still time they spent together, minus the lack of interaction from each other. The silence isn't exactly uncomfortable.

Finally, whether he's given up in trying to deter Akashi with silence, or he's had it with beating around the bush and he decides to spare countless chapters of anguish whereby their conflict could've been cleared up with just a simple sentence explaining his circumstances, Kuroko raises his head and fixes Akashi a strange look.

"Akashi-kun," he says in a perfected tone of grave solemnity, "the whole campus thinks we are dating each other." Which is, by far, not the most absurd rumour Akashi's ever heard because—him running over someone on campus, nobody could ever beat that. "Please imagine the apocalypse that will be over our heads when they see you sitting in class with me. I'd like to lead a normal university life without any more of Mayuzumi-san's predictions coming true, thank you very much."

"Oh?" Really, he shouldn't be finding interest in mundane things such as gossips, but the words escape Akashi's lips before he eloquently rephrases them. "What did he say, Kuroko?"

A shrug. Okay, so the shrug is more of Kuroko awkwardly twisting his shoulders upwards while simultaneously looking away to break eye contact, making him look like he suffered from a bad case of neck cramp (that or he needs an exorcism), which deepens Akashi's suspicion.

"Mayuzumi-san thinks soon enough, you will be reminding me that I forgot my underwear at your place." Kuroko says, in poorly hidden chagrin. "That will not be happening."

"If you happen to forget, then I will be sure to remind you." Akashi reassures him, finding absolutely no harm in Kuroko's words. "It isn't much trouble for me to bring it from my house."

There might have been a sound of embarrassment dying in Kuroko's throat as soon as it threatened to come up. He's petulantly staring at the floor as though he wants it to rip open and suck him through the chasm, but nothing comes up. He only warbles:

"Mayuzumi-san's implying that we will be having sex."

Akashi brows furrow. "Oh."

They're both 21. Sex isn't quite a taboo topic anymore, unless in the presence of minors. This topic should be explored in broader context between both participants of the conversation, and Akashi would've gladly pitched in his two yens for a rebuttal, but the lights started flickering like some overused horror movie theme.

Then the lift judders to a halt, shaking hard.

And the lights give one last epileptic performance before it shuts down completely.

Which leaves them in pitch black darkness, darker than the forest of Nebuya's armpit hair.

"Not again…" comes Kuroko's groan from the far left side of the corner, where he was last seen crouching. There is a shuffling of feet, some clapping of hands on thighs to brush off some dust, and Kuroko sighs. "Mayuzumi-san should quit studying and work as a fortune teller."

Blinking hard, seeing nothing but arid darkness, and blinking again to get his eyes used to the disappearance of light, Akashi cradles his chin with his palm. "I take it he's seen this coming?"

"Even warned me about taking the lift with you," is the dry reply from Kuroko. Again with the shuffling of feet, and this time a thump on the wall follows. Kuroko had probably leaned all of his weight against it. Then, as though a moment's clarity had passed over him, his voice grows stronger in suspicion as though he's looking right in Akashi's presumed direction. "… didn't you mention something about the lift getting stuck too, Akashi-kun?"

Why yes. On a certain Monday earlier this week.

"That I did," he admits. "Given the lift's condition, it was a foreseeable circumstance. I wasn't hoping for this to happen but…" he shrugs, realizes Kuroko wouldn't see his apologetic gesture in this terrible darkness, and substitutes it for rubbing his nape. "We should try calling for help."

Sudden brightness tears through the black space when Kuroko whips out his cellphone, its screen glaringly bright. The reflection in Kuroko's eyes is watery when he turns the device off with a flip. He isn't the sort of person who would sigh much about anything, but this situation warranted one long, long sigh to express his feelings. In this darkness without any facial cues from Kuroko, Akashi could only interpret it as a prolonged prayer for divine intervention to help them both out of this sticky situation.

"There's no signal," says Kuroko as an exhausted lament. "How about yours?"

A quick check on his smartphone, followed by a grimace at the shock of white light leaping at his face through the darkness, only solidifies their situation that has grounded to a halt. "Not on mine as well. This is an old lift, so I doubt it that any signals will go through."

They are enveloped in silence that is far too uncomfortable.

"Do you think we'll die here, Akashi-kun?" Comes the inevitable question, a tragic whisper. "We're lucky the lift only stopped halfway, but if the cable snaps…"

Clearly, someone has been watching too many thriller movies to feed his ravenous imagination. Or read one too many novels for literary reviews. Given their circumstances, Akashi musters up a denial but stops short when he detects a slight tremor running down the walls of the lift. Kuroko's prediction might not be too far off after all.

"In worst case circumstances, we might," he admits, exhaling slowly as though he isn't aware he's been holding his breath ever since the lift gave a little shiver. "But don't worry. There are other guards who use this lift as well. Once they see that it doesn't move anywhere, they'll definitely call the repairmen to get it serviced."

Again with the tragic whisper. This time, it sounded like all traces of hope have dissipated through the air. "What if they don't?"

"They run on schedules, Kuroko." Akashi reminds him. "It might take some time, but it's our only hope."

He wouldn't go as far as calling it being optimistic, being realistic is more accurate. Their chances of dying inside a stuck elevator can't be thathigh since it only happens in the fictional world. It's a common occurrence. Somewhere in this world, surely there are a few more people who are stuck in a similar situation too, getting trapped in elevators and the like. Or so Akashi believes, until the metal box gives another jolt that forces them to vibrate like heated molecules, going on for one second, then two, and a three, four—

—a piercing noise shoots through the elevator shaft, echoing shrilly, budging the metal deathtrap downwards by a few inches.

As much as Akashi dislikes admitting it, he finds his palms plastered on the elevator walls for support, slick with sweat. And his knees are bent at an angle meant to support his fall. Only when he's certain the little tremor has stopped for good he turned to wherever he presumed Kuroko might be. He should congratulate himself for not speaking with a shaking voice.

"They'll come," Akashi repeats, even though it sounded more like an attempt on reassuring himself. "We don't have to worry, Kuroko. They'll be here for sure."

Kuroko appears selectively deaf at what he just said.

"If there are any lingering regrets I might have before we die, it probably would be that I haven't submitted my papers to Dr. Garcia," he says—and no, it's not from across the elevator where he was last seen. Now it's right by Akashi's feet, somewhere under him. Presumably crouched or seated, depending on his level of terror at this incoming tragedy about to befall them. "I spent two all-nighters to complete it, so it's a waste if I don't submit it for evaluation."

It must have rattled his nerves quite a bit for him to have inched over to Akashi's side and spewing illogical nonsense about dying regrets. Despite all reasoning of them making it to see another sunrise, Akashi finds himself sliding onto the ground to join Kuroko's corner. Their shoulders bumped along the way, yet neither of them moved.

"Do you have any final regrets, Akashi-kun?" Kuroko continues. A warm gust of breath hits Akashi's ear; he presumes that's where Kuroko's lips are. Close. "Any presentations you haven't finished with your lecturers?"

Akashi is about to reassure him for the umpteenth time that neither of them will die, but he stopped himself right before making any lofty remarks. Did he write a will yet? The redhead takes a moment to do a quick reflection on his life: His ideals, his future wishes, his unfulfilled duty of refurbishing this university and providing an ideal student life to the rest of them.

… Kuroko is starting to get to him.

"There might be one or two things I regret," Akashi admits. Being robbed of sight like this, it feels more like admitting his weakness to the profound emptiness than to any physical entity, which is surprisingly liberating. "I can understand your worries. I, too, have a thesis to submit for grading. It's a shame if we don't get to know the marks of our hard work."

"It is." A pause. Then Kuroko adds, matter-of-factly: "My biggest regret would probably that I won't get to walk my dog this evening. I even promised him before I left for my class."

"Your dog?" Akashi echoes. How surprising. Given how Kuroko always deflates out of energy in the mornings they shared, he'd suspect something quieter, easier, like caring for a fish or a cactus. Even a rock doesn't sound farfetched. "What's his name?"

"Nigou," is the easy reply.

There comes another clack when he flips his phone open and Akashi winces at the beam of light erupting from the screen, but Kuroko helpfully tones it down with a few rapid pressing of buttons. What is displayed as his background wallpaper is of a plump puppy with two thick clusters of fur resembling eyebrows, and startlingly humanlike eyes. Akashi wonders if anyone has ever told Kuroko that it bore strong resemblance to him.

"Nigou was abandoned when he was young, so I took him in," Kuroko explains, his voice taking on the quality of a mother fondly talking about her child. With the screen highlighting his features, it isn't hard for Akashi to see the affection that brought stars in his eyes. "He likes going for walks and chasing basketballs. Most of the time though, he likes antagonising my friend Kagami-kun."

Hearing Kuroko affectionately recalling memories of his pet like this, it's hard for Akashi to suppress the images of a majestic white beast that patiently waits for his return in her barn. His Yukimaru. She's been with him through highs and lows of life; if it is indeed his fate to die smashed inside an elevator, who will routinely feed her now?

"…Akashi-kun looks sad. Did I say something wrong?"

He isn't sure what expression has crossed his face to warrant Kuroko to say something like that. It sounds terribly ridiculous. So he tears his eyes away from the sight of Nigou attentively looking up at him, looking at Kuroko instead.

Bad move.

The look on Kuroko's face is obviously reserved only for Nigou, where softness dabs at his blue irises and blots out all harshness, leaving only unadulterated love—

—but there's Kuroko, looking at him with that look because he's thinking of Nigou and—

"I must have brought up some unpleasant memories," Kuroko surmises from his lack of response. "I'm sorry, Akashi-kun."

He's lowered his chin and is now regarding him with downcast eyes, appearing somewhat regretful at his inconsiderate actions. It was nowhere near Kuroko's fault and he shouldn't feel responsible for it, but he's assuming responsibility for something he imagined on his own.

Slowly, just slowly easing out of this stupor, Akashi clears his throat. "No, it wasn't your fault," he corrects him, gently shaking his head. "I just remembered my own pet, that's all."

He's certain that whatever he said isn't supposed to be heard in a hilarious context, but somehow Kuroko breaks into a small smile and ah, it's such a charming little sight. He doesn't get a chance to dissect what made him smile, because Kuroko's shoulder accidentally (or not?) nudges into his and the small collision easily throws the thought out of his mind.

"You have a pet too?"

Akashi hasn't intended for their conversation to go further since he expected Kuroko to say, "Oh I see, it wasn't my fault," and he'll reassure the other with a simple, "Yes, it wasn't your fault at all," and they'll enjoy each other's silence within this enclosed space. But Kuroko just had to tip his head, asking him with the next question:

"What's his name?"

Now that it has come to this, Akashi has no choice but to fumble for his phone again, unlock the screen, and tapping at the gallery icon just to bring up a photo of Yukimaru and him. His butler had gladly taken the picture a few months ago, claiming, "The Young Master Seijuro needs to have at least one picture of himself with Yukimaru for the sake of making memories," and refused to take no for an answer. So there he was, mounted on Yukimaru, bedecked in his riding attire and brandishing a leather crop, smiling for the camera.

Akashi might or might not have misheard an awed gasp coming from Kuroko at the sight.

"She is Yukimaru," he introduces her to Kuroko like a father introducing his daughter to a potential candidate. "She's a Camarillo—I've had her for as long as I could remember. I usually take her out for rides when I come back from classes. Sometimes when I don't have enough time to refill her water or change the hay in her barn, the servants will do it for me. Usually I prefer to do it myself; that way I get to spend more time with her."

"To be honest, I wondered what sort of pet Akashi-kun would have, since a dog sounds too common and a cat is too domestic…" Kuroko says, smiling wryly, "but I never thought it'd be a horse. It fits Akashi-kun perfectly."

That smile of his is contagious, infecting Akashi with the slightest of quirk on his lips. "It seems that my reputation in campus even extends to the pet I have?"

"It could've been worse." Kuroko replies—and there they were, shoulders bumping from Kuroko's shrug, smiling at each other from sharing pictures of their pets, bonding in this darkness that neither of them could do much about, sitting in an ancient lift that could probably fall from the third floor of a crumbling building in their university campus.

… which does little to fix this situation.

It was like what Akashi had prophesied: The guards came around, realised that the lift had stopped moving, and called in the repairmen. Together, they joined forces to wrench the heavy steel doors open, and found the two of them huddled together—sweaty and shirtless. Even when Akashi tried asserting that they had been waiting for rescue for a good forty minutes and there is an obvious lack of oxygen in the elevator and it was hot, the guards had taken an oath not to utter a single word about this incident.

The damage was already done.

It's a Monday, the beginning of a new week.

"So I heard you two were making out in the lift last Friday."

Kise chokes on his spaghetti and tugged out a whole strand of noodle from his throat, all the way out of his mouth. Aomine grins and makes crude hand motions involving a pointing finger thrusting in and out of a hole—thank you Aomine, Kuroko is glad that he's being educated on how sexual intercourse works, if high school biology wasn't enough. Mayuzumi's unconcerned and constant stirring of his udon makes him look criminal, criminally devious, punctuated by the crooked smile accompanying his sentence.

"I was not," Kuroko deadpans.

"Did you use the condom I gave you?" Aomine snickers.

"You two are the modern Romeo and Juliet of FAH and FBL." Mayuzumi is quick to point out, still with the sly light in his eyes, still with the crooked quirk on his lips. "What was it again, something about being lovers in times of conflict? From two different faculties at war? Different status? It's the new hit. Even the Animanga Club is planning to make a doujinshi out of it."

Kuroko almost groans. Almost. "Please don't tell me—"

"We're splitting the profit 50/50 since I'm writing the novel side," says Mayuzumi unrepentantly, his finger tracing imaginary numbers on the tabletop. "It's a weekly serialisation, going on sale for about ¥850. I'll reserve a free copy for you this week, but you're going to pay on your own if you want next week's issue. Sakurai's going to draw the cover for the book."

By right, Kuroko's more than capable to man the defences against the three of them all by himself. All he needs to do is to hit Mayuzumi under the table as discreetly as possible to disable his ridiculous ranting, then there'd be some peace and quiet. At least, if Aomine opts not to add his unwarranted comments here and there. There's no way they'll let him live it down without a fight, especially things are blown out of proportion like this.

The moment Aomine opens his mouth, a hand absentmindedly thumping Kise on his back to ease his deathlike coughs, Kuroko grimaces for what's coming.

But it was nothing like he expected.

"Oh yeah, today's the deadline for the Student Council President thing. Satsuki said they're counting the votes right now. I heard that your love story with Akashi won over the rest of the FAH kids. They voted for him as soon as they got the news."

"Just to fulfil their fantasies of seeing the romance between a Student Council President and a common student," Mayuzumi conspiratorially whispers.

Such supportive people they are, Kuroko wonders if there's a way to terminate his friendship with them. He's already about to hightail it out of there to find refuge somewhere else quiet like the library, but his pocket buzzes with an incoming message and he finds himself taking a moment to read the contents.

He wishes he didn't, because it's already too late to stop a smile from crossing his lips, too late to stop Aomine crowing at the sight, too late to stop Mayuzumi from smirking to himself and muttering, "I'm going to make some serious cash," and just far too late to save Kise from dying.

Date: 10/7
Time: 11:46 a.m.
Sender: Akashi Seijuurou
Subject: [NONE]
Message:
I won.

EXTRA:
Kuroko closes his phone with a flip. He takes a good look around the table and nods. "We'll now be under the reign of the Emperor Akashi. We need to prepare ourselves for hard times ahead."

Mayuzumi, unperturbed, takes a sip of his udon. "Not for us, but for you. Hard times for your ass, maybe."

A/N: So ye that's it, that's the end of the show for this uni AU. I really love writing Kisedais as uni mates so who knows I might expand on this idea maybe _(:'3 we'll see.

Thanks for reading, for sticking with this Uni AU, and for all your comments and reviews.

If you're celebrating Christmas, I hope you'll have an awesome Christmas ahead of you! *sends love and hugs*