"Sorry, excuse us," Nijimura apologized as they made their way back to their seats. Keeping a neutral face, he ignored the discontent looks on the spectators' faces.

Ryota, who mutely followed behind, had on his face his trademark smile, beaming one at every complaining person he didn't utter a single word.

The two teens soon reached their seats. The fourth quarter had begun a few minutes before with Rakuzan leading the game. The difference wasn't as big as when they left, at the end of the second quarter, but it was still there.

"Anything noteworthy that we should know?" Nijimura asked as he leaned back to whisper to the raven head sat behind him.

Junichiro gave a low hum. His reddish-brown eyes flicked to the teen's face for a second before he refocused on the court. "Well, Rakuzan crushed Seirin in the first part of the quarter, then the invisible one went back on the court," he paused. "Kuroko? Yeah, that was his name. Either way, he marked the other invisible one and managed to do a comeback with his trademark plays. After that, Kagami went into the 'Zone' and—"

The buzzer sounded, announcing a new score.

Junichiro paused before cutting his summary short. "Right, also, Seirin's captain, he's got four fouls."

Nijimura's eyes minutely widened. "Four fouls?" he whispered back, his steel-grey eyes sliding to look at the said captain. "That's— a lot," he articulated.

Ryota slowly nodded, silently listening in. "It should be because of Reocchi," he mused with narrowed eyes, "number six," he reminded.

Two pairs of eyes followed the green head's words and fell on the Shooting Guard. Easily recognizing him, Junichiro gave a firm nod. "Yeah, that's him alright!" he confirmed.

Nijimura's eyes narrowed. "He's part of the Uncrowned Kings too," he whispered, referring to Mikaël who sat on his left. Seeing as the green head gave him a nod of approval he went on. "Yaksha, was it?"

"Yes-ssu! Like the night spirit," Ryota agreed, his eyes trailed on Mibuchi's figure who held the ball, he was going for a 'Heaven Shot', one of his trademark plays.

"It's because of his three-pointers, Heaven, Earth, and Void," Ryota listed before shrugging his shoulders. "So unoriginal, who would name their skills like that?"

Nijimura deadpanned. He refrained himself from criticizing Mikaël as he remembered the way the green head had named both his car and cellphone. Second and Tenth, speak about originality.

The buzzer sounded, announcing a new score. Shura opened one of his closed eyes, half-heartedly hearing and committing the score to his mind, 73-88, he yawned.

Although it wasn't the best conditions for a nap, it was one nonetheless. His blue eyes momentarily focused on the court. Following in mild boredom as unknown teens— much too slow for his liking, ran around to chase after an orange ball, he rubbed his eyes.

Another buzzing sound, new score. 78-88.

The pink-haired hitman leaned into his seat, his ear twitching before his eyes darted aside. He felt observed. No, it wasn't him, it was his Lordship they were looking at.

His blue eyes narrowed dangerously. He was used to people paying attention to Mikaël, but this time around the looks given weren't out of admiration or appreciation. It was the type that made Shura's skin crawl with disgust, the type that dissected you alive to understand you, your mind, your body.

Searching for the gaze in the crowd, he noticed that he couldn't feel it anymore. Probably the source noticed that he had caught on and decided to hide.

He was about to stand up, do a round to seak out the rat, but the appearance of a new aura on the court stopped him in his track. His eyes abruptly darted to the game, he shivered.

It was an all-encompassing aura, one that left nothing out, controlled everything. It wasn't on the scale of Mafia Boss such as Aleksey's aura, but for a civilian, it remained noteworthy.

With newfound interest, Shura sat back down. He leaned forward as if to commit the redhead to his mind. Now that he took a closer look, wasn't he the one who collaborated with the Millefiore in the Future?

An excited smirk crept up his lips. If it was so, perhaps the teen was worth going after.

Akashi had entered the Zone.

::

"Why so sappy, Mika?" Nijimura teased as he brought a clean tissue to the green head's eyes to dab his tears. "It doesn't seem like Seirin won when we look at you, you weren't even playing," he reminded with a distressed smile.

Ryota sniffled, taking the paper tissue with a silent thank you, he hurriedly dried his eyes. Out of all the spectators, he probably was the only one who was crying. He blew his nose before folding the tissue a stuffing it in the empty plastic bag in Shura's hands.

Junichiro barked a laugh, he good-naturedly patted the other's back. "Now, now, don't play favorites, remember?" he jested as they exited the galleries.

Ryota gave a silent nod, inhaling and exhaling in turn, he regulated his breathing. "Ah, bathroom," he moaned, leaning his head on Nijimura's locks of black.

Shuzo rolled his eyes, not bothering to shove the taller off, he snorted. "Let me guess, you need to pamper yourself before meeting our underclassmen?"

There was a chuckling sound from above his head, Ryota hummed. "Of course-ssu, I need to take care of my handsome visage," he boasted, his voice a bit hoarse from the previous crying.

Junichiro sent the green an incredulous look before shrugging him off. Let's leave Mika to his drama Queen antics, no use telling him off if he didn't bother anyone.

His reddish-brown eyes fell on his crush's dyed hair, he grinned, easily forgetting Mikaël's antics. "Shura-chan and I are going out first," he called out as he began to push the shorter male forward. "Call us when you're finished," he bade, sending Nijimura a look before hurrying out.

Nijimura barely had the time to agree before the two teens were out of his vision. Okayy. He rubbed the bridge of his nose— feeling like the only responsible person in the group, before taking a sharp turn to the left, Mikaël who kept his head on his hair yelped in surprise at the sudden turn.

"Let's go to the bathroom first, shall we?" he asked, already leading the way down the slightly less crowded corridors.

Ryota nodded in agreement, mutely following behind Nijimura like a chick behind its mother he didn't point out the fact that the raven hadn't followed the pannels to the toilet room.

After all, as an ex-athlete who once came to play in this stadium, Nijimura, like Mikaël, knew the shortcuts to the bathrooms and changing rooms.

Relying on his memories of the place, Shuzo soon reached an empty bathroom. It wasn't that nobody wanted to stop by it, only, this one was located right next to the entry to the changing rooms, except for the staff and players, people rarely came to use them.

Nijimura leaned against the doorframe, he stretched his back before gently cracking his stiff neck. "Don't take too long," he reminded before yawning, his hand reached for his backpack and he pulled out a gourd.

"Yes-ssu," Ryota easily complied. With his artificial hand, he turned the tap on, his right hand reached for the cool water and he splashed some on his face. Although he knew the artificial one was waterproof, he still wasn't comfortable enough to carelessly put it under the water.

He looked up to see his reflection in the mirror, and except for the fact that his eyes were slightly puffy and reddish, nothing was too wrong. His fingers expertly combed through his green locks, restyling them, before he passed his right hand above his face.

He closed his eyes and when he opened them he seemed as good as new. Mist Flames weren't designed to hide crying, but Ryota couldn't care less. He didn't have any makeup in his bag, and Mist Flames were much quicker and easier to use either way.

Shuzo handed the bottle for Mikaël to drink. He raised a dubious eyebrow when he noticed the other's face. It was sketchy, but he didn't care, he instinctively knew that it wasn't anything worth mentioning.

"Should we head out?" Nijimura asked as he stuffed the now half-empty bottle in his bag.

Ryota hummed at the question. His right hand rubbed his left earlobe as his eyes darted to where the changing rooms were. He really wanted to go and see his friends and underclassmen.

Shuzo's steel grey eyes trailed behind Mikaël, noticing where he was looking he sighed. "Give it up for today, Mika," he admonished, lightly pushing the male away from the corridor. "Let them cry and celebrate as a team," he explained, his hand oozed a bluish light as he guided the green head away.

Mikaël mutely agreed, not uttering a word of protest he followed Nijimura as they both exited the stadium. It was strange, no matter what Nijimura said, he always found himself more clear-minded afterward.

"Then, let's organize a meet up later," he chirped as they came closer to the exit, the chilly wind coming into the stadium with ease as the doors were kept open for the audience's exit.

Nijimura hummed with a small smile. "Sure, if I'm invited," he teased, his eyes fell on the reporters who were installing their cameras and his smile receded.

Although they weren't as big as the GOM or the winning team of the Winter Cup, Shuzo and Mikaël remained figures in the Japanese basketball world when it came to the under eighteen division.

He quickened his steps, putting a hand on Mikaël's back, he almost forced him out of the gymnasium as he ran from the reporters before they could spot them.

He had this nagging feeling, deep inside, that if he let Mikaël get caught by them, they wouldn't be able to go back before sundown.

Correction, that if Mikaël caught them, the reporters wouldn't leave before sundown.

"Aww, of course, you're invited Shuzocchi," Ryota whined with a laugh as they stepped out of the gym. "I was thinking of doing something between us second years, and then something with our underclassmen maybe?" he wondered.

Nijimura hummed. "If that's what you want to do, I'm not all that close with the others so I'll follow you," he reminded.

Ryota's steps seemed to halt for half a second before he resumed his pace. They made their way to the parking lot where, supposedly, Shura and Junichiro where waiting.

"Mmm, don't say that Shuzocchi."

Nijimura's eyes flicked to look at Mikaël. He didn't add anything.

::

Lounging in the living room, Ryota observed his artificial hand with some curiosity. Although he knew that there were layers of artificial muscles and skin to cover the mechanical surface, he found the limb strange.

The mechanism inside, which worked by pumping small quantities of Mist Flames, kept his hand as natural looking as possible. They added the smoothness, the ruggedness, the stretchiness— the feeling that made up a hand.

Ryota was aware, but every time he crossed someone, and they didn't notice, he felt both excited and uncomfortable. He wondered how many people were aware of his 'handicap'.

He felt someone tap on his shoulder to catch his attention. 'Is it blocked, should I take a look?' Shura signed with a tilt of his head, blue eyes riveted on the still member.

"Nah, thanks Shuracchi but it's alright," Ryota dismissed with a grin. "See?" he asked, closing and opening his hand prosthesis, to show the teen that it wasn't blocked.

The pink head gave a nod of understanding. 'I am in charge of cooking tonight, I was planning on making curry tonight, is there something else you would like?'

Ryota's eyes narrowed as he replayed the pink's movement for a few seconds, committing them to his mind and roughly finding out what they meant. "Curry?" he voiced.

Shura nodded in confirmation, a small smile on his lips.

"Yeah, curry's great, thanks Shuracchi."

The Russian teen grinned before turning back and walking to the Italian styled kitchen. Ryota watched from the corner of his eyes until the shorter's silhouette disappeared from his sight.

He heard the sound of a knife cutting vegetables and succinctly hitting the chopping board. The pace was precise, and without looking Ryota knew that every vegetable would be perfectly symmetrical.

Shura's knife skills were simply out of this world.

Ryota from his laying position on the sofa heard a door opening, most probably Juncchi, he deduced. After all, Nijimura had gone back to his parents' house for the weekend.

The phone on the low table vibrated as the screen lit up. Ryota's golden eyes flicked to look at it. Someone was speaking on the group chat.

Taking his phone and unlocking it he soon read through Kise's text.

Copycat (=ↀωↀ=)✧

I'm bringing another friend tmrw (๑ↀᆺↀ๑)✧

A minute passed before his phone vibrated again.

Copycat (=ↀωↀ=)✧

Can I?

pwease?

(◕︿◕✿)(◕︿◕✿)(◕︿◕✿)

Ryota paused, on one hand, he wondered who it was, on the other hand, he wondered if he was as much of a shameless person before.

What was the use in asking when he had already stated earlier that he would bring them?

Thanks for reading, until next time^^