A.N. Warning: minor canon divergence ahead

(Also, period days are the worst)

(Also, I'm not very good with emotions. Sometimes I write like a robot and sometimes like a bipolar opera singer. Please tell me what you think)

Chapter Eleven

Being benched was something I was used to; as a sixth man I was only switched in at key moments in the game to make the play that would tip the score, or when the coach needed a change of strategy to surprise the opposition. Since joining Seirin that had changed - I was now a regular, due to the tremendous boost I gave Kagami's offensive power. But I didn't mind sitting down when I had to. I generally enjoyed myself watching, not to mention I didn't have the stamina to be on the court for the whole forty minutes anyway.

Today was different. Today I was still as a statue and coiled tight as a spring and if I didn't do anything, I was going to implode. Rationally I knew that if I went in now I would be signing our defeat, because I needed to recover in order to be effective, but sitting here watching how Aomine dribbled circles around Kagami was tearing my heart in two.

He was breathtaking. He was basketball distilled down to its very essence, its purest form, and then set loose of all limitations. He faked, bent and spun, his dominion over the ball as flawless as if it was an extension of his own soul. Kagami tried to keep up, but every time it seemed like he'd gotten there Aomine would grin like a madman, and then twist and chuck the ball with such ease it was like he was tossing scrunched paper into a trashcan.

It wasn't that he loved basketball, it was more than that. Basketball loved him.

I knew why he'd been late; he'd wanted to get back at me for not telling him about Seirin, for not joining him in Touou of maybe for letting him believe he'd never see me again. I'd asked him to take us seriously and he'd done the exact opposite just to spite me. My fists were shaking on my knees.

Eventually Aomine grew impatient. He scored and lazily picked up the ball again, glancing at Kagami. "This is boring. You can't beat me alone." He turned to our bench, and every player on the court halted, surprised. Aomine met my gaze and beckoned with two fingers. "Get over here, Tetsu."

I looked to Riko, who nodded her permission, and stood up. "Sub, please," I told the table. Aomine tossed the ball to the referee. I took a deep breath and stepped over the side line.

For the first few minutes I was convinced we could do it. Kagami rose again and we scored on Touou, once, twice, three times. To any other player in this league, Aomine's rhythm was unpredictable and erratic, impossible to match. To me, it was almost reassuring in its familiarity. As the minutes passed I started to see him clearly again, started anticipating him with the same ease that had allowed me to give him carefully-timed passes in Teiko. Unfortunately, the same was true in reverse. He knew the way I thought. He cut my passes.

It didn't bother me. I felt like I just needed a bit more time, like I was on the verge of something.

Then Riko pulled Kagami out. "You can't sit me down now! I can still-"

"Shut up!" she cried. "Your injury-"

"It's already healed!"

"It's going to cripple you permanently!" She closed her eyes and exhaled, strained. "Just- sit down."

I watched Kagami's taut, silent walk to the bench. I hadn't realized his injury - but there was nothing anyone could do.

Amonie sighed. "There's a forty point gap and only six minutes left to play. I win this one, Tetsu."

I was strangely... calm. He knew me too well, he could shut me down, and without Kagami our chances of winning were infinitely small, but somehow, that didn't matter to me. I told Aomine the same thing I'd told Midorima before; that it was impossible to call the outcome of a match before it was over, that our chances only went down to zero if we gave up, and I wasn't going to make it zero. I was teetering on an edge, but at the same time, perfectly steady.

The referee whistled for the game to resume.

The high-frequency soundwaves impacting on my eardrums were like a trigger. I fell over that edge and started to sink. Everything beyond the limits of the court - the spectators, the benches, even the scoreboard - blurred out of focus, became unimportant. The ache in my abdomen and the exhaustion faded; sounds were muted, like the court had been submerged underwater.

The ball was a shining beacon in my awareness and pass courses were fluorescent lines that I could cut or bend with a precise twist of the wrist.

Aomine was staring at me, and even though he was usually one of the hardest people for me to trick, his gaze didn't offer any resistance to my misdirection. I slipped to the side to cover the lane between him and Touou's point guard, easily cutting the predictable pass. Aomine's surprised reaction was of no concern to me. I existed in the moment. I had to stop this play. We had to make this basket. Redirect to Izuki. It went in. Defense.

I went to cut the next pass - too slow, they scored. Never mind, get up again. Pass and place the screen - ugh, that hurt. Roll and - no, Aomine's anticipated it. Hold the ball. Shoot it. My percentage was ridiculously low normally, something like ten or fifteen percent, no one had ever taught me to shoot after all, but somehow I knew this time it would go in. The ball bounced on one side of the rim, then the other, then went through.

Aomine reached out. "Hey-" Defense. Mushroom is going to use this lane, cut it. I ran past Aomine without looking.

The referee's whistle snapped me out of the trance. I straightened, blinking away too-bright gym lights, disoriented by the loud return of voices. What was - was the game already over? I whirled towards the scoreboard.

61 - 100.

The return to reality gave me whiplash.

Kagami was furious; I could feel the frustration and rage radiating off him even from where he sat. The knot around my tightened. It hurt. I'd thought we stood a chance, at least. It really hurt.

"Oi." A weight fell on my shoulder. I jerked my arm forwards but Aomine's hold only tightened. "Oi, did you-"

"Line up!" the referee instructed. I shook him off and headed to the center of the court.

I was the last in the changing room, staring at the lockers in front of me without really seeing them. My mind was stuck in the game - the things I could have done, the moments I should have changed.

That strange underwater sensation - what had that been?

"Let's go, Kuroko," Kagami's voice called from the direction of the door.

I ignored him. Would anything I did even have made a difference? Touou had crushed us.

There was silence for a while, but I didn't hear him leaving. "I guess this is our limit," he finally said. "Honestly, I thought we'd play pretty well, but in the end it was still shit."

I stared listlessly down at my hands. Yeah. Shit was an accurate way to describe it.

"Looks like, against sheer skill, cooperation alone isn't enough to win, eh? Stop passing to me from now on."

I reeled, the wind knocked out of my lungs. I whirled around, but he'd already left.

Cooperation wasn't enough? Did he- was he saying it was my fault?

But Kagami and I were partners. We worked together. It was supposed to make Seirin strong. I stared at the empty doorway in incomprehension. Stop passing to him? Break off our partnership, just like that? He preferred to play without me? He did think it was my fault. The ice-cold realization synergized with the physical exhaustion and the ache in my lower abdomen, and bile climbed up my throat. I jerked towards the sink, where I proceeded to vomit out the contents of my digestive tube.

Even when I was done, the ache persisted. I rinsed my mouth out and cleaned my face up with trembling hands, fighting the nausea. It was a good thing I was alone; I couldn't imagine facing anyone in this state. Determining I should go home as soon as possible, I grabbed my sports bag and stepped into the empty corridor.

Or not so empty. Aomine was leaning against the wall when I came out. Just looking at him made my stomach twist again. I started walking past him, but he cut me off. "Don't ignore me. There's something I need to know."

I kept my gaze fixed on his shoulder, refusing to look up. I just wanted to be left alone. He'd already proven Seirin was nothing to him. He'd broken my heart twice already, what more could he possibly want?

"You shot. And you made it. You never did that before."

I shrugged indifferently. "At least one of my shots has to go in at some point."

"In the last six minutes, you beat us."

Huh?

"We were up by forty. We only won by thirty-nine. You beat us." His eyes searched my face. "Did you open it?"

"Open what?" What was he going on about? I looked away, but he grabbed my wrist. "Please let me go."

His grip tightened until it was painful, and he ducked his head, forcing me to meet his eyes; the darkness in them was magnetic. I sucked in a breath. I hadn't been this close to him since-

"I mean that I have feelings for you, Aomine-kun. As more than a teammate or a friend."

"Ugh. That's such a dumb thing to say - why would you just go and make things weird?"

"-The door," he insisted. "No one else noticed, but I did. At the end, you-"

"She said to let her go, Aominecchi."

Kise stood in the middle of the corridor, hands in his pockets and staring levelly at us, his usual playful smile nowhere to be seen. Momoi was next to him, a frown on her face. Aomine's hand loosened in surprise, and I was able to tug my arm away and take a step back. "We're just talking," Aomine said. "Don't butt in."

Kise and Momoi looked at each other, and through unspoken agreement, Momoi stalked forwards. "Come on, Daiki, you've filled your quota of being a jerk for the day. Let's go home."

Aomine looked at me, but I refused to budge my gaze from the wall. He allowed Momoi to drag him down the corridor. "Honestly you're so dense-" I heard her say as they left.

I watched his back as he disappeared from view. I wanted to say something, like we'll definitely win next time. But the air just wouldn't leave my throat. 61 to 100. What was I supposed to do? How did I begin making up that difference? It was impossible. Without Kagami, I wasn't worth anything.

"Hey," Kise said, wiping my cheek with his thumb. When did he get close? "Come on, don't cry, Kurokocchi." But the tears were already blurring my vision. He wiped my other cheek and then hugged me. "Shh, it's okay." I silently buried my face in his chest, my fingers twisting in his shirt.

Losing was normal in sports. I couldn't cry just because of that. But Aomine and then Kagami and I was never going to beat the Miracles after all, and I'd always known it was a long shot, but it wasn't until today that I realized that my basketball just wasn't good enough.

Kise continued saying encouraging things that rumbled pleasantly in his chest. I let the soothing words wash over me, and it helped, a little.

I still felt like splattered roadkill, but at least it was more numb, more manageable. I breathed in, and out. I'd gotten Kise's shirt drenched. "I'm sorry," I mumbled. "It's not really about the game. Kagami hates me. And then Aomine-"

"They're both idiots," he interrupted fiercely. "I wish," he sighed, his body slumping into mine. "I wish I could make you forget about them."

I didn't break away from the hug even after I was calm. It felt nice, and Kise didn't seem to mind. One of his hands rested on my lower back, tracing small circles; it made some of the ache there go away. I sighed and snuggled closer. One could say many things about Kise, but he did know how to make a person feel better.

"Thank you," I said to the soft texture of his shirt.

"I'll always be here for you, Kurokocchi. I promise." There was something delicate in the words, something sincere and tender that made my breath catch.

Kise had given me hugs before, or at least attempted to, but they were usually flamboyant, rib-crushing and just annoying. This one was different, soft, quiet, more intimate. I could feel his chest move with every inhale and exhale and smell the faint citrus of his cologne. His hands were gentle around my waist, like I might fly away if he wasn't careful. I wondered if this was how he hugged girls usually, and if it made their hearts stutter like mine; but I didn't have the emotional capacity to handle it right now, and he probably didn't mean anything by it. He was just being a good friend.

I stepped back. He didn't tighten his hold like he usually would; instead he let me go easily, his fingers lingering on my waist for an instant before dropping. "I should go home," I said.

"Do you want me to walk you?"

"I think I need some time alone."

"Okay." He smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You can call me if you need anything, okay Kurokocchi?"

I managed a watery smile. "Okay."

The following day, Kagami and I didn't talk at school. Our desks were next to each other but there might as well have been a concrete wall separating us. I wanted to ask him if he'd really meant it, but I was afraid of the answer and we were playing Meisei this evening. There was no point in making myself miserable before a game that we had to win. Out of all the teams in the final league, Meisei was the one we stood a fairly good chance against, even with Kagami injured. I was finding it hard to dredge up the usual enthusiasm, though. My stomach still hurt. Thoughts of yesterday kept tangling in my head and other than it was about the Edo period, I had no idea what the teacher was going on about.

At lunch, Kagami jumped out of his seat as soon as the bell rang and left for the cafeteria without a look back. I sighed quietly and started packing my books.

"Hey, Kuroko-kun."

I looked up. Saito Yui was leaning on my desk, brown eyes peering intently at me. It was something she'd started doing more often lately, hanging around my and Kagami's desks during breaks. Sometimes she helped us with homework, since her grades were better than ours. She was a bit strange, but I didn't mind her. She always found ways to make Kagami flustered or embarrassed, which was entertaining to watch. "Hi, Saito-san."

"Are you and Bakagami fighting again?"

"You could say that."

She pursed her lips and blew a raspberry. "What happened this time?"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"I don't like it when you guys fight," she said. "It doesn't suit you. Did he do something stupid? Wait, I know! Punch him in the face again, that should take care of it, right? Bam!" She demonstrated by straightening up, adopting a boxing pose and punching the air in front of my face.

Cooperation isn't enough. "I appreciate your advice, Saito-san, but I don't think that will work this time."

That evening we lost against Meisei, by one point. I'd started the game in an optimistic mood, telling myself to put the Touou episode behind me and focus on winning today. I thought I was doing alright, but Riko pulled me out earlier than usual in the first half and didn't put me back in until the last minutes of the fourth quarter. In the last second, they stole one of my passes and scored from the turnover. It had been a mistake; a stupid, risky pass that I never should have attempted. In the changing room, nobody said anything. We all knew I was the reason we lost that game.

Kise had come to watch too. He waited for me outside the gym with a bittersweet smile and a vanilla shake on each hand. He told me that every player had bad days, I couldn't be expected to be perfect all the time. While I knew it was true, the feeling of guilt didn't dissipate.

We would have won against Meisei if it weren't for me.

That night I lay in bed thinking about the following game against Senshinkan, a black knot of dread tying up my stomach. For the first time since I could remember, I didn't want to play. The prospect of being put on the court and making another mistake like Meisei's had me on edge. I wondered if I should say something to Riko, ask her to keep me benched just this once, but I wasn't brave enough. Either way, without Kagami, Seirin would need my passes to have a chance against the King of the North - I had to play.

I just wasn't sure I'd be able to play well, and even if I played my best, it probably wouldn't be enough.

And that was the crux of the issue: I'd reached my limit. I was fitter than ever, I was better at misdirection than I'd ever been, my passes were at their most powerful. This was as far as a shadow could get. And it hadn't even been a challenge for Aomine.

It was exactly like Kagami had said: cooperation wasn't enough. My basketball wasn't enough.

A vibration on my nightstand. I didn't pick up; I knew it was Momoi. Crying on Kise had been embarrassin, I didn't need her trying to comfort me too.

The next day, despite everyone's best efforts, we lost against Senshinkan.

Seirin was out of the Interhigh.