Chapter 5: Chihiro
Akashi dragged Kuroko along the busy corridors and into the office, earning strange looks from the public as they manoeuvred through the crowd. His grip was firm, almost bruising, his usual composure replaced by a strange urgency. A teal-coloured head, similar to Kuroko's, turned around briefly from among the students in the hall as the pair slowly vanished from sight.
Kuroko protested and rebelled against Akashi, tugging against the firm grasp around his delicate wrists. His pale skin turned red where Akashi's fingers pressed against him.
"Akashi! Please stop! Everyone's looking at us!" His voice trembled, more from panic than embarrassment.
Akashi ignored him. With a quick motion, he pushed Kuroko against the desk once inside the office and locked the door behind them. The sharp click of the lock made Kuroko's stomach drop. Akashi leaned in, closing the distance, his eyes burning with amusement.
A smug smile curved his lips. "What's the problem? Let them see," he whispered in his ear, his tone almost mocking. "Just let them see. After all, the cat will be out of the bag sooner or later."
Kuroko twisted his body, pushing Akashi with all his strength, but his resistance only seemed to entertain him more.
"Heh," Akashi smirked, and before Kuroko could object, Akashi's lips claimed his. The suddenness of it knocked the breath out of him. Akashi nibbled gently, coaxing, prying, until Kuroko gasped in shock. That was enough — Akashi slipped inside, exploring, dominating. Their tongues clashed, the kiss turning from forceful to consuming.
Kuroko's mind screamed for him to pull away, yet his body betrayed him, trembling with unfamiliar heat. His oxygen dwindled, leaving him breathless and dizzy. The kiss deepened, unrelenting. For a fleeting moment, the world outside ceased to exist — only their ragged breathing, the desperate sound of lips, the dangerous allure of something forbidden.
Then—
BANG! BANG! BANG!
A rapid knock jarred them both back to reality. Their lips tore apart, leaving a thin trail of saliva. Kuroko gasped, his chest heaving. His face was crimson, whether from lack of air or humiliation, even he could not tell.
Akashi scowled, his irritation radiating off him.
"Get off me!" Kuroko whispered-yelled, shoving at his chest.
Akashi sighed, stepping back with reluctant grace. Straightening his posture, he strode to the door with a cold edge to his expression. If this is trivial… he thought darkly, I may just commit murder.
With a deliberate motion, he unlocked the door. The hinges creaked as he pulled it open, revealing two all-too-familiar faces.
Kise and Aomine.
Akashi's smile vanished, replaced by a dangerous calm. "Kise. Aomine. To what do I owe this… wonderful visit?"
Kise, ever dramatic, pointed an accusatory finger. "Return us our angel!" he wailed, voice echoing down the hall.
Akashi blinked once, then twice, unimpressed.
He recognised them almost instantly. Their appearances, though distinct, carried an uncanny resemblance to their older siblings. That they had found his office — hidden deep within the labyrinthine Rakuzan University complex — was no small feat. Akashi's students often got lost searching for it, and yet these two…
His irritation deepened. How dare they disturb my time with Tetsuya.
"What do you want," Akashi said, voice flat. Not a question — a demand.
Behind him, Kuroko scrambled in embarrassment, fumbling with his clothes, cheeks burning.
Aomine crossed his arms, his tone dripping with boredom but eyes sharp. "So you're the one who's been kidnapping our angel. My baby here has been crying himself to sleep because Kuroko hasn't been replying to his texts."
Kuroko flushed even harder. Baby? Crying? He wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. Thank goodness the door had been locked earlier — if Kise and Aomine had barged in just moments before… he couldn't even think about it.
"Kise… Aomine…" Kuroko's voice was quiet, almost pleading. His heart hammered in his chest. Everything had spiralled so quickly since the agreement between the Akashi and Kuroko families was set in stone. He hadn't meant to ignore Kise's messages — he had simply forgotten amidst the chaos.
"It was a sight to see," Aomine teased, elbowing Kise playfully, though his eyes flicked to Akashi with silent warning.
Akashi exhaled slowly, his annoyance tempered only by calculation. These two were not nuisances to be brushed aside — they were protective, watchful, and deeply attached to Kuroko. Another hurdle, indeed. He would have to deal with them in time.
"Fine," Akashi said at last. "I'll let you off this once. Don't forget again." His words were sharp enough to cut.
Kuroko, mortified, snatched his bag and bolted for the door. His footsteps echoed down the hall as Akashi chuckled softly. "How adorable," he murmured, amused despite himself.
Kise immediately chased after Kuroko, calling his name in dramatic distress. Aomine lingered just long enough to level a death glare at Akashi.
"I'll remember this, Akashi," he warned.
Akashi's lips curved into a lazy smile. "Be my guest. You're welcome."
Kuroko's palms pressed against his cheeks as he hurried to his next lecture, desperate to cool the heat burning there. His thoughts tangled. His first relationship… his first love? Was this what people called love?
He wasn't sure. All he knew was that he felt strange. Unmoored. He didn't mind Akashi's advances as much as he thought he should. That terrified him. What was happening to him? Was he changing? Would his best friends abandon him if they saw how different he was becoming?
He sighed, slipping quietly into the lecture hall. As always, he chose his favourite seat by the window, away from the crowd.
Furihata, sitting among the other students, noticed him immediately. The boy's withdrawn aura was striking — like he belonged to a world apart. He sat silently, eyes distant, barely acknowledging anyone around him.
This can't go on, Furihata thought. He clenched his fist under the desk. He would invite Kuroko to their next class gathering. Maybe, just maybe, he could pull him out of that shell.
The lecture droned on, the professor's voice weaving tales of ancient battle tactics. Kuroko remained unmoving, lost in his own thoughts. When the bell rang, he vanished into the crowd with his usual ghost-like grace. By the time Furihata blinked, he was gone.
"Wha—?!" Furihata spun around, baffled.
A light tap on his shoulder made him jump.
"GYAAAAA!" Furihata yelped, whipping around.
Behind him stood a boy. Pale, quiet, with teal-coloured hair eerily similar to Kuroko's. His presence was faint, almost nonexistent, as if he had appeared from thin air.
"Who… who are you?" Furihata stammered.
"I'm one of your classmates," the boy said softly. "Chihiro. Mayuzumi Chihiro." His gaze flicked toward the empty window seat. "You seemed interested in the boy who usually sits there."
Furihata froze. Could it be?
Chihiro's lips curled faintly. "If you like, I can tell you everything about him. But not here. Let's go somewhere quieter."
Five minutes later, they sat in a small café near campus. The air smelled of roasted beans and sugar, a faint jazz tune humming in the background. Furihata held a steaming café latte, while Chihiro stirred a vanilla latte with absentminded calm.
Furihata stared at the pale drink. Vanilla. Just days ago, he had seen Kuroko sipping on a vanilla milkshake. The coincidence unsettled him.
"I am Mayuzumi Chihiro, Tetsuya's younger stepbrother," Chihiro began.
Furihata nearly dropped his cup. His jaw fell open. "S-stepbrother?!"
Chihiro nodded, unbothered by his shock. His voice was level, detached, yet something simmered beneath.
"Let me tell you a story between me, Tetsuya, and him."
Tetsuya's mother, Kuroko Sayaka, was a quiet and graceful woman, known for her eerie stillness and unshakable composure. She moved through life like a shadow — never demanding attention, yet impossible to dismiss. Her silence had a weight to it, a dignity that needed no words.
But her very existence enraged Mayuzumi Reina, Chihiro's mother.
Reina mocked her endlessly, spitting venom and calling her a witch. Jealousy consumed her like fire. When Chihiro was five, their father legitimised Reina as his mistress and brought her into the Kuroko household.
From that moment, Sayaka's place began to crumble. Servants whispered, turned their backs. The once-grand home grew suffocating, hostile.
Then Sayaka fell ill.
It started as a cough. Then fatigue. Then the sudden weight loss that left her frail and pale. By the time a doctor was called, it was too late. The disease ravaged her body with merciless speed.
Even so, she never begged, never shed tears. In her final days, she whispered only one thing to her son.
"Be strong, Tetsuya."
And then she was gone.
Her death was quiet. Her ashes were tucked away in a forgotten corner of the shrine. There was no mourning. Only relief — Reina's triumphant smile as she finally claimed the household as hers.
But Tetsuya did not cry. He did not rage.
Instead, he learned to vanish. To move unnoticed. To exist without being seen.
By the time he left that house, he had become something even Reina could not control.
Chihiro took another deliberate sip of his vanilla latte, his expression unreadable. For a moment, the only sound between them was the faint clinking of spoons and the low murmur of other students chatting in the café. Then he set his cup down carefully, as though the words he was about to say needed the same precision.
"You see, Furihata," Chihiro began, his voice low, "there's something you must understand about me as well. I wasn't supposed to care about Tetsuya. He wasn't my full brother. Not my responsibility. And yet…" He trailed off, eyes narrowing slightly.
Furihata leaned forward, unsure whether to speak. Something about Chihiro's tone warned him to stay silent.
Chihiro exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening around his cup. "When my mother first moved into the Kuroko household, she told me to ignore him. To treat him as invisible — a shadow that had no right to exist. I was young then. I listened. I mocked him, once or twice, just to gain her approval." He paused, a flicker of disgust crossing his features. "But even as a child, I noticed something strange. No matter how much cruelty rained down on him, Tetsuya never broke. He absorbed it all, silent, steady, like water wearing down stone."
Furihata swallowed. He could almost picture it — a younger Kuroko, small and fragile-looking, yet never yielding even as the world around him collapsed.
"At first," Chihiro continued, his tone softer now, "that infuriated me. How could someone so quiet, so insignificant, still hold himself straighter than me? Than us? My mother hated him because he reminded her of everything she wasn't. And I…" He pressed his lips together, eyes flicking to the window. "I hated him because I wanted to be him."
Furihata blinked, startled. "You… wanted to be him?"
"Yes." Chihiro's smile was faint, almost bitter. "He was weak in body, invisible to most, but there was something unshakable inside him. A kind of dignity I couldn't grasp. While I was pampered by my mother's schemes, he was being forged by silence and cruelty. And in the end… he was stronger than me."
The confession hung between them, heavy with unspoken resentment.
Furihata didn't know what to say. He'd never imagined someone could both admire and resent Kuroko so deeply.
Chihiro leaned back, his gaze suddenly sharp. "That's why I cannot forgive Akashi."
Furihata flinched at the venom in his tone.
"Tetsuya survived Reina. He survived our father's indifference. He survived the loneliness of that house. But Akashi—" Chihiro's hand curled into a fist. "Akashi took that resilience and chained it to himself. He made Tetsuya believe it was fate. He calls it love, but what kind of love begins with contracts and threats?"
Furihata's chest tightened. He thought of the scene earlier — Akashi dragging Kuroko down the hall, pushing him against the desk, forcing a kiss. The way Kuroko had flushed, both resisting and… not entirely rejecting.
"But…" Furihata hesitated. "I saw Kuroko earlier. He didn't look like he hated it."
Chihiro's eyes flashed. "Of course he didn't. That's the dangerous part. Akashi knows how to weave nets around people. He doesn't just take what he wants — he convinces you that you want it too."
The intensity of his words made Furihata's stomach knot.
"You think Kuroko can't see through him?" Furihata asked quietly.
Chihiro's expression softened, but it wasn't relief. It was sorrow. "Tetsuya can see through anyone. That's the curse of being invisible — you notice everything others overlook. But sometimes…" He stirred his drink again, gaze far away. "Sometimes even he wants to believe in warmth, even if it comes from fire that burns."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Furihata's latte had gone cold in his hands.
Finally, Chihiro spoke again, his voice lower, almost a whisper. "Do you know why I really care?"
Furihata looked at him warily. "Why?"
"Because no one else will," Chihiro said simply. "Our father abandoned him. My mother hated him. The servants ignored him. And now Akashi claims him as property. So if I don't stand beside him — even from the shadows — then who will?"
There was a rawness in his words that Furihata hadn't expected. For all his calm composure, Chihiro wasn't detached at all. He was burning from the inside, a quiet storm.
Furihata exhaled slowly. "You sound like you've got… a brother complex."
Chihiro's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing instantly. "Never."
The denial was sharp, too sharp. He looked away quickly, sipping his drink as though that could erase what he had just revealed.
Furihata almost smiled despite the heaviness. Chihiro's protectiveness wasn't just brotherly. It was envy, admiration, guilt, and something dangerously close to obsession.
And Furihata couldn't shake the feeling that Chihiro wasn't telling him everything.
Furihata left the café in a daze, his footsteps dragging against the pavement. The late afternoon sun bled across the horizon, streaks of gold fighting to hold back the deepening shadows. Yet no warmth touched him; the light only seemed to fade faster the further he walked.
Chihiro's words replayed in fragments — sold in a contract, the Crimson Emperor, fire that burns. Each syllable echoed like a brand against his conscience.
Kuroko wasn't simply quiet. He wasn't detached. He was someone whose flame had been smothered until it could no longer burn in plain sight. A faint light buried in shadow, surviving only by dimming itself.
And waiting in those shadows was Akashi.
When Furihata reached the university gates, he saw him.
Akashi Seijuro stood beside a black car, the sinking sun catching on the red of his eyes. It wasn't the glow of twilight. It was something deeper, sharper — the colour of blood staining through silk. A brilliance that didn't illuminate, but consumed.
Around him, the laughter of students spilt like sparks, brief flashes of ordinary joy. Yet none of it touched him. He was an emperor of silence, watching, calculating, claiming.
Furihata froze half-hidden among the dispersing crowd. His chest tightened. He finally understood what Chihiro had meant by fire. Akashi wasn't warmth. He was conflagration. To stand too close was to be devoured.
Still, those crimson eyes searched for someone — and Furihata knew who.
Kuroko. The faint light. The boy was trying to disappear.
A chill ran through him as Akashi's mouth curved into the faintest smile, the kind of smile that promised ruin to anyone who dared resist the bond he had forged. The shadows seemed to lengthen with it, swallowing the last rays of day.
Furihata turned away quickly, clutching his bag. He didn't know if he could protect Kuroko, or if he was already too late.
But one truth had settled like iron in his chest:
Light and shadow were already at war.
And Kuroko stood at the fragile boundary between them.