Kuroko No Basket × Reader Oneshots

🏀 I'm proud of you: Akashi Seijuro

"Rakuzan lost against Seirin in the winter cup," (Y/n) looked up at the two reading the sports magazine by the council room's window. She let the vice-president and president take both her hands to paint on her nails. Or whatever the youtube tutorial said to do. "So did Karasuno- they're falling into pieces after little giant left, huh?"

"Little giant?"

"It's a volleyball team from Miyagi along with Nekoma," sighed Reika.

"I see," (Y/n) shrugged. "Sports are the same when you think about it,"

"Tsk, basketball and Volleyball are two different things, drill that in your minds," Said Mibuchi who was only there to annoy them with how dramatic he was being, and he was over the top type of dramatic with how he hugged himself. He imagined that it was the arms of Shutoku's point guard.

(Somewhere in Shutoku's gym, was Takao sneezing over Midorima's hands. Earning a disgusted look, quickly pulling out all his new bandages.)

Once again the three, sat around the table and getting a perfect view of him, questioned his preferences. Deciding that they wouldn't ask him, it would only risk an uncalled for monologue from him about his sob-lifestory consisting of only his childhood if they dared to do so.

Maybe they'd ask Sei instead.

"Good Afternoon," Ah, there he was. Sporting a new haircut- it was rumoured that he had cut it using another player's pair of scissors without a mirror on the day the game opened.

"Yoo!" Greeted (Y/n), the smell of nail products reached his nose. His visible shift going unnoticed by her. She followed him with her eyes, searching his face until it clicked. "For a discipline officer, you really walked around with a single yellow contact in your eye, huh."

"Eh?"

Out of all the people in the room, was it only (Y/n) who didn't know that it was a genetic mutation?

"It was natural, (Y/n),"

"What was? His pride?"

---

Craddling a paper bowl with steaming sesame balls in them, she swung her legs on teh bench in front of the train platforms, waiting for Seijuro to join her with drinks from the vending machine. "You endure this everyday?"

"Oh Mister-I-can-call-for-a -limosuine-whenever-I-can,it's nothing compared to Monday's. You'll get used to this if you just give it a month."

"When a door closes," he helped himself to one sesame ball off her plate. Then looked at her. "Another opens- national debate contestant- that too in English." After their sports events, it was time for the brains of their school to represent them, snagging every award from international schools.

Their backup secret being (Y/n). If Seijurou was feared for his aura, she was to be feared when her smile fell and when she dropped her oh-so casual way of speech.

The bags underneath her eyes were a result of reading into topics the debate was about and balancing her schoolwork in one day. What was with Rakuzan's obessession with giving their students exams for homework. "Interesting how our hobbies are far different from each other, but we still vibe. Get along very well that is."

"It's because you and I both have the brains to take our school seriously compared to the rest of our class." He carelessly threw.

"Okay, now that's flat out mean," She pursed her lips, and then gave in when he gave her the knowing look he threw her in class. "It's true though. BUT!"

"But?"

"You know what you should know?"

"What? Something important?"

"Is that I'm proud of you! Really, I am." That wasn't something she'd say normally. And in such a soft tone, too?

"Care to elaborate?" He thought that boring his red eyes would scare her words away- even in the presence of street lights bringing more power to his eyes.

It was (Y/n) who he was talking to. She was more than happy to comply to his request.

"There are some things we do that we're sure we'll be cringing at when we grow older. Mine would be bragging about how I don't care about my grades ad still study hard.One of them is or sure you thinking that you should go on about caring so much about your family name and how you should be this perfect projection that your father wants you to be."

"I mean, c'mon, who in their right mind would declare to gauge out their eyeballs in the court- Mibuschi-san spared a few details here and there, but why?" She kicked her legs back almost giggling. "You are gonna hit you with so much cringe if you still remember it one day."

"What's your deal with being so perfect and obese all the time?"

"You mean obsolete?"

"Absolute, Seijuro. Not Obsolete. I can't with words anymore," she yawned shaking her head awake. Then tilting her head to down half of the drink in her bottle. "Ever since we sat next to each other, I knew that you had put up this barrier that everyone is waiting for you to fail- we're young, we're still in the making of who we want to be."

He decided to why not feed his ego and ask more, "You sound confident saying that because . . ."

"Because you live your life thinking you have to be this perfect at every first try. Like the concept of learning and failing. Thankfully it only needed a highschool game to change that- not invalidating your feelings when you lost."

"I'm sorry, but I'm lost. Why are you . . . happy for me again?"

"Losing that game made you a better person the month after it happened, something like how you're subconsciously realising something," she stood up when the next train home was announced, the last of her sesame balls going to his hands. "You should know that nothing should ever be perfect- or yu shouldn't really take things seriously enough to-" she cupped her hands to play along with her next words, "gauge your eyes out," she hitched her bag up and turned around to join the line waiting for the train.

For a while his body fell limp, only watchingher grow smaller the further she walked away from him. Of simmering unamed feelings stealing his hours meant for sleep- feelings that buzzed when he tried to escape to playing shogi or playing the violin in his free time, begging him to acknowledge them and let it break him.

It was only (Y/n) that could make them go away. It was funny to think that she was speaking so nonchalantly without knowing the weight of her words and its effect on him.

All that she said could be something simple yet hearing it from her forced it's way in Seijuro's mind and persuaded him to look at things differently. He didn't quite get why it washed the disappointment he had with himself- yet.

But he was glad that it was gone.

"I'm proud of you, Seijuro." It was certain that those words were tattooed on his soul when he unknowingly smiled at her back, thanking her in his mind.

And also reminding himself to not let the tears prick his eyes until he was home alone.