Ship/Character: Midorima Shintarou/Takao Kazunari Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke Major Tags: none Other Tags: angst, reincarnation AU Word Count: 542 Remix Permission: granted!
***
One lifetime shared with another person truly shapes your entire existence. You can believe it or ignore it, or you can live it. Takao didn't think he'd be a pawn unable to decide for himself what he wants to do, or what he wants to look for. He already got run over by destiny when he ended up at Shuutoku, he shouldn't have been surprised to discover there was more awaiting him.
He remembers. He remembers there's someone he has to find, someone important to him. The fleeting feeling that something is wrong in the picture, and that he's incomplete by himself, but he can't put a name on a faceless person. When he talks about it with his friends or family, they don't understand. Heck, he doesn't understand either; it's like dreaming and waking up with no memory of the content, except he's in a constant state of wandering. He can't shake the sensation away—every day he's looking at people in crowds, wishing for a miraculous sparkle to jog his mind, but for years and years, nothing happens.
And then he gets his own apartment, lays eyes on his neighbor who is too stiff and too serious, and everything comes back. The games, the friendship, the trust, the promises, they push each other in his mind and he's standing there gaping, disoriented and dumbfounded, but nevertheless filled with unexpected joy, at the sight of Midorima Shintarou.
Midorima Shintarou who looks at him with not a gleam of recognition on his face, and simply sticks out his hand to introduce himself.
Takao is stupid and wants to laugh at whoever decided that he was the perfect victim to play those tricks on. He hasn't known this guy's name or face for twenty-something years, has been able to live with that gaping hole and has learned to accept it, only for it to be hurled back into his face. He hates life. He hates destiny.
Midorima is in his forties, married with children and has never played basketball in his life. Takao tries to show him matches, talks to him about his favorite players, but Midorima never gave sign of taking a particular interest in the sports. Sometimes Takao will bring oshiruko cans, and Midorima is only surprised that Takao knows what his favorite drink is.
It's not that bad, Takao muses, because at least he isn't burdened by his fruitless search, now. It's not satisfying, if he considers their history before, but today is a new life and he will take what he can. Maybe the next life will be better.
And of course, it's not. The next life isn't better. Nor is the next after that one. Next, next, next. Too old, too young, worlds apart, at a point in time where it's not right to initiate a conversation, in a place where it's impossible to find each other together. There are missed opportunities and pure cruelty of fate, and Takao chokes up every single time, looking at something he can't reach.
Maybe the next life is the right one.
He keeps wishing.
(He sets foot into his new class in middle school, and sees a tall funny green-haired boy, and he grins so much he thinks he's going to cry.)
FILL: Team KinKage, G
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: none
Other Tags: angst, reincarnation AU
Word Count: 542
Remix Permission: granted!
***
One lifetime shared with another person truly shapes your entire existence. You can believe it or ignore it, or you can live it. Takao didn't think he'd be a pawn unable to decide for himself what he wants to do, or what he wants to look for. He already got run over by destiny when he ended up at Shuutoku, he shouldn't have been surprised to discover there was more awaiting him.
He remembers. He remembers there's someone he has to find, someone important to him. The fleeting feeling that something is wrong in the picture, and that he's incomplete by himself, but he can't put a name on a faceless person. When he talks about it with his friends or family, they don't understand. Heck, he doesn't understand either; it's like dreaming and waking up with no memory of the content, except he's in a constant state of wandering. He can't shake the sensation away—every day he's looking at people in crowds, wishing for a miraculous sparkle to jog his mind, but for years and years, nothing happens.
And then he gets his own apartment, lays eyes on his neighbor who is too stiff and too serious, and everything comes back. The games, the friendship, the trust, the promises, they push each other in his mind and he's standing there gaping, disoriented and dumbfounded, but nevertheless filled with unexpected joy, at the sight of Midorima Shintarou.
Midorima Shintarou who looks at him with not a gleam of recognition on his face, and simply sticks out his hand to introduce himself.
Takao is stupid and wants to laugh at whoever decided that he was the perfect victim to play those tricks on. He hasn't known this guy's name or face for twenty-something years, has been able to live with that gaping hole and has learned to accept it, only for it to be hurled back into his face. He hates life. He hates destiny.
Midorima is in his forties, married with children and has never played basketball in his life. Takao tries to show him matches, talks to him about his favorite players, but Midorima never gave sign of taking a particular interest in the sports. Sometimes Takao will bring oshiruko cans, and Midorima is only surprised that Takao knows what his favorite drink is.
It's not that bad, Takao muses, because at least he isn't burdened by his fruitless search, now. It's not satisfying, if he considers their history before, but today is a new life and he will take what he can. Maybe the next life will be better.
And of course, it's not. The next life isn't better. Nor is the next after that one. Next, next, next. Too old, too young, worlds apart, at a point in time where it's not right to initiate a conversation, in a place where it's impossible to find each other together. There are missed opportunities and pure cruelty of fate, and Takao chokes up every single time, looking at something he can't reach.
Maybe the next life is the right one.
He keeps wishing.
(He sets foot into his new class in middle school, and sees a tall funny green-haired boy, and he grins so much he thinks he's going to cry.)