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KurobasWeek 2017 » Day 07: Free Day - “Free Throw” ↳ The Basketball That They Love

Kurobasweek2017 • Day 07: Free Day - “Free Throw”

AU: What if the Generation of Miracles met before junior high?

“Yes!” Aomine shouts when another shot makes it in. He dribbles the ball making moves as though to pass invisible opponents when he’s surprised to actually knock into something solid. A startled gasp followed by a low groan alerts him to the fact whoever he ran into is now on the ground. Looking down, he’s surprised to see a shock of blue hair followed by bright blue eyes when the boy he knocked over looks up at him.

“Oi, sorry ‘bout that,” Aomine says with a sheepish grin, “I didn’t see you.” He extends a tanned hand which is taken by the smaller boy.

“It’s ok, that happens to me all the time,” he replies as he stands.

Aomine is confused on how someone who was literally right in front of him could just disappear but he opts to forgo further investigation in favor of recruiting a player so he’s not alone. “Well, since you’re here anyway, wanna play?” he asks tossing the ball in his hand up and catching it on the tip of his finger.

The smaller boy nods softly. “Great!” Aomine exclaims, then almost as an afterthought asks, “What’s your name?”

“Kuroko Tetsuya,” is the reply.

Aomine sticks out his hand again, shaking the other’s. “Nice to meet you, I’m Aomine Daiki!”

The two play a bit of one on one though Kuroko struggles to do anything even remotely right. But instead of being frustrated, Aomine finds himself welcoming the challenge of teaching someone something. As Kuroko takes another shot that hits the rim sending the ball backwards to the other end of court, Aomine instructs, “Ok, you need to hold the ball a bit different. I think you’re putting too much spin on it.”

Kuroko nods and is about to turn to retrieve the ball when both boys are startled by it sailing over their heads and clearing through the hoop with a faint whoosh. Turning around, their eyes land on a green haired bespectacled boy who’s just as tall as Aomine.

“Wait a second,” the dark blue haired boy says, “did you make that shot from there?”

The boy nods and Aomine rushes to him. “That was awesome! Do you want to play?”

At first it looks like the newcomer is going to decline but the slight gleam in his eyes gives away the fact that he really does want to join in. So, he nods in affirmation, following Aomine back to the free throw line where he introduces himself: Midorima Shintaro.

“Maybe you can help this guy,” Aomine says flicking a thumb towards Kuroko.

“I highly doubt it,” mumbles Midorima.

“Hey! Do you guys need another player?” a shrill voice cries out.

The three on the court turn their heads bringing into their line of sight an enthusiastic looking blonde gripping the chain-link fence set around the basketball courts.

“Yeah!” Aomine responds with a flick of his wrist.

The boy lets loose a yelp of happiness, rushing to the gate and over to where they stand.

“I’m Kise Ryouta, what are your names?” he asks excitedly.

After introductions, it’s decided to have Aomine and Kuroko play against Kise and Midorima. The game is a bit one sided to the half of the blonde and green haired boys, mostly because Kuroko has a really hard time keeping up with the running. But Aomine doesn’t really care since he finally has some people to play with.

Eventually the quad of boys decides to take a break, mostly so Kuroko can catch his breath.

“Sorry,” he pants heavily, wiping sweat from his brow, “I just don’t have a lot of stamina.”

“It’s fine,” Aomine says quickly, “we’re just having fun you know?”

“Care to add two more to your game?” a voice says from behind.

The four players look over their shoulders, eyes widening a bit at the sight of a huge purple haired boy standing next to a shorter red head. It must have been the latter who spoke since the former’s mouth is full of chips that he crunches.

“Sure,” Aomine answers standing up. “Who are you guys?”

“I’m Akashi Seijuro and this is Murasakibara Atsushi, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance…”

“Aomine,” he replies pointing to the other boys as he introduces them.  

Akashi smiles softly, looking up at his tall companion. “Come on, Murasakibara, put down your chips and let’s play.”

The purple giant grumbles but does as instructed, brushing crumbs from his t-shirt as he walks onto the court. He joins Kise and Midorima while Akashi is with Kuroko and Aomine. With another player able to score on their team, the blue haired boys start to close the gap in points between themselves and their opponents.

Akashi, after watching Kuroko for a while, calls a time out and draws him aside. “Kuroko, I think it would be better if you focused on passing more. Dribbling is not your strong suit and your shots are making it harder for us because we have to get their rebounds,” he says but with a gentleness that takes the sting out of the truth of his words. Kuroko nods feebly, heading back to where the rest of the boys stand waiting for them.

After the first pass, he feels his heart lighten up a bit; he just may be good at something after all.

The six boys play until almost sun down, each promising to return the following Saturday to play again and bring someone else if they can so it can be more like a real game. As Aomine makes his way home, his smile is bright and wide. He really loves this game and it’s been a lot of fun getting to play with other boys who, while maybe are not as good as him, take away the loneliness of playing by himself.  

I took a different interpretation of this day and focused on the families of the main boys.

It wasn’t often the generation of miracle’s parents were able to make it to their games but for their first championship they all did their best to be present.

Aomine’s dad smiles proudly watching his son score point after point, seemingly with little need of help from his team mates; he has enough talent to do this on his own. But his smile fades away as the reason his son is this way dawn on him; he’s almost always alone. Ever since his mother passed, Aomine’s been left to his own devices because his dad simply can’t be there due to work. Watching him now, he’s happy to see that he has friends on who he can rely but a nagging feeling in gut tells him, this joy is not going to last.

Kise’s mom and sisters cheer loudly next to him, their shrill voices carrying through the din of shouts and exultations for each team to do their best. His mother winces when he takes an elbow to the shoulder while getting a rebound, part of wishing Kise had just stuck to modeling where it was safe. His sisters remember the fun they had teasing him while they were growing up, making him play dress up with them. He doesn’t have time anymore for mall crawls and fashion talks, constantly obsessing over “beating Aomine-cchi”. The three women remember and miss the childlike innocence Kise possessed before joining this team. It’s still there, but it’s growing dimmer.

Midorima’s mother and father are busy people, but his sister whined something fierce about coming to this game and they couldn’t deny it was important to Midorima’s formative years to have support from them in something he so enjoys. At least, they think he enjoys it; it’s always so hard to tell with their stoic son. Shot after shot is made, both amazed at how far he can stand from the hoop and score. When her son receives a pat on the back from his captain, Midorima’s mother leans to his father and says, “Do you remember the struggle we had just to get him to talk to other kids? Look at him now!” His father nods, pleased to see his son assimilating so well amongst his peers but he can’t help wondering if something so simple will remain so. Somehow, he doubts it but doesn’t voice his apprehension.

Murasakibara’s entire family has turned out to watch the youngest of their brood play in his first championship game. It’s odd to them to see the normally laziest member of themselves playing such a high energy sport but he’s doing well, both in defense and offense. “Remember when we couldn’t even get him out of bed on time for school?” one of his brother’s comments, “Now he’s actually running!” They all nod, varying degrees of smiles on their faces. “It’s so nice to see him passionate about something,” his mother coos. She misses the frustrated look on her son’s face, the tightening of his jaw as he watches the other team continue to struggle in vain. She doesn’t understand; he’s not passionate he’s talented and that will lead to his arrogance growing until these moments of seeming happiness are nothing but a memory.

Akashi doesn’t have to look to the crowd to know his father isn’t here. He has no interest in his son’s extra circular activity, has no words of encouragement or praise to offer to his son who has assumed position of captain. So he pictures his mother, remembers her smile the first time she gave him a basketball and urged him to “go have fun”. It’s a bittersweet memory but one he cherishes nonetheless. It floats away to return to the back of his mind, a comforting blanket he uses in secret whenever he feels the need for validation.

Kurobasweek2017 • Day 06: Memories - “Many Times Over”