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Please, Aomine-kun, he said. It will be fun, Dai-chan! She said. For old time’s sake, Aominecchi!
Yeah, well, look who’s laughing now! Is this fun, Satsuki? Aomine thinks, stepping farther and farther back. He’s holding the basketball in front of him like a shield, but he doesn’t really know what good that will do. Beside him Kuroko is quaking in his shoes. Midorima is on his knees on the floor in front of them.
“Shin-… Shintarou,” Akashi stutters meekly. Even he is creeped out enough that Aomine can make out the glow of his wide eyes in the dark gym. Kise watches on in horror, quite the same. Murasakibara is deathly quiet under the hoop.
“M-m-m-… Midorin?”
Momoi reaches out for Midorima’s shoulder.
Aomine chokes and reaches his arm out for hers, just as the gym doors screech open and cast a large sliver of ghostly white light onto the scene.
The Generation of Miracles freeze. Standing at the doorway, framed into an almost-silhouette by the brightness of the outside, is Midorima. He holds his red bean drink, face blank in surprise, because on all fours in front of him also Midorima, whose shoulders have begun quaking slightly as if in the beginnings of mirthful laughter.
The Midorima-On-The-Floor snaps his head up suddenly. Momoi’s hands fly to her mouth and she backpedals so furiously she lands on her butt at Aomine’s feet. See, Satsuki? See?! Is this fucking fu—
The Midorima-On-The-Floor on the floor turns his head around… and around… and around… until it’s is faced a total hundred-eighty degrees away from them and is grinning widely at the Midorima-At-The-Door.
Midorima-At-The-Door doesn’t even say anything. He drops to the floor. This is when the screaming starts.
Aomine’s got a vice grip on Momoi’s upper arm and practically drags her to the other doors. He is gasping and shaking and trying very hard not to throw up. His heart is beating a million miles a minute. To Kuroko’s credit, he gets to the doors first, faster than Aomine’s ever seen him in his life. Aomine doesn’t know if it’s Kuroko’s wimp arms or what, but he now seems to be having trouble drawing the doors apart. Akashi slams against the doors next, and then Kise, and as they all yell and struggle to open the damn things Aomine feels his stomach clench and the bile suddenly rise in his throat. He tosses Momoi into Kise and pulls at the door handles himself, swearing softly but desperately under his breath while his hands slip with cold sweat.
Murasakibara is suddenly pressing against him, crying. Aomine hears Akashi’s voice break as he lets out a strangled, “Oh, god.”
The Midorima-On-The-Floor stands before them. Aomine sobs now. He tries to press himself flat against the door and Momoi tries to shelter herself behind him. Panic flares in him as he realizes that this is it—this is how he is going to die, sweaty, surrounded by Momoi and Kuroko and a bunch of annoying nerds, his soul devoured by the ghost in the Teiko Gym. He can tell; the Midorima-On-The-Floor-But-On-The-Floor-No-More’s mouth opens a little wider than most mouths do, jaw unhinged. Its stance is lopsided, it’s arms a little longer and hands a little more claw-like. Its eyes are dead, cataract-clouded, but gleeful as it takes them in.
Please, Aomine-kun. It’ll be fun, Dai-chan! For old time’s sake, Aominecchi!
When it finally speaks, Aomine feels the strength drain out of him. He slides down against the door, knees failing him.
“When we were changing,” says Midorima-On-The-Floor, “Should I have said something?”
Then the doors on the other end of the gym slam shut, plunging the gym into darkness once more. Aomine finally yells.
But then he is only met with silence save for the Miracles’ screams petering out, their haggard breathing, their sobbing. Midorima-On-The-Floor is gone without a trace.
Behind him, Kuroko grunts a little. Aomine hears the dull thunk of a lock refusing to disengage. He turns to look at Kuroko, who looks back at him with tearful doe eyes.
“Fuck,” Aomine breathes, and lets his head fall against the cool metal of the door.
They take stock of all their limbs. They recite a few prayers. They tentatively begin expanding their little party’s movements outward, away from the door locked supernaturally shut. No paler, translucent, monstrous versions of Midorima show up to object, and it isn’t long before they realize that the… the real Midorima? Well, it isn’t long before they realize that there is a Midorima still lying passed out near the other set of gym doors.
“Well, fuck,” Aomine says again, watching Midorima’s prone form in the gloom.
“I’m not getting him,” Kuroko says automatically.
Murasakibara and Kise chime in in an instant. Not it. Momoi follows suit and Aomine just shakes and shakes his head. “Me neither.”
That leaves just one person. It is hard to tell in the darkness, but Akashi might have paled and gulped. “Let’s… all get him. Together,” he suggests. The group is silent, because really, if it were anyone else, Akashi would have made them go alone.
“For Shintarou,” Akashi says.
The group echoes this. Kind of. Sort of. It is mostly a weak, non-committal kind of slur that sounds like “For Midorima.”
"On three, sprint. One, two—“
Their feet thunder as they cross the gym. Kuroko straggles behind a little, and Aomine beckons him to hurry the fuck up and join the pack, lest Midorima-On-The-Floor decides to make an appearance again. The Miracles cluster around the other Midorima’s body as if he’s the safe base in a childhood game of tag, panting a little from the all-out run.
“He… seems alright? Just clammy,” Momoi breathes. She never lets her hand rest too long on Midorima’s skin, however. She gingerly drags his limbs into recovery position. Akashi tugs lightly on his shirt to pull him away from the puddle of red bean drink.
Suddenly Midorima snorts in his sleep. The entire group jumps back simultaneously. It isn’t until Midorima’s breathing evens out again that they drop their fists and relax their stance.
Jesus, thinks Aomine, This is going to be a long night.
“Now, what?” he whispers. (His nightmares never really progress as this far, so…)
“That door.” Murasakibara skirts delicately around Midorima, surprisingly quiet for someone so large and hulking. Meanwhile, Kise tiptoes off to their gym bags and begins rifling around for his phone.
“Locked,” says Murasakibara after an almighty tug.
“There’s no service,” Kise whimpers soon after, the dismay on his face lit up in the creepy blue backlight.
“Don’t worry. Someone has to come looking for us soon,” Momoi says from Midorima’s side.
“Yeah? So you plan to spend the whole night with… with… the ghost until the custodians come to lock up?”
Kuroko starts to shake. “They’d probably lock us in here. They’d only find us in the morning…”
The ending of Kuroko’s sentence hangs in the air. They’d only find us in the morning… if we’re still alive by then.
Kise lowers his phone, hands unsteady. “Is… Was that really a ghost?”
Nobody can look him in the eye. Aomine can see Momoi flashing back to middle school rumors, to warning him off of practicing too late at night because of exactly this. Aomine desperately wishes he could tell Kise where to stick his fucking ghosts, that Kuroko was the only real phantom in this gym, but all Aomine seems to be capable of really thinking is that he’d more likely trade Kise’s soul for the chance to be back home, wrapped in a blanket, sipping hot chocolate with all the lights in his room all white and blazing.
"Do you guys really think it’s trying to kill us?”
Aomine sucks in a fast breath through his teeth.
“These are valid questions!” Kise near shrieks. “You saw just as well as we all did how that thing—“
Crash! The cart of basketballs on the far end of the gym tips over, sending the balls bouncing every which way.
But there is no one else in sight.
Suddenly the group is in a tight circle again. Aomine’s stomach restarts its drama and he considers apologizing in advance for however that decides to exit.
“You made it angry!” Murasakibara squeaks.
"Or it’s fucking answering your question for you, dumbass Kise,” Aomine says, not even embarrassed about how high his voice has gone. He realizes he’s cowering behind Kuroko, and despite his fear he decides that this not a good first line of defense. He ushers some of the Miracles behind him but strategicallyuses Murasakibara as a partial shield.
The temperature in the room drops a few degrees. Aomine knows it’s not just him, because Kise starts rubbing his arms up and down and Kuroko shrinks closer to him. A breeze gently ruffles their clothes and hair.
“A breeze…” Akashi murmurs. “There!” he shouts.
Everyone jumps and spins around. Even Midorima twitches on the floor. But what Akashi is pointing at isn’t Midorima’s demon doppelganger, but a long rectangular window about three meters up the wall.
An open window.
The Generation of Miracles don’t think twice. They rush to the window and begin planning in a hushed gaggle of voices. Can we reach it? How do we get up there? Mu-kun, if you just plant your feet like this, maybe you can give us a lift…
One fact soon becomes readily apparent, though. Not all of them are going to be able to fit.
Aomine balks at the realization, and wishes for the first time that his body were not as beautifully built as it was. Only narrower sets of shoulders could get through the open portion of the window, narrower shoulders like Kuroko’s, Momoi’s and Akashi’s.
"We could try to break it. Throw a ball at it or something,” Kise suggests a little desperately.
Akashi shakes his head. “The basketballs are over there, and you could seriously injure yourselves on the glass anyway.” He wastes no time and addresses them all. “Satsuki, Tetsuya and I will climb out and get help. We will be back as soon as we possibly can. You two go get your cellphones; Atsushi, Daiki, Ryouta, help me set up here.”
And soon Aomine and Kise have their hands like cheerleaders, and are giving Kuroko a lift so he can climb onto Murasakibara, stand on his shoulders and climb a little higher to perch on the slim windowsill. Personally, Aomine believes this is the worst Idea Akashi has ever come up with.
“Remember, Tetsuya,” Akashi calls up to him. “Bend your knees as you jump, and don’t lock them when you land. Let yourself tip forward and roll, okay?”
Definitely the worst idea, alright.
Kuroko nods. He’s sitting with his legs on either side of the window now, but his grip on the thing is so flimsy that Aomine feels an almost overwhelming urge to tell him to drop back down this way, instead. At least then he’d be able to catch him and nobody would get—
Kuroko gives no warning. He is suddenly gone, and the next thing the Generation of Miracles hear is a disturbingly organic thud.
“Tetsuya!” “Tetsu-kun!” “Kurochin!” “Tetsu!” “Kurokocchi!”
“Tetsu! Tetsu, are you--?”
“I’m fine!” Kuroko finally calls back. “Momoi-san, please come through next. I will catch you.”
On the other side of the wall, they exchange looks.
“Just… fall a little shy of him or something? Maybe if you knock him down when you roll, he’ll think you just missed,” Akashi says quietly.
Momoi nods. “Coming, Testu-kun!” she chimes, a little too cheerily, actually, and starts climbing up Murasakibara. She’s lighter than Kuroko, so this all goes smoothly… until the part that she has to squeeze through the window to hang from the other side.
“I’m stuck,” she says quite plainly. All Aomine can do is clear his throat. Murasakibara grunts and huffs a little as Momoi kicks off his shoulders to try to squeeze herself through past her chest.
“Crap,” she swears when she doesn’t budge.
The boys are at a loss, shuffling a little uncomfortably between amusement and terror as Momoi’s bottom half dangles from the window. It’s only Aomine who even dares to let out the smallest of chuckles.
“Shut up, Dai-chan, this isn’t funny!” Satsuki yells.
“Momoi-san, is everything ok?” they hear Kuroko ask.
She’s stuck,” Aomine calls back, the laughter bubbling up in his throat despite himself. It comes out of his nose in a snort. Shit, if there weren’t some ghoul trying to kill them, he would never let Satsuki live this down.
“Maybe you should come back down this way,” Akashi finally decides on saying. Even he had been a little confused earlier, chewing thoughtfully on the inside of his thumb.
Momoi is quiet for a while. “When I get back down there, I swear to god whoever is ogling my ass right now is going to get it.”
“Push her out.”
Murasakibara blinks. “What, Akachin?”
"I said push her out, now.”
And so Murasakibara shoves Momoi from her feet. Momoi screeches, suddenly soaring through the window unceremoniously and landing with an even larger thud than Kuroko did.
“Satsuki!” Aomine yells.
Kise’s eyes are wide and round, his mouth opens and closes like a fish’s. “You killed her! Oh, my god, you killed Momocchi!”
“We’re fine!” Momoi calls weakly from the other side. Kise and Aomine rush to the wall as if they can break through it and make sure. “Uh…Tetsu-kun caught me.”
Kise and Aomine barely have time to worry about this statement. Inside the gym, the lights flicker once. The two jump at each other, clutching at each other’s clothes in the darkness.
“Guys… what was that?” Momoi asks.
“Quickly!” Akashi beckons Aomine and Kise over. They run to boost him up so he can get onto Murasakibara’s shoulders. Akashi moves fast and gets his fingers on the windowsill in no time.
But Murasakibara grabs him around the waist and pulls back. “Look out!”
Bang! The window slides shut on itself, only milliseconds after Akashi’s fingers had left the sill. He and Murasakibara are on a pile on the ground, trying to recover and detangle their limbs when the lights begin to flicker again.
“What’s happening?” It’s Kuroko. His pale face is at the grille near the gym’s floor.
Then, all at once, the lights come on in a buzz of electricity. Murasakibara finally frees himself of Akashi and is on his toes, pulling at the window, trying to get it open again.
“It won’t budge!” he cries.
Aomine puts his face to the grille. “The window shut itself. The lights are back on and we don’t know why, though there’s still nobody else…”
Kuroko’s eyes are sliding off of Aomine’s face to a spot a little behind him. “Aomine-kun, whose shoes are those?”
Aomine feels his heart stop. He doesn’t want to turn, but his curiosity is morbid and as strong as any muscle in body. Sure enough, when he looks, there is a familiar set of shoes standing to his right, attached to a pair of legs that seem to go on… and on… and on… but they’re pale, too pale, with too-long arms that end in claw-like fingers dangling on either side of them.
“Murasakibaracchi,” Kise breathes.
“Tetsu,” says Aomine. “Tetsu, run.”
Kagami gets the call from his boyfriend just as he’s finishing his fifth burger. “Hello?”
“Kagami-kun!” Kuroko sounds out of breath. His voice is also uneven, as if he’s on the move. “You have to come to Teiko right now.”
Is Kuroko calling him while playing basketball? That doesn’t sound like something Kuroko would do, but he does hear Momoi roaring at someone in the background. Kagami slurps from his soda. “Uh, okay. Why, though?”
“Just—Please! There isn’t time to explain!” This makes Kagami scowl at his sixth to tenth burgers. So this isn’t about basketball? Or is the basketball so wild that he just has to be there, like, right now?
“A-and bring salt! Lots of salt!”
“Salt? Kuroko, what is--?”
“Momoi-san, where--? The library? Kagami-kun, we’ll meet you in the library!”
Kagami pales. The library? Either this isn’t basketball-related, or they’d be researching about basketball. Kagami isn’t sure what he prefers. “Oho-kay…”
The line goes dead then. Kagami takes a drawn-out, long suffering slurp from his soda. He knows by now you don’t really think about these Generation of Miracles shenanigans, you just do. He’d been part of enough of these shenanigans to fully internalize this, too.
He heads to the counter with his tray to ask for takeout and… salt.
“Why are we going to the library?”
“Because the police are idiots, that’s why,” Momoi replies. When she really books it the way she’s doing now, she’s even faster than Kuroko. “They said they’ve been told to expect prank calls about a disturbance in Teiko tonight. Can you believe that? The ghost thought to call ahead!”
Kuroko gulps in a breath. Is he going slower than usual? He’s going slower than usual. “So in the library, we will…?”
“We’re going to get on the internet, find out what we’re up against, and beat the shit out of that demon.”
“Easy to say when we’re so far away from it…”
Momoi’s eyes flash dangerously at Kuroko. Kuroko looks straight ahead then, heart pounding, and follows her wordlessly around the corner to the library.
Then Kuroko takes a misstep and falls.
“Tetsu-kun!” Momoi doubles back and picks him off the ground. Kuroko stands shakily, and Momoi helps him brush himself off. She lets him lean heavily on her for a while as he catches his breath. Every inch of his side that’s pressed against her is warm and pleasant if not a little damp and sweaty, and Momoi has to start up a prayer for forgiveness from Kagami and the gods as she feels her heart flutter in her chest. In another universe, maybe, but not here and now (especially considering there’s a demon on their goddamn trail).
“I think… I may have hurt it when I landed,” Kuroko finally admits, glancing down at his ankle. Momoi scrutinizes it in the dark, and yes, it does seem so.
“Don’t worry,” she says, slinging one of Kuroko’s arms over her shoulder. “We can make it. Let’s just go a little slower, okay?”
“You should just leave me here,” Kuroko says quietly. Momoi tuts and begins walking, dragging Kuroko along with her.
“Over my dead body,” she breathes. She regrets it almost instantly and hopes this ghost isn’t the type with a sense of humor.
“Do something,” Kise whispers, pained. The hand he has grasping Murasakibara’s elbow tries to shove the giant forward, but he won’t budge. He’s staring, petrified as the rest of them, at his demon duplicate now cracking its neck menacingly.
“You just had to discover the Emperor Eye, didn’t you?” Other-Murasakibara says in that layered voice of his. Kise can’t be sure, but it almost sounds as if it’s all six of them talking at once. He can hear the low drawl of Aomine’s voice, the even tones of Midorima and most disconcertingly, Kuroko’s soft whispers. This was how Kise is going to die, then: crazy, scared to the point of nearly pissing his gym shorts. This is how they will find Kise Ryouta: his once beautiful face a mauled mess, in a puddle of his own blood and pee.
“He’s talkin’ to you,” Aomine hisses accusingly at Akashi. Akashi balks but nods.
“So… so what if I did?” he says from behind Kise. Aside from the stutter getting it out there, his voice is surprisingly calm. Calculated. Still scheming and manipulative; that little dick.
Other-Murasakibara grins even wider. “Still calm. Calculated. Still scheming and manipulative; you little dick,” he echoes, and Kise can feel the blood drain out of him and his knees go weak. “Always pretending like you weren’t staring at Nijimura in the locker rooms—“
“That’s enough,” Akashi says. He doesn’t sound scared anymore. The dangerous undercurrents in his voice are frighteningly strong.
“Ooh, terrifying,” Other-Muraskibara shoots back with a smile that isn’t his own. The way it draws across its face isn’t entirely unfamiliar, though—with growing horror, Kise realizes that it’s Aomine’s grin, wide and mischievous, looking a little alien on Murasakibara’s face. He can hear it, too, Aomine’s voice rising a little more than everyone else’s in Other-Murasakibara’s mix.
“Stop that,” Kise ventures, the words leaving his mouth before he can stop himself. Murasakibara freezes in his grasp, a clear What are you doing?!
“Stop that,” Kise says again. “You asked for it. Akashi was left with so much responsibility. He was fourteen years old. What do you think he was supposed to—“
The sneer on Other-Murasakibara’s face isn’t anyone’s but its own. It is dangerous and malicious and causes Kise’s heart to squeeze in his chest. Kise gupls; his palms sweat, the soles of his feet grow clammy, his vision swims.
“Say that again,” Other-Murasakibara snarls. “I dare you.”
“Kise’s right,” Murasakibara says quietly. Other-Murasakibara shifts his gaze to him, dead eyes wide in surprise and mouth a small ‘o’.
That’s when the gym bag hits Other-Murasakibara flush in the side of the head, throwing him sideways until he dissipates into a puff of black smoke that wafts across the gym before vanishing. Behind where Other-Murasakibara used to stand is Midorima, glasses askew. He holds Kise’s heavy gym bag in one hand and pants.
“Team meeting,” he huffs, voice hoarse. “Now.”
The lights shut off, plunging the gym into darkness once again.
Aomine resists the urge to wipe away a tear. “What,” he squeaks out.
“I mean it’s not like my mother’s presence at home,” Akashi continues, all too serious. Kise, Murasakibara and Midorima are perversely rapt, eyes wide and appalled. “Hers manifests like… Warm wind on a summer’s day, benevolent and calming. This presence is…”
"Evil,” Kise completes. Everyone else nods. Akashi is creepy, but so far he’s been the only one able to pinpoint the mega bad vibes they’ve been getting since stepping into the gym.
“We should have never let Tetsu and Satsuki go out on their own,” Aomine breathes. He feels his throat constricting at the thought.
Akashi shakes his head quickly. “It wouldn’t help us at all if we were all still trapped here together,” he reasons, but there are the beginnings of hysteria in his eyes too, as if he’s just fully grasped the gaping flaw in their strategy that was the demon they were up against being pure fucking damage.
“So what do we do in the meantime?” Aomine whispers. He’s sweating. The remaining Miracles are pressed up against each other in a corner of the gym and have been this way since Midorima had demanded to know what was going on. While the choice of team meeting venue is strategic—there is only one direction the ghoul can attack them from-- they now face the dark expanse of the basketball court, at a loss.
“Ryouta,” Akashi summons thoughtfully after a little while. “You were on to something earlier when you talked back to Other-Murasakibara.”
Kise shifts a little uncomfortably. “Ah. I don’t think it likes it when we fight. I think it… feeds off it.”
“What makes you say that?” asks Midorima, adjusting his glasses on his tall nose in a way that suggests Kise might be actually stupid.
Kise sighs. Time to come clean. “Earlier, when he said those things to Akashi… I think those are things we’ve actually thought about him in the past. Like, things we’ve harbored grudges against.”
Akashi is unsettlingly calm when he says, “You’ve bitched about me ogling Nijimura-senpai before?”
Hands crumpling his shorts, Kise is well aware he might be digging his own grave, but better it be at the hands of Akashi than a demon doppelganger of his. “Um, no. But the part about you being a manipulative dick, yeah. That was me.”
“The Nijimura thing was me,” Murasakibara admits, surprisingly cooperative.
“I thought ‘ooh, terrifying’,” Aomine blurts.
“And I’m sure we can all agree with the Emperor Eye sentiment,” Midorima mutters, refusing to meet Akashi’s eyes.
Akashi nods, and Kise fears for his life in a different way. “Thank you. This has been enlightening. Is there anything more?”
“Well, we were kinda taking shits on each other when Midorima’s double first showed up.”
“And in my defense, Akashichi, I defended you when Other-Murasakibara was taking a shit on you. But um, there,” Kise continues, his voice a weak and high. “And when he said ‘ooh, terrifying’, you could kind of see, like the way he smiled, that it was Aomine.”
Midorima nods. “Now that you mention it, I believed I could hear it, too.”
Aomine shudders. By the look of him, the second that ghost really took on his face, he would die of fright. “So we fight it by… kissing and making up?”
“No idea,” Kise says. “But um. Just in case. Love you, guys.”
“Same,” Murasakibara chimes in.
“The feeling is mutual.”
“Yeah. Love you.”
“Love you all more,” Akashi whispers, because life is a competition and he must win.
They are quiet and awkward for a while after that. Then comes Murasakibara’s sulky, “Okaaay, do we sing Kumbaya now—?”
“The ghost hasn’t burst into flames yet,” Midorima agrees. “Let’s try another tactic.”
“Ghosts also don’t like salt, right?” Kise puts forward quietly. He’s shot down almost instantly with different iterations of where are we supposed to get salt now. All Murasakibara’s capable of is doing a bad job of repressing the snort that comes up his nose.
“Don’t you snort at me,” Kise huffs. He sounds flippant, but his eyes are gleaming and squinty—a Kise fed up. “I’d like to hear your ideas for getting out of here.”
Muraskibara’s petulant now. He leans back against the wall with feigned nonchalance. “Well, if we need salt,” he drawls, casting a sidelong glance at Kise. “We can always just have you talk about your match against Shuutoku during the first year Winter Cup.”
“You know, I heard ghosts don’t like iron, either,” Kise fires back. His eyes are dangerously alight. “Maybe you can tell it about that time Kiyoshi wiped the floor with you.”
There’s utter silence in the gym. Aomine will always swear, though, that he heard their jaws hitting the floor.
“Oho, snap,” he says under his breath, while even Akashi and Midorima stare at the other two with eyes wide in a weird form of admiration.
Murasakibara isn’t going to be outdone, though. He tilts his chin downwards, showing the sharp angles of his jaw, he purses his lips, but is barely able to get “You know what, Kise” out his mouth before the lights come back on in a blinding flash.
Standing across the gym is Another-Kise, grinning wickedly. The Generation of Miracles scream, only to have the lights shut off again just as suddenly.
“Shit. Shit, shit,” Aomine articulates. Midorima makes a noise like a strangled ostrich.
The lights flicker back on, with Another-Kise now standing at the half-court line. Then it’s darkness again, darker and heavier and more disconcerting each time after the glare of the white halogen.
“It’s coming this way!” Aomine yells, and yes, he is freaking out, clinging to a Midorima that’s gone stiff as a block of ice. Akashi is scrambling to get the hell away from the edge of their circle, almost bodily climbing over Kise. It’s not until the Miracles have pressed themselves up against a wall, cornered themselves, yelled themselves breathless that they realize it’s still blissfully dark and eerily quiet, and Another-Kise hadn’t decided to push through with killing them.
Kise gulps. “Is he go—“
When the lights blaze open Another-Kise is splayed out in an unnatural angle on the floor, grasping Kise’s ankle with cold, inhuman hands. His smile is feral and hungry and the last syllables of Kise’s questions morph into an earsplitting scream.
The rest of the boys join in as they jump away from the scene, running as fast as their legs will carry them in any direction that just wasn’t near this one. They collide with each other in the pitch-black that follows, yelling even harder.
Wherever they go, though, Another-Kise is there. He laughs at Aomine as he trips on a floor slick with sweat; he reaches out for Midorima as he tries to dive behind the bleachers. The Miracles are in chaos, now, running higgledy-piggledy with no clear goal in sight except to get the fuck out of there. It isn’t long before they find themselves all against a set of one of those fucking gym doors that won’t fucking open. Another-Kise approaches them, cracking his neck from side to side.
“You know, Kise, your eyelashes are so fake,” Another-Kise chimes, letting some drool slip from the side of his mouth to the floor. Kise wants to bash his own head on the wall because he still finds enough vanity to be offended. “You think so highly of yourself, don’t you, Kisechi? But you just got dragged along into that Generations of Miracles funk like the rest of them. You can’t even hold a candle to that girl. You’re not that special, copycat. ”
Kise’s throat goes dry. He knows he should think these claims are baseless, airy, and everything, but there have been nights he’s looked back on middle school, looked to right now to Kasamatsu and his new girlfriend, and felt like maybe… maybe being Kise Ryouta isn’t good. It makes him feel weird, thinking he’s simultaneously the best and worst person in the world, and hearing it out in the open like this makes him feel a thousand times worse, as if someone has uncorked a vial of acid in this throat and stomach.
“Kise’s ambition isn’t bad or unfounded. He’s a good player. We might not have been the most sportsmanlike nor the most humble team, but Kise was always a good part of it,” Akashi says vehemently. “The better part of it,” he adds, much quieter.
Another-Kise looks confused. Aomine looks constipated, but he starts talking too, anyway.
“Also, Kise, I know your eyelashes aren’t fake and they’re just naturally really long, okay? And I know for a fact your godsend Kasamatsu actually really likes them, and you think you’re not good enough for him, but Jesus, he thinks he’s not good enough for you,” Aomine says, and Kise sucks in a quick breath. What? Source? “Satsuki told me. He actually likes you because you’re arrogant and pretty and fuckin’ gaudy and like everything else in between I guess, though I, personally, do actually find that you piss me off but there’s also no one I’d rather double team a shithead with, okay? Don’t listen to the demon.”
Kise sniffs. “Aominecchi,” he breathes, and it’s because of that he almost fails to dodge Another-Kise’s desperate lunge at his throat. Kise does react too slow to get out of the way, but he does the next best thing: he grabs his double around the waist, and even though it’s cold like the far reaches of Pluto he holds on and tackles it to the ground.
Another-Kise is livid, but so is the real Kise. He’s snarling at the thing on the floor. The Generation of Miracles stand around him, on their toes, looking like they might shit their pants any moment but also like they’re ready to rip this demon’s throat out with their teeth. Another-Kise’s sharp fingernails scrape ruts into the floor, but Kise holds him there and says, “Not so scary anymore now that we know what your game is. Niceness confuses you, huh?”
He pays him no mind. Dead eyes flick to Murasakibara and say, “You should be taking better care of—“
“There’s no one I love more than Muro-chin. I should finally tell him that, thanks,” Murasakibara says candidly. “I also love basketball, just so we’re clear.”
“You. For all your strength on the court, you’re a coward. Scared of being alone at the top. Scared of being going to university alone, without—“
“I won’t lose her,” Aomine replies cryptically. “And I’ve got these guys, and Kagami now. That past is behind me.”
“And okay, I do really like Nijimura,” Akashi says, only to get a glare from Another-Kise as it spits out, “I wasn’t talking to you, you prick.”
Kise draws back his arm and bam! The right hook he delivers is enough to send anyone’s head spinning, demon or mortal or not. “Midorima and I should have done that to the rest of these idiots as soon as they started to get into that Generation of Miracles funk, you were right. But that’s in the past now.”
Akashi nods. “We’re not middle schoolers anymore. We’ve grown. Tetsuya’s made sure that we’re okay people, saying nice shit like this to us all the time, and I’m ashamed there’re even vestiges left of our old selves for you to feed off of.”
Another-Kise stills—then Akashi feels goosebumps going up and down his arms and he already knows what’s going to happen next. Another-Kise is laughing, but in a disturbing shift of bones and muscle, it’s no longer Another-Kise, but Akashi-Number-Two. “I know exactly what you’re thinking,” Akashi tells it.
Akashi-Number-Two laughs. “Your pain is barely a fraction of what keeps me going. How much hurt has the Generation of Miracles sown since its formation?”
“Shit,” Kise breathes.
“I’m just one demon, yes, but the pain here is great. I am just one demon, but you. Will. Kneel,” it says, in a voice that’s almost singularly Akashi’s, and in that very moment Kise could swear they were fucked.
Kuroko’s ghosting his fingers over the spines of old books when he finally hears Momoi lean back in her chair and sigh. She meets his expectant gaze and shrugs, “Well. It’s a demon.”
“Oh.” Kuroko vaguely wonders at what point in the night he decided this information was just worth an “oh”. He comes to Momoi’s shoulder and begins to read what’s on screen, picking up important details such as “manifestation of extreme negative feelings (eg agony and terror) associated with a particular place” and “exorcism process”.
“So we’ll have to memorize this passage?” Kuroko muses out loud, already squinting at the first few verses of the ritual.
“No, Tetsu-kun,” Momoi says, pointing at another passage Kuroko had barely skimmed over.
The gist of it is “direct confrontation is the best method”.
As Kuroko backs away from the computer like it betrayed him, Momoi grabs his wrists and tries to get him to listen. “Tetsu, this demon supposedly just sits in a place and makes people feel worse and worse until they just snap. Innocent kids pass through that gym every single day! We started all this negativity and the demon likes that and so now it’s trying to sacrifice us to its god and we have to at least not let that happen tonight!”
Kuroko stays, wrists caught in Momoi’s vice grasp and reads the passage in full. Confront the past, confront your feelings, confront your fears, forgive people, and it weakens. Give in and it drives you crazy and/or kills you. Okay. Simple enough.
“We’ve got to get back to that gym,” Momoi whispers, eyes wide with the realization.
Kuroko feels his stomach start to roil. This is bad. “They boys have changed a lot, but if that demon can magnify that guilt they feel about… before…”
There’s a clatter somewhere behind them. Kuroko’s thoughts cut off abruptly; Momoi’s hands grow tighter and suddenly clammier around his wrist. Kuroko wriggles one hand free and hefts a book off the nearest shelf. He shifts his other hand to grasp Momoi’s and slowly pulls her off the chair, settling them both in the shadows of the desk and chair.
Shuffle, shuffle, sniffle. Indistinguishable shadows. Then, “Kuroko?”
“HYAAAH!”
Kuroko jumps out of the shadows with his book, and it collides satisfyingly with something solid—a ribcage. A human ribcage, he realizes too late, and Himuro Tatsuya is reeling backwards and swaying, then stepping over Kagami and throwing up as messily as possible on the library’s carpet.
“Kagami-kun!”
Kagami catches Kuroko in a hug, and for once Kagami actually spins him around and buries his nose in his hair, because god, he’s been so worried. Momoi’s is wiping at tears by the computer and it isn’t long before Kagami’s got her in the hug too, and all they’re waiting for now is for Himuro’s retching to end.
It’s Takao who holds Himuro’s hair away from his face and pats his back soothingly. Kuroko comes to and apologizes; Himuro gives him a thumbs up in reply. “Now I’m ready to kick some ghost ass.”
Kagami winces. “I picked Tatsuya up ‘cuz he decided to get drunk when Murasakibara stood him up again, and the two of us found Takao half frozen out there, waiting for Midorima. They, uh… explained to me why we probably need this much salt?” He brandishes a paper bag full of Maji Burger salt packets.
Takao salutes, and Kuroko is alarmed to see that he does so with a crowbar. “Why—“
“You don’t want to know,” Kagami and Himuro say at the same time. Takao looks disappointed that he can’t tell his story.
“Well, whatever. It can eat this before it touches Shin-chan,” Takao grins. Kuroko doesn’t have the heart to tell him that it’s already done a pretty spot on impression of his Shin-chan earlier in the night and violated his being in unimaginable ways, probably.
It’s Momoi who grimaces and explains the situation. Kuroko watches all three boys grow paler throughout the story. “Any questions?” she ends.
Kagami raises a hand. “Are you sure?”
“Any better questions?” she huffs.
“I mean… demons? Really?”
“There was only one demon, Taiga, please pay attention.”
“Guys, demons don’t ex—“ Kagami starts, but Kuroko gets his attention. Something in Kuroko’s eyes tells him the exact opposite of what he’s thinking, so he lets it drop. He grasps Kuroko’s hand instead and says, “Whatever, let’s just get those idiots out of the gym.”
Takao swings his crowbar in excitement. They make their way out of the library then, breaking out into a jog Kuroko can keep up with. Teiko is dark and honestly not the easiest school to navigate, but they make it to the soccer field easily enough and Momoi tells them they can just cut through it to get to the gym. They’re all happy with this since that means less dark corners for the demon to jump out of, and less heart attacks tonight.
They’re actually more than halfway across when the high-pitched keening starts.
“The demon!” Kagami squeaks.
“No, that’s Dai-chan!” Momoi screeches, and breaks into a full-on sprint.
Every instinct is screaming at the boys to run in the opposite direction, but what else can you do when Momoi Satsuki is alone running full tilt towards an evil entity? The wind is cold and biting in Takao’s face as he chases after her, screaming her name, screaming Shin-chan’s name, screaming “Aomine, we’re coming!” as well, until suddenly Momoi’s war cries are choked off and she tumbles into the grass.
Momoi is screaming anew. Takao, Kagami, and Himuro skid to a halt, but Momoi starts moving backwards somehow. Then Takao feels the world around him swim out of focus—something invisible is dragging Momoi backwards through the field by her long pink hair, and Momoi is screaming and crying and clawing but to no avail.
“Testu! Testu, help!” she calls. Kuroko’s behind the rest of them, and he drops to the ground as Momoi speeds by, fast enough that he misses her hands and settles for grabbing her around her waist instead and holding on for dear life. They don’t slow; if anything the thing dragging her away grows more insistent and tugs harder, making Momoi shriek in pain. Kagami dives to the ground and latches on to Kuroko’s ankles, drawing a shout from him. Himuro dives bodily onto Kagami, both of them now trying to dig their sneakered toes into the ground, while Takao takes a different approach and charges past them all with his crowbar held like a samurai’s sword.
The demon stops dragging Momoi, but Takao is thrown sideways before he has a chance to swing. He lands about two meters away with a sickening crunch.
“Takao!” Himuro yells, rolling and rushing over. The air in front of them grows hazy. Himuro is pulling a dazed Takao away from the disturbance when his jaw drops, because standing in front of him is another Takao who looks just a little… different. This Takao is shorter. His hair is shorter. He’s got a little more baby fat to his cheeks and eyes that seem rounder and less sly… but dead. Clouded over with cataracts. His hands end in claws and when he says, “Look at this,” with a multitude of voices, Himuro wants to scream but chokes on it pathetically.
“What pain this one has suffered at the hands of the Generation of Miracles. Humiliated by a shooting guard he just couldn’t stop. You’re good, Takao. But you’ll never be one of them. You'll never be his Akashi.”
Takao shakily lifts his head from Himuro’s lap. When he smiles, there’s blood on his teeth. “I’m better because of them. And regardless, there’s no one I’d rather have at my side ever than Shin-chan.”
“Keep telling yourself—“
“GYAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!”
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!” Now Himuro screams because something large and blue has launched itself at the demon like a quarterback, and is tussling with it in the grass.
Aomine comes up snarling savagely, claw marks on his neck. “Where is she? Where’s Satsuki?” he growls, but the demon Takao only smiles at him. In a puff of dark smoke the demon disappears, leaving Aomine swearing at the space in the grass where he used to be.
“Takao.” Midorima is kneeling by Himuro now, gently drawing Takao onto his own lap. Midorima doesn’t look much better than Aomine does.
“Shin-chan, how’d you get out of the gym?” Takao asks, sitting up.
“We figured it out.” Himuro wants to cry in relief now, because it’s that dick Akashi Seijurou but thank goodness. “We’ve weakened it. It doesn’t appreciate us being sincere and apologetic.”
Running out of the gym now are Kise, and…
“Muro-chin,” Murasakibara says breathlessly. The next thing Himuro knows is he’s being swept off the ground, Murasakibara’s warm arms wrapped securely around him and burning, desperate lips being pressed against his own.
Himuro doesn’t fight it. His long fingers twine themselves around his boyfriend’s soft locks as he leans into the kiss. Yeah, he’s two hours late for their date again—but this time, oh, thank god, he’s alive.
“Aomine! She went this way!”
Without a second thought, Aomine follows Kagami around a corner and finds himself on a familiar route. Then he almost slows down, but there’s a demon and there’s Satsuki and oh god tonight is so fucked up, so he lets his feet carry him towards their old clubroom.
Kagami skids to stop by the trees just outside the clubroom. Aomine stops right by him and finally freezes.
Momoi stands against Demon-Momoi, who’s all smiles and bouncy ponytail and clipboard, amazingly. The real Momoi is pale.
“Satsuki, don’t listen to her,” Aomine manages, but Demon-Momoi drowns him out.
“I can’t believe you let this happen,” she says. Aomine shivers because it sounds almost entirely like her at this point, with barely an undercurrent of a different voice. “If you’d just tried a little harder, you could have saved everyone a lot of pain.”
Aomine has to give props to the demon. The remorse in its voice makes him actually question whether Momoi was hiding something, or if she had really given it her all—but he shakes the thought away violently because there was nothing she could have done; the younger Generation of Miracles was a runaway train barreling straight towards the gap in the tracks.
“Yo, Aomine, what’re we looking at here?” Kagami whispers.
“That’s what it does; it copies you and talks shit.”
“What… ‘Copies you’?” At this point Aomine finds it in him to be annoyed with Kagami despite everything that’s happening, because what the hell, Kagami, don’t you have eyes? But when he glances over he sees that Kagami is scanning the scene, two perfectly good eyes flitting from detail to detail but never landing on the demon.
“You can’t see it?” Aomine bursts out, incredulous. He already feels violated beyond belief having let his knuckles crack against what looked like his own face earlier; but man, this night would’ve been a much easier pill to swallow if he couldn’t see the thing either.
“No, I can’t fucking see it,” Kagami yells back. “There’s no fucking demon, dumbass Aomine!”
That seems to snap Momoi out of her stupor. Her hands clasp tighter around the brown paper bag she’d picked off the ground. The Maji Burger emblazoned on it crumples.
“There is no fucking demon,” Momoi repeats, face twisting in fury. “I don’t need your regrets, you fuckhead. My boys are back and I’m their favorite manager and I’m not going to let them down—not again.”
Momoi violently rips open the paper bag. The demon is incensed. It screeches loud and inhuman and lunges at her with its claws grasping for her heart and the look on Momoi’s face is pure terror as this dawns on her.
“Satsuki!” Aomine cries, pushing Kagami (whom he was tussling with) into the nearest tree and jumping to get in front of Momoi because he won’t lose her.
But he’s not going to make it.
But thank goodness Momoi’s already throwing the salt.
She doesn’t even rip open a packet. She tosses all fifty of them right into Demon-Momoi’s face, Maji Burger logo and everything. The demon bellows and rages, and though it lands right on top of Momoi and drops both of them to the ground, it’s already fizzling out in orange sparks and black smoke like a volcano gone wrong. Aomine grabs Momoi’s shoulders and pulls her out from under the smoldering demon, and holds her close while she shakes and hiccups and unsticks her shirt from the shallow claw marks on her chest.
There’s a commotion behind them. Himuro is helping Kagami detach his face from the tree, while the rest of the Generation of Miracles watch the demon’s ethereal smoke form go up in small flames. They look like they want to cry, with relief almost spilling onto their faces beside the anxiety that says will it reform? As the demon dwindles down to nearly nothing, that does spill out—it spills out into tears and hugs and violent pats on the back and kisses, and Aomine feels Momoi let out all the breath she was holding and let her head fall against his chest.
“It’s over,” Kise cries. His eyelashes look even longer when they’re wet with tears. “It’s finally over.”
Midorima tries to hide his tears by burying his face into Takao’s hair. Murasakibara leans heavily on Himuro. Akashi is silent.
It’s only Kagami who decides to break the mood and say, “No, it’s not.”
Everyone whips their heads toward him, where he’s wide-eyed on his knees.
“Where’s Kuroko?” he breathes.
Running. They’re all running in an instant, the cold stinging their faces and whipping their hair every which way as they split up and call for Kuroko, the only one who’d been using his kindness and determination and reason and specific strain of evil for countering things the demon said even years before it said it.
In the end they find him in the middle of the soccer field, facing his own double. He doesn’t turn around when they yell at him. He’s listening to whatever Evil-Kuroko has to say, words that are too quickly snatched up by the wind for them to hear.
“Kuroko! I can’t see the fucking demon, but I know you’re better than it is. I fucking love you, okay?” Kagami yells. His are the first to reach Kuroko.
“Tetsu, you can’t—“
“Kurokochi—“
“Don’t—“
“You’re the best of us, Tetsuya, and without you we would still be lost.”
Aomine signals a stop. Up close, the demon looks angry, ready to lunge again and feast on Kuroko’s innards. Kagami makes a choked sound when Midorima grabs him around the waist and holds him back.
“Testu-kun, step back slowly,” Momoi urges, tears threatening to spill out of her eyes anew.
Kuroko doesn’t budge. Instead he turns around to look at them all, and when he finally sees everyone huddled close, holding each other up, reaching out tentatively for him, the spell is broken. Things might have been bad three years ago, and he might have had a hand in it, but they were okay now. He knew he had a hand in that too.
When he smiles, the demon disappears. No smoke, no sparks, no wailing—it just winks out of existence.
The kids don’t really know why the Generation of Miracles suddenly decide to hold a basketball workshop. Nostalgia seems like the most plausible answer. They’re third years now, after all, and soon they’ll be taking their throwdown to the college basketball league in just another chapter of their eternal struggle to beat each other.
But that’s not what they talk about today. They bring their friends with them and talk about sportsmanship, growth and having fun—ew. What about winning? How do you effectively crush your opponents? Murasakibara-san, is it true that the puke stains on the library carpet are from when you hit someone so hard they barfed on the spot?
“Eh? Where did you hear tha—“
“Not true. Next question,” Himuro says swiftly.
The question and answer part isn’t so bad, the kids reckon, and let it go quickly because now it’s time to play basketball. The Miracles are good teachers, if not a little impatient and… jumpy? Why are they so jumpy? The one with green hair—That’s Midorima Shintarou you dipstick, he’s the best shooting guard in all of Japan—well, best shooting guard or not, he practically shrieks when two small girls approach him from behind and ask for shooting form advice for lefties. Their captain, the smallish one—Small? Akashi Seijurou could still wipe the floor with you if he were half your size—yeah, well, he does this weird thing where his eyes seem to flash a different color when you catch him off guard. Overall, for a set of individuals so huge and hugely talented, they do seem afraid of children.
“Do you think that went well?” Kise asks at the end of it all. Children run out of the gym past him, and quite honestly he wants to push them all out of the way and see the sunlight first. There are appearances to keep up, however, so he walks calmly by his peers, shooting off a quick text update for Kasamatsu.
“It seemed to. I didn’t… feel… anything,” Akashi replies. He still won’t tell them who he keeps messaging on Skype, but they just pretend they don’t know anyway and give him space.
“I don’t think those kids have enough emotional baggage to set it off if it’s really still there,” Aomine says as he glances warily around the gym. They’re finally through the doors, and he feels his heart stop protesting and begin to beat normally. Momoi breathes in the outside air and links an arm through his. Several kids nearby beckon their friends to pay up because they were so-o-o right.
“If it is still there, it’s weak.”
The Generation of Miracles hum an agreement. Then Kuroko says, “But if someone had enough emotional baggage—“
Groans all around. Kagami drapes an arm over his boyfriend’s shoulder and says “Please, Kuroko, as if we need that problem—“
“Calling a priest to be sure,” Kise says, already bringing his phone to his ear. The Miracles all groan again, but it’s all really good natured and a little on the side of yes you should probably definitely do that.
Kise speaks to the priest. Their conversation gets lighter and more upbeat the farther they get from the gym. They chat on, absorbed, and Kuroko lags behind a little, lost in thoughts of the possibilities and dangers and memories of the creepiest fucking night of his life. As they pass, the group all snickers at their haggard reflections in the trophy cabinet, where the Miracles’ tri-peat trophies take the spotlight. Kuroko lags behind a little more than he should and stares right at them.
His heart jumps in his chest. The flicker of movement in the glass is subtle, but definitely there. Kuroko full on stops breathing when he recognizes the new reflection behind his—it’s of Haizaki Shougou, who grins so wide and sinister it nearly splits his face.
Kuroko turns, about to confront him, to ask him why he’s showed up, to chew him out for being a dick or something, he doesn’t know. Except, when he turns around, Haizaki Shougo isn’t there.
The hallway is empty. It’s silent except for the Generation of Miracles’ chatting, which grows more distant by the second.
“Kuroko?” Kagami calls. He looks back at him questioningly; there’s almost worry in his eyes.
“Coming,” Kuroko manages to get out calmly, and hightails it out of Teiko as fast as he possibly can.