Title: In Memoriam

Writer: Amariys

Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke

Character/Pairing: Akashi Seijuurou, Midorima Shintarou.

Rating: K+

Words count: 1.705

Prompt: Music/Song

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroko no Basuke, but I do own this fic and the idea. Any plagiarism will be very frowned upon.

Summary: "Why don't you become a pianist, Shintarou?" Akashi perhaps wouldn't appreciate it if he said it was only because the red-haired man had realized Midorima's skill in basket first.

Author Notes: This is supposed to be a drabble, as in, only 100-500 words. Instead, it turns into this … rather lengthy story. I think I lost my ability to write drabbles. Anyway, this is my first Mido/Aka, sort of. I try to write them IC, but I find it quite hard to really understand both of their thoughts; Akashi because he's an enigmatic psychopath and Midorima because he's not my favorite chara. Please do tell me if they are OOC. Thank you and enjoy!

Teikou Middle School, second year.

"Why don't you become a pianist, Shintarou?"

That one question was asked by Akashi Seijuurou when he and the point shooter of Teikou basketball team, Midorima Shintarou, was having one of their weekly shogi game. Akashi's gaze was direct, observing every each miniscule reaction playing on Midorima's face caused by the question. It was very subtle, actually, the faintest contraction of muscle, making red lips thinned even more; the slightest twitch of an eye and how Midorima's hand hovered for mere fractions of second above the shogi piece he was about to move. Subtle, but all those reaction was caught by Akashi's eyes, stored in his memory bank, put under the very carefully organized section of the man's mind reserved for the Teikou regular players' data.

The ticking of the clock gained victory inside the room as the only two occupants fell into silence; one waiting for answer and the other reluctant to give it. Nevertheless, Akashi was patient. He knew Midorima wouldn't deny him answer. None of the Teikou regular players would ever deny Akashi anything. In return, Akashi gave special treatments to them, caring for them more than he had ever cared about other people and allowing them to mull over their words longer than others. Patience never was one of Akashi's virtues, but he would train it if it was for his fellow regular members.

The clock continued its constant ticking, seconds passed to minute and it might actually go longer if Midorima didn't finally move his piece. The sound of wood meeting wood seemed louder in the silence, drowning the sound of the clock for only a moment.

Akashi tilted his head aside, watching the move Midorima had just made. It was not a bad move, but neither was it the best Midorima could take in the situation. Nevertheless, Akashi didn't say anything, simply answering the move with his own not-best one. Midorima was staling, biding his time and Akashi would play along for now. He was feeling quite generous.

The game continued after that, accompanied by the most loyal ticking of the clock and no other sound safe for the occasional tuck whenever a shogi piece was placed on the board. They usually were not bothered by the silence; it was a common thing between them. This silence, though, was different since Akashi's question still hung there, heavy like a wet blanket—or perhaps like an elephant in the room which the two studiously ignored.

When Midorima broke the silence, Akashi was almost not expecting it. Of course, he had seen the way Midorima's jaw tightened and the movement of his throat working around the saliva he had swallowed; the way Midorima sucked in a deep breath and how his lips parted before red tongue lapped at the dry skin there were also noted. Still, Akashi didn't really expect Midorima to answer. It was, however, a pleasant surprise to have his prediction proven wrong for once.

"My fingers are not deft enough to play piano. At least, not on professional level."

"I won't believe that for one bit. With the way you always tape your fingers, they must be well-protected—just like any pianist's fingers. I also, for the fact, know nothing will ever stop you once you're focusing your attention in a thing. Your shoots proof that." Akashi moved another piece, not looking at Midorima at all as he spoke.

Midorima's brows furrowed. His green irises glance for a second to the small blue plastic ball resting on the desk beside him—his lucky charm for the day. Akashi almost smiled.

"I just … am not interested in being professional pianist." There was almost something shy in the way Midorima answered.

"Yet you still practice every day in your home." Akashi finally lifted his head to gaze directly at Midorima's twin green orbs, almost hidden behind the man's glasses and under his bangs. "I never can understand the reason of practicing when you are not aiming for the top."

"Looks like there are still lots of things you don't understand, then, Akashi." Like losing, for example. Midorima lifted his brows. "Shall I teach you about it too?"

Akashi's eyes narrowed as he regarded Midorima. Truly, the green haired man was the only person in the team who dared to talk like this to Akashi. It was also Midorima who had said he would teach Akashi the meaning of losing, after all. It was almost funny how Akashi let Midorima get away with it, considering his hatred for people who just didn't know their places. Admittedly, he always found it hard to actually be mad to his fellow team-mates. Perhaps Akashi was getting soft. How ridiculous.

Both man kept their staring contest for a while. Midorima looked amazingly calm under Akashi's burning gaze and, perhaps, it was that lack of fear in the green orbs that urged Akashi's lips to lift and morph into an amused smirk ever so slowly. Just like that, the tense atmosphere around them was lifted.

"We may have to suspend today's game for now, Shintarou," Akashi suddenly said while standing up from his seat. "Come with me."

There was no further explanation given. The captain of Teikou basketball team walked out from the room instead, leaving the door open because he believed, fully, Midorima would follow after him. There was no need to doubt that, of course. Midorima didn't even bother to think before grabbing his lucky charm and following his captain. It was easier to just follow Akashi without thinking of reasons.

The two of them walked, once again blanketed by silence neither minded, through the school's hallway. Some students glanced at them, eyes filled with adoration and envy at the two regular members of a team that always won every match. The stares and whispers were ignored.

"I find it surprising you wait until our second year to ask about it, Akashi." Midorima's tone was as calm as ever, betraying the curiosity he actually felt. He never once doubted Akashi had known everything about the Teikou's regular members ever since he knew them. He just hadn't expected the red haired man would wait before delving further to enrich the information he had.

Akashi's steps didn't falter and there was no answer coming from him, but when Midorima glanced at him, he could see the smirk was back on Akashi's face. Midorima dropped the question after that.

When Akashi stopped in front of the Music Room, Midorima wasn't really surprised. If anything, he was surprised he could actually predict what Akashi would do for once. The room was empty when they entered and Akashi didn't waste any time to look around as he walked up towards the only grand piano standing at one corner of the room.

The piano was beautiful. Its keys were not brilliant white, but ivory instead. Nevertheless, it looked very well-kept and when Midorima pressed one of the keys, the sound produced was as clear as a chime's in the morning.

"Play, Shintarou."

One word. It was only one order, but as Midorima gazed at Akashi, he could see something deep inside the twin pool of red—as red as blood—and it lured Midorima in until he could do nothing but nodded wordlessly before taking a seat in front of the piano. He took off the taping from his digits and then Midorima's fingers hovered above the keys, uncertain for a moment. Akashi was standing behind him, waiting patiently for Midorima to choose a song.

Finally, after a moment that seemed to be eternal and sacred somehow, Midorima's fingers started to play. A soft, soothing melody filled the room, shy and small at first before gaining more volume as Midorima became more confident. Eyelids closed, Midorima finally allowed his self to forget about reservation. He played like he always did whenever he practiced in his home, fingers dancing above the ivory keys, almost blurring because of their speed.

He almost forgot where he was and who accompanied him—he forgot his whole surrounding, a common enough thing whenever he was playing, so it came almost like a rude surprise when something—someone warm suddenly sat beside him. Midorima's fingers pressed the wrong keys, so startled he was by the sudden warmth, before picking up the pace back once he realized it was only Akashi.

The red haired man was now sitting beside Midorima. The bench was not that long, so Akashi's shoulder was pressed to Midorima's and they shared warmth from that simple touch. Midorima never missed anymore keys, but inwardly, he felt something was wrong. The sound of piano was almost drowned by his own heartbeat—which was only getting louder as Akashi's thigh touched his due to the small place.

Midorima's play was finished in a long, haunting sound and then silence greeted the two men like old friend. Midorima kept his gaze to the piano keys, his heartbeat still louder than normal and he would be damned if Akashi noticed it. The red haired man, thankfully, seemed distracted enough by the play he had just heard.

"… Well," finally Akashi spoke up and Midorima cursed his leaping heartbeat. "I think you have taken a good decision. You're not fit to be professional pianist, Shintarou," and then the smirk was blooming again in Akashi's face, only this time it was different, softer and conveying of something Midorima couldn't even try to understand. "The professional world is not worthy enough of your skill."

Midorima only huffed in response, but when Akashi chuckled and walked out from the room, he stayed for a moment, eyes glued to the ivory keys with Akashi's words playing on never ending loops inside his mind.

A bitter smile curved Midorima's lips. If only Akashi knew the truth. It was only by pure chance Midorima hadn't blurted his true reason for not walking on the path to become professional pianist and turning to basketball instead. After all, Akashi perhaps wouldn't appreciate it if he said it was only because the red-haired man had realized Midorima's skill in basket first. Akashi needed him. So Midorima would stay by his side … at least as long as he was permitted.

Shaking his head ruefully, Midorima then closed the piano's cover, grabbing his lucky charm which was placed on top of the piano carefully, before walking out of the room. The room was silent once more, void of any occupant and the piano sat untouched. It was only waiting, though, because there was no way the two men could leave it after this.