And this is it guys! Hope it's satisfying because it took me a while to finish this chapter and this fic. Please leave a comment!

Moros 15

He pushed his arms through the sleeveless holes of the jersey, the number ten donned proudly on his back. Once silky, the fabric was now rough and coarse as he smoothed his palm over it. A year. It has been almost a year since he had first worn this jersey, ribbons of black and red running wild over the white. He still remembered the day he signed up for the basketball club at Seirin. A girl with short brown hair and a plain looking boy sat with defeated looks on their faces as the other clubs around them busied themselves with eager students. He remembered the looks of surprise when they laid their eyes on him, and their faces tilting up to meet his eyes. Whereas in the States, unusual height (he was indeed abnormally tall) and a shock of red hair were common, these features were met with disbelief and averted stares in Japan. Kagami had of course, scowled at anyone who dared to bring up how unique the shape of his eyebrows were, and smirked when they cowered in fear.

They had come a long way. From the constant training, to Interhigh and now, the Winter Cup.

He stretched his arms over his head, feeling the muscles in his back tense. Letting them fall back to his sides, Kagami grinned. A day at the hot springs does wonders indeed. Sparing a glance around the locker room, Kagami watched as their coach snapped at Koganei and smacked him with a fan for being ridiculously stupid. He shook his head silently, having gotten used to this scene a long time ago and focused on the only player who stood taller than him. Kiyoshi was laughing cheerily at something Izuki had said (a pun, definitely a lame pun. Kagami would cut off his head and use it as a stool if it wasn't) while their captain glared at the latter with a look that spoke of profound exasperation. Kagami listened attentively to the sounds of Kiyoshi's laughter. After a moment, he allowed himself a relieved smile. Good. At least his laughter now isn't as ... hollow as before. The redhead hadn't been looking for it, but somehow he knew it wasn't there. He had been labelled as an incredibly dense person, that he was only observant when basketball and food was involved. Furihata had once pointed out jokingly that it was like a selective disorder but he was silenced when Kagami whacked him over the head.

It was different, that was why Kagami had noticed. Things didn't seem fine, and truly they weren't. It wasn't until he had put his mind to it and forced himself to figure out what was wrong did he finally come to one conclusion: Kiyoshi wasn't as cheerful. Kagami didn't know when, nor why but it was simply ... vanishing like smoke up a chimney.

He knew about the injury the previous ace had sustained, but only what he had heard from the others. Kiyoshi needed surgery, the sooner the better but he refused to until after they win the Winter Cup. He recalled the others ushering Kiyoshi to rest when he so much as stumbled on the court. Kagami had never once spoken up about it, nor did he help them convince Kiyoshi to rest. He simply preferred not to involve himself in someone else's business. Well, he would intervene if things got out of hand but things never seemed to descend that way.

But then, one day less than a week ago, Kiyoshi had come back. Back with the goofy smiles and the sheepish looks. The others had been thrilled, dropping their basketballs before pouncing on the ace with delight. Kagami had smiled, his eyes crinkling as he lingered a little way away, 'at least Alex could do one thing right.'

Now, they were whole again, strong as one team, and they would play Rakuzan in half an hour's time. A flash of crimson surfaced from his memories, a face with eyes of two shades. Zipping up his bag, Kagami made his way to the corner and sat down, his long legs crossed under him. Resting his head back against the wall, he glanced around once more and took in the familiar bickering of his team who seemed almost like a family before he let his eyes slip shut, falling into slumber.

Yes, they have indeed come a long way.

-x-

"So have you checked your- what was it called again? Hana? Kasa? horoscope today yet?"

"It's Ohasa, Kasamatsu-senpai. And no, the last time I checked was when Midorimacchi had a match," the blonde replied exasperatedly as he mentally pictured the trembling rage of his former teammate if he heard the blatant indifference in his upperclassman's tone. He fought off a cringe when his thoughts turned to a Kasamatsu being plummeted into a firing volcano off an island somewhere.

They were on their way to the stadium, for the very last time this year. Around them, throngs of people accompanied them to the finals of the Winter Cup which awaited them behind the closed doors, where lights were already blazing in preparation for the game. Seirin and Rakuzan, huh? Who would have known.

It could have been Kaijo in the locker rooms right now, with Kasamatsu prepping them and kicking Kise every now and then. But it wasn't. They lost their chance when Seirin defeated them with their captain's signature three pointer and sent Kaijo into a state of frustration and denial. Kise had watched helplessly from the sidelines, from where his senpai had imprisoned him. He had begged the coach to let him go on in the last three minutes but Kasamatsu had been resistant. So Kise had remained on the side, cursing himself, cursing his leg, cursing everyone.

After the game, Kise had stormed up to his captain and in a fit of blind rage, punched him. All that crossed his mind was fury, fury at his captain for not letting him play, fury at his coach for letting Kasamatsu have the say but most of all, cursing himself and his injury. He had barely noticed the thrum of pain in his calf when his fist connected with Kasamatsu's jaw but later, it had come at full force, slamming into him like a raging beast on the loose.

Then he realised, my leg. He was concerned about my injury.

He had lain in bed when the thought came to him and stared wide-eyed at the ceiling for hours before he slung his body over the side and went to Kasamatsu's apartment. As his body screamed at him to stop, pain exploding in his eyes and the ache in his leg becoming unbearable. He realised how selfish he was, for punching his captain when all Kasamatsu wished for was his safety and his good health. Kise had arrived on his doorstep, soaked and out of breath, and stunning a frozen Kasamatsu into panic when he promptly collapsed from exhaustion.

He had woken in hospital, the plain white walls around him like a cage and Kasamatsu's anxious face above him. Needless to say, they made up quite strangely as a thump and a shout, followed by exaggerated cries of agony reached the nurses' ears nearby.

At first, he had been bitter but as he spent more days reflecting in his hospital bed, Kise realised that there was nothing to be bitter about. He had played his best, refrained from injuring his leg even more and his friendship with Kasamatsu had strengthened after the ordeal. Seirin had won with their skills and talents, overwhelming Kaijo with an impressive resolve to become number one in Japan.

There was nothing to be bitter about as there was always a next time. Next year, Kise would lead Kaijo to the Winter Cup once more, and to victory they would go.

They were in a darkened room, and Kuroko could just barely make out the outline of his captain's shoulders as Akashi sat with his elbows digging into his knees. His condition has worsened. All was silent except the sounds of the redhead's soft panting, the noise scratchy to Kuroko's ears. Akashi never fell sick, not even when the strongest of the brutes fall ill ... but now his captain's body was failing him. He should be at home, resting and not here, waiting to play a match that would surely leave him in a hospital bed with tubes sticking out of his body. Kuroko caught the flicker of pain before another round of coughing seized the other.

"Akashi-kun, don't you understand?" The emotion in his voice was almost foreign to his ears. Kuroko's voice came out slightly coarse, desperation lacing its depths heavily as Akashi presented him a confused look. "Your health. Your health is more important, more valuable than victory!"

Kuroko watched, his fists tightening when Akashi paled even further, his cheeks a deathly pallid. No, Kuroko knew before could Akashi utter a single word. At this crucial point in time, his captain would never give up now, even if death would take him for sure. Defeated, Kuroko left him and let the door swing shut. He did not want to acknowledge it, but the truth was right before them as the trophy seemed to flicker and vanish before their eyes.

His captain was too stubborn and in the end, Akashi was the only one he could never dream to change.

-x-

"Is he ok?"

Mibuchi wished to take back his words and lock them up in a chest when there was not a flicker of emotion in the bluenette's pale orbs. He had long noticed their captain's declining health, the often worried looks their phantom player sent him and the slight tension between them but Mibuchi kept these observations to himself. He knew Kuroko was trying to convince the redhead to rest but it wasn't everyday their captain relented to anyone. His paler complexion and faint hints of grimace did not go unnoticed by him, nor by the normally cheerful Kotaro. Mibuchi had done his duty, keeping the team together and reassuring the third-strings of any doubts they had. But instead of seeing healthy shades of pink dusting the tops of Akashi's cheeks, Mibuchi saw the flesh sinking in and his cheekbones protruding with the weeks that pass.

Concern bubbled in him. Akashi was strong, he was a leader, their leader. He was infallible, nothing can knock him off his throne.

But Akashi was only human. The stress, the exhaustion was getting to him. He was too stubborn and sometimes, Mibuchi heard him mutter under his breath, chanting it like a mantra, "I won't let him win. Only I can win ... I won't let him win ..."

Everyday, insanity seemed to slowly take their captain away, chipping away his stability with an axe. So when Kuroko appeared, the door swinging behind him, Mibuchi could not help but ask.

"Is he ok?"

"He ..." He saw him swallow, almost uncertainly. He took a breath and seemed to recollect himself, piecing back a broken vase. "Mibuchi-kun ... I think it is best if Akashi-kun doesn't play."

Mibuchi entertained the thought. No, Akashi would never lie down to it. This game was too important, too conclusive to miss. Maybe Kuroko had seen the negative clearly in his eyes, for his face fell and he brushed past Mibuchi without another word.

Dots. Black dots everywhere. On his right, on his left, up and down. He blinked and shook his head, but they would not go away. He hissed under his breath, too low for the boy defending him to hear. Akashi's eyes flashed briefly before he leapt for the ball. He hid a grunt when he felt an elbow dig into ribs and a soft apology reached his ears. The pain that flurried in his torso seemed to amplify, the hit itself wasn't deliberate but the pain his body was in was comparable to being punched hard. He pushed down the ache and dribbled towards the goal, his defender hot on his heels. He let the ball slip out of his hands and into the hoop, the swish of the net a reassurance to his ears. He had made a goal.

He vaguely saw Mibuchi's worried expression, motherly and distraught when Akashi walked back to the centre of the court. His Emperor Eye was failing him, he could no longer predict the moves as quickly as he once had. He was too tired and his body called for him to sit down and regenerate itself. But Akashi stilled his gaze and ignored its pleas, he would not tolerate weakness, not even when that weakness was his strength.

He got into position, ready to catch the pass he predicted Nebuya would give him. Reaching out to catch it, he only saw a flicker of crimson before the wind whipped pass him. A whistle to his ears and the swish of the net again. Damn him.

Akashi watched as Kagami was clapped on the back by his teammates. Fury exploded inside him, how could this be? He was nothing but an amateur. He was not one of the Generation of Miracles, yet he has just intercepted a pass that was meant for him. Only he, Akashi Seijuro understood the feeling of victory, only he could attain it. Not anyone else, and definitely not him.

He would stop him, with whatever it took.

-x-

Kuroko sat by the sidelines, watching but he could not keep his hands from shaking. Akashi-kun ... He watched as his movements began to slow, his captain's reaction was not as sharp and he began to make mistakes. A slip in his course, a delay in his chase. Kuroko bowed his head. He knew that one day, one day Akashi would know defeat. When that day came, the redhead would finally lose all he had known - the philosophy of absolute history. He might not be able to stand up again and he would lose himself forever in the labyrinth. It was not a day Kuroko looked forward to, but it was a time that would come eventually.

Akashi had given him basketball, his nickname as the Phantom Player and a resolve he had encouraged. He had shown Kuroko the joy and delight in playing and in knowing basketball. It was thanks to Akashi that Kuroko was where he was now, so when the day comes when Akashi lost everything ... Kuroko would be there to give him back the one thing he along with the other Generation of Miracles have lost and forgotten - passion.

-x-

Rakuzan was losing. 90 to 87.. How? Why? Disbelief filled him as Akashi forced himself past Seirin's point guard. No ... Rakuzan would win, Seirin cannot. Leaping, he felt the air supporting him gently as he slammed the ball into the hoop. 89. Another shot. 91. Mibuchi's foul drawing. 93.

Akashi grinned, Seirin had no chance now. He watched them as they gasped for air, even their Crownless General was panting. The sweat that had gathered at their brow slid down their jaws and off their chins. They had no hope now, surely they would admit defeat and surrender to him the golden crown.

"There's no way we're giving up now!"

Kagami Taiga. Seirin's ace. As stubborn and determined as a bull, as a fool. "Give up, Kagami Taiga. I will crush you, once and for all. There is no hope you now, Seirin."

There was only one minute left. Akashi felt himself relax minutely. Their defence was strong. They conquer the court with the roar of a lion.

Too tired, he was truly too tired. Mountains weighed down on his shoulders and his legs struggled to stand straight. Almost there. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before they snapped open when the squeaking of shoes sounded near him. A flash of red. No!

He vaguely saw his arm stretch out to grab at the jersey as Kagami raced pass him. Catching up, Akashi saw him jump before he leapt too. No! He won't let them, no! He saw the determination on his face, the exhilaration in his eyes. Akashi reached higher, stretching his sides painfully. I won't let you!

His fingertips scraped the surface as the ball left the other's hands. Akashi caught a quick glimpse of Kagami's grin before he realised. Impossible. As the ball circled away from the hoop and into the awaiting palms of the Seirin clutch shooter, Hyuuga shot it immediately. Akashi knew, even before the crowd leapt up and cheered that it was too late.

The sounds of the whistle being blown was thunderous in his ears as Akashi swayed and let everything go. His knees buckled, his eyes slipped shut and the last thing he saw before darkness enveloped him was Kuroko's widened eyes.

8 Years Later

He stepped out of the building and instantly, sunlight flooded past him. Lifting a hand to cover the glare, he let a small smile grace his lips as a soft breeze tugged at his light blue locks. Kuroko slipped past the throngs of people hurrying towards the subway and made his way down the main road. It has been eight years since the Winter Cup where Rakuzan lost their title of 'Emperor' to Seirin and two years since he had settled into working as a kindergarten teacher. Each morning, when he opened the door, squeals filled the room as twenty little hands grabbed at his trousers. Kuroko would smile kindly at them and wish them a 'good morning' as he gently removed the iron grips from his clothing. He could not but love his job, seeing the beaming smiles on their faces when they recited the alphabet he had taught them the week before.

At times, he thought of his high school life, of his basketball team. The only person from Teiko he had kept in contact with all these years was Kise, who had insisted adamantly to add Kuroko's number into his phone. He often saw Kotaro and Mibuchi as they headed for work in the mornings and Nebuya at a nearby restaurant at about noon. During the basketball season, he watched Kagami and Aomine who had both pursued a basketball career as they played against each other in the finals, Momoi following her childhood friend and becoming a manager for the national team. Every time, his fingers never failed to twitch as he recalled the rough surface of the ball under his palm. Sometimes he went down to the court near Maji Burger to shoot a few goals, but that has become a rare occurrence as of late.

Kuroko also knew that Midorima had gone on to become a doctor, Kise a pilot and Murasakibara a chef but he never kept close contact with any of them. They were all busy and social gatherings was not something Kuroko participated in.

As for his former captain ...

Ring! Reaching into his pocket for his phone, Kuroko checked the caller. His brow arched when the screen read 'Akashi-kun.' He hasn't kept in contact with his former captain either, for he had immediately flown for England after the Winter Cup and never came back since. For him to call now ... was it an emergency? Lifting the phone to his ear, Kuroko asked, "Akashi-kun?"

-x-

"I'm glad you came, Tetsuya."

His voice was deeper, Kuroko observed, more wise and experienced. "It has been a while, Akashi-kun," he smiled.

He recalled the last moments of that game, when Akashi stumbled and collapsed. His eyes had slipped shut and his bright red hair was mattered with sweat. A thump before Kuroko leapt to his feet and hurried to where his captain laid. Akashi had been immediately admitted into hospital, his condition worsening with every minute. Kuroko had went with him and stayed by his bedside until he would wake.

On the third day, when Akashi still hadn't regained consciousness, Kuroko left for his home to inform his anxious parents on his captain's situation. When he returned the next morning, he found an empty bed, the place where he had lain was slightly warm. Later, he had discovered from Momoi that Akashi had left for England. From then on, Kuroko had not heard from him since.

And now, he stood before him eight years later in a tailored suit and speaking with a British accent lacing his Japanese tongue.

"Have you been well?"

Kuroko opened his mouth, but no words passed them. What could he tell him, that he was fine? That would be too simplistic. Kuroko did not reply but instead observed his former captain. The man who stood before him was someone he did not know. He was not the Akashi-kun that had offered him a scholarship to Rakuzan, nor the captain from their Teiko days. This man, someone who was dressed in expensive clothing and had his hair slicked back was unfamiliar to Kuroko.

"Come. Let's play a game of shoji," Akashi said as he drew open a drawer and took out a shoji board.

Though he did now know this Akashi, with his features sharper, his jaw longer and everything that spoke of sternness, Kuroko could always learn more about this man. In time, he would find the Akashi he had known from before and keep the promise he had made years ago. Bringing a cup of tea to his lips, Kuroko thought, there's no way this Akashi-kun could be that different from the one eight years ago. After all, he still loves to win.