I: what kind of hell

The scab on Aomine Daiki's chin was beginning to itch like crazy, but there was nothing he could do about it if he wanted to avoid a scar.

His fingers twitched, and his mind could focus on nothing else, which was probably why he was bumping into people so often. He apologized absent-mindedly, completely oblivious to the rancid gaze belonging to a woman he had jostled three times in the span of five minutes, and headed to the canned soup section, which was his new best friend. He barely spared any notice to the soup he piled into his shopping cart, noting fleetingly that he might be living on clam chowder for the next few days.

The thought wasn't appetizing, but, hell, that scab was itching.

On the way to the check-out line, he grabbed a box of band-aids and a can of salted peanuts. In line, he caught sight of a cooking magazine—maybe looking at rich people making real food would take his mind off his pitiful circumstances and that god-awful itching.

He pushed his cart to the cashier without sparing a glance.

"Good evening, did you find everything you need?"

Kagami Taiga really didn't know what was going through his head when he applied for this job as cashier, but he was sorely regretting it. It was the most boring thing in the world, and he had to deal with idiots who were even stupider than he was on a daily basis.

"Good evening, did you find everything you need?" he repeated once every five minutes. "Have a nice day."

Have a fucking wonderful day.

THIS IS THE MOST BORING JOB IN THE WORLD, Kagami screamed in his head. WHY DID I APPLY FOR THE MOST BORING JOB IN THE WORLD. Even purposely making it awkward for the men who bought nine tubes of lube by letting out a small, meaningful heh didn't make up for the ultimate boring job.

The next customer came ("Good evening, did you find everything you need?") and gave him the cart to unload.

Peanuts. Bananas. Gum. Band-aids. Toilet paper. Soup. Soup. Soup. Soup. Soup. Soup. Soup.

"The hell?" Kagami couldn't help but mutter as he scanned in soup can after soup can. He took a glance at the customer and choked on his spit.

"Aomine!?"

"Wh—the hell? Kagami? What are you doing here?"

That's my line! Kagami would have crabbed in any other circumstance, but the sight of Aomine's face stopped the words in his throat. Deep bags under his eyes accentuated the hollowness of his cheeks, which, in turn, highlighted the thin, long scab decorating his chin. All thoughts of scanning soup lost, Kagami knitted his brows and tapped his own chin.

"Where'd that come from?"

Aomine blinked as if stunned Kagami was concerned for his well-being before giving a sheepish grin.

"From work," he said, tapping his thumb against the police badge on his chest. "Some crazy drunk I was trying to get into the car pulled a knife on me. I was stupid and didn't realize he had the knife on him."

"Ah," Kagami said, resuming the soup-scanning. He did a double take. "Wait what?"

"What?"

"You're actually working?"

Aomine responded by flipping him the finger and saying, "What, did you think I was being a bum this entire time?"

"Uh, yeah." Kagami blinked. "Wait, what?"

"What?" Aomine said exasperatedly. "Are you going to ask how on earth a boob-loving bastard like me made it on the police force, because F-Y-I, I had to cancel my magazine subscription and god you don't even know what kind of hell—"

"No, no, no, stop," Kagami said, holding up a hand. "I don't give two shits about your perverted life. You're going on patrol?"

Last time Kagami checked, Aomine was still nineteen. People didn't go on duty when they were nineteen.

"Yeah, well," Aomine said as if it were the most natural thing in the world, "They said I had the guts and the 'talent'—whatever talent a police officer can have, at any rate. And then they told me that as long as I go to school for at least two years, I can follow people around a few hours a day."

Kagami had to admit he was a little jealous. It beat scanning soup cans for hours by a long mile. He scowled at the next soup can in line—just how many were there?

"Why are you buying all this soup? You got a canned-soup fetish or something?"

"Nah, I have the lady on the canned soup fetish," Aomine said, grinning. "She's gotta be at least a G."

Kagami almost rolled his eyes, but refrained upon realizing that his manager was staring at him like a rabid dog ready to kill him for talking so much. He swallowed and dutifully scanned the soup cans. As much as this job sucked, it was his source of income.

"What are you doing here?" Aomine probed with a scrutinizing scowl. "Last time I checked, you lived in an apartment by yourself."

"Last time you checked was almost four years ago," Kagami retorted. His aggression dribbled into a mumble. "Some stuff happened. But this soup… what is it for, really?"

"Eating?"

Kagami's eyebrow twitched.

"Well, duh, but where are the vegetables?"

"Inside?"

"Like, real vegetables!"

Aomine waved a hand. "Don't need 'em. Waste of refrigerator space. Not that I even have one."

"You're gonna die of malnutrition."

"Come to my funeral?"

"Nope," Kagami said. "The last one was enough for a lifeti—"

He abruptly stopped, both words and action. The soup can was suspended in air, clasped tightly in his frozen hand. He only realized now what he had been about to say. Aomine's eyes had grown wide, the emotion inside unreadable.

Kagami quickly swiped the soup can and was relieved to find that it had been the last.

"Eat better," he said gruffly as he dumped Aomine's bags onto the counter. "You look like shit that's been shit on."

"Y-Yeah," Aomine said, looking perturbed. "Later."

As if his expression wasn't enough to show how affected he'd been by Kagami's slip-of-the-tongue, Aomine let Kagami's unintentional insult slide.

After Aomine left, Kagami relaxed his stiff shoulders, wondering when he had grown so tense. Dumb. He should have gotten over it by now. It was no comfort at all that Aomine was the same. Time had passed. They'd grown up. It was time to move on. He passed his next shudder off as a stretch.

In the momentary reprieve, he leaned against the cash register and let his eyes wander. Ahhh, someone had tipped over the orange stand again. Of course, it was going to be Kagami's job to pick up every damn orange that had scuttled away. The nearest orange had landed at the base of a rack of bouncy balls, which had attracted the attention of a hyper-active boy.

"Dad, can we get one?"

Said dad scooped the boy up and set him on a throne of shoulder. "Which one you want?"

"The blue one—no, no, the orange one!"

"The basketball?"

Kagami smirked. The kid was smart.

The basketball was put into the cart. Kagami nodded his head at the man, indicating that he was free.

"Good evening, did you find everything you need?" Kagami said, giving the basketball a definitely not creepy stroke of love before scanning it.

"I did, thank you."

"Dad, look! He's got scissors for eyebrows!"

The blades of Kagami's 'scissors' twitched, and he couldn't help but sneak a glance at the offensive child. Chubby, rosy cheeks underneath a mess of black hair that looked as if it had only been recently lifted out of a bed. And underneath that, a pair of strikingly—

—Blue eyes that wouldn't close even under the pelting rain—

That child's eyes were too blue, far too blue. The pineapple dropped from Kagami's hand. His eyes grew wide, and his breath came short. The man's brow crinkled, but Kagami was oblivious, aware only of the child's—

—wide, mildly surprised expression that still ghosted his frozen face—

The man was saying something, but Kagami was deaf to his words; he could only hear the child say—

"Tell me he'll be al—"

"—right? Are you alright?"

Kagami resurfaced like a drowning man, gasping for air. He wiped away the sweat that had appeared and took up the pineapple with a shaking hand.

"Sorry," Kagami said, punching in numbers.

"Are you alright?" the father said. "I can switch lanes if you need to take a breather. You had quite a moment there."

"No," Kagami said. He scanned the items as rapidly as he could, never lifting his eyes from the scanner. The bags were loaded onto the cart. The man was ready to go. His child still sat on his shoulders, drumming chubby hands happily on his head.

He took a step—

"W-wait!"

Kagami kicked himself in the leg for calling out so stupidly. The man and his son turned.

"Uh," Kagami said, wilting a bit. "If… I'm not a stalker or anything but… your, uh, kid is very, uh, cute. What's his name?"

Laughing a little, the man shrugged. "This little guy?"

Kagami nodded.

"His name is…"

After they had left, Kagami quietly closed his lane and signed out for the day. The wind had never tasted so sweet on his bike-ride home. It was sweet enough to make him vomit. The scent of pollen and freshly-bloomed flowers overwhelmed him, sending him toppling off his bike and into the grass. He lay eagle-spread, and for the first time in almost four years, he wanted to cry.

He passed a hand over his eyes.

"What kind of hell…"

Would give a kid with those blue eyes the name 'Shiroko Tetsuya'?