WARNING: This has non-con in it, please don't read if this triggers you in any way. I repeat, DO NOT read this if you get triggered by rape and/or have panic attacks. Please.

The start to his downfall is anything but anticlimactic.

Shuuzou remembers his decision to take a break. 'Just for three months, but I'll miss the Inter-High', he recalls telling Seijuro, 'Make me proud, Captain Akashi.' It was only really because of the upcoming examinations; he had to keep up his grades to keep playing, after all, since Teiko demanded excellence in all aspects, including education. It couldn't hurt, he thought to himself, to hand over the reins temporarily to an Alpha as skilled and qualified as Akashi Seijuro.

He couldn't be further from the truth.

He remembers tuning into one of their matches, unwilling to study, and noting that it was against Tetsuya's friend's team, not being able to help the slow smile that spread over his lips at the thought of Tetsuya finally fulfilling his promise; the very pact he confessed after a late practice, amid exhaustion. He was happy for his underclassman, recollecting, in a brief flash, familiar dark eyes, delicate features, and distinctive beauty mark decorating pale skin, before rejecting the thought outright.

But as the game progressed, the smile gradually shortened, slipping at the edges before the corners of his mouth turned down fully, and his eyes grew wide. His stomach curdled sickeningly, stone creeping over his heart, making it sink in his chest. The score…. the score was 111-11.

What were they doing? What were they doing?

Shuuzou remembers scrambling for the phone, shakily pressing it to his ear and demanding what the hell was Seijuro thinking, damn it, only to hear a cold voice saying it was necessary. He remembers putting it down, heart pounding furiously in his ears, and wondering what on earth Seijuro was saying, how was that necessary?

He remembered them promising him that they really loved basketball, even Atsushi, and thinking to himself, fuck it.

He resumed club activities, even though keeping up his preparations for his exams at the same time would tire him out. But, truth be told, he would run himself to the ground for them, because they had so much potential and so much love for the sport, even if they pretended otherwise.

And it took months and months upon perseverance and struggle for them to reach some semblance of normalcy. But it worked out, somehow, and Shuuzou resolved not to leave those kids alone for the next year or so, because he couldn't let it happen again.

And now, they're at the Winter Cup and Shuuzou supports them from the side lines, as always. He's careful not to let any five of the seven play together at a time, mixing them up with the other first-stringers to maintain an acceptable score. He himself plays very occasionally, but still religiously wears his rainbow armband on his left, in remembrance of the gift from his Miracles.

It's the semi-finals right now, with the two teams at a stalemate of 12-12. Shuuzou isn't too worried, knowing that the score is as it is because he hasn't put Atsushi on court yet and thoughtfully flicks his eyes toward the current line-up.

Atsushi's warming up by the bench, lazy pout forming on his face, while Shintaro is diligently stretching a further distance away, with a complete lack of cheer. Seijuro and Ryouta were in for the first quarter already, and he's lined up Kuroko and Daiki for the third quarter and Shougo and himself for the fourth.

"You brats remember what I told you, right?" He asks them seriously, Seijuro present by his side as always.

"Yeah, yeah, Niji-chin," He feels a vein throb at Atsushi's casual address, and he adds in a strong shoulder-flick for that, "Don't crush them, that's all."

"Really Murasakibura," Shintaro shakes his head in derision, "He just means not to get too obsessive about our play, correct?"

He aims the last part towards Shuuzou, and he nods in response, trying to quell the guilt rising in him.

"I'm sorry, but this is what we've got to do until you kids reach college," He says gruffly, before waving the two Alphas onto the court, "Have fun."

"Are you feeling alright, Shuuzou-senpai?" Seijuro lofts an eyebrow in response to his shrug, "If you're not feeling well, we can always substitute either myself or Tetsuya in."

"No, it's fine." He waves off the concern, knowing nothing's wrong with him since he took his suppressants in the morning, "I'm just tired of seeing all you brats fighting all the goddamn time."

Seijuro nods, but it's got to be the most sarcastic gesture Shuuzou's ever seen.

They perform excellently, as usual, and the little fightback the other team had is easily quelled at the hand of Tetsuya and Daiki's partnership, along with Shougo's brazen attack. Shuuzou himself just plays more defensively, despite his offence being his strong suit, just to compensate.

Unfortunately, the rise of desperation in the other team also brings with it a multitude of fouls, most of them aimed at him because of their inability to land on Shougo, but he manages to bear it. He hasn't trained so hard for nothing, after all.

He's sweating, of course, by the time the final whistle is blown, and his right ankle stings just a bit, but he's fine, overall. He doesn't forget to yank Shougo back by the ear when he tries to leave before the end-match formalities.

"Where do you think you're going, brat?" He asks rhetorically, tugging even harder at the Alpha's ear despite the angry cursing following the action.

"Away from here, of course," The male spits out, eyes alight, "I don't give a shit about these fucktards any—OW!"

"Care to repeat that, Shougo?" His lips curl upwards in a sugary sweet smile, as he twists his fingers powerfully, "I didn't hear you the first time."

He murmured something unintelligibly, before muttering, with gritted teeth, "I was going to go drink water before shaking hands."

"That's what I thought." Shuuzou lets go, running a hand through his damp hair and grimacing. He needs to wash his face right after shaking hands, and that's what he does eventually, waving the other members to the bus.

"Senpai, are you sure?" Seijuro hedges, and Shuuzou rolls his eyes in exasperation, lightly flicking the redhead.

"I'll be alright, Jesus, why're you so concerned today?"

"No reason," A brief hesitation crosses his face, before it settles back into its usual cool façade, "We shall see you in the bus then, senpai."

"Right. Now leave, punks." He turns around and starts walking, not waiting for an answer.

It's only when he sees them leave, from the corner of his eye, that he allows himself to wince in pain from his ankle. It was just lightly stinging before, but now it's beginning to throb, and Shuuzou can tell it's going to be painful tonight.

The corridors are practically barren since most other teams have left, so he takes advantage of the silence to think. About the team, of course.

He still worries sometimes. Seijuro still conflicts with his dual personality, Daiki still sometimes struggles to enjoy basketball like he once did, Atsushi still occasionally plays just to toy with people…and the list goes on and on. He's managed to curb some of these problems by making the seven play against each other during practices, but there's only so much he can do for the future. These kids have the potential to revolutionize Japan's basketball, and he plans to treat them as they deserve to be.

He thinks that, maybe, they should split up once they reach college. It'd be for the best.

Shaking the disruptive thought from his mind, he heads inside the bathroom, immediately beelining for the sink, splashing his flushed face with cold water and reveling in the feel of it against his skin. He eyes himself critically in the mirror with sharp grey eyes, taking in how his hair is practically glued to his forehead, along with the fact that his cheeks look slightly red. It slightly bothers him, but he doesn't do anything about it anyway.

As he continues looking in the mirror, trying to pull back his hair, he meets the gaze of a pair of dark brown eyes, noting in boredom that they belong to a player from the team they've just played. He doesn't plan on saying hello, or anything, instead going back to what he was doing before.

Until the other male speaks.

"You're…the captain, right?" His voice is unusually deep, voice monotone, "Of Teiko."

Shuuzou notices his gaze lingering on the rainbow armband and, in accordance with the alarm bells blaring in his head, does nothing, tight-lipped. They guy's probably looking to pick a fight, like a typical Alpha.

"Too good to answer me?" The Alpha mocks, resting his arm on the sink counter, "Well makes sense, since beasts don't have manners."

"Watch your mouth, punk." Shuuzou snaps coldly, ignoring the light throb of his ankle as he shifts to face the annoying shithead, "It's called being gifted. Now, if you'd kindly get the fuck out of the way."

He moves to brush past him, only to falter when two more people enter the scene, both Alphas from the same school. Three Alphas? That might be pushing it, especially on a bad ankle. Why the fuck are the members of his team so good at making trouble for him?

"No, don't go anywhere." The first Alpha spoke, smile icy, "We were having such an interesting conversation."

"No, we weren't," He contradicts calmly, raising an unamused eyebrow at the three, "It might have been stimulating for you, which only really shows you the kind of company you've got, but it's complete trash to me."

"What did you say?" One of them growls, and he doesn't even flinch, too used to it, "I should fucking kill you for this."

"You know the rules, right?" Shuuzou points out wryly, "Conflict isn't allowed within opposing teams."

"Well technically," The first Alpha speaks, boldly, "We're already disqualified. You, on the other hand…well, you're not allowed to take part in any 'conflicts', are you?"

His gut turns cold. He'll have to beat them up with no marks, which is physically impossible for him. He sets his jaw, unwilling to show them any skepticism.

"Tell me, Oh Great Captain," The man moves closer, threatening smile curling at his lips, "You're a Beta, aren't you? I can't smell shit on you, so you've got to be a common breed."

Shuuzou hates himself for stiffening at the remark, and his fingers dig painfully into the countertop as he glares headily at the piece of shit.

"You're being hilarious," He remarks, before pushing himself off, "My team's waiting for me, so I'll get going."

He flinches involuntarily when a hand grips his wrist, and a sudden smell of Alpha drifts through the air, making him stumble slightly.

"We've always wanted to test this, haven't we Sho?" The second Alpha asks, and the third one—apparently Sho—nods, grinning.

"We've been wondering how much it takes for a Beta to submit," Sho says, and that sends the panic pumping through Shuuzou's veins, "Especially one like you. Ain't that right, Natsu?"

"We'll send you back," The one named Natsu—the first Alpha—grips Shuuzou's arm, and his head starts pounding when he can smell the strong, heady scent permeating the air, "This is just a gift to your…Miracles."

"Fuck off." He manages to choke out, only for his knees to buckle as the scent grows stronger and stronger, since three Alphas are emitting their pheromones, "Shit."

"Regretting your attitude yet?" One of them chuckles, and Shuuzou's not in the right mind to discern between voices anymore. He's beginning to shiver, with cold sweat breaking out over his overheated skin; a symptom he's only experienced once before and oh fuck.

"Wait stop." The second Alpha's voice sounds weird, and Shuuzou feels disgusted with himself for actually whimpering at the feel of a cool hand carding through his hair, "Shit, he's an Omega."

"That's all the better," It's the first one speaking, he thinks, before he hears him growl, "I'll take care of him, so get the fuck out."

"I don't know…" This is the third one, and he sounds a little fearful. Shuuzou isn't too sure, entirely too lost in the sensations of sweltering heat enveloping his body to actually notice.

"Get. The fuck. Out."

There's silence, with only his heavy breathing filling the air, before there are footsteps shuffling out, and there's the sound of a door slamming shut.

"C'mere, let's take a look at you."

He can't even protest properly as he's tugged up, but tries pushing at the Alpha's chest despite how good the hands feel against his skin.

"I-I don't—" He struggles to say, and shudders when a thumb is rubbed over his scent gland, a pitched whine sounding from his throat at the feel.

"Shut up and be still." The Alpha growls threateningly, and Shuuzou's so far gone that he complies, shrinking back onto himself. It's been so long since he's felt like this, which is why he falls limp into the Alpha's arms with no further prompting.

"Good boy." He shivers when hands brush along his waist, tears pricking at his eyes but not falling when he feels something hard poking against his thigh. He can't believe this. He can't believe this.

"Fuck, this is even better than I thought it'd be." The gruff voice pants in his ear, making him shiver in disgust, "Do your dear teammates even know you're one of those breeding mares?"

He doesn't say anything, can't, to those stinging words, but that only lets him know of the answer. His insides curl in disgust when the Alpha noses along his sweaty neck and can't help the terrible shiver that overcomes him when he meets those eyes yet again.

"Let's get the party started, shall we?"

Glassy grey eyes stare shakily into the mirror, noting in disgust the clumped eyelashes, trembling, bitten lips and red-rimmed irises. There's a wad of paper clenched in his right hand, but he doesn't know why he still has it; the paper with those terrible numbers in it, and that terrible name. Everything hurts, and Shuuzou can do nothing but bear the pain.

His fingers drag a despondent trail over the bared column of his neck, and he can't help the nausea that rockets through him at the sight—and feel—of that revolting plum standing out against pale flesh, a mark of possession, of ownership. Shuuzou eventually can't hold it back, emptying his stomach into the toilet until he's dry-heaving, vision blurry.

He's been broken, hasn't he? He feels empty, emptier than ever before and, somehow, that doesn't surprise him in the least. Words he doesn't need to remember—doesn't want to remember—trickle back into his brain, echoing the thought that has been plaguing him for ages and ages on end.

He wishes he were never an Omega. He wishes he were normal, a Beta, not even an Alpha, just Beta would be fine too. But, well, there're a lot of stuff he wishes he never had, so one more thing on the list couldn't hurt.

He still doesn't know how he managed to avoid the rest of his teammates well enough; doesn't even remember, quite frankly, anything beyond struggling to get up on his destroyed ankle and wiping himself off with shaky hands.

"Shuuzou?" He hears faintly from beyond his bedroom door, and he panics, looking around him and lunging for his Teiko jacket and slipping it on quickly.

But not quickly enough.

His pseudo-uncle's on him before he even gets the chance to bolt, hands making quick work of his half-worn jacket.

"Shuuzou, what—?" The man trails off, and Shuuzou can see him making the connection, can see the gears turning in his head, and the earth feels dizzyingly close all of a sudden, and he can't breathe, he can't, can't—

'Fuck, you're so beautiful."

Breathe.

'Perfect to take my cock, aren't you?'

B-Breathe.

'I'll be back for you.'