#akashi38

Akashi was deep in thought as he drove his usual route to his offices at the Akashi headquarters in Tokyo. The streets teemed with early morning traffic and crowds of crossing pedestrians in shades of salaryman blues and grays and other bland neutrals that transformed them into one homogenous mass. The sky matched – a muggy, sweltering June haze hanging over the cityscape, threatening a downpour sooner rather than later. The humidity was oppressive, almost a tangible weight on his shoulders, tempting him to slump before the steering wheel, even though an Akashi always maintained proper posture. He straightened a barely perceptible degree based on ingrained reflexes and continued to navigate almost purely on autopilot while internally rehearsing his morning meeting speech. 

On the outskirts of Ōtemachi, a peripheral flashing caught his attention, just as the clouds let loose and the rain started coming down in sheets.  The passenger seat belt indicator glowed orange and flashed insistently every second or so.  His briefcase, he thought, casting his gaze to the seat next to him. It was empty. No. The heavy leather satchel, he now recalled, rested on the floor behind his own seat.

He frowned. Was it a malfunction? The car had been recently serviced. Perhaps it was only a momentary quirk that would resolve itself. But the light blinked with steady precision, and his fingers tightened around the steering wheel.  He could feel his pulse through the tight grip, fueled by his heart beat and seeming to match with each orange flash. He released a short breath, expelling his sudden tension with deliberate focus, but a crack of thunder undid the moment. He jolted and the car wavered in its trajectory for a moment as a jagged fork of light emblazoned an afterimage on his vision.

He blinked it away, and his gazed dropped again to the crude, blinking image of a person crossed by a lap and shoulder belt. Funny how the figure looked more as if it was being X-ed out, negated by the universal ‘not permitted’ symbol, rather than depicting a safety procedure. A car alarm started wailing, and the sound of sirens shrilled from far off.  He flicked a glance at the rear view mirror, but saw nothing but rows of creeping cars and the hypnotic sweep of wipers. Irritated by his distraction, he shrugged off such a minor nuisance. It was of no matter. The upcoming meeting, on the other hand, absolutely was. He reduced his speed slightly, while the windshield wipers moved back and forth in rapid motion.

His lips moved in silent rehearsal of percentages and profit margins, but after a few moments his gaze shifted left again. At the next light he reached over and smoothed his hand over the dark leather, then pushed down hard in the center of the seat.  The indicator light didn’t stop its steady blink.

Akashi drew back and drove on when the light changed. It wasn’t until a full-body shiver made the hairs on his arms stand up, even beneath the later of his crisp shirt and suit jacket, that he realized how chilled he’d become. Despite the warmth of the day, the thick, soupiness of the air must not mix well with the air-conditioned chill coming from the vents. He flicked off the A/C and tried to turn his thoughts back to work. Three blocks later, he was still shivering, and he turned on the heat.

He needed to be able to focus, to settle his ideas before the meeting. Not that he wasn’t prepared. He always was, after all. But a nagging feeling that he was forgetting something wouldn’t quite go away. It was a relief to finally reach the shelter of the parking garage.

The silence in the sudden absence of the drilling rain was a boon. An ache that had manifested behind his eyeballs and crept down to settle in his neck eased a little. He slid into his spot and turned off the engine, feeling a jolt of satisfaction as the errant indicator light died. He murmured polite but inconsequential nothings to the doorman, the elevator attendant, and various others he passed on the way up to his office suite. His secretary met him with a coffee and a schedule that Akashi had already memorized.

His meeting went as expected, and his day passed in uneventful routine. The rain threw itself against the windows all day, distorting his view of the city below. It made him feel wrapped in some invisible cocoon, distanced from sight and sound and other senses. His father called from Berlin, a conversation he navigated with detached expertise well enough to satisfy the man’s exacting standards. A dreary lunch with an important yet painfully dull man who needed his favor took over three hours. He attended back to back meetings the rest of the day, catching up on paperwork well into the evening, and finally finished up with an overseas call to New York.

His body ached as he walked to his car to return home, but his fatigue receded as he settled into the low slung bucket seat. The leather felt cool against his back, and he closed his eyes a moment, hesitating before turning on the car. He was strangely on edge. By touch, he started the car and only when he heard the soft, smooth purr of the engine, did he open his eyes.  His gaze went right to the dash. The passenger seat belt light stayed dark. He felt oddly deflated. That was that. It had been a temporary glitch after all.

He hardly remembered the rest of the ride home. The monotonous drone of the rain and the unpleasant glare of headlights sent him into a dull haze, and he almost stumbled at his doorstep, a cool night breeze following him over the threshold. He ate and bathed quickly and fell into both bed and sleep with great appreciation.

The next morning dawned as gray as the last. After breakfast, he told himself he should look through the files he’d brought home to read over the weekend, but he was too restless to even open his briefcase and pretend that he might actually do work. Instead, he paced around like a caged tiger. The shogi board was laid out in mid-game, and he studied it a moment before placing a tile, then rested his chin on his hand, studying the board to best counter the move he just made.

His brow furrowed. It was odd. When he played two sides, he always played to win both, of course, but the arrangement of tiles spread before his eyes was…less than optimal.  True, it had been a while, a score of days maybe since he’d played a turn, but he couldn’t quite remember how or why he’d made such unusual choices this game. He played out the permutations with rapid skill in his mind, smiling when he eventually saw a move that could have taken the game against a lesser player. Not against him, though. A small smile hovered about his lips as he precisely moved tiles, one after the other laid out in their perfect squares, until the last victorious move. The smile twisted into a wry grimace. Even for him, feeling gratification at a win against himself was a bit absurd. “I am absolute,” he whispered as if to defend himself, the tip of his forefinger stroking the tokin – the promoted pawn -- that had finished the game. The mild bitterness of the words sat on his tongue like a dissolving aspirin.  It tasted like lies.  Lies and…and…loss.

Akashi exhaled through his nostrils, making a sound just shy of a snort. When had he ever lost, and why was introspection taking such an uncharacteristic turn? It wasn’t like him at all, and he resolved to shake off such useless speculations and make productive use of the rest of the day. He read through reports, making notes at his elegant mahogany desk, pushing through the relentless tedium, but a faint niggling at the back of his mind remained, insinuating into his thoughts and intruding on his concentration every now and then.  The silence of the house made his thoughts seem all the louder.

What was it?

He knew himself well enough to know not to discount the disquieting feeling, but he couldn’t place the source of it. He ran through a mental list of his commitments, both business and social, but came up with nothing that wasn’t already accounted or planned for. The basic mundanities of daily chores were all equally sorted, as well. In any case, dry cleaning or a tailoring appointment or the like weren’t something to cast such an unrest over his mind.

It was something that required further attention. But not now. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he should eat lunch. He made himself a simple meal and ate it under the sheltered small terrace that looked out over the gardens. The rain fell, bowing spring blooms to the wet, green blades of fescue grass whose sharps edges were softened by the misty, humid haze that brewed up within the confines of the protected corner. Aesthetically, the view pleased, but somehow a sense of wrongness pervaded the scene. A flaw Akashi couldn’t place.

The chime of a bell interrupted his reverie. The number of people who would visit him unannounced were few, so he wasn’t surprised to see Midorima at the door holding a large, transparent umbrella dotted with the images of dark blue raindrops.

“Shintarou,” he greeted, gesturing for him to enter.  He waited for him to awkwardly step in and close the umbrella, and then to remove his shoes and slip on the guest pair that sat waiting in the alcove. “I’ll make tea.”

Midorima followed him to the kitchen, still clutching the now furled umbrella in one hand. “What brings you here today?” Akashi turned from the small iron tea pot to meet the troubled gaze behind glasses spotted with tiny droplets of water. Midorima accepted the clean towel he offered with a nod of thanks.

“Akashi…” Midorima hesitated, looking young and vulnerable with the glasses in hand as he polished them methodically. His long lashes swept down to touch his cheekbones that reddened faintly. “Are you aware that Sagittarius is ranked second to last today?”

“No,” Akashi said. “I was not aware.” He looked at Midorima speculatively. “It’s been a while since you felt the need to inform me of such matters.”

“Yes, well,” Midorima returned the glasses to his face and seemed to regain some of his confidence with the gesture, “I know you choose to pursue your fate boldly according to your own directions, however…”

Akashi shifted an eyebrow up in slight inquiry. “However?”

Midorima shifted under Akashi’s sharp gaze. “This morning I felt…compelled…to bring it to your attention.”

“Is that so?”  Akashi set two cups on the counter and pour tea in to them.  “May I ask why?”

“I would rather not say.”

Akashi turned. Midorima looked tense and uncomfortable, but his voice had been surprisingly firm. “So you came all this way to tell me that I am ranked second to last today?”

“Yes.” Midorima’s chin lifted a little, though neither Akashi’s voice nor thoughts held any trace of derision.

“Who ranked last?”

The unexpected question made Midorima blink. “Ah…that would be Aquarius.”

“I see.”  Although, Akashi didn’t. It was peculiar. Not that Midorima wasn’t peculiar. But this admonition, this warning, felt all of piece with his own muddled mood. It was starting to rankle that he could find no cause for it.

“I also wanted to give you this.”  Midorima held out a small key fob from which dangled a tiny orange basketball.

Akashi’s heart skipped when his hand curled around it.  “It’s been a while since we’ve had a game.”

“That is true.” Midorima sniffed. “Though, it’s to be expected.”

“Is it?” Akashi asked, that pervading sense of wrongness pushing at the corners of his mind again. “We haven’t played, not all of us, not since…not since…”

“Akashi,” Midorima interrupted, “forgive me for being rude, but I can’t stay. I only became because…well, because Oha Asa stressed how important it was for you to carry your lucky item today.”

“Of course,” Akashi smiled. “Another time then. Let’s meet soon. And, Shintarou. Thank you for your consideration.”

Midorima averted his gaze and cleared his throat. “I hope it brings you good fortune.”

Akashi led his guest through the main room, only to be stopped by a soft exclamation.

“Ah, Akashi, your shogi piece.” Midorima’s sharp eyes had noticed the tile on the floor next to the small table. He bent, long fingers plucking the piece from the smooth floor and offering it to Akashi.

Akashi’s eyes widened and looked to the board. It was the tokin he had used to checkmate the King.  How had it fallen? Perhaps when he and Midorima had entered they had brushed the board.

“Is something wrong?” Midorima asked, peering at Akashi with mild concern.

“No,” Akashi said slowly, “nothing.”

He saw Midorima out and stood a few moments staring out the open door.  As if his appearance was the signal, the deluge intensified. The odd tension Midorima’s presence had brought didn’t dissipate with his absence. Akashi stared at his hands, the key chain held in one and the shogi tile in the other.  So lost in thought was he, that the sound of his phone rattling on the foyer table made him startle. He closed the door and went to answer it with a premonition of some impending revelation.

It was Aomine. Akashi reflected a moment and decided he wasn’t surprised by a call out of the blue. Why that was true, he didn’t know.

“Ah…Akashi. Hey…it’s been a while.” Gruff voice, awkward phrasing, a casual drawling of words that disguised the kind person beneath. “I’m not calling at a bad time or anything?”

“Not at all,” Akashi soothed him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Oh…well…” Akashi could perfectly envision the sheepish look on Aomine’s face, the way he was probably scrubbing at the back of his head with one hand. “You see, this is your number, right? I mean, obviously…” Akashi waited patiently. “The thing is…I’m just returning your call.  You called me, right? Late last night, I mean.  Only I was dead asleep…hard day at work, you know? And it sort of woke me, but I could only hear these weird whispers, and I guess I thought maybe the connection was bad and that you’d call me back if it was important.” Aomine laughed nervously. “Only I must have fallen asleep again, and I had really strange dreams all night. Seemed like I heard those whispers all night long. Weird. And then, I woke up really late, and I kind of forgot you called until…well, until I saw something that made me think of it…” Aomine’s voice faded out, but came back firmly a few seconds later. “So I’m just now calling you back.”

Akashi processed that spew of words silently. “I didn’t,” he said after a moment.

“What?” Aomine asked.

“I didn’t call you.” He ignored Aomine’s response to flip through his call log, and there it was: Aomine Daiki. 3:21 AM.  He lifted the phone back up to his ear. “Aomine.”

“Yeah? Listen, are you sure? Your number shows right here on my phone. Maybe it was one of those accidental dials.  I’ve fallen asleep with my phone and rolled over on it an accidentally dialed Satsuki more than once. She gets really pis—“

“That must be it,” Akashi cut in, though he knew that it wasn’t true. His phone hadn’t been touched since he left it on the hallway table last night when he came home.

“Yeah, got it, so…” Aomine trailed off into awkward silence.

“Are you well, Aomine?” Akashi prompted.

“Me? Yeah. Of course. I mean, today’s been a bit weird. This whole month’s been off, come to think of it.” Aomine sketched a laugh. “But you know, nothing wrong really. Just one of those feelings…”

“Yes.” Akashi did know. “What was it that made you remember to call me?” he asked abruptly.

“Oh.” Aomine sounded startled. “Nothing really, just…I was out for a run.”

“In this rain?” Akashi didn’t hide his disapproval. Old habits die hard.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Aomine groused. “But I like it sometimes. It helps me think.”

Akashi’s lips twitched as he imagined the rejoinder that last remark would have earned had Midorima been present, or even…

“Yo, Akashi, you there?”

“My apologies. Please continue.”

“Yeah, anyway, so I stopped at a little corner shop for a bit when it really started to pour, and I thought I’d get a hot coffee from one of the vending machines.” Akashi made a small noise of acknowledgement.

“But next to it,” Aomine continued. “There was a machine with all the sports drinks. They even had Gatorade.  Not that toxic yellow shit, Kagami used to have his dad ship him from the States, but, you know, the normal Japanese kind.”

“Kagami,” Akashi formed the syllables of the name with grave deliberation as if it contained the secrets of the universe. “Kagami Taiga.”

“Yeah, I heard he’s coming back to Japan in a few months.” Aomine snorted. “Bet I can still kick his ass one on one.”

“Perhaps,” Akashi murmured, ignoring Aomine’s bluster. “So it was the sports drinks that…what? Made you nostalgic for our glory days and prompted you to call?”

“Glory days.” Aomine snorted. “Well, it was weird. I thought maybe after all that running a sport drink would be better than coffee, so I put in the change, but instead of the drink I selected, a Pocari Sweat came out. I think…” Aomine’s voice went distant, “I think back then I…I bought those a lot. It did remind me of you….”

“I see.  Well, in that case, perhaps we’d better schedule a game together soon.”

“Yeah?” Aomine’s voice brightened. “You’d have time?”

The eagerness brought a genuine smile to Akashi’s lips. “Certainly. We’ll get all the old crowd together.”

“Everyone…yeah…that’s…” The gruffness returned, not fooling either of them.

“That’d be all right, I guess.”

“I’ll call you then soon. On purpose this time. We can arrange the details.”

Aomine snorted a laugh. “Yeah, okay. Akashi…take care.”

“And you, too.”

Akashi looked through the rest of his recent call history, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. Quite calmly, he set down the phone and proceed to search the house. He peered into cabinets and closet and under beds and behind curtains, with a curious absence of fear. But every time he turned a corner, or looked over his shoulder, the expectation that he would see something grew. But the feeling culminated in nothing and eventually resolved into a dull, brooding mood.  Akashi sat in his favorite armchair and didn’t read the book open in his lap.

After a long time, he realized he was waiting. But for what?  He didn’t know, but he knew it was coming. His instincts were rarely wrong. It was a relief when the door chime rang again. He teased himself with the possibilities before allowing himself to open the door.

“Akashicchi!” Kise exclaimed, exuberant as ever. A small, wet dog, wagged its tail at Kise’s feet.

This was not what he had been expecting. The dog cocked his head, looking expectantly up him with round, staring eyes.

“Kise…” Akashi frowned. “Why did you bring this dog here?”

“Why?” Kise exclaimed.  “Because he’s yours, of course.  I took care of him during your business trip, remember?”

Akashi’s frown deepened. “But I…”  I don’t have a dog. Do I?

“Can we come in? I forgot my umbrella.”

Akashi stood aside immediately, apologizing for his rudeness and, rather unhappily, let the wet animal and Kise enter.  The dog didn’t relent in gazing up at him with soulful, hopeful eyes, vibrating with anticipation, his tail wagging fast enough to blur.

“Nigou,” he said stiltedly, the name falling however awkwardly from his lips and God knew where from his subconscious.

The dog barked once and pranced to Akashi’s side, and Akashi found himself bending to scratch between his ears. The tail, impossibly, moved even faster.

“He’s happy to be home. I’m sorry…” Kise trailed off looking uncharacteristically uncertain. “I…I was supposed to return him last week, I think. But…somehow I just forgot.” A fake laugh stutters out of him. “Maybe I just wished I could keep him. He has such a cute face.”

Yes, Akashi thought, looking down at the animal. He does.

“But then he kept getting into things. It was weird.  He managed to find a box of old photos, and he made a big mess.  That’s not like him, but he got a hold of one photo – an old one.  Remember that day we all got together back in high school, and Momocchi took a group shot? It was for…it was for…ahhh!” Kise shook his head frenetically, droplets of water flying everywhere. “I can’t remember exactly, but he got a hold of that one and wouldn’t let me have it back until I started talking about taking him back home to you.  That’s what reminded me, you see, that I’d forgotten the date.”

Akashi did remember now, vaguely, the day Kise spoke of. He was sure that at some point, he must have received a copy himself.  “Do you have the photo?” “With me? No. I left it at home. It’s a bit chewed on, and there’s a weird smudge on it now. Doggie drool, maybe?” Kise grimaced. “But he was really anxious to get back home it seems, so here we are.”

Perhaps he was losing his mind, Akashi thought with clinical detachment. After all, Kise appearing with a dog he didn’t remember at all until a few moments ago didn’t paint the picture of perfect mental health. The subtlest of shifts in a far corner of his mind send a delicate frisson down his spine. He wasn’t exactly a stranger to mental…irregularities. He confronted the idea unflinchingly, and then dismissed it…for the moment. After all, the oddities he’d experienced recently didn’t seem to be confined solely to himself. Whatever strangeness that was manifesting seemed to have at least a mild effect on his circle of friends, as well.

  He would get to the bottom of it.

“Thank you, Kise. Would you like to come in and have some tea?”

“Ahh, I love to, Akashicchi! But I’m supposed to meet with my agent this evening.” He sounded truly regretful.

Akashi nodded. “Coincidentally, I spoke to Aomine today about gathering everyone for a game soon.”

Kise’s eyes widened. “Seriously? Wow, that is strange timing. But so perfect. It’s been such a long time since we all met at the same time.”

“I’ll call you, then, with the details.”

“Great!” Kise knelt down to give Nigou an enthusiastic scratching behind the ears and under the chin. “Be good, boy! I’ll watch you anytime.” He grinned up at Akashi. “He really does remind me of someone. I wish I could think of who…” Kise left in a flutter of goodbyes, pulling out a purple ball and a small bone for Nigou before he made a full on pelt to his car.

“Come, Nigou.”

The dog followed obediently, and Akashi led him to the pantry off the kitchen where bowls for water and food sat on clean mat on the floor. Akashi found the food in a nearby cupboard and filled both bowl, trying not to think of how he had not even noticed them earlier.

“Where is Ichigou?” he whispered as he watched the small dog happily eat and drink.

The question settled in the forefront of his mind, weighing there heavily enough to cause a slight headache.  He felt as if all the puzzle pieces were falling into his lap, even though he had no idea at all yet of the final picture.

Nigou scampered off, yet Akashi stayed crouched in the pantry, thinking back over the events of the day, of the day before, and the one before that, and on and on.  Why did it seem so hard to remember so many details when he was known for a particularly excellent sense of recall? It was troubling to say the least, and deep down, Akashi felt a seed of anger begin to grow. He didn’t like to be thwarted, especially not by the limitations of his own mind. His passivity was something foreign to him, repugnant even, and it was time for him to be proactive.

The purple ball rolled to him and Nigou appeared in the doorway looking entirely pleased with himself.  His blue eyes daring Akashi to not find him utterly adorable.

Akashi smiled ruefully, and picked up the ball. “Very well, you win.” And he tossed the ball for Nigou to chase. He followed him out and down to the hallway where he picked up his phone again and dialed a number.

“Atsushi.”

“Akachin,” Mursakibara’s drawl was maybe just a little sharper, more aware, than usual. “Did you call about the cake?”

“The cake?”  Akashi thought hard. He didn’t remember ordering a cake from Atsushi’s bakery, but then again, he didn’t remember Nigou until several moments ago either. “Which cake is that?”

“It’s the cake, Akachin. The order slip said vanilla layer cake with dark chocolate ganache. I even made it myself, not my assistants,” Murasakibara confided. “Because it was for Akachin.”

A sudden swift surge of blood made Akashi’s head swim.  “The order slip, whose name is on it?” Akashi murmured.

“Eh?”

“The name,” Akashi bit back his impatience and continued calmly. “Is there a name on the order slip that shows who ordered it?”  He held his breath, almost expecting his own name to be read back to him, as Murasakibara fumbled for the piece of paper.

“Huh, that’s strange. I wrote the slip, but I don’t know this name…”

“What is it, Atsushi?” Akashi pressed.

“I’m not sure…the paper is hard to read.”  Murasakibara mumbled something about frosting and licking fingers, and Akashi repressed an impatient sigh. “Ku…Kurochin…that’s what it says. Who’s that, Akachin? Who’s Kurochin?”

“I…don’t know,” Akashi muttered. Why did his chest contract so painfully at the unknown name? And even more so at his denial of it. “I’ll…I’ll call you later, Atsushi.”

“Ehh…but Akachin--“

Akashi’s phone dropped to the table with a clatter. The ache in his head had swollen to an unbearable throbbing. He stumbled to the bathroom, spilled out a handful of pills into his palm, managed to swallow two of them. Nothing made sense.  Nothing. He couldn’t think with the pain in his head. Just a moment more and he would have it. Or maybe sleep would help. Yes, just a short nap to clear his thoughts. He staggered to the bed and rolled into a fetal position, cradling his head in his hands.

Another migraine. Already the visual auras were starting.  Floaters dancing in his peripheral vision, and even with his eyes closed random flashes of orange superimposed on the backdrop of his inner eyelids. They reminded him of the flashing seatbelt light in his car. The image wouldn’t leave his thoughts, and it stayed with him as he fell into a restless sleep.

…juurou…      …seijuurou…            …Akashi Seijuurou.. …WAKE UP… …oh, it’s you again… …yes… …why are you talking to me now… …why else? because once again you’re weak… …I’m not…I… …look at you…it’s pathetic…the state you’re in… …it will pass… …but you still won’t remember… …I’m trying…I will… …these are the words of a loser…give ME control… …no…no…I am… …I AM ABSOLUTE…don’t make me laugh… …do you remember?... …of course…it’s only you who’s weak enough to forget… …forget what?...tell me… …why should I?... …because we’re the same…one and the same… …that’s what HE said… …who?...…WHO?... …please…come back…tell me…       …you must remember… …I’m trying…please…     …look in the shadows…           …shadows…

Akashi woke to a sound. “Nigou?” His voice sounded faint, unlike himself. The words of his other self still rang in his ears. The quietest, stealthiest of whispers seemed to susurrate from one of the corners of the room. “Nigou?” he said again, his heart thudding violently against his ribcage. He was, he admitted to himself, deeply afraid.

But of what?  Finding something lurking in the shadows?  Or not?

Akashi pushed himself upright and stared into the far corner of the room into the niche between a huge armoire and the door to a closet. He rose with shaky limbs and stepped forward. “Kuro…Kurochin?” he breathed and paused.

Nothing but silence met his faint inquiry.

He took another step and faltered out, “Ku—Kuroko…” He reached out a hand and grasped nothing but moonlight. Another step forward, and another, fighting through air that seemed denser than porridge, his tongue numbed and clumsy as he tried to force out three syllables, so foreign and so familiar at the same time.  “Tetsuya.”

He stepped into the shadows and his arms wound around another. “Tetsuya.  Tetsuya. Tetsuya.”

Wonder and joy and crushing guilt and disbelief all warred for dominance, but he held the miracle of the trembling body in his arms, felt it wracked with sobs, his shirt becoming drench with hot tears. Real and tangible and…

“Tetsuya…” Over and over repeating it until, his own name was given back.

“Akashi-kun…Akashi-kun…don’t let go…”

“Never…never ever again…my own…Tetsuya.” The name was a declaration. A claiming.

The next time Akashi woke to bright sunlight in his eyes. It took a moment for his mind to clear, and he sat up abruptly in panic until a sleepy voice and the warm form pressed against his side registered. A wave of relief so intense it made him dizzy swept over him, and he fell back onto the pillow and pulled his lover into a tight embrace.

It was the strangest thing. They had talked long into the night and well into morning about the strange period of…fading…as Tetsuya had called it. It had crept on so gradually that he hadn’t really noticed or been worried at first. After all, he was accustomed to being overlooked, to being forgotten. By the time he realized how profound his lack of presence had become, even to the extent that interacting with tangible objects became very difficult, it was too late to try and take any precautions or warn Akashi or his friends of what was happening. 

In the end, it was his desperation, his fear that he was fading even further and faster from any sort of human perception that led him in a last desperate attempt to make himself known to the friends he could reach and Akashi himself of course. It was the sense that he wasn’t entirely alone in that terrible nowhere place that filled him with dread.  Something, something that felt very wrong might be there waiting. Not necessarily a person, though, he thought he had caught a glimpse of someone else while he was trapped in that gray in between existence, even though they had run away before he could approach.

Akashi still couldn’t get over it -- how any of them had every been able to forget Kuroko Tetsuya. Their bonds had stood the test of time after all, and though they hadn’t seen each other quite as often as late, they still existed.  He would never be able to forgive himself for his terrible lapse.  Tetsuya had disputed that, looking thoughtful and somewhat fearful.  Whatever had happened wasn’t Akashi’s fault.