By the time he reached home, Akashi was sweaty, disheveled and missing the comfort of their car, as much as he would never mention it to Saito-san.

The front door opened. After Saito-san rose from his bow, he took Akashi's bookstore bag.

"How was the young master's trip?"

"It was fine, Saito-san."

"Would young master want refreshments?"

"Water would be nice, if you could."

He nodded and walked towards the kitchen.

Akashi waited in the foyer, not wishing to go to the cold dining room with its long table or the huge, unused living room for a glass of water. He didn't want Saito-san or Maiya-san to climb upstairs for it as well.

When he returned, Saito-san gave him a strange look but just extended him a glass of water instead of commenting. It was a small glass; Akashi finished it in two gulps.

He was still thirsty but didn't want to move Saito-san back and forth. So he thanked Saito-san and gave the glass back.

"Would young master want another glass?"

"No, it was eno - "

"Saito-san! You gave a small glass to young master! It can't be enough for him!"

Maiya-san pushed an extra large cup to his hands, "drink it up all you want, young master," she said with a smile before scowling back to Saito-san.

"Young master said it was enough."

"He is an athlete, how can it quench his thirst?"

"You told me to take a glass from the right cabinet."

"You went to the furthest right, I meant the middle right!"

"Then say middle right - "

"It is fine," Akashi interrupted. They straightened up and clasped their hands in front like obedient servants. Maiya-san threw a glare at Saito-san before facing Akashi.

Akashi took a small sip as a demonstration and said, "I will drink the rest in my room, thank you."

They nodded in unison.

"Did young master go out to buy his father's magazine? We already had the book in our library."

"I wanted to buy shirts - " he trailed off, recalling his audience. He had one second to continue with, 'but turned out I didn't need them.' Except he needed them.

A second ticked away. Akashi held his glass and waited for the show.

"Young master needs clothes?" Maiya-san's voice got higher with each word. Her eyes scanned Akashi up and down, narrow in concentration. "Shoulders broader, arms thicker," she murmured.

"And you only noticed now?" Saito-san hissed before turning to Akashi again, " What does young master wear here?"

"I had bought stuff in Kyoto - "

Maiya-san gasped in horror. Saito-san glared at Maiya-san.

"Maiya-san! Young master is wearing ready-made garments!"

"It is fi - "

"I am sorry, young master," she bowed low.

"It is fine Ma - "

"Remedy it Maiya-san!"

"I will remedy it without you telling me, Saito-san!"

"Did you ask young master if any of his wardrobe fits him?"

"You have eyes, Saito-san! His wardrobe wouldn't fit him!"

"Not the whole wardrob - "

"Young master is in growing age. You should have prepared his new clothing, Maiya-san."

"And how do you expect me to do it without seeing young master with my eyes?" She produced a measuring tape from her apron pocket and moved towards Akashi, still looking daggers at Saito-san.

Akashi took a step back to avoid Maiya-san hitting his glass full of water. "Doesn't Maiya-san need to prepare dinner?"

She focused on him and blinked. "My chicken!" she gasped and ran to the kitchen.

"The measuring?" Saito-san shouted after her.

"We can do it after the dinner, Saito-san," Akashi said.

He bowed, "as you wish, young master."

Akashi nodded and moved towards the stairs. As he was climbing, he heard the kitchen door open. It closed on their bickering.

He allowed himself a smile now he wasn't in front of the couple. Sometimes, it felt like they were the ones who made this huge estate into a home.

Lighthearted, Akashi walked to his favorite part of the house.

The Akashi household library was vast and amazing. Rows upon rows of books filled the wooden bookshelves, opening to the reading corner of the room.

Akashi inhaled the wood and paper scent, closing his eyes with a small smile. Even the quiet of this place relaxed him, unlike the tense one of the dining room.

As he wandered between the shelves, just touching the books, he was at ease for the first time after his arrival in Tokyo. His thoughts about Midorima and his best friend, Kise's reaction, his overbearing room, his father's conversation with him and Kuroko-san's dossier disappeared. After his muscles loosened and his furious mind slowed down, he chose a novel he saw at the bookstore.

As he walked to his favorite sofa in the reading area, he read the back cover of the book - the first one of a trilogy. They would occupy him for tonight, and tomorrow, he would start the one he bought today -

He froze. His breath hitched.

His father was lying on his favorite couch. Sleeping.

Akashi saw him sleeping for the first time.

He didn't dare to move a muscle. Would he wake him up if he walked back?

In a weekday, work hours, why was his father at home? And sleeping?

Did he have a problem? He wasn't sick, right?

Akashi crouched, left his book on the floor and crawled to his father. He looked tired. As much as he had no wrinkles at his forehead - those must be his scowling - his cheeks sagged. He had white ones in his five o'clock shadow.

Father was… 46. Did he have white hair? Or wrinkles? Was it normal?

At least, he shouldn't appear worn out, right? His skin also seemed wan. Kinda yellowish.

He didn't have a sickness, right? Right?

Akashi leaned closer. Was his breathing fast? It should be slower in deep sleep, right?

Heart conditions, lung problems, -

And he tolerated Akashi yesterday, even showed kindness.

Saito-san didn't insist on riding him today because father stayed at home, right? He was looking after him.

Father had an illness.

Akashi's heart constricted.

He didn't get sick for his disappointment over Akashi's defeat, right?

Right?

No. No, no.

Right?

He had to be better, perfect, more - it wasn't worth if father -

"Son, what are you doing?"

He jerked back and hit his head to the coffee table. Tea cups jingled on it.

(Father was drinking too much tea these days - was he cold?)

Akashi held the back of his head. Even as he struggled to draw a breath, his eyes wouldn't leave his father.

(No, no, not you too.)

Akashi's expression must have belied his emotions because after a glance, father's sleepy eyes turned alert.

"Seijuro, is there a problem?"

"Are you sick?" His voice was high and unsteady.

"What are you talking about?"

"You aren't working and look tired. And pale. We talked yesterday!" Akashi inhaled a breath, "and you talked with patience. Saito-san didn't drive me today and - and you were sleeping! In the library."

"Calm down, son, I am okay."

"You also drink lots of tea," his ears rang. The ground seemed to shake under him.

Father put his hand to Akashi's shoulder.

Everything stopped.

The hand was big and warm.

"I am fine, Seijuro. I don't have a medical condition I am hiding from you."

Akashi sagged. Put his head to his father's knees, closed his eyes and breathed.

"Why didn't you go to work today?" he mumbled to his father's trousers.

"I came early. It was a slow day."

Father had slow days? He wasn't lying, right?

His hands clenched on his father's trouser leg; it smelled like the leather coach he slept on. Father still held Akashi's shoulder, with his large mass towering over him.

It felt safe, instead of oppressive, for the first time.

"Did you think the library was only your favorite room? I got used to sleeping here when you were at Kyoto." He took his hand from his shoulder and patted Akashi's head before leaning back. It was Akashi's signal to release father's trouser and raise his head. "I even decorated it."

Akashi followed his eyesight. There was a new cabinet and on it was -

A shiver ran down his back.

Akashi's medals and trophies. His only silver medal was at the center.

Father stood up and walked towards it. Akashi knew he wanted him to follow.

His legs refused to move.

They would talk about his defeat.

In a second, his father would look back, see his son still sitting on the ground, between the couch and coffee table, and looking at him with frightened eyes.

He wondered which one was more disappointing - getting defeated or not facing it.

"Come, Seijuro."

Like walking to gallows, Akashi went to his father. His eyes glanced over all the gold and stuck on the lone silver medal.

He wanted to annihilate it. Tear it to pieces, liquefy them and pour it down a seaside cliff. Erase it from the existence.

Father put it to Akashi's palms. His fingertips turned white with pressure around the cold metal.

"Memorize it, son. Each curve and letter. How it feels in your hands and heart. Never forget its color so you won't need to see it again."

He wished to grind the metal with his hands.

"Don't hate it, Seijuro," father said as looked at the medal with a fond expression and took it from Akashi's clenched hands. "It is your most precious medal and deserves its place in the center because it means you gave grown up. We Akashis grow when we get defeated."

He turned to Akashi, whose heart beat faster while his father's intense eyes drilled him.

"I once got defeated too: Fired from my first job. Then I started my company and bought that one five years later." He leaned forward and put his hand to Akashi's shoulder. This one was heavy. "Seijuro, I want you to learn from your defeat. Learn the emotion and build up on it. Don't let it consume you. Get stronger, son."

He patted his shoulder once and retracted his hand.

"You weren't disappointed, father?"

"I was, but it was bound to happen. Better it happens at a young age."

Akashi tried to swallow - there was something blocking his throat.

(Bound to happen?)

"I will get disappointed if it happens again."

"It won't happen again, father."

"I know."

—

Akashi rolled his suitcase next to the door and then took Kuroko-san's dossier from his bedside table again. Since he couldn't take such a document with him to the school, he aimed to memorize it. Not the first few CV pages that gave his education, certificates or MS Office proficiency - no, Akashi had to learn the references page. The ones that created father's Kuroko-san image.

"Ambitious, hard-working, sure to come to places," his intern chef had said.

"Would have hired him full-time if he wasn't a student. Must consider after graduation," said one of his part-time working manager.

"Too invisible to successful," said another one of his part-time managers.

"Takes risks," his first manager in full-time job had said, "and he sweeps the failed ones under the rug. By the time the team remembers them, he gives another unpredictable decision and we forget the previous one again."

"He needs money, so he needs to work. His company loyalty is questionable but as long as we give what he needs, he won't look anywhere else," the HR manager wrote in the last year's performance report. "He wants promotions more than anyone else and he gets them. However, his only aim seems to be a higher salary, he doesn't have a concrete career plan. At this rate, he will be a middle-rank manager within five years and higher-rank within ten, yet he has the potential to leave the company if another offers more money."

"He is a team player who can also use others as stepping stones," a project manager said. "Manipulative enough to steer out of small issues within the team and put the blame on others."

"So delightfully straightforward yet with enough cunning to be a good marketer," his senior brand manager said.

"Sure to make employees cry," a marketing team leader said, "he is a good team player, for the ambitious. Even the weak-willed can success if they stay with him long enough though."

Another brand manager said, "He got the weakest brand. He is inexperienced and with that brand - seems like they want him to fail. Why does he need to take down a brand with him, weak or not?"

Akashi put the dossier back to his bedside table. He read this part multiple times these three days but he still couldn't connect the person they described to Assistant Coach Kuroko-san who organized tournaments and rewarded the team ice-cream.

It made Kuroko-san dangerous.

Akashi withdrew from his musings at the sound of Maiya-san and Saito-san's footsteps (and bickering) coming his way. His time must be up.

They knocked the door; Akashi called them in.

Saito-san went to his suitcase right away as Maiya-san sniffed next to him.

Akashi took a step towards her, concerned. "Is there something wrong, Maiya-san?"

She sniffed again, "three days were so short, young master. We haven't seen you for a year."

Saito-san nodded and Maiya-san dabbled her eyes.

Akashi thought three days were more than enough, regardless, he pulled her close and smiled to Saito-san over her shoulder.

His eyes watering, Saito-san nodded back. Maiya-san gave a loud sob.

Akashi's smile faded. "What is wrong?"

"You have grown up, young master."

"You are tall enough to hold me, young master!"

He only got 4 cm tall. At this rate, he wouldn't be able to reach Saito-san, let alone his father.

"You must have gotten shorter, Maiya-san."

"I did not!" she straightened. Saito-san chuckled.

Akashi let their familiar bickering wash over him. It reminded him home more than anything. Its lighthearted sound turned foreboding in this room though.

"I don't want to get late."

The silence was swift and absolute. Saito-san took his suitcase and opened the door for Akashi.

"I can wear your new shirts when you come again, young master," Maiya-san said as they descended the stairs.

"You don't have to work on them, Maiya-san, I will grow up by then."

"In that case, I will send them to you."

"There is no need. I wear only my uniform and casual clothes in Kyoto."

"I will send them to you, young master."

Akashi looked at her frown and stubborn chin. Was she weeping a minute ago?

"Okay," he said. She beamed.

Saito-san put his suitcase to the car trunk. This time, he would drive him only to the train station, instead of Kyoto. Maiya-san wasn't accompanying them as well.

She preferred to stay at home. Saito-san too.

"Is father fine?"

After a moment's surprise, they seemed to get brighter.

"Is young master worried about master?"

"Master is fine, young master."

"No problems at all, right?"

Their grins faded. Akashi repeated himself.

"Did young master see something?"

"He was sleeping at the library yesterday. He looked tired."

"Oh, that," they relaxed. Akashi didn't. "Master stayed up all night after his conversation with young master. He had also excited himself the previous weeks because young master was coming home. He must have tired himself."

Who were they talking about? Not his father, surely.

Akashi nodded but his unease didn't disappear.

"Look after him."

"Of course, young master."

"And tell me if anything is wrong. Any illnesses or similar."

They brightened again. "Yes, young master!"

Akashi nodded and got into the car.

Time to return to Rakuzan.

Finally.