Chapter Text
It began like most of their schemes: with Tsubasa yelling.
“WE NEED TO GET HIM EXORCISED OR EXPLAINED!”
Hikaru blinked slowly. “Why would I need an exorcism?”
“You are not normal,” Tsubasa hissed, pointing an accusatory finger at him as they walked through a quiet street on the edge of the city. “Your test paper? All guesses. Top score. You forgot your umbrella yesterday? The rain stopped when you stepped outside. You literally dodged a bird poop midair without knowing.”
“I was tying my shoe,” Hikaru said.
“EXACTLY,” Tsubasa groaned.
Seiji, walking ahead with a slight sigh, turned back toward them. “I still think you’re overreacting, but since you’ve dragged us this far, can we at least maintain some decorum?”
Atsuya chuckled dryly. “You say that, yet you're willingly taking part in an emergency astrology consultation.”
“I’m only here because Midorima-san owes my father a favor,” Seiji said. “And because I am also curious.”
“I told you,” Seitarou said, hands behind his head, “he was born under a rare star alignment. It’s either divine intervention or karmic imbalance from a past life.”
Tsubasa spun on his heel to face the group. “Either way, we need answers.”
They arrived at a traditional house tucked into a quiet neighborhood. Shoji doors, neat gravel path, a single tall potted bamboo at the front.
Seiji rang the bell.
The door opened.
Midorima Shintarou stood there in a turtleneck, pressed slacks, and fuzzy green house slippers, pushing his glasses up his nose with the elegance of a man who woke up expecting idiocy at his doorstep.
“I already know why you’re here,” he said flatly.
Tsubasa blinked. “Wait- how do you know?”
Seitarou didn’t even flinch. “He’s my father, I told him. Obviously.”
“… Right,” Tsubasa muttered, recovering just enough to tug at his collar. “Still creepy.”
He stepped forward, hands dramatically clasped. “Tell us the truth. Is Hikaru secretly a reincarnated monk? Or some kind of planetary favorite?”
Midorima stared at him. Then sighed.
“Come inside.”
The group sat in a traditional room filled with books, charts, antique zodiac figurines, and two fat cats lounging in sunbeams. Hikaru, characteristically unfazed, sipped tea while Tsubasa fidgeted like a conspiracy theorist.
Midorima rolled out a long chart across the table.
“I ran his birth chart this morning,” he said, tapping the paper. “Kagami Hikaru. Born in Chicago, at precisely 4:04 a.m., right?”
Seiji nodded. “His parents confirmed it.”
Midorima adjusted his glasses.
“Sun in Aries. Moon in Pisces. Jupiter in Sagittarius, retrograde. And here,” he tapped once more, “Venus and Mercury in exact trine, an incredibly rare alignment.”
“What does that mean?” Tsubasa asked.
“It means,” Midorima said slowly, “that Hikaru’s entire chart favors instinct, charm, synchronicity, and protective energy. He was literally born lucky. The type of luck that doesn’t feel like luck because it’s so effortless.”
Atsuya let out a low whistle. “So it is cosmic favoritism.”
“Statistically improbable,” Seiji muttered, studying the chart.
“But true,” Seitarou added. “I knew it.”
Tsubasa slumped back. “You mean he didn’t make a deal with a god or something?”
“No,” Midorima said. “He is the deal.”
They all turned toward Hikaru, who blinked at them over his teacup.
“… I just drink water and go to bed early,” he said.
Tsubasa facepalmed. “It’s infuriating.”
Midorima, now scribbling notes into a journal, added, “Also, he was born during a rare Mars-Neptune alignment, which often indicates divine favor and dreamlike resilience.”
Atsuya tilted his head. “Can I buy that online?”
“No,” Midorima said. “You have to be born beneath it. And Hikaru was, during a rare window when Mars and Neptune aligned. Meanwhile, four other major players were born around the same period under a different alignment, Mars and Saturn.”
“What does that mean?” Tsubasa asked.
Midorima paused. Then looked at Seiji, Seitarou, Atsuya, and Tsubasa.
“… It means the rest of you were built for hard work, strategy, and adversity.”
“Of course we were,” Seiji muttered.
Tsubasa dramatically rolled onto the tatami. “I train every day. Every day! And he trips into miracles.”
“I’m sorry?” Hikaru offered.
Seitarou patted Tsubasa’s shoulder. “Accept your fate. You’re the chosen one’s best friend. That’s still good luck.”
Atsuya sat back with a sigh. “You know what? Fine. Let Hikaru be God’s favorite. He’s the least likely to abuse it.”
Midorima closed the chart. “It’s not something to envy. Hikaru’s destiny comes with a different burden: to remain kind despite not needing to try.”
They all stared at Hikaru.
Hikaru blinked. “Um … okay.”
Tsubasa groaned into a pillow.
Tsubasa slammed his hands on the desk and pointed dramatically. “We’re gonna follow him. For real. 24 hours.”
Seiji pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tsubasa, that is stalking.”
“It’s science.”
“It’s obsession,” Atsuya said, not looking up from his phone. “And I’m in.”
Seitarou raised a hand. “I call dibs on observing his morning routine.”
“That’s mine!” Tsubasa shouted.
“You can have his skincare. I want to see what shampoo he uses.”
“… Do you think shampoo is the reason he caught a falling pencil with his eyes closed?” Tsubasa demanded.
“Boys,” Seiji said coolly. “You are being ridiculous.”
Tsubasa grinned.
Three hours later, Seiji found himself crouched behind a bush outside the Kagami-Kuroko household, wearing a cap and sunglasses, next to four idiots who had no sense of shame or basic legal boundaries.
“I should have stayed home.”
Phase 1: Morning Hikaru surveillance
Hikaru stepped outside, hoodie on, hair slightly tousled, holding a thermos.
Tsubasa whispered: “Is that homemade tea? Does he brew serenity?”
Seitarou scribbled furiously in a notebook labeled Hikaruism: Day 1.
Hikaru crouched by the garden. A butterfly landed on his finger.
Atsuya took a photo.
Tsubasa looked ready to cry. “He’s in a Studio Ghibli movie. We live in a shounen.”
Phase 2: Following him to school
They trailed him like second-rate spies, behind trees, across crosswalks, ducking behind vending machines.
Hikaru stopped to help an old lady cross the street.
Then a dog that had been barking wildly instantly calmed when he patted its head.
Even Seiji looked disturbed.
“… Is he taming animals now?”
“Next he’ll talk to birds,” Seitarou said grimly.
Atsuya snorted. “At least he doesn’t summon lightning. Yet.”
Tsubasa clutched his chest. “I’m so done.”
Phase 3: Sleepover at the source
That night, they cornered Hikaru after practice.
“Can we stay over at your place?” Tsubasa asked.
Hikaru blinked. “Why?”
“… Friendship,” Seiji lied smoothly.
Hikaru tilted his head. “Okay.”
Seiji mouthed a silent why are we doing this as they carried snacks and sleeping bags into the Kagami-Kuroko household.
Kuroko welcomed them in his usual quiet way. “We’re happy to have you.”
Kagami blinked at the group of teenage boys invading his living room. “You guys doing some kind of team bonding thing?”
“Yes!” Tsubasa said too fast. “Also. Um.”
Kuroko looked up from pouring tea. “Yes?”
Tsubasa took a breath. “How did you conceive Hikaru?”
Kagami choked on his drink.
Kuroko blinked. “… Pardon?”
Even Seiji looked like he’d short-circuited.
Tsubasa barreled ahead. “I’m just saying, he’s not normal. Was it, like, during a full moon? Were you at a temple? Was there lightning involved?”
“Did you eat something sacred?” Seitarou added.
“Was it missionary or magical?” Atsuya deadpanned.
Kagami turned red. “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE-!”
“I’m not leaving until I know if incense was involved-!”
“Atsuya,” Seiji growled, “stop helping.”
Atsuya looked smug. “I’m just saying. Maybe the reason Tsubasa's unlucky is because he wasn’t even planned to begin with.”
Tsubasa gasped. “You did not.”
Kagami, from the hallway, yelled: “TETSUYA, I CAN’T DO THIS.”
Kuroko calmly sipped his tea. “We did plan for Hikaru. Taiga and I talked about it for a long time.”
Atsuya raised an eyebrow. “So the most carefully planned kid ends up being the universe’s favorite. Neat.”
Tsubasa pointed at Hikaru. “You were probably meditated into existence!”
Seiji stood up. “That’s it. I’m going home.”
“You are home,” Atsuya said. “Hikaru is the collective spiritual anchor of our generation.”
“I’m leaving the planet.”
They all lay sprawled across futons in Hikaru’s room. It was eerily quiet.
Hikaru was already asleep, expression calm.
Tsubasa stared at the ceiling.
“… It’s not fair.”
Atsuya rolled over. “Nope.”
Seitarou exhaled. “I’ll never be that tranquil. My ancestors are too loud.”
Seiji, staring into the ceiling like it personally offended him, muttered: “We came here for answers. We got none.”
Tsubasa smiled faintly.
“… Yeah, but at least now I know. He’s not trying to be better. He just is.”
Seitarou nodded. “And still lets us sleep on his floor.”
Then Tsubasa added softly:
“… I still hate how soft his skin looks.”
“Same,” Atsuya said.